It was mid-July and the sun beat down on the Bar-J Ranch in far West Texas, heating the sand under Jake Coleman's thin-soled cowhide boots to 130 degrees. He and two other ranch hands were digging postholes for a new barbwire fence, about five miles from the ranch house.

"Wish I'd been a lawyer, like my maw wanted me to be," one of the cowpokes said. "If I had, I damn shore wouldn't be out in the middle of nowhere diggin' holes in the sand on the hottest day of summer -- I'd be sittin' in the shade somewhere sippin' a cold one with a sweet young thang!"

"If you'd move those posthole diggers half as fast as you do your jaw, we'd ALL be sittin' in the shade by now!" Jake drawled in a deep voice, without cracking a smile.

Jake had been foreman for the Bar-J for some thirty-odd years, and had dug more postholes and strung more barbwire than anyone in the state. He'd seen sandstorms shift ten-foot dunes a mile away in a day's time. Drought was a fact of life at the Bar-J; so was the wind and the scorching sun. Rain was a seldom sight.

Men and animals alike suffered in the especially dry years. Even the tumbleweeds and prairie grass turned brown; so there was next to nothing for the cattle and other animals to feed on. Ranch hands would burn the thorns off cactus plants and feed the rest to the hungry herds. Mesquite bushes were stripped bare by the roaming cattle.

Drinking water was always in short supply. The ranch's water well was now going dry; so water had to be hauled in barrels by wagon from streams or towns twenty or thirty miles away. Water was rationed to each cowhand -- one canteen a day. The cattle got most of the rest.

There was a large wooden community tub used for washing clothes during the week,and washing COWPOKES on Saturday night!

This was Jake Coleman's world -- stark, dry, and a constant struggle; a life with few pleasures and lots of hard work and blisters. A life only a cowboy understands and loves!

Jake and the other two ranch hands had finished setting cedar posts for one section of the fence they were building. Now they had to stretch the barbwire and nail steeples into the posts to hold the wire taut.

Jake was hammering in a steeple, when his left boot sank into the dry, sandy ground. A half-second later, he felt something hit the top of his boot, followed by a dry, sizzling sound. Instinctively, he jumped back and kicked the air with his boot. His face lost color when he saw attached to the top of his left boot a SIX-FOOT DIAMONDBACK RATTLESNAKE!

Jake had stepped into a passageway leading into a den of the deadly reptiles! As he shook his leg in an attempt to loosen the rattler, he could feel warm venom dripping onto his ankle!

All at once,the diamondback shook free. Both fangs had broken off, and were still embedded in Jake's boot!

Jake felt no pain! He pulled off his boot carefully, and found two dripping fangs, barely sticking thru the top. The thickness of his bootstrap had prevented a deadly snakebite! He pulled out the embedded half-inch needle-sharp fangs with a pair of pliers, and put his boot back on.

The toothless rattler continued to buzz its warning of danger, still coiled and moving its head from side to side. It was like watching an outlaw threaten you with an empty gun. This snake was no longer a danger to anyone but mice and insects.

One of the cowpokes grabbed a 30/30 rifle from his saddle and pointed it at the reptile; but Jake motioned him to hold his fire.

"Go get a tow sack from my saddlebag for my new friend," Jake ordered.

The ranch hand complied, but said, "You're the only man I know that would make a PET out of something that had just tried to KILL him!"

"Aw, old 'Toothless' can't hurt anybody now," said Jake, as he grabbed the rattler behind the head and poked him into the tow sack.

Back at the ranch house, Jake emptied the sack on the ground by the porch. He then got a can of paint and colored all the diamonds on the reptile a bright red, so everyone could tell it from all the rest of his cousins!

"You boys can PET him if you want to," said Jake.