Takes place immediately after Prue and Cole arrive in the Wild West
Prue had become understandably squeamish when she realized how Cole had planned on getting them clothes so she stayed hidden in the alley while he went to get them appropriate costumes. He came back already dressed in the dead man's attire.
"Here," he said, tossing her a slightly damp bundle.
"What's this?" Prue asked, holding up the flimsy piece of red material. She wrinkled her nose at it.
"What does it look like? A dress," Cole answered his own question.
Prue made a face. "I'm not wearing this," she stated.
"Why not?" Cole asked.
"For one thing, it looks like it belongs to a prostitute."
"It probably does," Cole said, matter-of-factly. "I found it drying behind a whorehouse."
"What!" Prue exclaimed, dropping thing that was passing as a dress. "There's no way I'm wearing this."
"It's the only dress I could find," Cole told her. "You have to."
"I am not wearing this thing," Prue repeated, this time more emphatically. "You'll just have to find me something else.
"Look," Cole said, becoming impatient. "That's the only dress I could find. You'll just have to wear it."
"What about that?" Prue asked, pointing.
Cole turned to see what she was referring to. "Those are men's clothes," he said.
"You can't wear them."
"Listen," Prue said angrily. "I'm not wearing that dress. There is a perfectly decent outfit out there that I would much rather wear."
"But it's men's clothing," Cole stressed.
"So? Who cares?"
"You may not," Cole said, "but everyone else will. Trust me, in this day and age, no women wore pants. You'll attract almost as much attention wearing that as you would with what you have on right now."
Prue refused to back down. Staring at Cole, she said slowly and deliberately, "I'm wearing it. I'm not going around in a prostitute's dress."
"Fine," Cole said angrily. "Give it to me." He took the dress and stalked off, coming back a few minutes later with the outfit Prue wanted. "Happy?" he asked.
"Delighted. Now turn around while I get changed." Cole complied wordlessly. "And don't turn around until I tell you," she warned.
"Don't worry," Cole said, still facing the other way. "There's nothing I want to see."
"Fine," Prue snapped, pulling off her clothes and putting on the outfit Cole had brought her. "Finished," she said at last.
Cole turned around and looked at her. "Can you shoot?" he asked.
Prue arched her eyebrows. "I can shoot," she assured him.
Cole took out two guns and held them out to her. "Can you shoot one of these?"
"Of course I can," Prue snapped, reaching for them. Cole drew away.
"Are you sure? They're not your standard twenty-first century hand-gun."
"I can shoot," Prue reiterated.
"Fine," Cole said, giving them to her.
"Where'd you get them?" asked Prue.
Cole grinned. "Trade secret." He adjusted his hat, then asked, "Ready, then?"
"Do you even have any idea where we're starting?" Prue wanted to know.
"The best place to get information - the saloon."
Sunday, February 18, 2001