Bret: In August, when the scorching Colorado sun has baked the land bone dry, the Yude Indians resort to a snake dance as a plea for rain. To the white man, this is merely a superstitious ceremony, colorful, but useless. (a storm starts) A fat lot he knows.
Dandy Jim Buckley: Go ahead, what good's money? We're all going to drown anyway.
Bret: He's mad because he got his fancy boots all wet.
Bart: Oh, Bret, if you can't trust Dandy Jim, who can you trust?
Bret: What are you doing here? My king was high.
Bart: Ah, but it was also crimped, brother Bret. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Crimped. I looked at it after you left.
Bret: Yes, well as they say, brother Bart, all's fair in …
Laura Miller: Well, gentlemen, what can I get for you?
Bret: Another girl?
Bart: For him.
Bart: Now, we get to Fort Adobe, you get to keep the horse and the saddle, and the blanket, and the gun, and the boots--the whole caboodle. Plus any Comanche scalps you might happen to pick up along the way.
Mike: What if the Comanches pick up the scalps?
Bart: Well then, um, we keep the caboodle.
Bret: Easy, brother Bart. You're too quick to temper.
Bret: You got one of three choices, sonny. Guns, fists, or turn tail.
Jett: You talk big with a crowd on your side.
Bret: Brother Bart, you just shoot the first man who makes a move to help me… or him.
Bret: (upon joining the cattle drive) Anybody know which way west is?
Bret: You really go after what you want, don't you?
Laura Miller: Look who's talking.
Jesse Hayden: You're hangin' yourself, Bret.
Bret: Beats lettin' strangers do it.