Applejack had finally bit the bullet and started clipping the bands on the hay bales because there was no way she would be able to move them around with Tony's body. But sweating wasn't nearly as bad as a man as it was as a girl. The white, rather dirty now that she'd spent most of the day working on the farm, tank clinging to her, the jeans equally as sweat drenched, but it felt good. Even if she knew she would need help getting the boots off once she called it a day.
Planting the pitchfork in a pile of hay up in the loft, she peeped over the edge of the upper floor. Taking her hat off to fan herself with. "Yeah I'm here. Want me to come down, or you wanna haul some of the Zap Apple cider up for us and sit up here?" She swiped the back of her arm across her forehead.