conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is a description for a book titled The Last Mountain Man about William, America, Ozark with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: William the author is one of the greatest storytellers to chronicle the spectacle and drama of life in a young America. In this extraordinary novel, the author tells the epic story of a young man from the Ozark Mountains who journeys west to the violent lands of Colorado Territory and learns to be lightning with a gun and destined to become the last of a breed.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for this book? Start with the sentence 'The Last Mountain Man
  Things had been relatively peaceful in Rattlesnake Wells, Wyoming'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Last Mountain Man
  Things had been relatively peaceful in Rattlesnake Wells, Wyoming. In recent days there were the usual quota of saloon brawls, a few incidents of drunks discharging firearms mainly to see folks scatter, and a domestic squabble or two. But nothing more serious than that.
  Not to say, however, there wasn't still an undercurrent of excitement running through the town, due primarily to the announced opening of a spanking brand-new saloon in the New Town section on the north end of the city.
  A saloon, especially in that part of town, wasn't particularly newsworthy in and of itself. The difference in this case was the much-ballyhooed opulence of the new business—as opposed to the quickly thrown-up tent saloons and gambling joints currently blighting the boom area as a result of the gold strike up in the Prophecy Mountains.
  But, despite the general excitement, certain folks around town were neither happy nor impressed by what they were hearing—opulence be damned.
  The paper Bullock was waving in the faces of Marshal Bob Hatfield and Maudie Sartain was an advertising flyer heralding the scheduled grand opening of the new saloon. The flyer featured all of the things Bullock had just mentioned in his agitated spiel, but with a bit more detail—like how the name of the new establishment would be the Crystal Diamond; how its main hall would feature an ornate cherrywood bar and a spectacular crystal chandelier both specially delivered all the way from San Francisco; and how the highlight of each evening's entertainment would be Miss Alora Dane and her Diamond Dollies performing dazzling song-and-dance routines.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Maudie sensed the same thing, as evidenced by her remark, "I got a feeling that here are three hombres we'd wish as customers for the Crystal Diamond." Even as she was saying this, however, she was rising up to go perform bartending duties for the trio.
  In the meantime, as he leaned back against the bar, resting his elbows on the edge and hooking a boot heel over the brass rail along the base, Broken Nose focused on the near table where the four oldsters continued quietly playing cards. Addressing them, he said, "Hey, you bunch of grampaws. Any one of you happen to be a bartender or a priest? That might help me figure out this puzzlement I got."
  But one of the card players, Delbert Carey, a former soldier and railroad worker who still had more than a little bark on him, was neither impressed by Broken Nose's brand of humor nor intimidated by his loud mouth. Without looking around from the cards fanned out in his hand, he said indifferently, "What we are, you rather impertinent young pup, is of no consequence to you. And your so-called puzzlement, I assure you, is of equally little concern to us."
  Broken Nose's reaction to this response was at first one of surprise, his eyebrows lifting high. But then, just as quickly, the brows came back down and knitted tightly above a glare aimed at Carey's back.
  Sideburns, also leaning against the bar, looked a little uncertain, like he didn't want to see this escalate into something more than it had to. "Too sassy for a priest, right?" he said. "So that's a good sign this probably is a saloon after all, wouldn't you say?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But, at almost the same moment, Maudie realized for herself what a bad spot she was in. What was more, she also sensed the faint hesitation in Jax's aggression and recognized the opportunity it presented. Abruptly, she wrapped her hand around the whiskey bottle she'd used to pour the second round of drinks and thrust it out at arm's length, releasing it in a short toss that sent it across the width of the bar to thump against the shoulder of an unsuspecting Sideburns on the other side. The bottle didn't hit with much force but it was still enough to cause Sideburns to jerk away reflexively and bump against the Mexican beside him. As the bottle bounced off the jostled pair and fell crashing to the floor, Maudie dropped down low behind the bar.
  If the speed of Jax's earlier draw had seemed impressive, it paled sadly compared to the lightning sweep of Bob's hand as it skinned his.44 and triggered it into action. Flame and lead spat from the barrel, the roar of the shot shattering the tense silence that had previously gripped the room. Jax's gun hand was swatted away as if by an invisible blow, and the weapon once gripped in it, torn from his grasp by Bob's bullet, went skimming down the length of the bar until it smashed into a pyramid of clean glasses stacked at the far end.
  Jax's knees sagged and his free hand reached frantically to clutch stinging, empty, still-clawed fingers. An instant later, his knees had cause to sag even more and then buckle completely when Bullock immediately uncorked a sizzling right hook that sent him crumpling to the floor.
  As Jax was going down, Bob swung his.44 in a short horizontal arc and centered it on the other two men as they finally, foolishly, decided to grab for their guns. "Don't even think it!" he warned them.
  Predictably, Sideburns halted his attempt and jerked both hands, palms open, to shoulder height instead. But the Mexican insisted on following through. Or trying to. His hand closed on the grips of his gun but managed to do little more than loosen it in its holster before Bob's Colt roared again. The bullet it discharged this time smashed into the Mexican's shoulder, spinning him around and pitching him onto the edge of a nearby empty table. He hissed in pain and filled the air with Spanish curses, clawing the tabletop with his good hand, trying to hold himself upright, but failing and then collapsing to the floor.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But, at almost the same moment, Maudie realized for herself what a bad spot she was in. What was more, she also sensed the faint hesitation in Jax's aggression and recognized the opportunity it presented. Abruptly, she wrapped her hand around the whiskey bottle she'd used to pour the second round of drinks and thrust it out at arm's length, releasing it in a short toss that sent it across the width of the bar to thump against the shoulder of an unsuspecting Sideburns on the other side. The bottle didn't hit with much force but it was still enough to cause Sideburns to jerk away reflexively and bump against the Mexican beside him. As the bottle bounced off the jostled pair and fell crashing to the floor, Maudie dropped down low behind the bar.
  If the speed of Jax's earlier draw had seemed impressive, it paled sadly compared to the lightning sweep of Bob's hand as it skinned his.44 and triggered it into action. Flame and lead spat from the barrel, the roar of the shot shattering the tense silence that had previously gripped the room. Jax's gun hand was swatted away as if by an invisible blow, and the weapon once gripped in it, torn from his grasp by Bob's bullet, went skimming down the length of the bar until it smashed into a pyramid of clean glasses stacked at the far end.
  Jax's knees sagged and his free hand reached frantically to clutch stinging, empty, still-clawed fingers. An instant later, his knees had cause to sag even more and then buckle completely when Bullock immediately uncorked a sizzling right hook that sent him crumpling to the floor.
  As Jax was going down, Bob swung his.44 in a short horizontal arc and centered it on the other two men as they finally, foolishly, decided to grab for their guns. "Don't even think it!" he warned them.
  Predictably, Sideburns halted his attempt and jerked both hands, palms open, to shoulder height instead. But the Mexican insisted on following through. Or trying to. His hand closed on the grips of his gun but managed to do little more than loosen it in its holster before Bob's Colt roared again. The bullet it discharged this time smashed into the Mexican's shoulder, spinning him around and pitching him onto the edge of a nearby empty table.