— So you're the one who makes appointments.
— And you're the one who doesn't keep 'em.
Instead of talking, he plays. And when he'd better play, he talks.
— Did you bring a horse for me?
— Well, looks like we're... Looks like we're shy of one horse.
— You brought two too many.
How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders? The man can't even trust his own pants.
— What can I do for you, ma'am?
— I would like some water, if it's no trouble.
— Water? That word is poison around these parts ever since the days of the great flood.
— You mean you never wash?
— We sure do!
— I'd like to use the same facilities you people do.
— You sure can. Just happen to have a full tub at the back. You're lucky. Only three people have used it this morning.
— Used it one at a time or all together?
— An Irishman. He knew that railroad coming through Flagstone would continue on west. So he looked over all this country out here untiI he found this hunk of desert. Nobody wanted it. But he bought it. Then he tightened his belt, and for years, he waited.
— Waited for what?
— For the railroad to reach this point.
— But how could he be sure the railroad would pass through his property?
— Them steam engines can't roll without water. And the only water for 50 miles west of Flagstone is right here. Under this land.
— He was no fool, our dead friend. He was going to sell this piece of desert for its weight in gold.
— You don't sell the dream of a lifetime. Brett McBain wanted his station. He got the rights to build it.
— How do you know all this?
— I saw a document. It was all in order. Seals, signatures, everything. One thing, though. In very small print, there is a short clause, which says that McBain or his heirs lose all rights if, by the time the railroad reaches this point... the station ain't built yet.