Harper groaned, "Helmut... I hope you were holding onto your boots because we've got some walking to do... I really hope I don't step on a rattlesnake!" she complained.

"One hundred and fifty years," she bounced on her toes, wringing her hands nervously, "What's that?  Cowboy time?  I'm practically naked as far as they're concerned!  I need to steal a dress to try to blend in... and some shoes."

She looked at Derek, apparently hoping he, or someone else would take charge.  It was possibly the alcohol; this was normally the kind of scenario where Harper would take over in the name of damage control.