Bret: (to Abby) I'm retired for the moment.
Bret: I was right about my luck changing. It was gettin' worse.
Bret: What do I get--stripes?
Maxwell: If you're lucky.
Bret: (to Maxwell) I'd just as soon get shot as die of pneumonia.
Bret: When you have to walk down a public street wearing prison stripes the trick is to look unconcerned.
Hotel Clerk: Those clothes, Mr. Maverick, are you going to a masquerade?
Bret: No, a hanging.
Flora: (to Bret) It's against the law to smack people around in my saloon.
Flora: (to Bret) Handsome, you're a kick in the pants.