Harry Luck: No tricks now, Chris.
Chris Adams: Harry! It's good to see you again.
Harry Luck: Chris.
Chris Adams: What are you doing in this dump?
Harry Luck: I heard you've got a contract open.
Chris Adams: Not for a high-stepper like you.
Harry Luck: A dollar bill always looks as big to me as a bedspread.
Calvera: Somehow I don't think you've solved my problem.
Chris: Solving your problems isn't our line.
Chris: Oh, hell. If that's all that's holding things up, I'll drive the rig.
Britt: Nobody throws me my own guns and says run. Nobody.
Calvera: I should have guessed. When my men didn't come back I should have guessed. How many of you did they hire?
Chris: Enough.
Vin: What're you gonna do when Calvera comes?
Old Man: At my age, a little excitement is welcome. Don't worry. Why would he kill me? Bullets cost money.
Chris: He's a good gun, and we aren't heading for a church social.
Chris: There's no need to apologize. We weren't expecting flowers and speeches.
Chris: You forget one thing. We took a contract.
Vin: It's sure not the kind any court would enforce.
Chris: That's just the kind you've got to keep.
Chris: There's a job for six men, watching over a village, south of the border.
O'Reilly: How big's the opposition?
Chris: Thirty guns.
O'Reilly: I admire your notion of fair odds, mister.
