Coley: Then we've got a deal?
Bret: All right.
Coley: Good. I'll sign it. And you'll keep quiet about this?
Bret: Quiet? Like a fly walkin' on a fresh peach.
Jensen: Maverick. Heh. Sounds like cow people.
Bret: That's right. Well, I am now.
Jensen: But them was cow people up there that was shootin' at ya. Think I'll just call you Jesse till I find out a little more.
Bret: Well, didn't I notice lead flyin' at me from here too?
Jensen: Well, likely they thought you was one of us. We thought you was one of them.
Bret: Just who is everybody? And what is that smell?
Jensen: Smell? (sniffs) Must be this deal ya made with Big Coley.
Jensen: We licked 'em today, we can lick 'em tomorrow.
Bret: Without gunpowder?
Jensen: Well, there's plenty a rocks up there, and we got our hands.
Bret: And weak stomachs. I never could stand the sight of blood, especially mine.
Cain (sniffs): Stranger in town?
Bret: So far.
Cain : Ain't much, uh, room around here for rollin' stones.
Bret: Not even if they don't gather any moss?
Dee: We can't turn our backs on a range inspector just because he dresses like a dude and his, uh, clothes smell a sheep.
Bret: Uh, no more than I could turn my back on a pretty girl just because she dresses like a boy and her clothes smell of cattle.
Scott: Drinks are on ya there, Dee. Set 'em up. You, uh, you agree then, Howitzer, that this new sheep owner, Maverick, should be wiped out?
Bret: Well, I can't speak officially, of course, but, uh, if I were in your shoes I wouldn't like to be in his.
Scott: To Mr. Maverick, who will find that lightening can strike twice in the same place.
Bret: That's just what my Pappy said as he looked down my brother Bart's cradle.
Scott: All right, dude, you gonna hide behind a woman's skirts?
Bret: Anytime, if she was wearin' skirts.
Scott: I don't pay no taxes for him to buy flowers for my girl.
Dee: That's the way they do things in Washington. He makes a lady feel at least there's more to her face than a sombrero and a sunburn. He's a gentleman.
Scott: No, he ain't. He's a wolf … with sheep in his clothing.
Bret: How much ammunition we got?
Jensen: Well, one box a shells for three guns … and them knives. (picks up metal skillet)
Bret: What's that for?
Jensen: Infightin'. Ain't you never been married?
Bret: No. (gunfire begins) And it looks like a pleasure I'm gonna miss.
Jensen: Traffic around here is busier 'an a rabbit in love.
Bret: That's the kinda traffic we like, pop. That's the money comin'.
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