Branded
1950
T. Jefferson Leffingwell: We don't need Tattoo. No sense dragging a lot of dead weight... especially when it's all drunken mouth.
Choya: All my life, I've been a snake. I've lived by my wits. I've gotten what I've wanted anyway I wanted it. Just lately I've been wondering just for once if I couldn't do something straight... do something a little decent.
Rubriz: So what do they call you? Choya: Choya. Rubriz: Choya. It is a name I have heard. Not too often. Not with the biggest reputation. Small things with a gun. Choya: Big enough that the Rangers want to do a little hanging. Rubriz: Me they wish to hang a thousand times.
Rubriz: You young ones have not heard enough bullets to know the song of them. When I rode with Juarez, I heard them by the hundreds. Enough bullets to know their music.
(indicating Choya's guns) Ruth Lavery: You don't need to wear them around here. Choya: I wouldn't feel dressed without them.
Dad Travis: You got any friends? Choya: My guns. Dad Travis: Kinfolk? Choya: My horse.
Ruth Lavery: What's your name? Choya: Choya. Ruth Lavery: That's Spanish for cactus. Why do they call you that? Choya: Ever tried to pick one?
Choya: Posses I can dodge. Young ladies spitting insults I can't handle.