— You’re gonna have three long days of this prairie clipper.
— But tomorrow is Sunday. Do we have to ride on Sunday?
— Well, M’am… there’s no Sunday west of Junction City, no law west of Hayes City. And no God west of Carson City.

— Where sun rise, white man’s land. Where sun set, Indian land. White man come, take our land, kill buffalo — our food. White man promise us food — white man lie. Now Cheyenne buy white man thunder stick. Soon war drum sound in all Indian land. All tribes ride with Yellow Hand. We drive white man, like buffalo, away, back to rising sun. Yellow Hand has spoken.