GRANDMOTHER: More stirring than you'll ever see. This war—Lincoln's war—it's all a cut and dried business now. We used to fight with anything we could lay hands on—dish water—whatever was handy.
SMITH: I guess you believe the saying that the only good Indian is a dead Indian.
GRANDMOTHER: I dunno. We roiled them up considerable. They was mostly friendly when let be. Didn't want to give up their land—but I've noticed something of the same nature in white folks.
SMITH: Your son has—something of that nature, hasn't he?
GRANDMOTHER: He's not keen to sell. Why should he? It'll never be worth less.
SMITH: But since he has more land than any man can use, and if he gets his price—
GRANDMOTHER: That what you've come to talk to him about?
SMITH: I—yes.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, you're not the first. Many a man older than you has come to argue it.
SMITH: (smiling) They thought they'd try a young one.