Hey boy, give me a bale of hay

Summer 1961.
It was summer break between my junior and senior year of high school and a friend and I were way up in northern California working on a cattle ranch. The ranch was approximately 40-miles south from the Oregon/California border and approximately 700-miles north from Los Angeles. Ranch was somewhere between metropolitan Weed and the smaller town of Gazelle. The city of Weed was in the shadow of Mount Shasta and its population was about 2000. A one company town that processed and made newsprint paper. Paper rolled into huge rolls and sold to newspaper printing companies.
The city of Gazelle mostly was a farmer’s stop-and-fix-it tractor tire sort of place. If you weren’t a farmer or rancher, you had no business there. Feed stores, tractor parts, and the farmer’s Grange.
Our employer was called Grass Valley Ranch. It was my friend’s uncle’s ranch. Otherwise we would not have been invited to come all the way up from L A and work. And work we did. They called this work, “Bucking Hay.” Mowing hay, raking hay, baling hay, hauling hay, and stacking hay. The hardest work I had ever done up until that time and ever since. I never want to see that place again. Never! Take your bale of hay and stuff it.
Then one mid-summer morning my friend’s uncle and we teen boys were driving towards Gazelle and the uncle suggested we stop for a cup of coffee and a donut. We pulled in to a smallish café just off US-99. , got out of the rancher’s very old 1950 beat up and rusted Chevy pick-up and shuffled towards the small cafe. Inside was just a long counter and bar stools. We each mounted a stool and waited for the hired help to come and take our coffee order. But much to our surprise and certain admiration and delight, a twenty-something young blond woman came out from behind the cook area and asked how she could help us. Never mind what we really thought. None the less, let me mention here this young woman’s face could have been on any popular glamor magazine . Blond hair up in a twist, rich voluptuous red lips, intelligent looking but sympathetic eyes, and a cute slightly turned up nose. This is not to mention her well-formed slim figure. She certainly was something to behold. Photogenic, Rosey cheeks, and reasonably tall.
The first thing that comes to mind is why on earth is she here. This is no place for a statuesque goddess to be. She should be in Hollywood or in an ad agency’s studio on Madison Avenue in NYC. But again, why was this beauty here in cow town?
Never the less, she quickly took our order and filled our cups with steaming hot coffee.
But as this scenario was later related to others by my friend’s uncle, my friend and I never took our eyes off her stunning presents. Our gaze followed her from one end of the serving bar to the other. Our synchronize stare back and forth was as if a pair of windshield wipers. Right left, right left. I don’t even remember drinking any coffee during that mesmerizing moment. She too also noticed our boyish stares and enjoyed the moment as well. But then my friend’s uncle brought us back to “hay bucking land and Certainly a wake-up call as if being hit by a bucket of ice water. Boys, let’s go back to work.