Maude: It's all over. I guess you'll be riding out.
Paladin: Straight as an Indian ever rode to water.
Maude: You know, I've got a feelin' these local folk would like to see that sheriff's badge on you. You know, sheriffing's no position for a woman. Especially one that's halter-broke like me.
Paladin: Well, halter-broken or not, ah, I have a feeling that you can handle the job.
Maude: Well...you're a lot like I am, Paladin. You're all alone in the world. So I've buried five husbands. But they was all smilin'. Now, I got me a nice little spread, and a fine house. And oil. Must be worth something, or that Yates wouldn't have gone to all that trouble to get it. What I need is a...a man, to take care of these things for me.
Paladin: Sheriff, are you proposing to me?
Maude: Well, if it, uh, didn't work out, you could always hit the trail. No hard feelings.
Paladin: Well, Madam--
Maude: Oh, I--
Paladin: I beg, I beg your pardon. Mrs. Smuggly? While I must confess that I have seen in my life few sights as beautiful as you in that second-story window with that shotgun, I must decline, with regrets.
Maude: Ah, I should have knowed. You're the kind that puts a pretty young face in front of experience. Well, leastways, you're a mite too young for me anyway. I need a fella that's spent a little more time on the job. Why don't you come back in about ten years?
Paladin: Madam, you have a deal.
Maude: Hah! Hah, hah, hah...say! Tell my nephew howdy.
Maude: Well, you must know him; his name's Monk Borelli. He owns a fancy place in that home town of yours.
Paladin: Monk Borelli, yes, indeed, I know him, that's the mangiest, meanest specimen in the human race!
Maude: Well, he ain't mine. He's my sister's doings.