Best 24 quotes in «wild west quotes» category

He sips his drink and it leaves his handlebar mustache dripping like a cattle dog come outta a river.

Alison’s gaze gentled. “Tell me, Samantha, have you ever been to Scotland?

Charged with the mission of operating beyond the boundaries of civilization with minimal support and no communication from higher authority, they lived and often died by the motto, 'Order first, then law will follow.

Experience should have taught ye by now that denying me what I want only makes me more relentless.

I don't see any reason to let law interfere with justice around here. We never did before.

If others fell by the wayside, dear women and strong, loved by men, how had she, single and unloved, kept her sanity?

I’m sorry, Rob,” she said softly. He grunted. “Sorry is a sorry word.” -A Desperate Journey

Moss should’ve realized the absolute worst way to make sure Sally stayed in the room was to vehemently object to her leaving. - A Desperate Journey

It's a lot like the Wild West out here... just with tea shops instead of saloons. Wild West Sahara, that is.

It occurred to Gavin that the first thought a groom had upon spying his bride shouldn’t be to wonder whether or not she wore knickers.

Samantha imagined that in another life, she and Alison could have, indeed, been friends. Had she not been about to rob the train.

My father had seen in a flash that they were all gunmen, so he told me to stand still, although we were right in a possible line of fire. If near a gun-fight and the weapons are wielded by amateurs, run for your life; if professionals are handling the trigger, stand still — they know where they are shooting.

Sam was staring at Claire with about the same amazement as his brother had shown. Claire didn’t seem to realize it, or else she was too preoccupied to think of it, but she was the second thunderbolt that had fallen on this long-hidebound household in as many days. First one of the hated race of doctors had been shoehorned in on them as the only thing that might get them out of an already nightmarish situation, and now this matter-of-fact slip of a girl had pushed into it of her own accord. They must have felt like the world was coming down around their ears.

The lass was no damsel. He’d prepared himself for a hard sell, one that might require a few extra knee-weakening smiles, perhaps so much as a seduction, but he’d never in a million years expected the disaster that landed his arms. The disaster named Alison Ross.

Out west everything has its own space. Every little ramshackle cabin, shack, hut sits perched atop its own little piece of destiny with room to breathe, room to live, room to die. You'll see them, the dead ones, sitting by the side of the road like some faded gray and rotting mystery, thinking about the good ol days before trains and cars and wanting more.

People in the West like to shoot things. When they first got to the West they shot buffalo. Once there were 70 million buffalo on the plains and then the people of the West started blasting away at them. Buffalo are just cows with big heads. If you've ever looked a cow in the face and seen the unutterable depths of trust and stupidity that lie within, you will be able to guess how difficult it must have been for people in the West to track down buffalo and shoot them to pieces. By 1895, there were only 800 buffalo left, mostly in zoos and touring Wild West shows. With no buffalo left to kill, Westerners started shooting Indians. Between 1850 and 1890 they reduced the number of Indians in America from two million to 90,000. Nowadays, thank goodness, both have made a recovery. Today there are 30,000 buffalo and 300,000 Indiands, and of course you are not allowed to shoot either, so all the Westerners have left to shoot at are road signs and each other, both of which they do rather a lot. There you have a capsule history of the West.

The forest is blanketed by the greenest ferns and moss and bonsai-like trees, a wild majesty that beckons hobbits and pixies and elves and dreamers.

Then she saw him walking from the barn to the bunkhouse. 
Hardworking Rob, who did so much for her and never asked for anything in return. Here she’d been indulging herself, enjoying the fancy soap, the nice nightgown and he was still working. Working to provide a place for them to stay. 
 He looked up and she raised her hand to wave to him, longing to tell him all she felt in her heart and didn’t know how to put into words. She wanted to say come look at the moon with me, let me wash your hands and your tired face, let me ease your boots off and rest. Rest here with me. He stopped and stared at her almost as if he’d read her thoughts. 
 - A Desperate Journey

This blood feud is a bit too Shakespearean, if ye want the truth. I’m no Montague, and ye’re no Capulet.

Tis best to weight the enemy more mighty than he seems.” Or she, as was this particular case.

Though her muscles went rigid, her tongue sparred with his, as he might have guessed it would. Each lick and swirl, each plunge and retreat became a point counted for or against. Gavin had never enjoyed a woman’s mouth so much in his entire life.

Thunderation.” His fingers tightened on the cup. She rushed over. “Where does it hurt? Are you in pain? Is there anything I can do?” He gazed up into her eyes. “I don’t know if you can give me what I need.” 
His steady gaze impaled her. Silence loomed between them like a heavy mist and the room felt warm and heavy. 
A clock chimed. It would be time for the funeral soon. 
 - A Desperate Journey

You shut your door to these poor women," he said so they could hear him, "and you'll answer for it the rest of your lives. You won't sleep. You'll choke on drinks. The food you eat'll block up your bowels and you'll die of your own shit.

Why should I mind?” She drummed her fingertips against his knee. “Because you got asked to play baseball, while I got a lecture on circumspection, Jezebels, and leading men into sin?” “Did you really?” He managed to sound annoyed, fascinated, and amused all at once. “It’s not funny.” “Of course it’s not.” He was quick to try and placate her. “But we can do something about those lectures real quick. All you have to do is marry me.” Coyote Bluff had too many secrets that weren’t hers to share. She couldn’t put him in that position. He was a federal marshal. And she’d seen what all the lies her father told had done to her mother. She’d died hating him. The last remnants of her earlier contentment vanished. “I like my independence.” “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to the lectures, Sheriff Jezebel,” he replied.