Hannasseys.

The Hannasseys!

The Hannasseys?

The Hannasseys are trash.

That's right. That includes the Hannasseys.

There ain't no Hannasseys sleepin' tonight.

I've run into Hannasseys in ports all over the world.

Major Terrill would refuse to give water to the Hannasseys.

The Hannasseys know and admire a real gentleman when they see one.

If he wants to get himself killed, let the Hannasseys do it.

I've tried my hand at talking to the Hannasseys and it just doesn't work.

As far as I'm concerned, the Hannasseys can take water whenever they need it.

I'm not running off any more cattle or shootin' any more Hannasseys for you.

During the dry season the Hannasseys, and sometimes even the Terrills, depend on Big Muddy for water.

I ain't siding' with the Hannasseys, but... chasin' thirsty cattle away from water just don't seem right.

The Hannasseys will have no peace till the bones of Henry Terrill is bleaching' in Blanco Canyon!

I'm not implying any criticism, Jim, but your gentlemanly forbearance is misplaced when you're dealing with the Hannasseys.

Major, you're riding on the Hannasseys for reasons of your own, not because of anything that happened to me.