"What the hell kinda sap-suckin' peckerwoods... You ain't done diddly-squat to ole Bill Crocker, but I tell you what, I'm-a fixin' to go on down myself and remedy that one part'c'lar oversight!" John hollers, waving his pistol about before holstering it again.

"They're just scared because they know I don't like the way their daddy treats his workers," Samuel says, checking the cartridges in his rifle before snapping the loading gate on the right side of the receiver shut again.

"Gotta be frank with you, boss. I don't think lettin' 'em pass back and forth through your land helps much, in that regard."

"You know my dinner table is open to whomever comes to call, John."

"Yeah, but I'm just sayin', sir." His eyes skate across to where Jay is still standing, and he shakes his head, chuckling. "Hoo-wee, that was some fancy shootin', son!"