(..) I'll be home before dark. - gunned down the marshal. He's now holed up in the mountains. You there. You look like the kind of man who'd put his mettle to it. What do you think, honey? Sounds fun. You're new. Not much of a rind on you. I'll give you a discount. No offense, but I'd rather - (..)

(..) Murderous son of a bitch named Hector Escaton gunned down the marshal. He's holed up in the mountains. You there. You look like the kind of man who'd put his mettle to it. Not today, Sheriff. Apologies. Rye whiskey. What about it? Well, it ain't doing any good sitting in that bottle. You're new. (..)