All the Pretty Horses Page #2
Same reason as you.
What reason is that?
They'd go bowlegged|and blind finding your ass down here.
I told that son of a b*tch he wasn't|whupping me again.
- Your daddy?|- No.
My daddy never came back|from the war.
Your stepdaddy.
I know what it's like|to get a beating.
You didn't shoot him?
I would've. And he knowed it too.
Suppose we trade that horse off|for one less likely get us shot.
- I ain't trading horses.|- We ain't no wet nurses.
- I can take care of myself.|- Sure.
Hell, you're a regular old desperado,|ain't you?
I reckon you got your own gun and all.
Yeah, I got a gun.
What kind of a gun?
-32-20 Colt.|- Bullshit.
That's a rifle cartridge.
Let's see it.
Where'd you get a gun like this?
At the getting place.
- You ever shot it?|- Yeah, I shot it.
- You hit anything?|- Anything you want.
Bullshit.
All right, let's go, outlaw. Come on.
You ready, Annie Oakley?
Waiting on you.
Goddamn.
Let me see it.
- Let me see it.|- We'd better get going.
- Come on, give it to me.|- You know what my wallet looks like.
Look at this sh*t.
She got anything to drink?
What is that?
- Cider.|- All right.
Let's have three of them.
How much is it?
It's like three cents.
Oh, let your old dad buy it.
He about dead-centered|your pocketbook, didn't he?
I want you to look at my|goddamn driver's license.
And my pool hall card.
You won't need them down here.
Look at this sh*t.
Shot Betty Ward between the eyes.
What's she doing in there?
I didn't know you liked her.
What is this? Cactus juice?
I don't know.
- Got a little kick to it, though.|- I think it does.
Pretty doggone good.
Say it again. Say my name again.
Golly!
What am I doing leaving|my hat on the bed? It's not much.
You can't have no more cider.
Sh*t.
I'm drunker than sh*t.
Can you ride or not?
Hell, yeah, I can ride.
I was riding when I fell off.
I'm a regular buckaroo.
Certified damn bronc peeler.
Just leave him lay there.
Get on and quit assing around.|It's fixing to come a good one.
Come on.
I can't be out in this.
- Where do you think you'll go?|- Why can't you?
On account of the lightning.
Damn if you don't look|sober all of a sudden.
- Are you afraid of lightning?|- It runs in the family.
My grandpa, he was killed|in West Virginia in a mine bucket.
It run all the way down the hole|to get him, 180 feet.
A great-uncle on my mother's side...
...was killed off a horse. Horse's|hair wasn't singed, but it killed him.
I got a cousin not|four year older than me.
He was struck by lightning|coming back from his barn.
Melted the fillings in his teeth|and soldered his jaw shut.
He's gone completely dipshit.
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"All the Pretty Horses" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 4 May 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/all_the_pretty_horses_2529>.
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