Jessie dug herself out of the packing peanuts that surrounded her to take a better look at what seemed to be her new home. She hadn't really known what to expect when Al bought her from the thrift shop. She'd considered the possibility that he was buying the doll for a child, since Emily hadn't been with her mother when Jessie was first bought, but for some reason this man didn't really seem to be the fatherly type. In fact, when he'd seen Jessie on the shelf, he seemed a bit overly excited, like he was a child himself.
The cowgirl had just climbed out of the stuffy cardboard box when she heard a friendly voice greet her from behind. "Hello, Jessie!" She turned around to see another doll, this one an old man with a white beard still in his original packaging. Jessie opened her mouth to ask how he knew her name, but stopped when she saw the "Woody's Roundup" logo in the corner of his box. Emily had watched reruns of the show every day when she was a child, grabbing Jessie from the bed as soon as she came home from school and running back downstairs with the doll in tow to turn on the TV in the living room, just seconds before the opening theme began.
"Hey!" Jessie interjected with a grin upon recognizing him. "I've seen ya before! You're Stinky Pete!" Pete laughed, "Well, yes, but I highly prefer to be called 'Prospector.'" "Alright then, Prospector," Jessie complied. "Why're ya still in your box?" "I'm in mint-condition this way! Never been opened. We're collectors' items, the three of us." The Prospector looked up at the cardboard box Jessie had just come out of as a plush horse she also recognized from Woody's Roundup wriggled his own way out, shaking his head vigorously as he popped his head out of the packing peanuts. He'd probably been packed away at the bottom. Seeing Jessie, the horse jumped out of the box and trotted over to greet her, smiling widely. Jessie chuckled and patted his felt mane. "Howdy there, Bullseye!" The horse whinnied happily in response.
She lifted her head and looked back at the Prospector as he inquired, "Now, if you don't mind my asking, how did Al find you?" Jessie shifted her eyes downward and sighed. "My owner, Emily… She donated me. I guess I shoulda known. I was stuck under her bed for years. She just forgot all about me." "Oh my," the Prospector commented sympathetically. "You must be devastated!" Jessie shook her head slightly. "It's just that… I dunno what I did wrong…" she continued almost to herself. Bullseye's ears drooped and he nudged her comfortingly. "Nonsense, Jessie!" Prospector assured her. "You haven't done anything wrong! Owners always hurt toys in the end, one way or another. It's a vicious cycle." He sounded resentful. Jessie ran her braid through her hands anxiously as he went on in a much perkier tone, "But once Al finds Sheriff Woody, we'll be off to a museum and we'll never be hurt by any children again. We won't be thrown away, or forgotten… or donated." Jessie looked down despondently upon hearing the word again. "Trust me, Jessie. It can only get better from here."
Jessie tried to ignore the skeptical voice in the back of her head telling her he wasn't entirely right.