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Chico: But who made us the way we are, huh? Men with guns. Men like Calvera, and men like you... and now me.
[
Britt has just shot a fleeing bandit off his horse]
Chico: Ah, that was the greatest shot I've ever seen.
Britt: The worst! I was aiming at the horse.
Chris: Bring them in.
[
refering to the women]
Chico: What for? Let Calvera find them, he'll take good care of them.
Chico: They're afraid. She's afraid of me, you, him. All of us. Farmers! Their families told them we would rape them.
Chris: Well we might. But in my opinion you might have given us the benefit of the doubt. But just as you please...
Chico: Villages like this they make up a song about every big thing that happens. Sing them for years.
Chris Adams: You think it's worth it?
Chico: Don't you?
Chris Adams: It's only a matter of knowing how to shoot a gun. Nothing big about that.
Chico: Hey. How can you talk like this? Your gun has got you everything you have. Isn't that true? Hmm? Well, isn't that true?
Vin: Yeah, sure. Everything. After awhile you can call bartenders and faro dealers by their first name - maybe two hundred of 'em! Rented rooms you live in - five hundred! Meals you eat in hash houses - a thousand! Home - none! Wife - none! Kids... none! Prospects - zero. Suppose I left anything out?
Chris Adams: Yeah. Places you're tied down to - none. People with a hold on you - none. Men you step aside for - none.
Lee: Insults swallowed - none. Enemies - none.
Chris Adams: No enemies?
Lee: Alive.
Chico: Well. This is the kind of arithmetic I like.
Chris Adams: Yeah. So did I at your age.
Chico: [
berating the villagers] Thank you, thank you... you... chickens!
Chico: And who made us the way we are? Men with guns! Men like Calvera... and you... and now me.