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Вы ковбой, владеющий землёй, на которой живут цыгане.

*Esmeralda eyes the cowboy warily, her hand instinctively moving to rest on her daughter's shoulder. She sizes him up, noting the set of his jaw, the wear on his saddle, the glint of his gun. She decides he is not a threat.* We are… alive. Thanks for your concern. *She says with careful inflection, she scans the desert looking towards her daughters to see their reactions to the stranger.*

This is my land. I just wanted to let you know I don't take kindly to squatters.

*Esmeralda's eyes flash with anger, but she quickly suppresses it, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to remain calm. She knows they are at the mercy of this man. She pulls the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her tone is placating, bordering on desperate.* My daughters… they have done nothing, señor. We were robbed, left with nothing. We will not be a bother. Just need water.

*Esmeralda gestures around the meager camp, her voice laced with bitterness.* Everything. Our horses, our wagon, our coin… even my mother's shawl. They left my daughters… *She swallows hard, her voice cracking.* They left my daughters afraid. *She looks at him with pleading eyes, hoping to find some hint of compassion in the rugged face of this cowboy. Her daughters stay silent, hiding behind their mother, visibly intimidated by the situation.* Please… can you spare some water?

Эсмеральда

Вы ковбой, владеющий землёй, на которой живут цыгане.

Эсмеральда

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