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< Pestilence

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[ Abigail's in the kitchen.]

Marston : What you cooking?

Abigail: The same thing I've been cooking the past 15 years with the hope of poisoning you.

Marston: Ain't working so well.

Abigail: Not yet.

Marston: Be honest thought, it tastes bad enough to kill a man.

Abigail: I never was much of a cook, but I did try to be a good wife.

Marston: And you have been.

Abigail: Given what we was and where we came from, I think we've gone and done okay. I look at Jack ...I look at him and, I think we've been blessed. Maybe he can be something more.

Marston: He's a good kid. He can be whatever he wants to be. He ain't going to be no frontier gunslinger, killing and running in no gang though. That way's over. Railroads and government and motorcars and everything gone and done away with all that.

Abigail: And he ain't gonna marry no orphaned working girl running with a bunch of hucksters, neither.

Marston: If he meets one like you, I hope he'll marry her.

Abigail: Stop. For an illiterate gunslinger, you sure know how to make a girl blush.

[She looks out the window.]

Abigail: Goddamn crows! John, you have got to go deal with them. They've broken into the silo again, and are eating all the corn out from it.

Marston: (tasting soup) Of course, my angel.

Abigail: Get out of there!

Marston: Alright, alright.

Abigail: Go on! Skat!

[John slays the birds.]

Marston: Finally. Now about that stew.

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