Episode #1 - "Deadwood" Montana Territory May, 1876 (Night. A gallows stands in the empty dirt street of a town. The camera pans to the left, and we notice bars on the windows of the building that the gallows is in front of, the jail.) (Next, the interior of the jail. Sheriff Seth sits at his desk, writing. He pauses, and the camera shifts focus from his face to someone standing behind the bars of a cell at the rear of the room. The prisoner is Clell Watson.) Clell: Seth: Clell: Seth: Clell: Seth: Clell:
Is that some sort of a letter, marshal? Journal. Good. You know, I was goin' to Deadwood, same as you. Is that so? I had my plans about set. I only wish to Christ I could get these past three days back. I can imagine. (Appearing to consider something) No law at all in Deadwood? Is that true?
(Seth nods slightly, and takes his cup over to the wood stove to pour himself some coffee. He's wearing a sling to support his right arm, which is injured.) Seth: Clell: Seth: Clell:
Seth:
Bein' on Indian land. So then you won't be a marshal? Takin' goods there to open a hardware business. Me and my partner. If I'd a got there, I'd a been prospectin'. Jesus Christ Almighty. No law at all. Gold you can scoop from the streams with your bare hands. And I gotta go and fuck myself up by supposedly stealing Byron Samson's horse. It's poor damn timin' at the least.
(Seth walks over towards the cell with two cups of coffee, and places one on a table next to the cell where Clell can reach it.) Clell: Seth: Clell: Seth:
Thank you very much. You're welcome. I'm sorry as hell about your shoulder. Flesh wound. Don't look like it wants to infect.
(Seth walks back to his desk and sits in the chair.) Clell:
Well. Never mind flesh wound, sir. When you are goin' to meet your maker, you don't feature tellin' him you shot a marshal in the shoulder for only doin' his legally ordained job.
Seth: Clell:
He may have heard worse stories. God? Well if he ain't, I'll tell him six, or seven, just on people of my own personal acquaintance.
(Clail and Seth both smile at that.) Clell:
I'd like to suggest an idea to you, sir, that I pray as a Christian man you will entertain on its own fuckin' merits.
(Seth stands and walks back over to the cell bars.) Seth: Clell:
Does it involve lettin' you go? I know two scores, Mr. Bullock, that we could make in transit without movin' 20 feet off our path. People with cash on hand. And if once we hit Deadwood and you didn't want to have anything to do with me, we'd never speak again. We would meet as strangers the rest of our fuckin' lives. Now, you tell me what you think of that, sir.
(Seth doesn't say anything, but has a slight smile on his face, like he's amused.) (Suddenly, the front door of the jail opens, and Sol enters. Seth turns toward Sol, then back to Clell, and his face is serious once more.) Seth:
(To Clell) It don't appeal to me.
(Seth walks over to meet Sol at the desk. Clell is upset about being interrupted.) Clell: Sol: Clell: Seth: Sol: Clell:
(To Sol) Get the fuck out of here for a moment would you, sir? (To Seth) Byron Samson's comin' for him. (To Sol) Sir, would you please get the fuck out of here 'til we have finished our previous conversation? (To Sol) How many in his play? (To Seth) A dozen, shit faced. Samson just caved in Tommy Raymond's head over at the no-name frog. He went against it. What are you two conversing at?
(gunshot) (From outside) Clell: (male):
Jesus Christ! (From outside) Come out and talk to us, Bullock!
(Seth walks over to the barred front window and looks out. A group of men armed with guns are standing in the street. Some carry lit torches.) Clell: Seth: Clell:
Now who is that? That sounds like ah, Byron Samson. Yeah. What would he want?
(Seth removes his arm sling and turns to look back at Clell. Clell smiles sadly.) Clail: Byron:
Now tell me what kind of fuckin' luck I got. (Yelling in to Seth) All you're doin' stallin', Bullock, is pissin' me off! Cause I guarantee you ain't makin' it through in there till sun up! So why don't you climb out from behind your badge, and your big brick building, and you bring Clell Watson out here so we can give him what he fuckin' deserves!
(Sol drives his and Seth's wagon, loaded down with supplies, from behind the jail, and stops the wagon next to it. He's armed, and aims his gun at the men in the street.) Byron: Sol: Byron: Sol:
Well what do we got here? Whoa! It's a Jew on a wagon. (Yelling so Seth can hear him) Yeah, right out here in the alley!
(Seth, followed by Clell, comes out the front door of the jail and stands on its porch. Clell's hands are tied behind his back and he wears a noose loosely around his neck. Seth is holding the rest of the rope.) Seth: Byron: Seth:
I'm executin' sentence now and he's hangin' under color of law. You and your partner plan on makin' Deadwood, marshal, do not try for this scaffold. That's a deal you loud mouthed cocksucker!
(Seth throws the rope over an overhead support beam at the front of the porch.) Byron: Clell: Seth:
You hear this? Ohh wait, this ain't right. My sister was comin' in the mornin'. What would you have her told?
(Seth kicks a stool across the porch so it rests under where the rope is looped.) Clell: Seth: Byron:
(Looking down) That's not enough of a drop. I'll help you with the drop. Now get up and say what you'd have your sister told. Do not tether that rope off of that porch!
(Clell steps up on the stool and Seth ties off the end of the rope, securing it.) (gunshot) (From Byron's gun) Seth: Byron:
Anymore gunplay gets answered. You called the law in, Samson. You don't get to call it off just 'cause you're liquored up and popular on payday. And you don't get to tell us what to do and what not to do. 'Cause you're
Clell: Seth: Clell: Seth: Clell: Seth: Clell: Seth: Clell:
leavin' Montana anyways! Now do not jump off that stool, you cocksucker! (To Byron) Or what? You'll kill me? (To Seth) You tell my sister, if my boy turns up, raise him good. What else? Tell her, give him my boots. What else? Tell him, his... daddy loved him. Tell him, he asks God's forgiveness. Anything else? You help me with my fuckin' fall! (Gesturing with his hand) Come ahead. (To Byron) Fuck you!
(Clell steps off the stool, and his feet kick as he strangles.) Clell:
(groaning)
(Seth grabs Clail around his legs and yanks down firmly. Clail dies quickly. Seth looks at Sol and sniffs, puts his gun down, and pulls out a piece of paper and something to write with. Byron starts to walk towards Clail's body.) Sol:
(To Byron) Stay back!
(gunshot) (From Sol's gun) Sol: Seth: Byron: Toady:
Move the fuck back, while my partner... while my partner's takin' his sweet ass time writing whatever the fuck he's writing over there! (To the men) Who'll give his last words to the sister? (To the men) None of you better fuckin' move! Shit! I'll do it!
(Byron's toady walks forward to Seth, and Seth gives him the piece of paper with Clell's last words, along with Seth's badge.) Seth: Sol:
(To Toady) Thank you. (To Sol) Let's go. (To horses pulling the wagon) Hee!
(Seth, holding his gun, climbs up and holds onto the back of the wagon as it pulls away. Fade to black.) ----(cow mooing) (shouting) (Day. A wagon train has stopped. Calamity Jane walks towards us past some wagons,
back to the wagon in which we see Wild Bill Hickok lying on his back on some furs, as if sleeping.) The Black Hills July, 1876 Jane: Bill: Jane: Bill: Jane: Bill: Jane: Bill: Jane: Bill:
Same damn wagon that broke down yesterday, Bill! That's the holdup, huh? Same wagon and no damn room to maneuver. Sounds like it's tighter out there than a bull's ass in fly season. How's your headache? Not bad. You want me to canvas for whiskey? That's alright Jane. Believe me, we're stuck here a fuckin' while. I know your canvassing techniques. I don't want any casualties on my conscience.
(Jane gets down off the back of the wagon.) Jane:
(Yelling to no one in particular) It's only Wild Bill Hickok you got stalled here in the muck! You ignorant fuckin' cunts.
(Jane starts walking towards the stuck wagon, as Charlie Utter, who is driving Bill's wagon, looks on.) Jane:
What a goddamned circus! Shit.
(male):
Let's go!
(Jane stops and looks down the hillside at the trail in front of them, and her eyes follow the trail until it winds into a camp at the bottom of the hill. Welcome to Deadwood.) ----(Deadwood. Day. Seth drives his and Sol's wagon, still loaded with goods, down the street through the center of the crowded camp.) (Come on, now. Come on, now. Come on.) Sol:
(Trying to get Seth's attention) Seth! Seth! Hey, Seth!
(Seth pulls the wagon over when he sees Sol standing at the side of the street.) Sol: Seth:
This lot rents at 20 a day, Seth. $20 a day.
(Dan Dority is standing next to Sol.) Dan: Sol:
(To Seth) Tent only, no construction. (To Seth) Corner location.
(Sol looks up at Seth, and they nod to each other. Sol takes out money to give to Dan.) Dan: Seth: Dan:
In advance, every morning, to Mr. Swearengen at the Gem. Where's the Gem? You'll find it. Everybody does.
(Seth looks around and sees the balcony of the Gem, with its canvas sign. A few whores stand on the balcony.) ----(Inside the Gem. Al is holding some gold in his hand, and talking to Ellsworth at the bar.) Al:
8 ounces of gold at $20 an ounce is a 160, plus $10 for a half-ounce is a 170 total. Ellsworth: (Cheerfully) Inform your dealers and whores of my credit, and pour me a goddamned drink. Al: (Also cheerfully) Honor and a pleasure my good man. 170 credit, Dan, for Ellsworth. Dan: Yes, sir, 170 for Ellsworth. I'll let everybody know. (Dan puts some money on the bar.) Dan: (To Al) Lot four, some hardware guys. Ellsworth: (Drinking a shot) First one today with this hand. (To Al) And pour me another, my good man. Al: Here comes another. (To Dan) Lot four a stayer? Dan: (To Al) Wagon loaded with goods. Ellsworth: (To Al) Now, with that Limey damn accent of yours, are these rumors true that you're descended from the British nobility? Al: I'm descended from all them cocksuckers. (Dan looks over and smiles a little at that.) Ellsworth:
(Raises his glass to Al) Well here's to you, your majesty. I'll tell you what. I may a fucked my life up flatter than hammered shit, but I stand here before you today beholden to no human cocksucker. And workin' a payin' fuckin' gold claim. And not the U.S. government sayin' I'm tresspassin' or the savage fuckin' red man himself or any of these limber dick cocksuckers passin' themselves off as prospectors had better try and stop me.
Al: They better not try it in here. Ellsworth: Goddamn it, Swearengen, I don't trust you as far as I can throw ya, but I enjoy the way you lie. Al: Thank you, my good man. Ellsworth: You're welcome! You conniving, heavy thumbed motherfucker. (gunshot) (From upstairs) Ellsworth: Watch out! Al: (To Dan) That's her Derringer. I warned you about that loopy cunt! Al: (To Ellsworth, still sitting at the bar) Keep your own tally! (Al grabs a gun and the cash box, and he and Dan rush up the stairs.) Ellsworth:
(Pouring himself a drink) Oh, have no fear on that score.
----(Upstairs in the Gem, in one of the bedrooms. Trixie is seated and crying, Al and Dan are there, and so is Trixie's john, who is sitting on the floor, against the wall, shot through the head from side to side. The john's still alive.) Trixie: john: Dan: Trixie: john:
I said not to beat on me! I told him. Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson... (To Trixie) You got any other guns? No, I don't got anymore. Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson. Ticonderoga, New York. Do you find it? Barnett Robinson.
(Al is looking through the pockets of the john's coat, trying to find something. He finds the paper the john is going on about.) Al: john: Al:
(Reading off the paper, to the john) Barnett Robinson. That's who to notify if this thing goes wrong. Yeah, I've got it right here.
(Johnny comes into the room, followed by the Doc. Doc walks over to the john and crouches down next to him.) Doc: Trixie: Al: Trixie: john: Trixie:
How you doin', Trixie? I told him don't beat on me, Doc! (To Trixie) No one asked for your version! (Very upset) I robbed him and then he started in beatin' on me. And I didn't rob you. (Mumbling to the Doc) I don't remember. I didn't, goddamnit!
john: Doc: john: Doc:
(Pointing at his wounds) Ah, she shot me right in the head. (To the john) D-D-D-D-Don't. Don't put your fingers in it. Ah, ah, yeah, is it bad, Doc? Shhh, shhh, shhh.
(labored breathing) (The john stops breathing.) Al: Doc:
(To Dan) Get the Chinaman! Sure would like to know how he lasted for 20 minutes shot straight through the brain. Al: So prospect in him, 'til Dan brings the Chinaman. Doc: Do you mind if I take him to my place? Al: Sure. Johnny, help the Doc with this guy. (To Dan) Bring the Chinaman to the Doc's. Johnny: I'll bring that sled right in, Doc. Al: Doc, you drink free today. And I hope any word of this would keep the gun out of the whore's hand. Doc: That wouldn't come from me. Al: Bastard did himself in. (Al grabs Trixie roughly and pulls her to her feet.) Al: Trixie: Al:
(To Trixie) Come here. (To Al) I said to stop. (To Trixie) Tell me in my office. (To Johnny, who has returned with the sled) Get the gimp to clean this place up.
(Doc sticks a thin probe completely through the john's head, temple to temple. Johnny sees the probing.) Johnny: (Disgusted) Aww, Doc! Doc: You know there's something peculiar about this man's cerebral setup where they can just write off the forebrain as being the center of thought and speech. Johnny: Let's just get him on the sled. Doc: (Smiling just a little) Of course it ah... won't matter to Mr. Wu’s pigs. ----(Back at the stalled wagon train, Wild Bill climbs down from the back of the wagon.) Bill: Whiskey. Got an urge to see that camp, Charlie. Charlie: Alright. (whipping sounds) (Jane's cracking her whip, with a small crowd gathered watching her.)
Charlie: Can we leave you with the stock, Jane? Bill and me gonna ride on ahead into camp. Jane: (Puts her whip away and walks over to Bill and Charlie) I expect I'll be there before sundown. Charlie: Well, we'll know where to find ya. Jane: (To Charlie) What in the hell do you mean by that? That I enjoy a fuckin' drink? I wasn't aware that's outlawed? Bill: (Trying to make peace) Thanks for lookin' at the stock, Jane. Jane: (Smiling at Bill) 'Scuse my ill humor. Certain people wear on my fuckin' nerves. (Bill and Charlie walk over to their horses and mount up. Jane takes a seat at the front of the wagon.) Bill: She likes me better than she likes you. Charlie: I wish to hell I knew what I ever did to get on that woman's wrong side. (Bill and Charlie ride off down the trail. A covered wagon with a family pulls up next to Jane, going in the opposite direction. It's the Metz family: Pa M, Ma M, and three young daughters.) Jane: (To the Metz's) Do you know a back way into the camp? Pa Metz: Whoa. Ma Metz: (To Pa Metz, speaking foreign language) (To Jane) We don't go to the camp. We go home... back to Minnesota. Jane: You probably got the right idea. (Jane smiles and clucks her tongue, as though to get the Metz's horses moving again. She notices the youngest daughter, Sophia, and Sophia smiles back at Jane. The Metz's wagon continues on its way.) ----(Deadwood. Day. Seth and Sol are unloading their wagon. Some asshole is upset with them for taking so long.) Asshole: Jesus Christ almighty, move it! I can't get to my spot until you finish. You got me circling my wagon like a fly around shit. Sol: (Trying to be nice) We're pretty near done. We gotta long wait, same as you. Asshole: This the first wagon you ever fuckin' unloaded! Hold onto my horse. I'll show you how to do it! (Wild Bill Hickok and Charlie Utter stop and listen to this exchange as they ride down the street.)
Seth:
(Trying to be as nice as he can) We know what we're doing. Put your hat back on and stick with your wagon. Asshole: And what if I don't? Seth: (Tired of being nice) Stand there mouthin' off and you'll find out. Sol: (Trying to make peace) Sir, have a commode for your inconvenience. Asshole: You think I'm gonna pay for that? Sol: No, that's free, from Star and Bullock Hardware, open in Deadwood soon as we locate. Asshole: (Not quite as cranky as before) Hurry up and get finished. (The asshole leaves. Wild Bill and Charlie continue on their way.) Sol:
Seth: Sol:
(To Seth) My father's last words there in Vienna... before he passed away, was "Sol, lose a can and buy the goddamned fool could slow it down and sell 'em at retail." I gotta put a book together of your old man's deathbed sayin's. That was Wild Bill Hickok just ridin' past us, Seth. I seen him in photographs.
----(Al's room in the Gem. Al and Trixie are talking alone.) Trixie:
Al: Trixie: Al: Trixie: Al:
Trixie: Al:
He lost his stake gamblin'. He told me before he passed out. He said he lost his stake and he hadn't found no gold and he was goin' back east after one last piece of pussy. None of that's anything to me. He wakes back up, starts in beatin' on me. "Where's his stake? Where's all his money?" You call Danny, you call Johnny. Must've been me took it from him. You don't shoot nobody 'cause that's bad for my business and it's bad for the camp's reputation. (Examining Trixie's bloody nose) He beat the living shit out of you, didn't he? (Closes her eyes against what's coming, because Al's about to give her another beating.) Do what you gotta do to me. (Yelling) Don't tell me what to do. (Al throws Trixie against the wall, and she collapses to the floor.) Either way this comes out, we'll only have to do it once. What's it to be, Trixie?
(gasping) (Al is pressing his boot against Trixie's windpipe so she can't breathe.) Trixie: Al: -----
I'll be good. Alright now.
(Interior of the Grand Central Hotel entrance. E.B. Farnum is behind the front desk, and looks up to see Wild Bill Hickok and Charlie Utter walk in the propped-open front door.) EB:
(To Bill) We heard rumors you might be comin', but you can't believe every rumor. We heard you might be comin' from Cheyenne. Bill: Here I am. EB: If every rumor was true, we'd all been scalped now by the Sioux. Or the government would've tossed us out as treaty violators. (E.B. pauses and smiles awkwardly, then turns to Charlie.) E.B. Farnum. How do you do? Charlie: Charlie Utter. You got some mighty clammy hands there, partner. EB: Damp palms run in my family. (To Bill) Here to prospect, Mr. Hickok, or on other business? Bill: I'm here to get a room. Charlie: Ah, could we get two? We're ah, worn out lookin' at each other. EB: Separate rooms. I'll arrange that by tomorrow, but today I can't fix it. (To Bill) Unless you kill a guest. (chuckling) (Bill is not impressed.) ----(Later that day. Al's office. Al, E.B., and Johnny are there.) Al: EB: Al:
Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: -----
Wild Bill Hickok. Nothing can ever be simple. He didn't speak of havin' law man ambitions, Al. Starting right the fuck with Custer gettin' himself massacred, it's been one thing after another. Leaves the godless, savage cocksucker Sioux on the warpath. (Dan Dority enters the room.) If that long haired loud mouth had held his end up, we could be operatin' here in peace. The New York dude's downstairs, Al. Did he order whiskey? Yeah. Did he down it, or is he sippin' at it? He's sippin'. Why'd I even ask, huh? (laughing) (To E.B.) Go get Tim Driscoll. Make sure the dude sees you leave. What should I tell Tim? Tell him to get over here. Tell him he's drunk, sorry for himself. Give me five minutes, then you come back, do your part. Alright, Al. (He starts to leave, then turns around.) As far as Hickok, Al. If I'd a pushed him any harder on his plans, I was afraid he'd shoot me. Go get Driscoll. Yes, sir.
(Night. The hardware tent Sol and Seth have put up for selling their wares. Across the street, some guy is yelling loudly, trying to sell his own wares. Seth observes from their tent, then walks inside.) Some Guy: (To people walking by in the street) Hand made! It's all hand made, guaranteed! Sol: (To Seth) It ain't like somethin's bein' foisted on 'em, they'll be sorry they bought come sun up. Seth: I know that. Sol: These are quality items. They meet these folks' needs. They're bein' offered at fair markup, and we're announcing their availability. Seth: Got through Indian country, figures into the markup. Sol: By us, at personal peril. Seth: Let's go. Sol: Comin' out with your fly down might strike the wrong note. (Seth looks down. His fly is fine. Aw, he just needs to relax a little. Nice one, Sol. They walk out through the front of their tent to begin their lives as salesmen.) (loud chatter) Seth:
(To people walking by in the street) Come have a look, boys. Star and Bullock Hardware and Mercantile just opened for business. We got boots to sell ya.
(People continue to walk right on by.) Sol: Seth: Sol:
Knee boots $10! Hip boots 15! We got picks, pans, and shovels. Picks at $12, shovels at 10 and pans at 8!
(Some people have stopped and are listening.) Seth: Sol: Seth: Guy1: Sol: Seth:
We got plaster cradles, prospector's best friend. Perfected at the Montana strikes! We got chamber pots to sell ya. And if you don't know what one of those is, the man livin' next to you will appreciate your findin' out. I'll look at your biggest size hip boot. (Leading Guy1 into the tent to look at the boots) Got 'em right here. We stand by our stock. Any item that don't do what it's supposed to will be exchanged for one that does. And we'll be here for you to find us.
(A man (Soap Guy) in the group that has stopped at the hardware tent starts talking loudly.) Soap Guy: Sonofabitch! Man said I might get a prize. I'd paid 50 cents for this bar of soap. There's a five dollar prize in the wrapper.
Guy2: Where'd you buy that soap at? Soap Guy: (Points) Man standing right over there. (Seth walks over to Soap Guy.) Seth:
Front your game away from our tent.
(Soap Guy's smile disappears, but he touches his cap respectfully and walks away.) Soap Guy: (As he's walking away) Cash prizes, every night's case of soap. Guy3: (To Sol) Hey, store keep! Hold me some of those large hip boots 'til I get over there and I'll pay you two dollars extra. Seth: Set prices, boys. And first come, first to be served. (To Guy3 as he leads him over to the tent) We'll get you squared away. ----(Night. Inside the Gem Saloon, Brom Garrett sips a shot of whiskey.) (piano music) (Al and Dan come down the stairs.) Al:
Brom: Al: Brom: Al: Brom: Al:
Brom: Al: Brom: Al: Brom: Al: Brom:
Al:
(To a man on the stairs who is feeling up a whore) No free feels in this house. (To Dan, as they approach Brom) Brom Garrett of Manhattan. Scourge of the Deadwood faro tables. Don't think I confuse two nights holding good cards with being a faro shark. Two here, Dan. (To Brom, regarding his shot of whiskey) You ah, you see a finish to that? (After downing his shot) Did you hear Bill Hickok's in town? Oh, yes I did. Does that give you the vapors? Are you mad about something, Al? I'm not mad about nothin'. All's I can tell you, Brom, things sort out fast in Deadwood. And I vouched for you with Tim Driscoll two hours in here last night when I gather you must have been home in bed, sleeping. End result? Tim's just about got his claim sold to E.B. Farnum. What? Where's Driscoll now? He ain't here, so I'd assume at his hotel. You told me he's here by six. Well, he ain't yet. Al, E.B. Farnum just saw me here and headed for the door. I wouldn't know how to interpret that. I was doing the legwork, Al. I was doing the due dilligence. You tell me Driscoll's got money troubles, and he's a motivated seller, fair enough. But how did I know his claim's not played out? I had to do the legwork on that. I see, fair enough.
Brom: Al: Brom: Al: Brom: Al: Dan: Brom: Al: Brom:
Oh, that's what I had to ascertain. Did you do the legwork? Al. (Brom downs another shot, and pulls his hand out of his pocket holding a piece of gold he retrieved from Driscoll's claim.) For God's sake, close your fist. Cleaned up during the night with five more just like it. From claim number nine above Discovery. Panned, at the Driscoll claim. All's I can say, Brom, while you were out winnin' the battle, I hope you didn't lose the fuckin' war. Al. (He looks towards the door, and Al and Brom turn to look, too. A bald man swaggers into the saloon and up to the bar, ordering a shot.) Who's that? Tim Driscoll. Shit faced. Let me handle the play. My God, he is shit faced.
(Al is facing away from Brom, and he smiles.) ----(shouting) (Night. Outside in the street, there's a fistfight going on. Wild Bill and Charlie walk past and into the No. 10 Saloon. Tom Nuttall is tending bar, and Merrick, who is sitting at one of the tables, stands up as the two men enter and approach the bar.) Tom: Bill: Tom:
(To Bill and Charlie) Boys. Whiskeys. Two whiskeys. I'm ah, I'm respectin' your privacy, not sayin' your name but II certainly recognize ya. And I'd like to buy the first round. Bill: (Nodding to Charlie, introducing him) Charlie Utter. Tom: Tom Nuttall, Charlie. Charlie: Tom. (At one of the tables, Jack McCall is seated with two other men. One of them speaks.) Man:
It's Billy Hickok. I seen him kill Phil Coe in Abilene.
(Merrick has gathered his things from his table and approaches the group at the bar.) Merrick: Ah, hey, A.W. Merrick, Mr. Hickok. Of the ah, Deadwood Pioneer. Bill: We're drinkin' whiskey. Merrick: Certainly. Certainly ah, whiskeys here, Mr. Nuttall. Jack:
(To the men he's seated with) Let me say one thing, before anybody opens their mouths. I'm gonna say no more on the subject, and I'll be through for the fuckin' evenin'. I'm not impressed.
Merrick: readers? Bill: Charlie: Merrick: Bill: Merrick: Charlie:
So ah, ah, what brings you to our camp, Mr. Hickock, ah... may I tell my Warrant out on me in Cheyenne. Ah, get off of that now, Bill. Well, I suppose for a man like you, warrants are a vocational hazard. You callin' me a professional vagrant? The ah, warrant was for vagrancy? (To Merrick) He's kiddin'!
(laughing) (started by Tom Nuttall) Tom:
Anyway in this camp, warrants don't count.
Jack:
I'm tellin' you, he's not impressed, alright? And you may apply that to whoever you feel may be my reference. But I intend to gut that sonofabitch at poker whenever I get the chance.
Bill: Tom: Charlie: Bill: Tom: Bill: Charlie:
(To Tom) You run that game, Can I buy 50 in chips? I do, and you can. Just, settle up after you see how your luck runs. You feel like playin' now, Bill or you wanna take in the rest of the camp? I feel like playin' now. Draw and five stud. Dealer calls the game. Sounds fair. See you later, Charlie. Alright, Bill.
(Bill walks to the back of the room and speaks to a group of men already seated at a table.) Bill: Boys:
You boys mind if I sit in? Not at all. Not at all, sir.
Merrick: (To Charlie) What a grand surprise. I never thought he'd live long enough for me to meet him. ----(One of the bedrooms at the Gem. Jewel is tidying up, and Trixie is sporting some new bruises, courtesy of Al.) Trixie: Jewel: Trixie:
(To Jewel) I need another gun. So in case they beat on you? Never mind what for. Just take this and get me another gun.
(Trixie hands Jewel a cameo pin.)
----(Downstairs at the Gem. Tim Driscoll is acting drunk and loud with a whore.) Tim: Whore: Tim:
Now Mabel, Mabel, get your ass across that table. This dollar is not for a drink. My name's Caroline. Yeah, well you'll always be Mabel to me.
(Brom and Al approach Tim to speak to him.) Al: Tim: Al:
(To Tim) Claim nine above Discovery, $14,000, yes or no? $14,000, yes or no? (To Brom) Alright, we'll make it 14,000. (To Brom) Spit in your hand. Spit in your hand.
(Tim Driscoll spits in his hand, but Brom hesitates to spit in his.) Tim: Brom:
(To Al, regarding Brom) What's his fuckin' problem? Ah, nothing. (Brom spits in his hand.)
(Brom and Tim shake hands.) Al:
Done, witnessed.
(E.B. walks up to the three men.) EB: Tim: EB: Brom: Tim:
EB: Brom: Tim: Al: Brom: Tim:
(To Tim) Am I too late? Mmmm. No, no, no, but your too late Farnum. I just sold to this, goose lookin' fella for 14,000. (To Brom) Will you take 16? (To EB) Ah, no, thank you, but no. (To EB) What a fuckin' lyin' cunt ya are. Ah, 12 and a half thousand. That's every cent I can get hold of, Mr. Driscoll. Yeah, and more than the claim is worth, you said. (To Brom) 16,000, that's 2,000 profit, standing over a drink. I believe events would prove that claim nine above Discovery was worth far more than 16,000, Mr. Farnum. Unhand me, Al. Though, you know of course, I haven't actually seen his fuckin' money yet. I'm discountin' his bank note, Dan. There's $10,000. I'll waive four out of the other sack right now. (To Tim) You see, Al's holding a full faith letter of credit for $20,000 from the Bank of New York. (To Brom) Well, full faith is one thing, but until the money has actually passed hands, you know, between us, the deal isn't done.
Al: Tim: Al: Brom: Tim: EB: Brom: Al: Brom: Al: EB: Brom: EB: Brom: EB: Brom: EB: Tim: EB: Brom: Tim:
(To Tim) The deal is done. (To Al) The deal isn't done. (To Brom) The deal isn't done. (To Tim) We spat in our hands! (To Brom) What the fuck would you know?! Yeah, I fuckin' knock ya into the middle of next fuckin' week. (To EB) Would you offer me the 16,000? I suppose, if you're open to further offers. 16,500. Just what the fuck did you just do, Brom? (To Tim) Will you close at 16,500? (To Brom) You just reopened the fuckin' bidding. 17,000. 17,500, I'll go no farther. 18. 19. 19,800, and that's every cent I can put together. 20,000. Damnit. Damnit. 20 once. 20 twice. (To Tim) I can't. (To Tim) It's over. He's through. Is it over? Alright. 20,000. Sold to the goose looking man, in the shiny suit.
(Brom and Tim spit in their hands and shake on it.) Brom: Al:
I got it, Al. Yes, you did.
----(Inside the No. 10 Saloon. Bill is playing cards. Charlie sits at the bar, talking to Tom Nuttall.) Charlie: Comes to look for business opportunity, and sits there, losin' at poker. Tom: Is he having a bad run? I can't see that far. Charlie: You'd have to see back to Cheyenne. He lost his patience, stays in hands whether he's holding cards or not. How's your crowd in here tonight, anyway? Tom: Oh, it's alright. Charlie: Well it's better than alright, and you know it. You could see that damn much. Bill Hickok's an asset to any saloon. Any joint he frequents. You agree with me on that or not? Tom: You got a say in that? I mean, as far as where he drinks and gambles? Charlie: S'pose I did. Tom: Well... 50 a night if he'll frequent here exclusive. Charlie: 50. What a sport you turned out to be. Tom: Well you quote a figure.
Charlie: Well let's come to one understandin'. Any figure I would've come up with, part of that you give to him to ah, gamble or piss away however else he's gonna do it. And that'd be the only part he'd know about. Tom: I'd work with ya. Charlie: The rest you'd give to me to ah, hold in trust for his future. Tom: Now that'd be your affair. Charlie: Listen to me, that man's recently married. He needs to put a stake together. That's all I'd be in this for. Tom: I'd work with ya. ----(The Garretts' room at the Grand Central Hotel. Alma puts some drops of laudanum in her drink. Brom strides into the room.) Brom: Alma: Brom:
Banish all headaches. Spit in your hand, Alma. What? Spit. I'm gonna show you something.
(Alma spits in her hand.) Alma:
Promise you'll tell my mother about this.
(Brom spits in his hand and shakes hers.) Brom: Alma: Brom: Alma: Brom:
Alma: Brom: Alma: Brom: Alma: Brom:
I bought it. We own a gold claim. This is how we sealed the deal. And then, did everyone dry their hands? Do you know who I was bidding against? Farnum, who owns this hotel. Oh, and where was your secret agent? Dan Dority? He was tending bar. No one realized that Dan had helped me reconnoiter the claim. Now Swearengen, runs the saloon, he was intermediary. He brokered the deal. Driscoll, the seller, legless with liquor. You will have a vivid entry for an article when I've told you all the details. Yes, I've already begun to imagine it. It's a near thing 'til the end. I had to go all our 20,000 to turn Farnum away. Oh well. I'll have to write the bank to renew my credit. Of course they'll contact father. Well, I expect that's inevitable. Wild Bill Hickok is here. I'm sure he's going to prospect, too.
----(pigs squealing) (Wu carries the body of Trixie's john to the pig sty and dumps him in, splashing mud everywhere. Johnny and Doc have followed and watch as the pigs enjoy their midnight
snack.) ----(Back at the Gem. Inside Al's office. Al talks to Tim Driscoll, while E.B. Farnum stands in the background.) Al: Tim: Al: Tim: Al: Tim: Al: Tim: Al: Tim: Al: Tim: Al: Tim: Al: Tim:
Al: Tim: Al: Tim:
Al: Tim: Al: Tim:
How much do you want? But we agreed on 30%. 30% of 20 would be six. Mm-hmm. So I want the 6,000. What's 30% of 14,000? What the fuck, Al? Who told you to take him to 20? Well, you know I could feel that he had more in him, I don't know, it was just ah, spontaneous fuckin' feelin'. I knew that there was more to get. And you thought six more would be the jackpot. Take him from 14 to 20. Oh Jesus Christ, you know, if you had further plans, I wish you'd a just said somethin' to me. Should I tell you when I plan to take a shit tomorrow? Would that be none of your fuckin' business? So ah, 14,000. 30% of that's what, what is that, no, ah, 4,200. (Stares at Tim) Well what the fuck arrangement do you suggest now? What do you suggest? O-oh J-Jesus Christ almighty, you get in a mood like this and I just as soon as not even discuss it. Look, let me just have 500, you know, and we'll discuss the rest of it some other fuckin' time. Cash? Or credit at the tables? Fuckin' time and try, the fuckin' English in you comes out. Fine. I'll have the 500 at the fuckin' tables, and Jesus Christ almighty. Are we holding markers? Oh, you're holding markers, alright. You've been holding markers against me and my kind for the past several centuries across both sides of the fuckin' water. How the fuck do I know?! Ask Dority, he'll know better than me. Credit it against the fuckin' markers, but just let me hold 20 in fuckin' cash. Tell Dan to give you 20. And a piece of fuckin' pussy. Tell Dan, then tell him to come see me. (To EB) And thanks for steppin' in on the side of rightin' fuckin' justice, you deaf dumb bastard!
(Tim Driscoll leaves the room. E.B. walks over to Al.) EB:
I tell ya Al, you could've knocked me over with a feather when he took him to 20. Did you see me strugglin' to stay on the path?
----(Seth and Sol's hardware tent. They're speaking with Reverend Smith.) Rev:
Sol: Rev: Seth: Rev: Seth: Rev: Sol: Rev: Sol: Rev: Sol: Rev: Sol: Seth: Rev: Sol:
My ah, wife and children are in Louisville, Kentucky. I'm, I'm, I'm saving to bring them out. Days I dig on the Foster's water ditch and nights I watch folks' goods like I'm going to do for you. Schedule like that, Mr. Smith, seems like you'll have 'em here in no time. And then Sabbaths I preach Christ's crucified and raised from the dead. I'm from Etobicoke, Ontario. So you were born in Canada. I come to Montana when I was 17. That's when I met up with Mr. Star. Is that so? I was born in Austria. Austria? Wonderful where people come from. Well, I was born in Austria and then I, I grew up in Chillicothe, Ohio. And you partnered with Mr. Bullock in Montana. That's where we partnered up. The Lord is our final comfort, but it's a, it's a solace having friends. I know that from past experience. You sure sold up a storm here tonight, didn't you? We did alright. We'll be a few hours, Mr. Smith. We want to look around the camp. I will watch your goods as if they were my own. Thank you, Mr. Smith. Thank you.
(Seth and Sol walk out of the tent, into the almost-deserted street, and immediately notice a man on a horse, Ned Mason, who stops when he sees them.) Ned: Seth: Ned: Seth: Ned:
(To his horse) (whoo) (To Sol and Seth) I seen a terrible thing tonight. What'd you see? I seen white people dead and scalped and... man, woman, and children with their arms and legs hacked off. Where? How many dead? Well, it was a whole family on the road to Spearfish. Oh my God, it's them heathens, bloodthirsty savages.
(The Reverend Smith has heard Ned talking, and has joined Seth and Sol in the street.) Rev: Ned: Rev: Ned: Rev: Ned:
How many was it died? It was a whole family... they was hacked and mutilated. The parents, two children. The Metz family took the Spearfish road, going home to Minnesota. Then that was probably them then. They had three children. Were there three? There could have been three, 'cause they was that hacked
Rev: Sol: Ned: Seth:
and spread around. Rest their souls. Rest their souls. Yeah. (To Ned) You probably need a drink.
----(Inside the No. 10 Saloon. Wild Bill and Jack McCall are playing cards with two other men.) Jack: Dealer: Jack: Dealer: Jack: Bill: Jack: Bill: Jack: Bill: Jack: Bill: Dealer: Jack: Bill:
You call my bluff, Hickok? I was tryin' to run one. Whoa! Wait on Mary. I got a third eight under there. (To Jack) Three eights wins, your pot. Oh, I absolutely did not realize that. Your chips. Here I am, thinkin' I'm fuckin' bluffin' the third eight, and I mistakenly outdraw the greatest gunfighter in the world. Meaning the third eight? What? Sayin' you outdrew me? You meant the third eight. Well, what else would I have meant? Say it. Then we'll play cards. Third eight's what I meant. Deal. Ante's up, same again. Jesus Christ ah, can we shake hands or somethin'? Relieve the atmosphere? I mean, how stupid do you think I am? I don't know. I just met ya.
(At the other end of the No. 10 Saloon, Merrick is talking with Tom Nuttall and Charlie Utter.) Merrick: Paradoxes, the massacre at Little Big Horn signaled the Indians' death throes, Mr. Utter. History has overtaken the treaty which gave them this land. Well, the gold we found has overtaken it. I believe within a year, Congress will rescind the Fort Laramie Treaty, Deadwood and these hills will be annexed to the Dakota Territory, and we, who have pursued our destiny outside law or statute, will be restored to the bosom of the nation. And, that's what I believe. (Seth, Sol, and Ned enter the Saloon.) Bill: Man:
(To a man at his table) Does bosom mean tit? Same thing.
Ned:
Ah, ain't nothin' against y'all fellas, but I'd as soon do my drinkin' gettin' a
piece of ass. Seth: First you want people to know about that family. Ned: Yeah, well, what harm is it in me meetin' my needs before I circulate the news? Seth: What if the third child's alive? Ned: You listen, mister, it was a massacre. I'm the one who saw it. And they ain't no one was alive. Seth: Did you see the massacre or not? Ned: I told you I got there afterwards. Seth: So, by then the child could've got away from where you saw those other bodies? Or the child could have been hiding and so afraid of who you might be, it didn't call out. Ned: You listen to me, I ain't goin' back out there again tonight, so you better mind your own goddamned business! Sol: You're sayin' a family's massacres by Indians on the road to Spearfish and one child may still be alive out there and it's no one's concern in this saloon? Charlie: What's this about a massacre? Ned: Shit. Goddamn it, I ain't goin' out there again tonight after I just made camp with my scalp by sheer, dumb fuckin' luck! Bill: Ride out and show us the place. I'll guarantee your scalp. (To Seth) You ridin'? Seth: Yeah. (Nods towards Sol) We'll ride. (One man, Jimmy Irons, who has overheard what has happened, hurries out of the saloon.) Merrick: Ah, may I ride? I'd be honored to ride, infirmities permitting. Seth: (To Ned) Here we go. (The men who will be riding to find the third Metz child leave the saloon. Jack McCall remains.) Jack:
(To no one) Wild Bill fuckin' Hickok.
(Bill and Seth walk together down the street towards their horses.) Seth: Bill: Seth: Bill: Seth: Bill:
You were a marshal in Kansas? Yeah. You? Montana. Come to your senses now? Yes, sir. The fella's story on this don't hold water. No, it don't.
----(Al's office. Al is trying to open his safe. Dan Dority enters the room.)
Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
What'd you give Driscoll? 20 bucks. Free poke with Wanda. Half smart Mick that he is. Yeah. Tim really fucked up with the dude, huh? I guess the dude's case money. Dude only out here three days. How's the dude ask his people back home for more they're liable to send the Pinkertons. So, shut the dude down? You bein' his secret best friend, he'll want you out prospectin' in the morning beside him. That claim needs to pinch out. Oughtn' take but a couple a days. He ain't got much sand. And Tim Driscoll needs to be seen to. No kiddin', now? No kiddin' Well not than anybody asks, but I'd look to Trixie for danger before I'd look to Tim. No kiddin'.
(knocking) (Johnny and Jimmy enter the room.) Johnny: Jimmy: Al: Jimmy: Al: Jimmy: Al: Jimmy: Al: Jimmy: Al:
Jimmy says the Sioux massacred a family on the Spearfish Road. A hand come into Nuttall's Number 10 telling the story, Mr. Swearengen. Who was he? I-I never seen him before. Can you get him over here? Is he still at Nuttall's? Ah, they're ridin' back out to where it happened. Hickok and some others were ridin' with him. Did the hand look happy to be riding back out with Hickok? He didn't look too happy. (To Jimmy) How many people downstairs did you tell about this? A few? A few?
(Al punches Johnny.) Johnny: Oh! Al: (To Johnny) You let him tell a few people downstairs before you bring this to me? Johnny: Al, I brought him as soon as I heard! Al: How many people do you think the people he talked to have talked to by now? I guarantee it this minute, my entire fuckin' action downstairs is fucked up! Nobody's drinkin', nobody's gambling, nobody's chasin' tail. I have to deal with that! (Al puts on his coat to get ready to go downstairs.) (To Jimmy) You want $10 or a bottle of dope? Jimmy: Bottle of dope please, Mr. Swearengen.
Al: Dan:
(To Dan) Give him a bottle of dope. (To Jimmy) Come on. I'll take care of you. (To Johnny) He's got a lot on his mind, Johnny.
----(Outside. The men going out to the site of the massacre ride out of town, carrying torches as well as guns.) (Downstairs at the Gem. Johnny looks out the window as the riders go by.) (piano playing) (gunshot) (Johnny turns around and sees Dan Dority has a gun pointed towards the ceiling, as Dan fires another round.) Dan: Al:
(To the crowd) Quiet! Al's got words! (To the quieted crowd) Well, I guess when it starts pissin' rain in here, you know who to blame, huh? Now, I know word's circulatin' Indians killed a family on the Spearfish Road. Now it's not for me to tell anyone in this camp what to do, as much as I don't want more people gettin' their throats cut, scalps lifted or any other godless thing that these godless bloodthirsty heathens do. Or even if someone wants to ride out in darkness tonight. But I will tell you this. I'd use tonight to get myself organized. Ride out in the morning clearheaded. And startin' tomorrow morning, I will offer a personal $50 bounty for every decapitated head of as many of these godless heathen cocksuckers as anyone can bring in. Tomorrow. With no upper limit! That's all I say on that subject, 'cept next round's on the house. And God rest the souls of that poor family. And pussy's half price, next 15 minutes.
(cheering) (piano playing) (Calamity Jane is drinking on the Gem's porch. She tosses her empty liquor bottle away and walks towards the front door.) Johnny: (To the whores in the whores' room) Ok, ladies, let's go. Whore: (To another whore, regarding Trixie) She must've done some fancy fuckin' to keep Al from killin' her. (Jewel hands Trixie a small gun, which she tucks into her cleavage, under her dress. Jane walks in the front door and over to the bar.)
Jane:
(To the crowd) Where's Bill Hickok? Where's Charlie Utter? Give me a drink!
(Al watches as people get back to drinkin', gambling, and chasin' tail. Johnny walks up to him and Al playfully mimes punching him again, with much less force. Johnny smiles.) Johnny: It's alright, Al, I know you got a lot on your mind. That was one hell of a good talk. Look, you got everybody back at the tables, doin' what they do. Al: Tell you the truth, for murderin' people on the road to Spearfish, my money'd be on Persimmon Phil. Johnny: Make it look like Indians. Al: That is his speci-al-ity. (Dan joins Al and Johnny. Jane addresses some of the guys at the bar.) Jane: Dan: Jane: Guy: Jane:
Is it true? Indians killin' white people? That's the sewer mouth that follows Hickok around. Why are we standin' here? Ridin' out tomorrow, daybreak. Oh, really? Tomorrow. What's your fuckin' rush?! I'm goin' now. Even without Bill. Even without Charlie. I know the road to Spearfish. And I don't drink where I'm the only fuckin' one with balls!
(laughing) (Jane strides out the front door.) Al:
Let her go. She ain't takin' any business with her. (To Dan) Oh, and don't forget to kill Tim.
----(Night. The Spearfish Road. The riders find the place where the Metz family was murdered. Coyotes are there ahead of them, and the men chase them off.) (barking) (yah) (The family was indeed mutilated and their bodies lay scattered and bloody, illuminated by the torches. As the men look around, Seth notices two coyotes sniffing at something under a bush, and he goes over to investigate.) Seth:
Waa, yah!
(The two coyotes run off, and Seth gently pulls a little girl (Sophia) from under the bush. She's alive, and he picks her up.)
----(The following morning. The Spearfish Road. The riders are heading back to Deadwood. Seth cradles Sophia in his arms. Jane rides up to meet them, and upon a look from Bill, Seth hands Sophia to Jane to hold as they ride back to camp.) ----(The Garrett's room at the hotel. Alma is in bed, sleeping. Brom is getting dressed to go out to their claim. Alma opens her eyes, then closes them again, pretending to be asleep. Brom attempts to wake her by clearing his throat, but leaves when she doesn't stir.) (clearing throat) (clearing throat) (After Brom leaves, Alma opens her eyes.) ----(Downstairs at the Gem. Al is counting the money in the cashbox. He sees a whore sitting on the pew near the hallway to the back rooms.) Al:
Get to your room. You've been sleepin' on a goddamned pew! (Al walks up the stairs, and passes a man and a whore as they come down.) (To the man on the stairs) You in love?
(Al pauses on the stairs as he sees Trixie sitting at a table. She's drinking, and she looks back at Al. He continues up the stairs, and Trixie watches him go. Ellsworth is sitting with her at the table.) Ellsworth: You know I don't intrude on the affairs of others. Problem enough keepin' my own life straight. Somethin's not my affair, I don't pretend it is. Contrary wise, if you feel like talkin' about that, headlight (He indicates a large bruise on Trixie's cheek), I'll pay a dollar a minute to hear ya. Get anything off your chest you feel like. Trixie: What I got on my chest, don't concern you, Ellsworth. (We see the gun hidden in Trixie's cleavage.) Ellsworth:
And fuck us all anyway for the limber dick cocksuckers we are.
(Ellsworth drinks to that.) -----
(Dan and E.B. walk down the hallway in the Grand Central Hotel. Dan puts a large knife between his teeth and opens one of the doors with a key. Dan opens the door and enters. Tim Driscoll is asleep in bed, and he wakes up when Dan comes in.) Tim: Dan:
What is it? Just hush, Tim.
(Dan covers Tim's mouth with his hand, then stabs him once with the knife.) (muffled screams) (Tim stops screaming and Dan looks down at him.) ----(Deadwood's Main Street. Alma Garrett looks out the window as Brom walks out of the hotel into the street. He stands and looks around, as the riders arrive from the Spearfish Road. The riders continue down the street to Doc Cochran's office.) Merrick: Doc! Get up! Doc! Doc! Doc! Wake up! Doc! (Merrick dismounts and hurries over to knock on Doc's door. Doc comes outside, holding his head from all the yelling. He sees Sophia, and Jane hands her down to Doc. Carrying Sophia, he starts towards his door. Jane pulls a gun on him.) Jane: Wait for me, goddamnit! Just hold on 'til I'm with ya. Charlie: She don't mean nothin', Doc. She's just excitable. (Doc carries Sophia inside, and Charlie and Jane follow him. Seth and Bill look over at Ned Mason, who has not followed them all the way to Doc's. Seth dismounts and walks towards Ned.) Bill: Sol:
(To Sol) What kinda hand is your friend with a gun? I don't feel qualified to say.
(Brom watches from in front of the hotel.) Ned: Seth: Ned: Seth: Ned: Seth:
(To Seth) I ah, guess I'd done my duty, and I's ah, I was glad enough to help. Stick around. See if she lives. Nah, I-I was ah, glad enough to done my duty, and that little one will be in my prayers. Get down off your horse. Listen to me. I'm an innocent man, and it was them Indians, goddamnit! Too much ransackin', and too many goods left behind. Someone was after money.
(Wild Bill walks over to stand beside Seth.) Ned: Bill:
Seth:
Goddamnit, if I had somethin' to do with what happened, why'd I come to this camp, huh? Maybe when it got thick out there, you ran? Maybe the others was goin' aground, but you had to have pussy. And get to a faro layout. I felt that way sometimes after a kill. Get down off your horse or face the consequences.
(Ned draws, but Bill and Seth are faster, and Ned is shot and killed. Alma watches from her window, and the Reverend Smith comes out of the hardware tent after hearing the shot.) (dog barking) Bill: Seth:
Was that you or me, Montana? My money'd be on you.
(Dan comes out of the hotel and walks over to Brom. A crowd starts to gather in the street, and Merrick takes out his notebook to record what has happened. Dan gives Brom a thumb's-up for his outfit and mining supplies, and Brom hands him a pan. Alma watches the two of them walk away, and she has herself another laudanum-laced drink. Al has been watching from his bedroom window, and he gets into bed.) (knocking) (Al picks up a pistol from the bedside table and hides it under the covers.) Al:
Yeah?
(Trixie enters, walks over to the bedside table, and places her gun there. Al just watches. She undresses and gets into bed with Al, laying her head on his chest. Al has not moved. The camera pans up from Trixie's face to Al's. The screen goes black.)
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant Seth Bullock Ian McShane Al Swearengen Molly Parker Alma Garret Jim Beaver Ellsworth Brad Dourif Doc Cochran John Hawkes Sol Star Paula Malcomson Trixie Leon Rippy Tom Nuttall Cast
William Sanderson Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert Calamity Jane Dan Dority W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Charlie Utter Jackson Bolt Sean Bridgers Ursula Brooks David Carpenter
Vgilante Rider Johnny Burns Whore #6 Vigilante
Keith Carradine Misti Cassar
Wild Bill Hickock
Jane Leigh Connelly Candice Cook Christopher Darga Garret Dillahunt Allison Gammon Gill Gayle Michael Hagerty Dylan Haggerty Michelle Haner Dan Hildebrand G.T. Holme Robyn Hyden Peter Jason Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones Honey Lauren Victor McCay Ray McKinnon Jamie McShane Timothy Omundson James Parks Dean RaderDuval
Gem Whore Byron Sampson Jack McCall Huckster
Miner in the Gem Saloon Stapleton Jewel A.W. Merrick
Rev. H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Brom Garret
Jimmy Irons
Vanessa Robertson Reiner Schöne Tom Simmons Everette Wallin Keone Young
(as Raynor Scheine)
Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 2 – “Deep Water” (In front of the Grand Central Hotel, men are felling a tree using ropes to guide it.) Lumberjack: Hold it, now keep attention on it boys! That’s it! (EB emerges from the hotel pushing a wheelbarrow full of laundry – he’s heading for Mr. Wu’s. We see Tim Driscoll’s dog come running after him. When EB gets to the pig sty, we see Mr. Wu raking the mud around the pen and hear the pigs squealing – he watches EB approach.) E.B.: “Washee” (Holding up some of the linens) Mr. Wu: “Washee” (EB reveals the body of Tim Driscoll in the cart under the linens.) EB:
“Eat-ee” (Camera pans to the pigs, EB points to the barking dog) His doggy, them “eat-ee” too, or, “eat-ee” him yourself, you leering heathen. (Smiles, laughs and leaves.)
--(Up in Al’s bedroom, he and Trixie are sleeping – Al sits up, Trixie remains asleep. We hear the chattering of the lumberjacks outside, Al gets up and – yup, pisses in his chamber pot. He looks out the window and sees the men fell the tree. He spots EB approaching. Al, finished pissing, picks up the gun Trixie left on his bedside table – Trixie opens her eyes.) Al: Is this for me? Trixie:Brought it for you. Al: (Throws back the covers off a naked Trixie) Get out. --(Back out on the street – one man is talking excitedly to another.) Hoople head: Pointed the gun at him! Boom, shot him right over there! That’s the guy over there. Him and Wild Bill got the guy right in the eye. (Seth turns his mirror away from the gossiping hoople-heads and we see that he’s been shaving outside his tent. Sol approaches him.) Sol: You touch that hotel’s kitchen, Seth? Seth: (Wipes off the shave cream and puts on his coat, grabs his hat. Walking past Sol…) I’ll meet you. (Sol looks down and lets out a deep breath – resigned) ---
(The Reverend is standing over an as-yet unfinished casket, Johnny looking on.) Rev: Men like Mr. Seth Bullock there raise the camp up. Johnny: Yeah, a fella to be put in that box might argue with you, Reverend. Rev: Ah, Mr. Bullock did not draw first. And I, point to his commissioning me to build the departed a coffin and, and see to his Christian burial. Johnny: Well, any idea of the departed’s name? Rev: Ah, in his effects I found a letter addressed to Tom Mason. Johnny: Well, I know a Tom Mason. But that feller, keepin’ cool in the creek, that ain’t him. Rev: Which, having prayed, I decided to open. The sender, Mrs. Walter Mason writes, “I’ve asked your brother Ned, to bear this to you.” From which I conclude the…departed’s name is Ned. Johnny: Ned Mason, huh? Rev: Perhaps the Tom Mason you know is the dead man’s brother? If he is in the camp he should be notified. Johnny: No, I ain’t seen Tom around. --(Al – coming down the stairs in the Gem.) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
Al: EB:
Coffee! Mornin’, Al. I’d like someone to tell me what in fuck is goin’ forward in this camp? Tim Driscoll’s checked out. I can tell you that much. Left you hotel, has he? Moved to Wu’s pig sty. What was that shootout about? At sunup? Yeah, at fuckin’ sunup! Far as I heard, Al, Hickok, and one of them hardware guys you’re renting to, threw down on the fella brought word in of that squarehead family that was massacred. Suspected he was in on the kill. What’s it to Hickok or that hardware guy either how them squareheads come to die? I couldn’t agree with ya more.
(Dragging sound – Jewel approaches with coffee.) Al: If you don’t stop draggin’ that fuckin’ leg. Jewel: (To EB) Coffee? EB: I might have one cup. Did you know one squarehead lived? (Al looks at EB – very serious.) Little squarehead girl? They took her to the Doc’s. Al: What condition? EB: I don’t know, Al. If she was to live, wouldn’t she have a story to tell? (Al looks at EB again.) ---
(Doc – passed out in his cabin. He gasps as he wakes up – goes over to Sophia, who is sleeping on the bed. He checks her forehead and her cheek for fever. Outside, Jane is sleeping against the Doc’s cabin. Doc approaches her – touches her arm.) Wake up. How’s that little one? She’s still among us. I’m askin’ you what her prospects are? If her wounds don’t fester, she might can have a fightin’ chance. Good. (Sees Seth approaching) None of that to him. Oh, he’s alright. Not a word. Mornin’. Mornin’, Bullock. (Smiles- Jane seems to like what she sees.) I was wonderin’ how that child fared? Iffy, touch and go. I’m not optimistic. Has she spoken? She’s not conscious. Be surprised if she ever is. I’d like to hear which ever way it goes. (Turns to leave) If you see Bill Hickok, or that sore asshole, Charlie Utter, could you tell him I looked to the stock? Seth: Sure, I’ll let him know. (Seth leaves, Doc turns to go inside.) Jane: You’re wrong not to trust him. He formed a party that found that little one among all the dead of her family. Doc: Didn’t he? And didn’t he also shoot a man he suspected in the murders? And if I were to confide in him when you circulate my optimism, I mean, wouldn’t he say, “When the little one speaks, you’ll see I was right, not the Sioux killed her family, but road agents? And supposing it was road agents, and they hear his talk, where’s the little one stand then? Jane: You got a dark turn a mind. Doc: I see as much misery outta them movin’ to justify their selves as them that set out to do harm. --(Seth is walking along the street – Bill Hickok is inside the restaurant as Seth passes by the window, about to enter the restaurant.) Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Seth: Jane: Seth: Doc: Seth: Doc: Seth: Jane:
Utter: Same dead roach in the same damn biscuit. Wild Bill: It stuck to his position. Seth: Mornin’. Wild Bill: Mornin’, Montana. (Bill reaches for the coffee, shaking, seeing this, Utter grabs the coffee pot and pours it.) Utter: Joe? Seth: Much obliged. (Reaches his cup over Wild Bill.) Your friend asked me to say she’s looked to your stock. Wild Bill: Thanks.
Seth: She’s back now watchin’ over that child we found. Far as her chances, the Doc’s not optimistic. Wild Bill: From the look of him, you think that Doc’s been wrong once or twice in his life? Seth: (Laughing) Maybe once or twice. Utter: We’ll likely be by your tent later. Sol: (Sitting at a table across the room) Good! Utter: Get Bill here outfitted with some prospectin’ gear. Sol: Yes, Sir. (Bill and Charlie sit down across the room.) Wild Bill: Don’t do that, Charlie. Utter: Do what? Wild Bill: Trumpet my intentions. Herd me like a damn steer. Utter: Ain’t you here to prospect gold? If you’re just gonna gamble, Bill, let’s get it set. I’ll arrange appearance money for you at one of these joints. Wild Bill: That ain’t gambling. It’s shilling for the house. Utter: It’s getting’ you a regular damn source a income. So’s this don’t wind up like Cheyenne. (Bill shoots Charlie a look.) --Seth: What offer should we make at the purchase of that lot? Sol: Ah, the barber next to us paid 600 for his lot 10 days ago. Seth: Seller’s market. Sol: Mmm-Hmm. I’d say we’re well bought at 750 we don’t go past a thousand. Merrick: (Approaching) Ah, ah, may I ah, join you? (Sol gestures to the table – yes why the fuck not? Merrick sets his coffee and breakfast plate down. Wild Bill looks over at Merrick, he seems annoyed at his presence.) Merrick: Well, Mr. Bullock, after the events of last night, for an ink stained wretch like myself, finding you and Mr. Hickok here in the same dining room is luck indeed. Seth: I don’t want to talk about last night’s events. Merrick: Um, alright, fair enough. I know how to pocket my notebook, sir. The same wretched biscuits. (They all see Alma descend the hotel stairs.) EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB:
Mrs. Garrett? I hoped you slept well. As it happens, I did not. I’m very sorry. Do you require the doctor? Yes. Please. Certainly, Ma’am, of course. (Alma puts money down on the counter.) Sorry you’re poorly again.
(Alma enters the restaurant, all the men rise, Charlie last. She nods, they all sit.) Merrick: That is Mrs. Alma Garrett. Whose husband, I’m told, standing at the bar at Swearengen’s saloon, (Alma reaches for coffee, shaking.) purchased a gold claim last night, for $20,000. (We see Wild Bill watching her.)
Sol: We rent our lot from Al Swearengen. Merrick: I’m not surprised to hear it. Tim Driscoll, the claims seller, lives here in this hotel. He, ah, (lightly) must be sleeping in. (Seth raises his brows and looks at Merrick.) --(Out at the claim, Brom is in the creek shoveling silt from the stream. Dan is behind him, watching.) Brom: Ah. Do you mind? (Dan holds out a bucket for Brom to dump the silt into. We see Ellsworth on the other side of the creek behind Brom.) Ellsworth: Mornin’, boys! Brom: Good Morning! Dan: Ellsworth. Ellsworth: Name’s Ellsworth. I hear you bought these digs. Brom: Brom Garrett, how do you do? Ellsworth: My claim’s next one over. Brom: I see. Ellsworth: You cleanin’ up any yella? Dan: Day’s young. Brom: How ah, how are things running at your claim? Ellsworth: Made my quota for whiskey, pussy and food. Dan: Then you best get on down to the Gem, Ellsworth. Ellsworth: Further benefits will only benefit the faro dealers. Brom: This exact spot showed a fistful of nuggets two nights ago. Ellsworth: Well, don’t weaken, Pilgrim. Twix nuggets are nothin’, she’s usually gonna show you some flake. (Dan looks at him.) Brom: Thanks for the encouraging words. (Ellsworth leaves, Brom puts another shovel full of silt into Dan’s bucket.) She hasn’t even showed me any flake. Oh hell. --(Back at the Gem, Johnny is recounting his conversation with the Rev about Ned Mason.) Johnny: Well, I doubt that, Reverend, I say. The Tom Mason I know, is nowhere near here. But what I was thinkin’, is damned if Al didn’t center shoot the Bull’s-eye. It wasn’t Sioux killed them squareheads. But it was Persimmon Phil, Tom Mason and that croaker headed for his coffin is probably some fucked up younger brother of Tom’s, named Ned. Al: Listen to me, go get Doc Cochran. Johnny: And I never tipped the thumper to none of it, Al. I played it dumb as a pile of rocks. Al: Go get the Doc, say I want him to see to the whores. Johnny: Alright, Al. (Turns around to leave) ‘Scuse me fella. (Walks past Seth.) Seth: Mr. Swearengen. Al: Yeah, that’s right.
Sol: Seth: Sol: Al:
Seth: Sol: Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al: Sol: Al: Seth: Al: Sol: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Sol:
Sol Star. Seth Bullock. Rent on lot four. (Puts a money on the bar in front of Al.) Lot four? The hardware boys, hmm? Here, I wanna buy you fellas a drink. How’s business on that lot? Hell of a spot isn’t it? Any more foot traffic you’d have to call it a riot. Now, I’m turning back slow. Nothin’ in hand but this whiskey bottle. (Seth shoots a loot at Al then Sol and back.) Well, I heard you’re not a man I want mistakin’ my intentions. Who says that? I’d like to ask ‘em what they mean. (Says this with a smile) That fella drew on Seth this morning. Never heard different. No one mistook his intentions. Let’s leave it all alone. I am stupidest when I try to be funny. (Trixie walking down the hall) There you go fellas. And these are still free. (Pours another round) Sorry for hittin’ a nerve, huh? We’d like to make an offer on that lot we’re rentin’. Sell my back teeth for the right money. Would 600 get the job done? I guess before I made a price I’d want to know if you boys have unnamed partners? Why? I think specifically Wild Bill Hickok. Didn’t you and Hickok act together in the street this morning? No, we just met Wild Bill Hickok. What business of that is his? You mean what business of mine is that? Don’t tell me what the fuck I mean. Not a tone to get a deal done. Can we sort it out at another time? Thirsty people comin’.
(Persimmon Phil and Tom Mason enter the Gem. They stand in the middle of place, looking rather menacing.) Sure. Yeah and you and me’ll find our proper stride, huh? Alright. Good luck on the days trade. Well I won’t wish you luck ‘cause I can tell you ain’t the type that needs it. Sol Star, right? That’s a Jewish name. Mine isn’t, but nice to meet you, son, huh? Sol: Pleasure. Al: Marked you for an earner the minute you come in my sight. (Sol and Seth head out.) Jew Bastard. Ah, two wayfarers when I’d heard you were three. Phil: How you doin’, Al? Al: Shall we all, let’s drink upstairs? Tom: I can be persuaded. Al: Will you have a whore, Tom, or you still stayin’ true to that heifer? Tom: It’s over ‘tween me and her. Al: Seth: Sol: Al:
Phil: Oh, Tommy went sweet on a buffalo down by Yankton. (Laughing) Al: Where’s brother Neddy, anyway? Tom: Ah, fuck if I know tha fucker. I’ll take her (He spots Trixie). Al: Pick another. --(Out in the street, Seth and Sol are heading back to the tent.) I don’t like that sonofabitch. Thank God you didn’t let him see it. Calls me loose with a gun. Was he there? We’ll just get the lot bought, Seth, and have nothin’ more to do with him. (We see Rev. Smith waiting for them to get closer.) Buy the lot and we’ll give him wide berth. Rev: I’ve acted on your commission, Mr. Bullock. Built a coffin and dug a grave. Seth: Thank you. Rev: Will you join me, now for the burial service? (Sol smiles and nods “yes”) --(Upstairs of the Grand Central, in Wild Bill and Charlie’s room.) Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
Utter: All I was sayin’, Bill, ‘til ya start your prospectin’ if you’re gonna gamble, let’s get you protected a little. Wild Bill: I know what you were sayin’. Utter: The extra business you bring a joint, interruptions you stand for or folks wantin’ to glad hand, that all deserves compensation. Wild Bill: Don’t shop me to those places, Charlie. (Knocking on the door – EB, still standing behind the closed door…) EB:
E.B. Farnum, gentlemen. Mr. Utter’s room is ready.
(Charlie gets up.) --(EB – unlocking the door to Charlie’s new room.) EB:
Clean, and thoroughly aired. (Charlie enters) The previous guest was Irish. (EB jokingly taps Charlie on the arm – Charlie just looks at him.) No tip necessary, sir. I operate the hotel. (Hand over the key to Charlie – he grabs it, EB leaves and as soon as he’s over the threshold Charlie promptly swings the door shut.)
--Doc: I’ve replenished your supply of medicine. Alma: (In bed up in her room at the Grand Central, looks over at the fresh bottle of laudanum.) Thank you, Doctor. I’ve very grateful for your attention. I only wish my symptoms would subside. Doc: If I were to tell you, that I would see to you requirements whether you had symptoms or not, do you suppose that would help you to heal?
Alma: I don’t know what you mean? Doc: I believe you do, madam. I believe we understand each other. There are people in this camp in genuine need of my attention. Make this adequate to your purposes for the next…several days. Alma: (Sits up on the edge of the bed) Well, Thank you, Doctor. --(Up in Al’s office, he and Persimmon Phil are drinking, we hear Tom Mason in the next room moaning and grunting away.) Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil:
Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil:
Listen to Tom carrying on in there. Yeah, bad luck he wasn’t here yesterday. Yeah, what’d we miss? Squarehead family I could’ve tipped you to headin’ back to Minnesota. They well off? Worth still tryin’ to catch, are they? Sioux already caught up with them. Did from last night on the road to Spearfish. Heathen cocksuckers. So we missed a good score there, did we? Keep lyin’…and I’ll murder you in that chair. (Puts down his glass) I’m gonna tell you what happened, Al. And this is the God’s honest truth. (Al raises an eyebrow) We come on that family by accident. Nobody was tryin’ to hold out your end or anything of the sort or, conceal a goddamned thing. That’s your end right there. (Takes a pouch out of his inside jacket pocket, puts it on Al’s desk.) Weighed to the ounce. Ah, my problem was we didn’t clear this with you and you know how you get, Al. I mean, you know that yourself. But, my problem was, bringin’ up the subject. But ah, that’s all weighed out there. You know why I get how I get? Yeah, y-you wanna see over the job, you don’t like loose ends. I appreciate that. (Leans forward) Don’t like messes, ah, things done half-ass, bags of shit left to hold. There’s no loose ends here, Al. I’ll guarantee you that much, right now. ‘Cause I got a whole operation here to consider. (Hears Tom moaning and pounding away some more, he chuckles.) Listen to Tom. One of the squareheads lived. No. No? I’m sayin’ that’s pretty hard to believe. I believe ya, but ah, we seen to ‘em pretty good. They brought it back to camp, it’s over at the sawbones. Is it talkin’? I mean, can it speak English? “Cause when we was seein’ to ‘em, they was all screamin’ in squarehead, Al. Where’s Ned Mason? That’s a fuckin’ story right there, Al. If you knew, the fuckin’ problem. Well, when, when it comes to squareheads time, he spooks and runs off. Tom’s and my hands as full as they was doin’ what we had to do, so, God knows where he got off to. That’s your cut there, that reflects he’s out. There’s no cut there—
Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al:
Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al: Phil: Al:
Phil:
He came here. (Sighs) No. Say no again, I’ll murder you where you fucking sit. He swore he’d head to Cheyenne. Yeah, but here’s closer, isn’t it? All you cocksuckers go for the easiest chance. So where is he now? Where he is now is he, stirs the whole camp up, last night with his massacre story, ‘til I’m givin’ liquor away and cunt at half price, just to keep my crowd controlled. Party makes up from Nuttall’s to ride back out to Spearfish, Wild Bill Hickock and those two guys walk past you downstairs saved the squarehead kid, tell Ned to stick around ‘til they see what the kid has to say about him. Wild Bill Hickok? And Ned, throws down. Against Wild Bill Hickok? Against Hickok and this other cocksucker, who draws almost as fast so it’s a toss up who blew Ned’s head off. Christ, Al, I-I’m, I’m really sorry for the bother. Yeah, so you let Ned run you leave a squarehead alive and me to clean up the mess and those are the only loose ends, huh? I want you to have my share. I swear to fuckin’ Christ, Al. I don’t want your fuckin’ share. And I don’t want that kid tellin’ people in English, or squarehead or drawin’ fucking pictures in the shit with twigs about, how it wasn’t Indians that killed her people but white! (Smacks Phil across the head, knocking his chair over. Grabs Phil by the collar.) This camp could be up for grabs, now God knows what these cocksuckers are up to, Hickok and the rest, or what I’m gonna have to do about it. And just when I need to keep my head clear, you give me these bags of shit to hold! I should cut your fuckin’ throat, Phil! Al, please don’t cut my throat. Let me help straighten this out.
(Tom Mason bursts into the office, stark naked, holding his dick.) Tom: This snatch is bendin’! (Laughing – Al still has Phil by the collar, pinned down on the floor – they both look at Tom, frozen in place.) What, what happened? Phil: Ah, tipped over. Al: And I’m helpin’ him up. Put your iron away now, Tom. Tom: Ah, not yet! Burned it at the flag T! (Heads back to the whore’s room) --Johnny: (Knocking – yells through the door to Doc) Doc, you’ll get me in dutch with Al! Doc: (Jane is wrapping Sophia’s legs, Doc watching) Just another damn moment! (Turns back to watch Jane again.) Don’t put any pressure on it, just lay it on light. Jane: It looks like I’m pressin’, I’m not. I’m not puttin’ any goddamned pressure! Doc: That’s very good. That’s very good. Johnny: Doc! Doc: I gotta go.
Jane: I expect care for them whore’s business areas is a big damn part of your income. ‘Sup, this is what you want me to do? Doc: Ah, yes. And don’t let anyone in. Jane: Believe me, anyone tries gettin’ in here is not you is gonna be damn fuckin’ sorry. Doc: Alright. (Goes to the door, puts on his hat.) Jane: I may not let you back. --(At the cemetery.) Rev:
Sol: Rev:
Our Christ, as he was crucified addressed the thief who was hanging by his side. Verily I say unto thee, this day, shalt thou be with me in paradise. Your ways are not our ways, oh Lord. We abide the just and the unjust alike under your tearless eye. Tearless, not because you do not see us, but…because you see what we are so well. (Seth raises his brow, the Reverend shuts his eyes and looks to the sky) Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, send your angels to welcome this body into paradise. Lamb of God, who takest away the sin of the world, grant this soul eternal rest. Amen. That’s a real generous perspective, Reverend. And don’t we need all the generosity we can get?
(Seth smiles a little at this, he and Sol pick up the shovels and begin to cover the casket with dirt.) --(Back in Al’s office, Al is pouring a drink for a grief-stricken Tom Mason, Al has his arm around Tom’s shoulders, comforting him.) They butt into other people’s business and make the business of others their own, these bought out no good cocksuckers. Tom: What, Hickok you’re talkin’ about? Al: Oh, fuckin’ bigshot that he is. Phil: Big fuckin’ shot when he’s standin’ in front of ya. Al: One in his ear from behind I’d like to see how fuckin’ tough he was. Phil: That’s right, cocksucker. (Rapid knocking on the office door, Johnny enters.) Al: Anyway, rest his soul. Phil: That’s all. Johnny: Condolences, Tom. Tom: He’s gone Johnny. I don’t think you ever did meet him. Johnny: Ah, no. Doc’s here. Al: (Gets up, grabs his jacket) Fuck Hickok! And what he did to you poor fuckin’ brother, huh? --(Over in the whore’s room) Doc: This is festered, because you won’t take a flame to your damn needle. Whore #1: I do Doc, every time before I use it. Al:
Doc: Stop lyin’. Whore #1: Anyways, I’m quittin’. Trixie:They say you’re lookin’ to a little one, Doc. Doc: How’s that ointment workin’? Whore #2: It’s nice and cool on me, Doc. (Rubbing her snatch) Doc: I’m tryin’ just a little bit more lanolin in it. (Al enters) Whore #3: Hey, give me a dollop of that! (Puts it on her pussy) Al: How’s that pussy lotion feel? Should I try some on my ass? Doc: Al. Al: Will she live? Doc: Let me look at your belly. Whore #3: I didn’t know you cared, Doc. Doc: Will who live, Al? Al: Norwegian kid, how many children you carin’ for? Doc: I’m not optimistic. Al: I see. Doc: Where are you in your moons? Whore #3: About two weeks along. Al: She speak English? I mean, what’s she gotta say for herself anyway? Doc: She hasn’t said a word, Al, or been conscious for a second. Al: Oh, too bad. She could settle who killed her people, road agents or Sioux. Doc: I don’t know nothin’ about that, does that hurt? Whore #3: Little bit. Al: If she does see, Doc, that’s the point. She could settle it. Doc: I doubt she’ll settle anything, Al. I doubt we’ll even know what language she spoke. Al: Give those girls a good goin’ over, Doc. Look to ‘em like they’re your own. Doc: Don’t tell me my job or how long to do it in. I can see to them. And I can see to the way I’m goddamned able, and that’s all I can goddamned do! Al: Ooh, what’s your time of the month, huh? (Al leaves, Doc goes over to Trixie to check out her face.) Trixie:Are you poorly, Doc? Doc: Don’t worry about me, I know what I am. What I’m not. --(Out in the street, Al is heading over to the Doc’s cabin, Alma watches from her hotel window. Al enters the cabin.) Jane: What do you want? Al: Doc asked me to see your patient. Jane: What for? What do you know about it? Who the fuck are you?? (Al looks at her and walks right by her) Hey, don’t you fuckin’ ignore me! (She hits his back and he turns back around). Al: You don’t want to interfere with me. Jane: You think I’m scared of you?
Al: Sure you are. If I take a knife to ya, you’ll be scared worse and a long time dyin’. Jane: I ain’t scared to die. I ain’t scared of nobody. (Al chuckles and turns back to the bed where Sophia is still asleep) Hey, you, you, you get away, get away from her! Le-le-leave that little one alone! Leave her alone! Al: (Picks up Sophia’s wrist and pinches the inside of it – Sophia’s eye pop wide open.) Hello. Jane: (Crying) Leave her! Leave her. Leave her, leave her alone, you cocksucker! Do it to me if you have to! (Al walks past Jane – leaving). Al: Why would I do it to you? (He leaves and Jane breaks down in tears.) --(Out in the street, the Doc is returning from the Gem and sees Al leave his cabin.) Doc: Al:
Did you hurt her? No. No, Doc. But she’s better than you thought. Her eyes are open.
(Doc takes off running to his cabin. He enters and Jane is sitting on the edge of the bed, crying her eyes out.) Jane: I fell apart. I couldn’t look out for the little one. Fucker looked at me and I fell apart in front of him. Doc: Alright. You’re not the first. Jane: No, I’m not the first. Who said I was the first? You think he’s the fuckin’ first? I’ve been fucked plenty! And tougher fucks than he was and little than her by plenty! They fucked me plenty! So you can go fuck yourself! (Sobbing) Doc: Go on, head on. I’ll look after her. Jane: Was he a road agent? Was he among them that did for her family? Doc: He owns the Gem saloon. Jane: Then what’s it to him if she can open her eyes? Doc: You go on ahead. Jane: Does road agents work for him? Doc: I’ll take care of her. Jane: I’m sorry, I apologize. Doc: You got nothin’ to apologize for. You gotta gift for this. You cared for her real good. Jane: Don’t be mean. Doc: No. You got a gift. (Jane leaves) --(Brom walks along the streets, now dark, and enters the Grand Central Hotel.) EB: Mr. Garrett? How was your day at the digs? Brom: It was a mixed experience, Mr. Farnum. My claim retains every bit of its promise but, I’m afraid I’ve injured my back. EB: All that twisting and turning. Brom: It’s wrenched at least and I feel worse. I may not be cut out for this sort of…activity. EB: Oh, many aren’t
Brom: Under the circumstances, perhaps I should reconsider. EB: What, Sir? Brom: I refer to your offer on my gold claim. EB: My offer? Brom: Last night, Mr. Farnum, before witnesses, at the Gem saloon you offered 16,000. EB: I see. Brom: I’m prepared to reconsider. EB: I have a confession to make, Mr. Garrett. I have a weakness for spirits. Brom: You saying you were drunk last night? EB: I must’ve been, sir. I black out and, no memory at all of my actions. Please ignore any offers made while in my condition. Brom: And yet you didn’t seem drunk? EB: I suppose that’s why I’m such a danger to myself. (Brom-stricken-takes his hat and lantern off the counter and heads upstairs. EB drinks his coffee.) --(Back in Al’s office.) Dan: Jesus Christ Almighty, Al. Al: Far as that sewer mouth friend of Hickok’s playin’ nurse, you can tip her over with a feather. Dan: But a little girl? It’s hard on my conscious. Al: Or we could let her spread work that folks (Phil enters) got road agents to fear more than Indians, breed mistrust one white for another throughout the whole fuckin’ camp. That’d be another option, is he ready? Phil: Ah, huh, Tom’s ready, Al, but he’s awful drunk. I-I don’t trust him to pull it off. Al: Not a bank job, he walks up to the cocksucker, puts one in his ear. Phil: Ah, he keeps runnin’ that mouth like he is, Hickok ain’t gonna let him get close enough. (Knocking) Al: Who in fuck is it? (Johnny enters) Johnny: Them hardware guys is askin’ for ya, downstairs, Al. Al: (Grabs his pocket watch and looks at it) Tell ‘em I’ll be fuckin’ down. (Does a shot) Pour coffee down Tom, because he is goin’ out tonight to murder that sonofabitch. (To Dan) Where do you and me stand? Dan: We’re alright. (Al leaves) Phil: What are you supposed to do? Dan: (Grabs his hat) Nothin’. --(Back at the Doc’s, he’s sitting next to Sophia, rubbing her head) Don’t ever say nothin’ to no one. I don’t know if you can understand me, but if you can don’t show it. Sophia: (mumbling) Doc:
Doc:
If you gotta talk, talk like that. (Gets up and grabs his shotgun, checks that it’s loaded, and sits back down. Doc hears a horse neighing and looks up.)
--(Downstairs at the Gem) Sol: See if this makes sense to you, Seth. I do the talkin’. Seth: Fine with me. Sol: Some people don’t get along. They have business to do with each other, they find a way around it. Seth: Don’t talk to me like I’m five, Sol. Al: Boys. Seth: Evenin’ (Stands up) Sol’s got my proxy. Al: Me and him, we should talk without you? Seth: That’s what it means. Al: What’s your partner so mad about all the time? (Trixie gets up) Sol: He’s not mad. Al: He’s got a mean way of bein’ happy. Sol: As far as offerin’ on your lot, Mr. Swearengen, we’d probably go 750. Al: You’d probably go a thousand. Sol: Say we would. Does a thousand get it done? Al: My concern, Sol, you don’t mind if I call you Sol? Sol: Please do. Al: My concern, anything can happen under a tent. I mean a hardware operation can turn into a gambling joint. Ain’t that right? (Trixie stands next to Seth at the bar.) Sol: That’s not gonna happen, Mr. Swearengen. Al: Sell to you boys outright, I could be installing my own eventual competition, in the prime location, with the “A” number one man killer the west holding an unnamed piece of the action. Sol: We met Hickok by coincidence. He’s not an unnamed partner. Al: Now so you say. But a camp like this, Sol, no law or enforceable contract. I mean, you gotta watch a man a while ‘til you see what his word counts for. (He looks over Sol’s shoulder to Seth, Sol turns around to look too.) Trixie:Would you like some company? Seth: No. Al: Say we value the lot at a thousand; you boys give me 500, and whatever you should put that tent to between now and the first snow, I’m in for half the net. Come October, we finish the deal, all knowin’ each other better. Sol: Seth won’t accept it, Mr. Swearengen. Al: I thought you had his proxy. Sol: Just up to a point. Al: See, that ain’t my sense of proxy. That’s what I’d want these few months for, ‘til we agreed what things meant. Sol: I’m telling you, we’re just a hardware operation. Al: You heard my offer. (Sol gets up and joins Seth at the bar, Trixie sits down with Al.) Trixie:He didn’t wanna drink, and he didn’t wanna fuck.
Anyone or just you? (Trixie huffs and takes a drink) We pay 500 now, he gets 50 percent of our net ‘til the first snow. Then we buy out the rest of his interest. Seth: No. Sol: It’s a great location, Seth. He wants to be sure we don’t turn it to gambling or that Hickok’s not in with us. Seth: I won’t be partners with him. Sol: We wouldn’t be after October. Seth: I won’t be partners. Al: Trixie (cocks his head for her to leave, Seth approaches) See, you got Trixie all distressed. She wanted to give you a ride. Seth: A thousand, now. If anyone in that tent, or the building we put up, turns a playin’ card, or pours a drink, or offers a woman’s services you get title back and keep our fuckin’ money. Al: What makes you talk to me in that tone of voice? Seth: I’m makin’ a counter offer. Al: You come into my camp, rent my lot, within six hours; you blow in a guy’s eye, with Wild Bill Hickok backin’ your play. Next day I’m supposed to sell you the lot, put you in business without askin’ who the fuck you are or what the fuck you’re doing here? Seth: Far as what happened in the street, with Bill Hickok bein’ involved, that was a turn of events. Al: A what? Seth: It was a turn of events. Al: Oh, a turn of events. Your partner calls it a coincidence. So what with this coincident and turn of events staring me in the fuckin’ face and five other fuckin’ things I’m supposed to be payin’ attention to, I still make you a sensible proposal and you answer by insulting me in my own joint. Sol: Seth didn’t mean to insult you, Mr. Swearengen. Al: You stay out of this. You don’t know nothin’ about this. You weren’t here and you don’t have his proxy, so why don’t you do whatever you people do when you’re not running your mouths off or cheatin’ people out of what they earn by Christian work? Seth: You don’t wanna be talkin’ that way. Al: Oh, don’t tell me how to talk in my own fucking place! And here’s my counter offer to your counter offer. Go fuck yourself! (Seth and Al stare at each other.) Sol: Seth. (Trixie approaches) Al: Get him away from me. Trixie:Mister. The best bath and blowjob you ever had’s not twelve steps up them stairs. (Their still staring at each other) Mister! Al: Sol:
(Seth pushes his way past Al and leaves with Sol.) --(Alma is brushing her hair in front of her vanity mirror) Brom: I may as well confide in you, Alma.
Alma: Of course. Brom: I’m beginning to feel we’ve been duped. Our gold claim may be worthless. I’m beginning to think that even, Al Swearengen’s name should be added to the conspirator’s list. Alma: I know how disappointed you must be. Brom: I know. I told you I’d believed I’d found a friend in Al. As I now look back, Al not only presided with the sale, he facilitated my involvement at every turn. Alma: Well, I-I-I suppose a community such as this…attracts a certain kind of man. Brom: Alma, I’ve mentioned to you, exchanging hellos with Wild Bill Hickok in the hotel hallway? Alma: Yes, y-you said ah, he seemed very friendly. Brom: Very friendly. In the hallway and on the stairs. Do you suppose, we might enlist him to our cause? Alma: D-Do you t-think that that’s the sort of thing that he does? Brom: For a fee, a percentage of the monies recovered, I’d say that’s exactly his line. Alma: Mmm. Brom: I may well include the name of Al Swearengen when Wild Bill and I confer. --(Seth and Sol, having left the Gem, are walking down the street) Sol: Seth: Sol:
Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Utter: Seth: Utter: Seth: Utter:
Sol: Utter: Seth: Utter:
Seth:
This camp is a going concern. We could secure our futures here. Hardware could just be a start. Camp needs a bank. Camp also needs a bank, is exactly damn right. Seth. If you see all the possibilities why get sidetracked by that saloon keeper? We just wanna buy his lot. What about what he called you? I been called worse by better. Get it in writin’ from that sonofabitch. We buy the other half in October. Just leave it to me. Ah..ah..(pissing) Uh…ah…ah. (looks over at Seth and Sol) Evenin’. Evenin’. Um, Bill and me didn’t make it to your tent today. Tomorrow’s another day. Ah, prospect. His express purpose comin’ to this camp. Make a, his stake for his new wife. His idea. Don’t suggest buyin’ a shovel or a siftin’ cradle. Un-uh. (farting) Ah, uh-oh. Ah. Anyways, have a good evenin’. What’s your secret, Bullock? What do you mean? You got some ah, Bill’s qualities but then you got somethin’ he’s missin’. Get along with people, turn a dollar, look out for yourself. He don’t know how to do that. You see what I’m sayin’? So, I like to know your secret so’s then I can tell it to Bill. I don’t know any secrets.
Utter: Don’t tell me if you don’t want, I mean, find occasion and tell him yourself. He likes you. Just don’t wait too long. (They look at each other, Charlie turns and walks back to the wall.) --(At Nuttall’s #10, Bill is playing cards with Con Stapleton, Jack McCall and another man. We don’t see right away that it’s Jack until he speaks. Persimmon Phil and Tom Mason are sitting on the other side of the place, watching.) Phil: How you feel? Tom: One more shot, and I’ll be ready to take that cocksucker. Maybe one more cup of coffee. (Seth and Sol enter and approach the bar. Nuttall pours them a drink – at his table, Hickok does a shot.) Wild Bill: I’m out for a couple. Jack McCall: Ah, go get you some ammo Wild Bill, a-at kinda looks down to turn. Wild Bill: You’re names Jack? Jack: Yeah, that’s correct. Wild Bill: What are ya in the game for, Jack? Jack: What am I in it for? Wild Bill: If irritating me’s the jackpot, you’ve got the job done. (Bill turns away and walks to the bar, Jack makes a fish-face at him as he leaves.) Montana. Seth: Evenin’. Wild Bill: Evening. Sol: Evenin’. Wild Bill: What’d be your opinion far as me gettin’ another 50? Nuttall: You ah, you want another 50 in credit? Wild Bill: If that’s alright with you? Nuttall: Yeah, I suppose so. Wild Bill: Play poker? Seth: I’m no good at it. Wild Bill: You let that slow you down? (Seth smiles and laughs) Fella in the far corner to your right intends me harm. When he makes his move would you keep an eye on the man with him? (Seth turns subtly and sees Persimmon Phil and Tom Mason) Seth: You bet. Wild Bill: See the fella’s I mean? Seth: Yes, I do. Wild Bill: Thanks, Montana. Nuttall: Wouldn’t was the water gettin’ no deeper than this, Mr. Hickok. Wild Bill: Fair enough. (Turns and returns to the table) Seth: Stand away from me, Sol. (Turns and looks at Sol, they lock eyes for a moment and Sol backs away.) Stapleton: Don’t be too stupid, Jack. (Bill sits down) Jack: I restored our bosoms!
--(Outside, Charlie is waiting, drinking. Jane approaches with a bottle of her own.) Jane: They throw you out? Utter: No, they did not! I left on my own stand. I choose to be out here. Jane: Well, I was drinkin’ down by the goddamned creek outta my own fuckin’ free will. (Leans on the wall next to Charlie) Where’s Bill? Utter: Inside. Losin’ at cards. I-I’ll go get him but, he’d accuse me ah herdin’ him like a damn steer. (Jane takes a drink, sets down her bottle and starts to walk) Jane: Someone I need to go kill. Utter: What, who? (Starts to walk after her) Jane: You are not my target, but keep botherin’ me and I’ll add you to the list. Utter: Who’d be talkin’ about, damnit! Jane: Greasy-haired limey cocksucker! That runs the Gem saloon. Utter: What the hell you wanna kill him for? Jane: His showin’ makes two different things. Between the coward and the lapse of momentary fear. Utter: Listen, Jane, you listen to me! I don’t (Grabs Jane) know what in the hell you’re talkin’ about and I guaran-fuckin’-tee, you have at that man, and you won’t come out that joint, alive. Jane: Oh! The sun ain’t rose on the day I pay heed to what you say! (sobbing) Utter: Oh. Oh, what is this? Oh, oh…(hugs Jane) Jane: (Crying) He scared me, Charlie! I ain’t been scared like that since I was a little girl. Utter: Oh. Oh, Jesus. (Jane backs out of Charlie’s arms, stops crying, shrugs it off and gets back into mean mode – walks off.) Charlie: Jane, where you goin’? (Walks off after her) Jane: Ah, alright. Now, down there is Doc Cochran’s office. (points to her left) If that limey cocksucker (points to her right) comes for that little girl (points to left), I got him triangulated. If he comes from that way (points to right) I got him, and if he comes from that way…(points to left) I got him. (Looks at Charlie – he joins her on the corner.) --(At the Gem, Dan is preparing himself, with tears in his eyes, hands clasped together, as if in prayer, rocking back and forth. He grabs his knife, stands up and puts it in his belt and leaves. Back at Nuttall’s #10, Bill is playing poker.) Tom: Here I go. Phil: No words and no gun ‘til you’re on him. Tom: Here I go. Revenge my fuckin’ brother. (Tom gets up and walks past Seth, Seth turns and keeps his eyes on Phil. Tom approaches the table and Bill draws and fires, hitting Tom in the belly. Tom clutches his
belly and falls to the floor.) Stapleton: The man’s gun never left his holster, Mr. Hickok. Wild Bill: He meant me harm. Tom: You killed my brother, you sonofabitch! Wild Bill: And now I killed you. Seth: He was goin’ for his gun. I saw it. (We see Jimmy Irons in the background) Stapleton: A revenge seeker. I guess he did mean you harm. (Jimmy slips out the back door, Sol looks on in horror) --(Charlie and Jane are still standing, barely, on the corner.) Utter: You’re half fuckin’ blind, ain’t ya? Jane: Sometimes it’s a fuckin’ blessing. (Dan approaches the corner and eyes Jane) What the fuck you lookin’ at? (Dan keeps walking) Like’s he’s a fuckin’ Adonis. (Dan approaches Doc’s cabin, wiping the tears now falling freely from his eyes. Doc is sleeping in the chair next to Sophia. Dan knocks on the door, Doc wakes up and sees Dan through the curtains on the door. Dan knocks again. Doc gets up and grabs his shotgun, opens the door.) You go on away from here for a little while, Doc. (Doc points his gun at Dan) I won’t. Go on. You go see about the whores. No. You know I’ll come through you if I have to. Let me remind you of somethin’, Dan. If you kill me…then you are up to your elbows in snatches, just like you were ‘fore I came to this damn camp. (Dan looking at Sophia, crying) Takin’ care of ‘em. Nursin’ ‘em, day in, day out. Takin’ heat from Al every time one of ‘em’s poorly. Up to your elbows! Dan: Between that and a slit throat that Al’ll give be if I leave that child alive, I think you know which one I’m gonna choose. Doc: You just go ahead and do what you’re gonna do ‘cause I’m not movin’. Dan: (looking at Sophia) Jesus Christ, you’re pittin’ me against Al. Doc: So the fuck be it. Dan: Well, I ain’t goin’ it alone. You’re comin’ with me to make the case. --(Jane and Charlie, still triangulatin’) Dan: Doc: Dan: Doc: Dan: Doc:
Jane: (Sees Dan walkin’ with the Doc, holding his elbow) Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, Charlie! Have we been asleep at the switch? Utter: What’s wrong? Jane: Why’s he got his arm on the Doc? You with that ugly fucker of your own free fuckin’ will, Doc?
Doc:
Yes, yes, I am. (Holding hands in the “quiet down” way) I’d rather be lucky than smart (smiling).
--(Al, in the Gem with Jimmy Irons and Persimmon Phil) Al: Word for word, what the hardware guy said. Jimmy: The hardware guy… Al: The hardware guy. Did you just fuckin’ tell me the hardware guy was standing next to Hickok? Jimmy: The hardware guy said somethin’ like, “Hickok’s right. He was goin’ for his gun. I saw him goin’ for it, too.) Al: Somethin’ like. Jimmy: My tooth was painin’ me somethin’ awful, Sir. But I am certain that was the gist of it. Al: Get some dope from Johnny. Jimmy: Thanks an awful lot, Mr. Swearengen. My tooth’s about brought me to my knees. (Jimmy leaves and Phil stands alone) Al: Tell me one thing. When that idiot made his move did he tip it? Phil: Tom didn’t say Boo, Al. Hickok must’ve just smelled him. Dan: Al? You’re not gonna believe what fuckin’ happened. Al: What? Doc: Lunatic that runs with Hickok, just absconded with that child. Must be under his protection. Al: Come here. (Phil follows Al, Dan and Doc watch them go upstairs) --(Up in Al’s office) Al: You’re sure that girl doesn’t know what you look like? Phil: Al, I’m confident that girl don’t know what I look like. But no, I can’t guarantee that to a moral certainty. And I, I know you got your whole operation here you gotta consider. And ah, you don’t need to be, worried or, or troubled about the…well, as far as that girl recognizing me, no matter if it’s (Al bends down to his safe) the slimmest of the slim of possibilities. So, so what you want me to do? You want me to just stay outta camp and, until you deal with all this? Why don’t I do that, Al? How ‘bout you have Johnny check under the rock and I’ll put messages under the rock, and then I’m gonna check under the rock, ah, every day, and see if you wanna send messages to me. (Al opens his safe) Al: Err on the side of caution? Phil: That’s ah, is that a plan? (reaches out his hand, Al shakes it with a fake smile on his face) Hey ah, Al, think I got time to put my brand on a little snatch ‘fore I go? (Al sticks him with a knife, twisting it and forces Phil to the ground. Phil grunts.) Al:
No loose ends now.
(Dan and Doc are downstairs, drinking – Al yells down to Dan from upstairs)
Al:
Get up here! Bring the sled. (Dan turns back to the Doc, smiles. Al slams his office door. Dan gets up.)
--(In the wagon outside of camp, Jane and Charlie are tucking Sophia in) Jane: (Singing)
♪Row, row, row your boat♪ ♪ gently down the stream♪ ♪ merrily, merrily…♪ Goddamnit! (To Charlie) ♪Row, row, row your boat♪ ♪ gently down the stream♪ Together: (In a round now, Charlie joins in second at the “merrily” part starting a new round) ♪merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.♪ ♪ Row, row, row your boat♪ ♪ gently down the stream ♪ ♪ merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.♪ ♪ Row, row, row your boat♪ ♪ gently down the stream♪ ♪ merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.♪ ♪ Row, row, row your boat♪ ♪ gently down the stream♪ ♪ merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.♪ Cast: Timothy Olyphant Seth Bullock Ian McShane Al Swearengen Molly Parker Alma Garret Jim Beaver Ellsworth Brad Dourif Doc Cochran John Hawkes Sol Star Paula Malcomson Trixie Leon Rippy Tom Nuttall William Sanderson Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown Dan Dority Dayton Callie Charlie Utter
Guest Appearances:
Sean Bridgers Keith Carradine Joe Chrest Jane Leigh Connelly Garret Dillahunt Dan Hildebrand Peter Jason Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones Ray McKinnon Nick Offerman Timothy Omundson Toni Oswald Dean Rader-Duval Tom Simmons Bree Seanna Wall Keone Young
Johnny Burns Wild Bill Hickock Persimmon Phil Jack McCall Tim Driscoll Johnny Varnes Jewel A.W. Merrick Rev. H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Tom Mason Brom Garret Jimmy Irons (as Dean Rader Duval) Metz Girl (as Breeseanna Wall) Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode #3 – “Reconnoitering the Rim” (Tim Driscoll’s dog is hanging out with Ellsworth now, passionately digging away in a little hole) Ellsworth: He’s down that hole for a fact. Pitiful as you pursued him, you better hope he ain’t got the space enough to roll around, hold his side, bust a gut laughin’. Tell all the other woodchucks at the club this afternoon…he might not even call it a escape. Might just call it his morning’s entertainment. Dan: Hey! Hey, Ellsworth! Ellsworth: Hey, Dan Dority! (Dog whimpers and goes to hide somewhere behind Ellsworth) Where’s the great prospector? Dan: I guess Brom slept in this morning. Ellsworth: Suppose his enthusiasm’s on the wane? Dan: That’s always possible. He shows up, you tell him I quit waitin’. Ellsworth: Sure will. Dan: See ya at the Gem. (Walks away) Ellsworth: Always possible. Go on! (Dog returns) --(At the cemetery, they are interring Tom Mason) Rev:
The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. The world and they that dwell therein. For He hath founded it upon the seas and established it upon the floods. (AW sneezes – several times) Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who shall stand (AW sneezing & coughing) in his holy place? He that, that hath a clean hands (Rev hands AW a handkerchief) and a pure heart. Who hath not lifted up his soul. Unto vanity nor sworn (Still sneezing) beseechfully. He, he shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and (Seth turns and sees Charlie Utter and Calamity Jane returning from the wagon with Sophia cradled in Jane’s arms) justice from the God of his salvation. Lift up your heads, oh ye gates and be ye lifted up ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in. Who is the King of glory? The Lord of hosts. He is the King of glory.
(The camera pans down to the entrance of town where the wagon train for the Bella Union arrives fittingly, beneath the sign for the meat market. We see Cy and his ladies, Joanie at the head doing her best Vanna White impression but instead of letters she’s revealing whores.) Various Male Voices: Selah! (Cheering) What’s yer name!? Hey! What’s yer name!? ( Al watches from his balcony with interest. He watches them raise the sign for the Bella Union Saloon, Cy motioning it centered. Meanwhile, back at the cemetery…) Rev:
Everyone proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord. Though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished. (AW – still goddamned sneezing) By mercy and truth is inequity purged. And by the fear of the Lord, do men depart from evil. A man’s ways please the Lord, when he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him. (Rev’s eyes land on Seth. Seth locks some serious eyes on the Rev.) Amen.
Merrick: Amen. Seth: Thank you (Shakes hands with the pallbearers) Thanks for your help. Merrick: May we edify my readers, Mr. Bullock? Seth: I don’t know what edify means. Merrick: Can we talk about last night’s gunfight? Seth: (Grabbing a shovel) No. Merrick: We can’t talk about last night’s gunfight, either. (AW grabs a shovel and they start to cover the coffin.) --(Al emerges from the Gem Saloon looking rather pissed off.) Al: EB: Al: Artie: Al: Artie: Al: Artie: Al: Artie:
What the fuck?! All’s I can speculate, Al, is whoever these Bella Union people are, they bought Artie Simpson’s place on the quiet. Pre-arranged turnin’ it into a joint. This no good fucking Judas! (pointing) Hey, fucknut! Just take it easy, Al. (Loading his wagon) How long you been hatchin’ this fuckin’ plot? I made a practical goddamned business decision. No chance for me to match their fuckin’ offer? You couldn’t have. (Climbs up onto the wagon) You’da killed me before you’d matched. But it’s between you and them now. (Sol looks on) Drive careful, cocksucker! Don’t think I haven’t taken precaution. Don’t think I don’t know your mind!
(Wagon pulls off. Sol approaches Al as he’s walking away) Sol: I hate to press you on that lot, Mr. Swearengen. Al: I ain’t ready to settle yet. Sol: Just, we’re anxious to start building. Al: If you want an answer now, it’s no. --(At Nuttall’s #10, Wild Bill is playing poker – again) Wild Bill: Two. Jack McCall: Same for me. Only better. Stapleton: Yeah, three the dealer, dealer draws. Trench mouth. Opener bets. Jack: Well damn, Wild Bill. Even a stopped clock’s gotta be right sometime. Common law just says you gonna win one sooner or later. But I’m gonna keep pushin’ my luck. What do you got there? Eight dollars. Are you ready to stand anymore credit to Wild Bill here, Tom? Nuttall: I didn’t hear him ask for any. Jack: You want me just bet eight, Bill? (Bill takes one of his revolvers out of its holster and lays it on the table.) Wild Bill:
May it cover my call.
Jack: Ah, Bill, I can’t let you put your gun up. That colt’s worth more than my raise by a good 40 bucks. Wild Bill: Are you takin’ the bet? Jack: I tell you what, I’ll add 40 bucks to my raise, make the bet fair. And then 50 more, if you’ll put up a set. (Wild Bills draws the other colt out quick as lightening. Jack ducks to the side, reacting to the draw. Bill puts the gun down next to the other.) Stapleton: Pot’s right. Jack: (Lays down his cards) Would a nine high straight do the trick? (Wild Bill lays down his cards, not taking his eyes off Jack) Stapleton: Pot to the club flush. Jack: Well that’s one in a row for you, Wild Bill. Who’s hungry? What in the hell damn time is it anyway? Wild Bill: Sure you wanna quit playing, Jack? The game’s always between you and gettin’ called a cunt. Nuttall: Ah, meetin’ adjourned, fellas, take it outside. Wild Bill: That dropped eye of your looks like the hood of a cunt to me, Jack. When you talk, your mouth looks like a cunt moving. Jack: I ain’t gonna get in no gunfight with you, Hickok. Wild Bill: But you will run your cunt mouth at me. And I will take it to play poker. Nuttall: I’ll tote up accounts, Mr. Hickok ah, we’ll do whatever rest business we need to next you’re in. Wild Bill: Anyone wants to, can find me at the Grand Central. (Strides out of the #10) --(Sophia, eyes open, laying down) Jane: Utter: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Utter: Jane: Doc: Jane:
She’s warm isn’t she? She ain’t talk yet, neither. That’s beside the point, you shut up! She will get fever, bein’ wolf bit. And the reason we risked bringin’ her into camp… You don’t need to fear the saloonkeeper. He’s not a danger to her no more. He’s not? Saloonkeeper worried that the little one said that road agents killed her people. Who the road agents might say they worked for. Meaning, him? He took a different approach to the problem. She would do better indoors. I told Jane she could take my room with the little one, and I’d move back in with Bill. Will not stay in no fuckin’ hotel! They don’t want me. They won’t give me a room. You two keep your voices down. (Doc pours medicine into a spoon, mimes ingesting it to Sophia and puts it to her mouth, she dutifully does as he “asked”) What’d I say about noise? He snores the whole fuckin’ night!
Utter: Snorin’s past a person’s control. --(Out in the street, facing the hotel, Seth and the Reverend are walking back to the tent) Rev: Seth: Rev:
I was a field nurse during the war. At Shiloh in Sanko Manassas. That was a good deal of violence. Is that when you got your callin’? Yes, it was, Sir. Out of that crucible out of all that horror to come to God’s grace. A-a man’s heart deviseth his way, but the Lord, directeth his steps. H-he directeth all our steps, Mr. Bullock. All of us. If your preachin’ at me, Reverend, you need to put some more light on the text. If I am preaching at you, sir, I do you a disservice. Good Morning, Mr. Star. Good Morning, Reverend. Can we get the lot? Can we start buildin’? The Reverend’s come to help. We’re still hangin’ fire. What’s the damn holdup? New gambling outfit come into town, Seth. Time wasn’t right to push and do a decision. I got all the lumber cut. And I warned you that was premature. You said 98 percent, after your last conversation with that sonofabitch. 98 is not a hundred. Goddamnit! (Oops! Turns his head toward the Rev.) Good day, Sirs. Good day, Reverend!
Seth: Rev: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Rev: Sol: --(Out in the street, facing the Bella Union – we hear Jane talking before the camera goes inside the Grand Central) Jane: Utter: EB: Jane:
I said they’d find a way to stop me. (Now we’re inside the hotel) If it’s raisin’ room rates, you have to go ahead and raise ‘em. Rates aren’t the only factor. There’s a waiting list for occupancy. You undertaker lookin’ sonofabitch. This little girl’s doctor ordered to live indoors and I’m assigned to change her dressings! EB: A sad story, that’s none of my affair, Madam. If I guess your sex correct? Wild Bill: (Entering) What’s the problem, innkeeper? EB: Mr. Hickok. Utter: Little one took fever in that wagon last night, Bill. (Brom starts coming down the stairs, pauses) And I though Jane and her could stay in my room and, I’d move back in with you. EB: I’m not in opposition, sir. Just the opposite. Who wouldn’t want to accommodate a sick little girl? But the Simpson Hotel’s closed its doors. If Mr. Utter is vacating, shouldn’t these people that have been trying me all morning get first call? Isn’t that simple fairness? Jane: He don’t give a fuck all for fairness! He just don’t want me in here. Wild Bill: Well how ‘bout if he stays in his room and the lady moves in with me? (Jane tucks her smiling face into Sophia’s neck) That way no one’s vacating nothing. EB: That would outflank the checkout issue. But it might raise questions of decorum. Wild Bill: With who?
EB: No one of consequence I suppose. Wild Bill: Let her in. I’m goin’ to get some breakfast. EB: There will be a rate adjustment. (Jane eyes EB) Brom: (Coming down the stairs) Good morning. EB: I’ve heard the stories, Madam, I tell you that at flag fall. You are here on sufferance. Jane: Kiss my ass! (They go upstairs) --(Back at the Gem in Al’s bedrooms, Al is seated, we see him from behind and we see someone – it ends up being Trixie – brushing his coat.) Al:
Cocksuckers. Where were they when Dan and me were, chopping trees in this gulch? Hands all blistered. Bucktooth fuckin’ beavers rolling around in the creek. Slappin’ their tails in the water like we was hired entertainment. Trixie:I’d pay a nickel to see you choppin’ wood. Al: Yeah. Don’t think I wasn’t blow for blow with Dan. (Trixie helps him put on his jacket) I can play that shit when I have to. (Straightens his bowtie) But I been to Chicago, too. (Turns around, puts his arms out) How do I look? Trixie:Like Christ crucified. --(Al enters the Bella Union) Al: Guess this ain’t a hotel no more. Joanie: Come see us tonight when we open. We’ll find ya a place to lay down. Cy: And someone to keep your feet warm. Al: I’m Al Swearengen. (Puts hand out) I own the joint across the street. Eddie: The Gem? Al: That’s it. Cy: Cy Tolliver, Al. Ed Sawyer, Joanie Stubbs. Al: You people must’ve trained with the heathens. Yeah, you know, you come up on us unbeknownst. Cy: How long you been in camp, Al? Al: Well, this year, Cy, since March. I was here last year, too. But the fuckin’ cavalry drove us out. Cy: Butt all the whites out, didn’t they? Al: Oh deep fuckin’ thinkers in Washington put forward that policy. This year though, so many soldiers desertin’ to prospect, give up the ghost let us all back in. And of course, Custer sorted out the fuckin’ Sioux for us, so now we’re all as safe as in our mother’s tits. Cy: Did a job for our side, didn’t he, Al? Al: How ‘bout that long haired fuckin’ blowhard, huh? I’ll tell you this, son, you can mark my words. Crazy Horse went into Little Big Horn, bought his people one good long term ass fuckin’. (Pumps his fist back and forth) You do not want to be a dirt worshipping heathen, from this fucking point forward. (Turns to Joanie) Pardon my French. Joanie: Oh I speak French. Al: Well, here we are, settin’ in the world’s problems and I been wonderin’, Cy, um, perhaps we should talk about our areas of overlap so we’re not at each other’s throats, huh? Cy: Give me a for instance, Al. Al: Ah, women. Would we want to agree on rates?
Joanie: Well, far as pussy, Al, we’ll want to let the market sort itself out. Al: Sounds to me like I’m up against specialty acts. How ‘bout table games? Any overlap there? Eddie: We’ll be featuring craps, Al. Al: I played that in Chicago. I don’t offer it myself, gets these hoople heads confused, hmm? That’s one area of overlap avoided. What about faro? Eddie: We’ll have it. Al: That decision hard and fast? Cy: I just don’t see overlap bein’ a problem, Al. Even where we duplicate. We’re offerin’ differing atmosphere, you’re a pioneerin’ type, a trailblazer type. You’re gonna draw a trailblazin’ element. Al: Meanin’ I get the one’s that don’t wash? Eddie: Must cut through the stink though when they walk in with those sacks full of gold. Al: Oh, the money spends definitely. Cy: Anyways, thanks for the neighborly visit. Al: Yeah, good to meet you. Very good luck to you. You’re opening at eight o’clock, huh? Eddie: That’s what we’re aimin’ at. Al: Eight o’clock. Good for you. (Al leaves) Eddie: Wouldn’t set a fire right away. Cy: Come to case us, though. He would set a fire. (Watching Al leave – in the street, Al turns and looks up at the sign) --(Back at the absurd restaurant) Wild Bill: Way you tell it, Mister, man didn’t sell you that claim holding a gun to your head. Brom: And frankly, Mr. Hickok, being a novice in these matters, I was duped. And now the seller’s disappeared. You checked into his room. (Looking at Charlie) Utter: Sound like you’re up shit’s creek. Brom: Seller had accomplices, gentlemen. Men of…what passes for position in this place. Now I would pay a handsome bounty, if they were brought to make restitutions. Wild Bill: Sorry you lost your money, Mister. But I ain’t for hire to rob it back. Brom: I make no terms as to method. Wild Bill: You don’t figure a good talkin’ to would do the trick? Brom: I’m not leaving camp…without my money. Utter: Mister, that fella you said had my room before me? Brom: Yeah, a man named Tim Driscoll, yes, pure charlatan. Utter: Fresh stain on the floor when I moved in. He may a checked out, short a useful amount of blood. Brom: Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Utter: That would make these accomplices you’re talkin’ about, dangerous people to deal with. Brom: Yes, I quite take your point. No honor among thieves. Well…thanks for your time. I’ll pursue my remedies in some other fashion. (Brom leaves) Wild Bill: I don’t think he took you point…quite. Utter: I think he quite missed it. Wild Bill: I believe I’ll pass out, Charlie. Utter: I guess you were playin’ poker all night, huh? Wild Bill: Yes, Sir. Utter: When we was comin’ into camp I saw that ah, Montana fella you seemed to like.
Wild Bill: Bullock had my back again last night. Utter: Why, he was seein’ to the results this mornin’. Wild Bill: Man has an act of conscience. Utter: What would you think of us and him and his friend ah, havin’ dinner tonight? Wild Bill: Why? Utter: People gotta eat, don’t they, Bill? And maybe you’d enjoy sittin’ with someone who wasn’t lookin’ to beat you at cards. Or blow your fuckin’ head off. Wild Bill: True enough. Mark me down for a yes. (Wild Bill heads upstairs) --(Back in Al’s office, Al is sitting at his desk with Johnny, EB and Jimmy Irons across from him) Al: EB:
I want to know who did that legwork. You hit the nail square, Al. Whoever went between them Bella Union people and Artie Simpson would be a prime source of information. Al: Do not repeat back to me, what I just said in different fuckin’ words! And I wanna know who cut the cheese? (Al, making Mr. Smelly-face – goes to the balcony doors) I’ll tell you this for openers. We are gonna set off and area on the balcony. (Opens doors) And God help whoever doesn’t use it because the next stink I have to smell in this office, and whoever doesn’t admit to it is going out the window, into the much onto their (camera stops on Jimmy) fuckin’ heads and we’ll see how they like fartin’ from that position. Okay? (High mocking voice) Oh, I hate to press you on the lot, Mr. Swearengen. (normal) Wouldn’t that be a setup If they were all of the same fuckin’ party? EB: You think them hardware guys and Hickok, might be the advance party for them saloon operators, Al? Al: You just did the same fucking thing I told you not to. (Turns head to Johnny) Get them, too, say I’m ready to conclude on their offer. Stop at Wu’s on the way. (Johnny jumps up from his chair to leave) Tell him either he feeds his pigs Persimmon Phil tonight, or I serve him…raw loin of oriental. Johnny: I though you forgot all about that, Al. I thought it just sorta slipped through the cracks. (leaves) Al: (To Jimmy) Faro dude at the new joint. Dope fiend. Tall guy skanky red beard. Jimmy: You want me to get next to him, Mr. Swearengen? Let me take a few dollars, I’ll go play at his table. Al: Stop hustling. I’ll give you dope when you bring that cocksucker here. Jimmy: He’s as good as standin’ in front of you, Mr. Swearengen. (Jimmy gets up and leaves. EB stands up also – Al puts his hand out to stop him.) Al: Stick around. (EB sits, Al sits in the chair next to him) Help me measure where their loyalties lie. EB: These hardware guys? (Al shuts his eyes and sighs) --(Up in Brom and Alma’s room at the hotel…) Brom: The burden falls on me, Alma. That much is now clear. Alma: Do you think there’s any possibility that Mr. Hickok might reconsider? (Brom gets up) Brom: None. Nor was I sure that, if he’d agreed the man before me at that breakfast table was equal to the task. (Alma gets up and stands behind Brom, putting her arm around him) Alma: Promise me one thing then, Brom.
Brom: Don’t ask me to amend my purpose. Alma: That before seeing Mr. Swearengen, you take your walk. (Brom turns and hugs Alma) Brom: To clear my head and reflect? Alma: If only to perfect your arguments. Brom: I see. I accept the suggestion and a feeling for it’s author. Alma: Thank you. Brom: If I’m stooped when next you see me, Alma, won’t be worry weighing me down, but bags of our recovered gold. Alma: Take your walk, dear. (Brom hugs her again and leaves, as Alma is shutting the door she sees Jane peeking out from behind her own door, their eyes lock for a moment and Alma opens her door wider as if to speak, Jane quickly slams her door shut. Brom is bent over looking at something – why, it’s Wild Bill Hickok!) Brom: It’s Hickok, Alma. Unconscious. Alma: I see. Brom: I take this as proof my reservations were well founded. (Alma shuts the door and walks over to her vanity and prepares another dope drink) --(In Jane & Hickok’s room, Jane is talking to Sophia, who is sleeping) Jane: To consider it to disturb us. Wouldn’t have truck with that…room clerk ghoul to get let into Charlie’s rather than sleep in the fuckin’ hallway, that’s the kind of man he is. I own you another fuckin’ penny. Owe you another one. I don’t know if you should ever learn English, never mind foul, spare you knowin’ how ignorant people are. But then I could tell you about Bill…sleepin’ in the hallway out a thought for others. And I know some other fuckin’ stories too. Owe you another penny. --(Out in the street, Jack McCall is checking out the goods at Sol & Seth’s tent.) Seth: Look at that jackass. Sol: Help you with anything? Jack: I tell ya, he’s bein’ done a favor this exact moment. Or would you care to take a guess. A favor in this tent. Sol: I’d guess it’s you doin’ one for yourself, Sir, considering quality goods. Jack: Favor here’s bein’ done for Wild Bill fuckin’ Hickok. Seth: What are you talking about? Jack: ‘Cause if I’m out prospectin’ in the hills, then he ain’t gettin’ his just desserts. At the poker table or otherwise. Don’t ask me what I mean by the last part. Seth: What do you mean? Jack: And I said you’d do better not askin’. Seth: Get outta here. Jack: I’ll buy this one. What’s the price on that? Seth: You ain’t buyin’ nothin’. (Jack turns around and sees Charlie) Jack: I know you. Where do I know you from? Utter: Can’t help you with that, partner.
Jack: You follow him around. (Laughs. Seth grabs him and runs him forward, tossing him in the muck) Hey! Seth: That tent’s shut to you. Don’t come back there. Jack: (talking to himself) Fuck you. Any plans I might’ve had to buy somethin’, or prospect. Utter: I’d be lousy at retail. I guarantee you that much. Wouldn’t have the patience for it. Sol: I’m not sure how much future he’s got. Utter: Anyways I want to tell you fellas, several days I’ll be goin’ back to Cheyenne. Try and secure a mail route. I operate a freight business outta there. You need re-supply, I’ll be bringin’ several wagons back. Sol: That’s good to know. Utter: And ah, I was, ah (takes hat off) half wonderin’ too if…if you’d want to join Bill and me for dinner. Tonight or some other time. (Seth smiling) Seth: Let’s do it tonight. Utter: Feel like I should’ve brung posies. (Johnny approaches.) Sol: Afternoon. Can I help you find something? Johnny: Mr. Swearengen wants to see ya. (Leaves) --(Alma is looking out the window, drink in hand, she sees Brom approach the Gem, he pauses, puffing a cigar, then continues on his walk. Alma finishes her drink) --(At the Gem, Al is seated downstairs with Sol and Seth. Dan and EB are seated on either side of Al, nearby but not at the table.) Al: Sol: Al: Seth: Al: Sol: Seth: Al: Sol: Al: Seth: Al: Sol: Al: Sol: Al: Sol: Seth:
I only hope you understand my being short with you out in the street this morning. You had a lot on your mind. I had a lot of what’s left of my fucking mind, these new interests coming in. I only hope you understand and see my thinking in not selling you that lot outright. What’s your thinkin’ today? Gets dead set at the fucking point which I like in most situations. Do you know these new saloon interests? Are you acquainted with them at all? Nope. Not them and not Bill Hickok. And all we want to do is run a hardware business. I have got to be satisfied. See, I’m the simple type cocksucker. That when he sees lightening, readies for thunder. And takes the thunder if it comes from part of the same fuckin’ storm. Why wouldn’t ya, Mr. Swearengen? Well thank you for sayin’ that, even if you don’t fuckin’ mean it. What would make you comfortable sellin’ to us? (Al looks at EB, EB raises his head and eyebrows, kinda smiles) Thousand. Plus right of first refusal on any further sale. Accepted. And right to buy back at the original price, plus the cost of your improvements. Accepted. No gambling on the fuckin’ premises. No association of any kind with these Bella Union cocksuckers. Accepted. We can’t sell ‘em our goods?
Al: Sol: Al: Seth: Al:
No. What do you think of that? Accepted. What do you think? (pauses) Accepted. Or, they could buy your wares in your normal course of your normal fucking business. I’d guess it’d be okay to transact with these cocksuckers. Seth: So we can sell ‘em our wares? Al: Your normal fucking wares. No gambling, whoring or whiskey on the fucking premises is the chief fucking point. Sol: Agreed. (Puts his hand out) Al: I spit in my hand. (Does so) Will that drive you screaming into the hills? (Sol spits in his own hand and they shake, Al then shakes with Seth – hmm, no spit there) The ah, thousand’d be nice. Sol: (counting) 20, 40, 60, 80, 100 EB: Happy outcome. Sol: 20, 40, 60, 80, 200… --(Out in the street, Charlie is talking to the guy that sells soap and later, Indian head hair) Shyster: A shootin’ exhibition. Utter: That idea for Mr. Hickok’s been had and acted upon. By a few people before you. Shyster: And then, afterward, we cut the bullets out. And (Charlie spots EB leaving the Gem, skulking around) the fuckin’ playin’ cards he was usin’ as targets. That’s the point I was tryin’ to get to. Utter: How ‘bout the tree bark (Seth and Sol emerge) behind the fuckin’ playing card targets, huh? (walks away towards Seth & Sol) Shyster: (running after Charlie) Hell, yeah, we’ll sell the fuckin’ bark. Utter: What do you say, fellas? Sol: We got our lot, Mr. Utter. Utter: Well, Hooray for you boys. Shyster: Two days, for me to get the word out. 10 cents to watch, and we’ll charge for the souvenirs. Utter: I ain’t gonna take you up on that, Mister. Shyster: Another 20 for you on the quiet. Utter: No. And the talk between us is over. Shyster: Soap! Soap with a prize inside! (walking away) Soap! (EB is still skulking around – getting closer to the Bella Union) Utter: Got that man to sell, ah? Sol: Never had to strain to spend a thousand dollars. Seth: Will you let us outta dinner? Utter: You a soon not do it, ah? Seth: We’d like to get to buildin’. Sol: Will we see you tomorrow for breakfast? Utter: Sure. Maybe we’ll catch Bill comin’ back from cards, huh? Well ah, congratulations to both of ya. Sol: Thanks, Mr. Utter. (Shakes hands with Charlie) Seth: Thank you. (Shakes hands with him as well) Utter: Ah, good luck to ya. (Leaves the boys walk on) Sol: Looks like we’re in business, huh? (Pats Seth on the back, Seth looks at him and smiles)
--(EB has finally skulked up to the entrance of the Bella Union and sneaks in) EB: My goodness, my heavens. My goodness gracious. Heaven’s to Betsy. Eddie: What do you think? Hiram, ever seen a craps layout? EB: My first. Eddie: Shall I show you how it works? EB: I might could follow. I do, read and cipher. Eddie: Well, you’re well on advance of the pack. Tell me what this says. EB: C-O-M-E. It says “come.” Eddie: You really can read, can’t ya? EB: I wasn’t raised to lie. I’m liable to be killed, Eddie. He’s on my scent and closin’. Eddie: Curious tactics your comin’ here then, E.B. EB: To remind you secrecy’s of the essence. Al Swearengen’s a dangerous man. Let him doubt those he’s trusted, this camp will run red with blood. Eddie: Argues for raising your room rates, at least make the game worth the candle. EB: I wonder how cavalier your attitude’ll be with a pig gnawing through your vitals. Eddie: Bet on me screaming for mercy. EB: Turn down your offer to buy and pointed you to Artie Simpson. Whole damn extent of my involvement. And I’m starin’ straight at extinction. Eddie: He may get you anyway, E.B., but if your nerve goes, he’ll get you sure. --(Up in Al’s office, Jimmy has brought Leon to see him) Al:
Now, dope is not my own preferred form of relaxation, but I did try the shit and believe me…I nearly converted. Leon: And Jimmy said you’d do right by me, Mr. Swearengen. Al: Everything…that goes on at that place. Leon: I’ll give you a daily report. Al: Yeah. (Hands Leon the dope and walks to the window. He sees E.B. emerge from the Bella Union, E.B. pockets something – money? Al’s face changes in sudden realization) He’s the type I’d wanna know about. Just left your joint. Judas goat lookin’ fella. (Grabs Leon’s head and holds it looking out the window) Hey, you see him? Coyote movin’ type? You see him? Leon: The short guy? Al: Yeah, with is paws always damp like he just shit fuckin’ turd. That’s the type I’d wanna know about. (Lets go of Leon’s head) Comings, goings, and dealings with your bosses. Leon: I keep a special eye on him. Johnny: Al? Al: Yeah. Johnny: That cherry New York dude is downstairs askin’ for ya. Al: No good. Charlie him the fuck out. (Johnny approaches Al’s side) Johnny: He keeps talkin’ about the Pinkertons. --(Downstairs, Brom is smoking his cigar) Al:
Dan Dority, thought you were dead.
Brom: Yes, I didn’t go to the claim this morning. Al: You should’ve told him. I’ve had him here the last several hours in tears. Dan! Look! He’s alive! Dan: Thank God. Brom: Yeas, I chose not to go to the claim. Al: Whiskey Brom, snatch? Brom: Frankly, Al, I’m here to speak with you. And I’m not to be distracted. Al: Then proceed, my son, speak frankly. Brom: We needn’t reach the question of whether my claim has…pinched out, as the saying goes. Or whether it was a sham proposition to begin with. Let’s just say, I’ve lost faith in the property. (Dan. Listening, sits down close the conversation) Al: Have you? Brom: And I want my 20,000 dollars back. Al: In the heat you’ve confused me with Tim Driscoll. Brom: I think we’re both aware, Al, that Driscoll’s no longer in camp. And because I believe you colluded with Tim Driscoll and perhaps were in cahoots with other parties as well, I require satisfaction from you. Al: It’s the heat again, Brom, I don’t collude and don’t cahoot. Brom: Al, are you familiar with the Pinkerton agency? Al: Why? Brom: Pursuing its business interest my family’s had several occasions to engage the Pinkertons. We maintain friendly relations. And I’d prefer we two settle this as gentlemen, but if need be, the Pinkerton’s can be made a party to our dispute. Al: Has he asked you to reconnoiter the rims with him at all? Dan: Never. Al: Did he ask to and you refused? Dan: Didn’t get around to it, Al. I thought he was in for the long haul. Brom: But what are you talking about specifically? Al: The gold you found washed down from somewhere, that’s the law of gravity. And your claim runs rim to rim, the width of the fucking gulch, so the original deposit of gold you found washed down from is likely on your claim above, near one of the rims. Brom: And that’s what you feel I should reconnoiter? Al: First place the Pinkertons would look. Unless I’m fuckin’ wrong. Dan: No, that’s how they operate. Al: So if he asks you, would you reconnoiter the rims with him? Dan: Al, I waited out there all morning for him— Al: Is that a yes or a no? Dan: Yeah. I’d be happy to reconnoiter the rims with him. Brom: And if Dan’s in my good faith reconnoitering don’t show the source of the gold, do you then make restitution, Al? Or do I have recourse to the agency? Al: If at that point you ask, yes, I’ll make restitution. All rights, all wrongs aside, ‘cause you’ve got me by the fuckin’ balls. Brom: Let me go home and change. (Brom turns to leave and Dan gets up) Ah, do I need climbing gear? Dan: You might want to bring a pickaxe. Brom: Fine, then. (Leaves)
Al: (To Dan) Make it look like an accident. --(Back on the hotel stairs…) Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane:
(Whispering) Ain’t this a pretty picture. (Whispering) I can’t (??) what I don’t know about. Passed out in the public hallway. He never knocked on the damn door. By the time I looked out he was already snoring. Did you want me to drag him in by the damn heel? Wild Bill: I says leave him where he is and go about your own business. Jane: He’s up. I hope you’re happy. Congratulations, cocksucker. Utter: Dinner’s been cancelled, Bill. Wild Bill: Alright. Utter: Them two fellas got their lot bought and they’re ah, started right ahead with the buildin’. Wild Bill: Sure. Jane: I-I was that shocked seeing you sleepin’ out here, Bill. First saw ya maybe an hour ago. Didn’t want to disturb me and the child, Charlie. Why, he must’ve sought entry to your room, wherever the fuck you were at. Utter: Well, I’d like to know where that goddamned inn keep was! He could’ve let Bill in. Wild Bill: You’re not gonna let me sleep, are ya? Jane: Well, I’da let you sleep as long as you wanted, Bill. Wild Bill: (Gets up, sighing) How’s that little one? Jane: Good. She’s nappin’. More than I can say for you. Wild Bill: Are those hardware boys lookin’ for extra hands? Utter: In a round about way. --(Back in Brom & Alma’s room) Alma: I don’t agree with this plan. Brom: Reconnoitering the rims is exactly the sort of due diligence that father would ask if I’d done. Alma: Nor do I see the need to involve your father. Brom: It was my mentions of the Pinkertons, Alma, which brought Al Swearengen around and the Pinkertons can’t come into this unless father does as well. I wouldn’t even know where to look for them. Alma: Ought’n we possibly to take a different view of this, Brom? Consider we’ve had an adventure, costing us $20,000. And let matters rest there. Brom: Let them rest? Alma: Yes. If you still want to see more of the west, let’s go now and see it. Or else return to New York. I don’t think we should linger here. Brom: I have no abiding affection for this camp, Alma. But I won’t leave without my money. (Alma turns and sits at her vanity, preparing another dope drink) Why do you take that medicine? Alma: You know why. To relieve my headaches. Brom: The other day I had a whopper of a headache and I sampled a bit. I would hardly call the dull, numb floating feeling I experienced relief. (Alma drinks) Alma: Perhaps the sexes experience the medicine differently? Brom: In any case, I um, hope you feel better. (Turns and starts to leave)
Alma: Thank you. --(Al, on the balcony, is watching the Grand opening of the Bella Union.) EB: AL: EB:
(Clearing throat) EB. Thanks for coming. Whistle (Whistles) and I’m underfoot. Loyal as a damn dog. I tell you what, Al, you got a hell of a nice turnout downstairs. Hell of a nice Monday crowd.
(Cy checks his pocket watch and motions to the gunman who steps forward and fires several shots into the air. The crowd cheers.) EB: Al: EB: Al:
Jesus Christ Almighty. Go ahead in, E.B. I’m not in dutch, am I, Al? Go ahead in.
(EB turns, dejected, inside. Al watches Cy eye him and enter the Bella Union. A crowd surges into the new saloon.) --(Wild Bill is hammering away at the hardware lot…) Nathan: Mr. Hickok? I’m Nathan Gordon. I come up from Murphy’s Borough and… Wild Bill: How are you, Nathan? (Smiles) Nathan: Fine. See, I’ll tell you this much, Mr. Hickok. And I’d say the same to the angels in heaven, as a stage performer, you cannot act a single damn lick. Wild Bill: (laughs) I’d call that a fair judgment. Nathan: I-I saw you on a stage in Hartford, Connecticut and I’da bet U.S. currency that you’d been strangled and killed, you just didn’t know you was dead yet. Wild Bill: Was you born patient, Montana, or did you cultivate it? Seth: I guess I’m patient for labor. Jerk: Now why the fuck tell him that type story? Nathan: Why I saw him perform with Buffalo Bill Cody and, Texas Jack Omaha and threw on a stage in Harford, Connecticut. Jerk: Who gives a fuck? You think he was put on earth to hear you run him down? Wild Bill: I’m alright, friend. Jerk: No, why don’t you get outta my sight, before I do somethin’ I’ll fuckin’ regret. Nathan: Well I’ll tell whatever kinda story I feel like tellin’. Jerk: That’s right, tell it walkin’. Seth: Anyways, me and Sol are sure grateful you and Mr. Utter are takin’ the time to help. Jerk: Go ahead about your work, Mr. Hickok. He won’t bother you no more. Wild Bill: Charlie encourages me bein’ in your company. He feels you’re a positive influence. Jerk: No reason you’d remember me but I saw you marshal at Abilene. Saw you blow one cocksucker’s head right the fuck off his neck. I also saw you…dead center three bullets on a ace
of spade playing card at 25 goddamned paces. Some other loud-mouth like this loud-mouth I just sorted out, said you’d doctored that playing card before you ever tacked it to that tree. Wild Bill: And did you sort him out, too? Jerk: Goddamned right. Wild Bill: Well thanks for all that help. Now it’s time you moved along. Jerk: I sorted him out proper. Gouged out the both of his fuckin’ eyes. Utter: Alright, friend! Wild Bill: Move along, I’m tired of listenin’ to ya. Jerk: You’re tired of listenin’? Seth: That’s what he said. Jerk: Oh, I guess everybody’s talkin’ to me now. Wild Bill: Get the fuck outta here! Jerk: Alright, I hear you, Wild Bill. You don’t need to insult me twice. (Starts to leave, turns back around) I’ll tell you what. I hope you get what’s coming to you and I hope it’s sooner rather than later. I hope they sort you out! And I get to see it! I hope you’re gut shot and die slow! And I hope they get ya in this camp! (Everyone is quiet for a moment while the Jerk walks off) Utter: Hand me, hand me some of them pegs, would ya? Hey, want some pegs, Bill? Wild Bill: I’m gonna desert you. (Gets up and puts his hammer away) Play some poker. Drink some whiskey. (Puts on his hat) Seth: Thanks for your help. Wild Bill: See ya later, Charlie. Utter: Alright, Bill. Sol: Ready, Lift! Oh, there we go. (They all help to raise one of the wall frames) --(Al is watching the hardware boys from his window) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: ---
For havin’ nothin’ to do with him, these hardware cocksuckers sure seemed to be joined to Hickok at the hip. You make your judgment on that situation, Al. And I believe you judge correct. No connection between them and him? Or between any of them, and these new saloon people? You saw it like that and I did too. To the best of the both of our thinking. Which was important to me. Which was? What? When you said which was, I didn’t follow what you were askin’. I wasn’t askin’ nothin’. I was sayin’, I didn’t have full information so your impression on this was important. Someone I could trust. What’s wrong? What’s the matter? Ah, my palms are damp. They’re always damp. Yes, sir. So is something…wrong? no, no.
(Out at the claim, Brom and Dan are walking along the creek – Ellsworth is at his camp, observing) Ellsworth: Well, the great prospector’s found his second wind. --(Back in Al’s office…) EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
You tell me, Al. Have you a doubt or misgiving? You tell me. Generally, if I have a misgiving, or a doubt, I kill the cocksucker I have a doubt and misgiving about. But these are special circumstances. I don’t know what you mean by special circumstances. If I want to, I can burn the whole fuckin’ camp down. Yes, you can. Cut your throat first, and them burn down the whole fucking camp. You can--So I don’t know what the fuck you mean. I mean, short of burnin’ it all down, you gotta trust someone. (EB is sweating, very nervous) What were you doing over there? Where? Where? At the Bella Union? Got an impression scouting. Listen to me, listen to me. I was the gobetween, it was me. But without, m-malicious intention.
--(Brom and Dan are now climbing the rim – Dan sets down his lantern…) Brom: Well, I confess to being winded. (Turns around, sees Dan’s “Don’t mess with me mo-fo” look onhis face) Oh no, Dan. No. No. (Dan grabs him) Mother. (Dan throws him from the cliff) --(Back in Al’s office…) EB:
Simple greed. One less hotel in camp, shorten up the room supply, no conspiracy, no betrayal. If you’re gonna murder me, I’d appreciate a quick dying. And not getting’ eat by the pigs. In case there is resurrection of the flesh. (Licks his lips and leans in close to EB’s ears) Stay friendly with them cocksuckers. With them Bella Union people? You can’t help yourself, can you? (EB smiles and leaves)
Al: EB: Al: --(Back at the claim, Dan is heading down to the rocks where Brom landed. laboriously. Dan feels around Brom’s neck and picks up a gold nugget)
Brom is breathing
Dan: You fell, but ah, but you’ll be alright. (Put the nugget in his pocket) I’m gonna take care of ya. Just ah, just hold on a second. No hollerin’. (Ellsworth is watching, with the dog by his side. Dan picks away at the moss covered wall revealing a quartz outcrop. He covers it with some branches and returns to Brom who is still gasping for breath…) I’ll take care of ya. (Grabs Brom’s head and lifts it up) Now, hush. (Grunting, Dan smashes Brom’s head into the rocks and Ellsworth takes off. Dan looks up and sees him)
--(At the Bella Union, Bill is playing cards. Cy is watching him…) Joanie: Tina and Molly can be quiet if you want him kept company. Cy: That man’s already doin’ all he wants to. If I send him anyone, it’d be you. (Joanie smiles and walks off. Piano playing in the background. Cy nods to Eddie and motions Leon over to him) Are you loaded, Leon? Leon: Well on the path, Mr. Tolliver. That man at the Gem has got some serious shit. Cy: I know when you make you first report on us to him, you’ll remember to say thanks. Eddie: I hope you’re not too fucked up to deal the deuce for us, Leon. Leon: Opium ain’t been made yet, Mr. Sawyer, that can fuck me up that bad. (Cy laughs, Leon goes back to his table) Eddie: I’ll tug his reins. Cy: I hope our hero wins. Eddie: Count on it. (Looking at Wild Bill) --(Back in Wild Bill’s room, Jane is keeping vigil over Sophia, who is awake right now) Jane: If Bill comes, I’m gonna move you (triangulatin’ hands toward Sophia) to that nice pallet (now moves her hands toward the far side of the room) over there, only ‘cause he’s far too big for it and so too would I be. So if you wake up on the pallet, that’s what happened. And him and me bein’ where we are (trangulatin’ hands back to the bed), is the circumstances of the room period and the grownups are just sleepin’. But don’t be afraid to, to, to, wake me up. (hands on hips – looks around) Alright. (sits down) Sweetheart, go to sleep. (Folds hands up on the side of her face like one of those sleeping precious moments dolls- miming sleep. Sophia does the same with her hands and rolls over on her side, shuts her eyes) I’m right here. --(Up in Al’s office, Trixie is scraping Al’s feet with a straight razor…) Al: Not too fucking deep, huh? Trixie:I won’t. Al: Trust. Hell of a way to operate, huh? Look at all the ins and outs of gettin’ killed. Not too fucking deep. (Trixie brushes the side of his foot and scrapes again, gently) Every fuckin’ beatin’ I’m grateful for. Every fuckin’ one of them. Get all the trust beat outta you. And you know what the fuckin’ world is. (Trixie looks up at him, they look at each other a moment. Someone knocks on the door) Dan: Al, open up, it’s me, it’s Dan! You’re gonna wanna hear this, open up! (Trixie opens the door, Dan looks a t her like “WTF you doin’ here?”) Al: Come here, sit down. (Points to the stool at the foot of the bed where Trixie was just sitting – Trixie goes out to the balcony…) Dan: Well, it’s a mixed report. Al: You just tell me, is it done? Dan: Oh, it’s done. Yeah, he’s gone. Al: So what’s the mixture? Dan: He went ownin’ one hell of a fuckin’ gold strike. (Trixie, out on the balcony, sees Alma looking out her window with a worried look on her face – their eyes meet)
Al: Where’s the dude now? Dan: Splattered at the bottom of the ridge. Al: Ride back out. Bring him back in at dawn. Dan: Alright. (Dan leaves) Al: Trixie! (Trixie comes back in and sits back down) Trixie:You want the other foot? Al: Yeah. Please. (Their eyes meet) Main Cast: Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Ellsworth .... Doc Cochran Brad Dourif John Hawkes .... Sol Star Paula Malcomson .... Trixie Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall William Sanderson .... Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter Guest Appearances: Bill Bolender Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Keith Carradine Larry Cedar Kim Dickens Garret Dillahunt Gill Gayle Peter Jason Ricky Jay Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones Sarah Lund Joel McKinnon Miller Ray McKinnon Timothy Omundson Dean Rader-Duval
Cy Tolliver Johnny Burns Wild Bill Hickock Leon Joannie Stubbs Jack McCall Huckster (aka Shyster) Stapleton Eddie Sawyer Jewel A.W. Merrick Bella Whore Nathan Gordon Rev. H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Brom Garret Jimmy Irons
Tahmus Rounds Tom Simmons Bree Seanna Wall Clay Wilcox
Metz Girl Loudmouth Drunk in the Gem Saloon
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode #4 “Here Was a Man” (Open at the Bella Union, a card game is under way between Wild Bill Hickok and Jack McCall. Joanie Stubbs is the dealer) Jack: I raise a hundred. Wild Bill: Back a hundred. Jack: That man’s overplayin’ his hand. (Sniffs) I… (Pushes chips forward) Whatever the fuck I got left. Joanie: (To Hickok) Four twenty back to you. (Hickok lays cards on the table) Jack: As advertised. You got more nerve than sense, huh, Bill? Joanie: (To McCall) What have you got? Jack: (Throws cards on table) Man stays on fours. And they call this a game of skill? Well, you gutted me, didn’tcha, Bill? You sonofabitch. Cy: (Comes over, whispers) You were told about that talk. Wild Bill: (Slides a single coin across the table) Go eat, Jack. Jack: Alright. I thank you for that kindness. You just bought yourself somethin’ with that. (Gets up and walks out) Cy: (Whispers to Eddie) Some boys just can’t go near a cliff without jumpin’ off. Wild Bill: Twenty to the dealer. Much appreciated. Joanie: Any ideas for the rest? Wild Bill: I believe I’ll stay with cash. --(It is late in the night, and Bullock is hammering atop the soon-to-be hardware store. Hickok is passing, on his way back from a long night of poker.) Wild Bill: Montana. Seth: No rest for the wicked. Wild Bill: Well, what are you doin’ up? Seth: Well, it’s cooler workin’ now. Quieter. Sorry you had to listen to them drunken fools before, Mr. Hickok, when you and Mr. Utter was helpin’ us? Wild Bill: I come through unharmed. And “Bill”’d be easier on my nerves. “Mr. Hickok” makes me look for the warrant in your hand. Seth: Alright. Wild Bill: “Montana” Ok with you? Seth: The only other nickname I ever had was “Sloth.” Wild Bill: Don’t seem to fit. Seth: Choice was among the seven sins. I guess I got out before the others surfaced. Wild Bill: (Voices are heard faintly in the distance) Camp looks like a good bet. Seth: My wife and boy are with her people in Michigan. I hope I can bring ‘em out soon. Wild Bill: They’ll get the Sioux making peace. Pretty quick you’ll have laws here and, every other damn thing. Seth: I’d just settle for property rights. Wild Bill: Will ya? I’m recently married myself.
Seth: Is that so? Wild Bill: The Missus operates a circus. She’s in Cincinnati. Waiting for word of my success. Seth: Sol and I put our last sifting cradle aside for ya. Why don’t you go ahead and use it, Bill. Wild Bill: What slows me down is thinking about freezing my balls off in a creek for the cocksuckers I’d lose the gold to at poker. I’m flat out tired. Seth: Turn in. I got her covered. Wild Bill: I believe I will. ‘Night, Montana. Seth: ‘Night, Bill. Wild Bill: My pop called me “Kite.” (Makes an erratic hand gesture) --(A room at the Grand Central Hotel.) Utter: I’s supposed to leave for Cheyenne two damn hours ago. Wild Bill: What kept ya, Charlie? Utter: You don’t fuckin’ sleep! I don’t know what the fuck is happenin’ to you, Bill. Wild Bill: So ya stayed in camp to tuck me in. Utter: If ya don’t wanna prospect, I can put ya in charge of that mail route I’m gettin'. Wild Bill: I’m doin’ what I wanna do. Utter: Bullshit! Wild Bill: Some goddamn time, a man’s due to stop arguin’ with hisself. Feeling he’s twice the goddamn fool he knows he is, because he can’t be something he tries to be every goddamn day without once getting to dinner time and not fucking it up. I don’t wanna fight it no more. Understand me, Charlie? And I don’t want you pissing in my ear about it. Can you let me go to hell the way I want to? Utter: (With his back to Hickok, nods resignedly) Yeah. I can do that. (Gets up to leave) Wild Bill: Good luck in Cheyenne. Utter: Good luck to you. Too, Bill. --(Early morning. Al is watching Dan leading a horse back to camp, with the Dude’s body slung over it. E.B. Farnum is speaking.) EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
You know me, Al. I don’t scrutinize or second-guess. Hm. Ha. If you wanted to explain why I’m to buy the Dude out of a worthless claim I’d surely listen. Jesus Christ. What is it? The Dude musta had some kind of accident. (Joining Al at the window) My word. Looks dead, don’t he? Yes. See my reasoning was, get the Dude his money back. Keep him from askin’ in the Pinkertons. Appears now that’s unnecessary. Make the offer to the wife.
--(Alma Garret has seen Dan bringing back Brom’s body. With trembling hands, she begins mixing a laudanum cocktail. Soon Dan is knocking at her door. She opens the door, and Dan is there, hat in hand. Alma walks past Dan without a word and goes downstairs to Brom’s body. Then we are back to Al and EB) EB:
Al:
EB:
Al? Once that dope fiend, throws her skirts over her head and hightails back to New York, you think she’ll give one wet fart about what happened at this camp? Let alone send the Pinkertons out. And twenty thousand’s a lot of money. Let me tell you. Several things, EB: First, twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Second, it’s my…fucking…money. Third, the widow being a dope fiend might let matters rest. But Fourth, when this camp has a lot more to offer me than twenty thousand dollars as long as I don’t get killed by the fucking Pinkertons, why take the chance? Go see to the grieving fucking widow. Alright, Sir.
--(Alma approaches Brom’s body lying over the horse’s back, places her fingers in the bloody mess of his forehead. Dan is standing near. And EB approaches.) EB:
Mrs. Garret? What a tragic turn. Do you require Doctor Cochran? To treat your terrible grief. Alma: Yes. I would like to see the doctor. EB: Of course, who wouldn’t? I’ll get him right away. Alma: Ask him? Before he sees me please, to examine my husband’s injuries. I’d like his opinion on how they were sustained. EB: I assume your husband died in a fall. Alma: All I asked you to do was to get the goddamned doctor. EB: Of course, Madam. (Alma comes back to Dan.) Alma: Is that what happened, Mr. Dority? A tragic turn? A terrible accidental fall? Dan: I’m sorry, ma’am. Alma: Oh, yes. (Goes back inside) EB: (To the horse, as he leads it away) Come on, Stupid. --(Bullock, still working, sees EB bearing Brom’s body away. Then we see Dan speaking with Al.) Dan: She wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with me, Al. She told EB, to have Doc go over the body. (Washing his hands, then pouring a drink) You think he smells the gold? Al: Nah. EB’s too busy sniffin’ what he can steal being go-between. Whereas you, Dan, You show me foresight and loyalty, the way you handled makin’ the find. Dan: Just know when I’m outta my depth.
--(At Doc Cochran’s, we see EB having arrived with Brom’s body) EB: Amateur. Comes on a lark to dabble, and falls to his death from a ridge. Yet the widow suspects foul play. (Doc and EB carry the body to a bed inside) I know Al wants her leaving here with as least of a sour taste in her mouth as possible, Doc. Doc: Well, wouldn’t you expect her husband’s death to be sour on her tongue no matter how it happened. (Examining the body) EB: Question’s whether it’s fate she blames, or people in the camp. What’re you lookin’ for? --(Sol and Seth, at the hardware store construction. ) Sol: Mornin’, Seth. When’d ya get up? Seth: I didn’t go to sleep. Woman that newspaper man pointed out to us yesterday just lost her husband. Sol: Ah, fella bought the gold claim at Swearengen’s saloon? Seth: Inn keep just took the body down to the Doc’s. Sol: (Looks up at Seth’s work) You weren’t twiddlin’ you thumbs over night, were ya? (Smiles) --(Doc and EB enter the Grand Central Hotel and go up to Alma’s room as Merrick ladles some unappetizing glop onto his plate at the hotel “restaurant.”) EB: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc:
EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB:
I’ve brought the doctor. Please come in, Doctor. I’m very sorry ‘bout ya husband--(Interrupting) Was he murdered, Doctor? I was told that he fell from a ridge. He had skull fractures consistent with that. Not been wounded by bullets nor strangled. No other sign of foul play. Leaving how he came to fall. As to that I have no opinion. And yet, in treating me, you were so full of opinion. You took the most comprehensive view. I said you needn’t make up symptoms to get the laudanum you want--Perhaps you don’t feel, at such perfect liberty to opine, on my husband’s case as you did on mine. Do other considerations constrain you? Do other men? I do not know how your husband’s skull got caved in. You’re a bright woman, aren’tcha? Must’ve gone through hell here. (Sits a bottle of laudanum on the table) Go on home, Mrs. Garret. (Doc leaves, closing the door) (In the hallway, to Doc) What’s her mood? (Doc ignores him) (Inside crying. She has smashed the laudanum on the floor. There is a knock at the door) Who is it?! Mr. Farnum, Mrs. Garret. May I be of further service? Once I’ve determined my plans. I’ll certainly need a coffin. I’ll see to it.
Alma: Thank you. (More knocking) Alma: What is it?! EB: Would you open the door, ma’am? I’d like to say something to your face.(Alma eventually opens the door) I’m overcome with remorse, Mrs. Garret, that I failed to change the course of events. It was me your husband outbid for the claim. If it will simplify your situation in any way, I renew my offer at twelve thousand. I know it won’t bring him back. Alma: No. We both know that. You’ll have your answer shortly. EB: Alright, Madam. Alma: (After EB leaves, goes to Hickok’s door and knocks. Jane opens the door) Is this Mr. Hickok’s room? Jane: Who’s askin’? Alma: My husband’s just died, under suspicious circumstances-Jane: Suspect someone else. When Bill’s killed a man, he says so and states his reasons. Alma: I don’t suspect him. My husband had tried to engage Mr. Hickok just before his death, and I thought, though they hadn’t come to terms, perhaps Mr. Hickok would be willing, to advise me on my current situation. I’d pay whatever fee he thought appropriate. Jane: To talk to ya? Alma: I’ve no one else in the camp. Jane: I’ll get him. He’s sleepin’ one off. Alma: Thank you. Jane: I’m sorry. About your husband. Alma: May I ask your name? Jane: Jane. Alma: Thank you, Jane. Jane: Ah, wait in your room. It, it’ll take him a while to get the phlegm situated. Alma: Alright. --(Cy and Doc at the Bella Union) Cy:
I’m sure you don’t need me explainin’ a place like ours, a Doc in frequent attendance can, sew the seeds of doubt. Doc: All depends on your standards of hygiene. Cy: We want ‘em shiny. Make no mistake. Doc: There’s a wide range of normal. Joanie: Friday and Saturday mornings and the mid-week day of your choice will be right for us. Doc: I can, I can work that out. Cy: So what does Swearengen pay for a visit? Doc: Twenty dollars for a routine call. All girls in. Cy: Ah, and what’s his idea of routine? Once every three or four months? Ha. Anyway, how’s ah…fifty dollars a visit sound. Three times a week? Doc: Done. Joanie: Lubricants.
Doc:
Well, armed and ready, Madam.
(Man walks in, pays bag-carrier) Andy Cramed: Thanks very much. Cy: Howdy. Andy: Howdy, yourself. You the operator? Cy: Cy Tolliver. Andy: Name’s Cramed. I’d like a room. I’d like exclusive use of a safe, and I’d like to shoot some dice. Cy: I’d like to think this is the first day of a looooong friendship, Mr. Cramed. We’ll get you a room. If you’ll step into my office, we’ll meet your needs for a safe. Help you with your luggage. Andy: Suitcases go to the room. Cy: ‘Spect you’ll keep the valise. Andy: Keep what you expect to yourself and you’ll improve our chances at that friendship. Cy: (To Andy, once they are inside his office) Young man. Andy: How are you, Cy? Done some good work on this place. Cy: Eddie’s work. Joanie: Hey, Andy. Andy: Hello, Sweetheart. So, let’s go. Let’s get something working. Eddie: We could rob Cy. Cy: Ha. How ‘bout a bath first and a nap and, some sex with an unfamiliar woman? Andy: Sure. Eddie: Signal when ready, Commander. Andy: If I didn’t make my point, I’d like to get somethin’ fuckin’ workin’. Eddie: Sure, Andy. (As Andy walks away) Cy: How’s Andy look? Joanie: Like he spent three weeks on a wagon. --(Al and EB at the Gem) EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
I’m optimistic, Al. And she’s promised a prompt reply. I thought she’d say yes on the spot. You did offer her the whole twenty? How can you even ask me that? EB? I offered twelve. Did I ask you to play her? Can’t you follow one simple fucking instruction? She will take the twelve, Al, and be happy to get it. And all you’ll have to decide is how much of the eight you saved should go to me. You’re incorrigible. I do my best. Ah, go weigh the twelve. She says yes, there should be something in this for you. Hint at the amount. Don’t get ahead of yourself, EB. When she signs the bill-of-sale, you come back here and sign it over to me.
EB: Al: EB: Al:
(Snorts, laughs) It is your twelve after all. Once all that’s done, you should walk out of here with two thousand. Fair recompense. For saving me money in spite of myself.
--(Alma Garrett begins to speak to Hickok and Jane while looking out her window.) Alma: I suggested to my husband just last night that we should try to view our time here as one experience bought at a single price. Even now he’s murdered I feel that. (Turns) To s…to stake the boundaries at, at just that fact is impossible. For, for one, this camp hasn’t any laws or, courts. If it did I’ve no evidence. I, I’d have tried to take the thing all whole if they hadn’t offered on the claim. To receive their money, would be a separate matter, make me an accomplice of another sort. Wild Bill: How have you been an accomplice ‘til now? Alma: A wife, inevitably feels, she’s had some part in what befalls her husband. I’m answerable hereafter on different terms. I need, to know what I’d be selling them. Wild Bill: You don’t believe the money’s to keep the Pinkertons away. Alma: Why pay me? If it were, a ransom to keep the Pinkertons off, why not pay Brom instead of killing him? Wild Bill: It’s this saloon operator you think is pulling the strings? Alma: Al Swearengen. It was, certainly he manipulating Brom. Jane: The slimy limey cocksucker. Wild Bill: Alright, ma’am. True sounding’s not guaranteed, but…I’ll try for a feel of the bottom. Alma: What shall I pay you, Mr. Hickok? Wild Bill: I prefer you pick the figure. Alma: Is one hundred dollars enough? Wild Bill: Perfect. --(Hickok walks downstairs and across to the Gem Saloon. EB slinks after him. Merrick cranes his neck curiously from his table in the hotel restaurant. Once inside the Gem, Hickok goes to the bar.) Wild Bill: Whiskey. (Dan brings a shot. Johnny having been standing at the bar, steals slowly away. EB and Merrick walk in. Then, in Al’s office, we see Al & Leon.) Al: And how’d they take to the craps game? Leon: Like chimps at their first fire. (Knocking is heard. Johnny comes in.) Johnny: Downstairs. (Downstairs) EB: Thank you, Dan. (After being poured a drink) Al: (Having come down quietly, and pouring his own drink) I’m Al Swearengen, Mr. Hickok. In the last few days I’ve been locked in my room weeping, searchin’ my memories, as to
where my path might’ve crossed yours previous. And as to how I might’ve given offense, that you stay in this camp not fifty feet from my joint and never once walk in. Wild Bill: No poker. Al: Is it that simple? Dan, dismantle the titty corner and set up a poker table. Wild Bill: Not necessary, Mr. Swearengen. Al: I always felt poker slows a joint’s action. Been a liquor, pussy, and faro man my entire fucking career. But certain people are due respect. Wild Bill: This man Garret who fell off the rocks. Al: The eastern dude. Wild Bill: His widow’s had an offer on his claim from that innkeeper sitting in the corner. But she’s reluctant to sell. ‘Til she understands what’s behind it. Al: Why have you ask me? Wild Bill: She believes you’d know. Al: Her husband came here with childish ideas. Bought himself a gold claim with me an honest broker. Claim pinches out, which will happen. But he can’t take that like a man, has to blame somebody. Seller’s left camp, so he picks on me. Says he’ll bring in the Pinkertons if I don’t offer restitution. I got a healthy operation and I didn’t build it brooding on the right, and wrong of things. I do not need the Pinkertons descending like locusts. So I bend over for the tenderfoot cocksucker. Reconnoiter your claim fully, I say. And then, if you’re still unhappy I will give you your fucking money back. And the tenderfoot agrees. Just as he’s finishing his reconnoiter, cocksucker falls to his death, pure fucking accident. But up jumps the widow in righteous fucking indignation. Wants the doctor to examine him for murder wounds. My visions of locusts return. I see Pinkertons coming in swarms. Wild Bill: Commissioned by the widow. Al: Who I recognize is grieving. And has better intentions probably than her hold on the truth. Wild Bill: How’s the inn keep come to make the offer? Al: Under bidder on the sale I brokered. Still believes in the claim. Wild Bill: Even though the gold is pinched out? Al: Well, this camps expanding. We’ve already had one hotel close. He sees the property as real estate. Wild Bill: I’ll take this back to the widow. Al: I only hope you show it to her in a favorable, fucking light. Wild Bill: What’s that worth to ya? Al: What? Wild Bill: The light I show it in. What’s it worth to you? Al: Why Wild Bill. Merrick: (Sitting in the corner at the table with EB) They certainly don’t appear to be at odds. --(Back to Jane and Alma) Jane: What happened to this little one was the same exact cocksucker. (Alma doesn’t quite take her point) Um, seems he was the one pulling the strings in your husband’s fleecing and
gettin’ him killed. This Swearengen operated the road agents that done for this little one’s people. Alma: Oh, poor child. To lose her family, to see them slaughtered. Jane: Very same cocksucker. (Knocking is heard) Wild Bill: It’s Bill. (Comes in) You stole off on me. Jane: I had to come in here to look after the little one and I thought she might want me present. Alma: Yes, I, I’m very grateful. Jane: Didn’t happen to put one right between the shithead’s eyes now did ya, Bill? Wild Bill: Unless you need the money right away, Mrs. Garret, I’d defer a decision until someone honest and, competent did a second reconnoiter. Alma: May I commission you? Wild Bill: Some question my fitness on, either count but, I’ll guarantee ya I’m not competent. I do know someone I trust to ask. Alma: Please do. Wild Bill: Name’s Bullock. I’ll go talk to him now. Jane: How’d ya leave it with the cocksucker, Bill? Wild Bill: On terms he’d understand. --(Al and EB at the Gem) EB: Al: EB:
Al, watchin’ you, even at a distance, was a pleasure and privilege. If she don’t come back to you with an answer inside an hour, you pay a call on her. But Hickok’s an ally, right? I mean if that wasn’t a damn ally leavin’, my eyes completely deceived me. Al: An hour, EB. EB: Yes, Sir. (Ellsworth comes into the saloon, goes to the bar) Ellsworth: Pour me a drink. And ask me the key to a long life. Dan: What is it? Ellsworth: Most important human quality for a person to reach old age. Dan: I’ll buy the drink if you tell me. Ellsworth: Same as a dog keeps his nose. Don’t poke it where it don’t belong. Dan: Wise words. Ellsworth: A lesson hard come by, but thoroughly learned. Somethin’ else I know. My knowin’ what I know, and somebody else knowin’ it, is two entirely different things. Dan: I’m near losin’ your trail, Ellsworth. Ellsworth: Say somebody thought I saw somethin’ I shouldn’t have. Dan: Whereabouts? Ellsworth: On a ridge. A man, pushed off or whatever the hell else. If it meant my leavin’ camp to prove I could mind my own business, it’d be a friend who told me that. ‘Stead of throwin’ me to the pigs, is my whole philosophy and outlook. Make use of it as you will. ---
(Al and Tom Nuttall) Nuttall: W-Well, well if he, if he was here sealin’ a appearance arrangement then I’m glad it was you that tied him up, Al, and not that new fuckin’ operation. W-What with them fancy signs and cleaned up women, w-where I heard he was gamblin’ all night. Al: We made no appearance agreement. Nuttall: Well, uh…you and, you and Hickok-Al: No. Nuttall: Oh, I see. Well, I mean because his game at my place yesterday was this far from comin’ to lead. Him and this droop-eyed hooplehead. And I had to shut it down. I mean if that gives him offense or umbrage, well, I mean I can’t worry about his plans, or as far as where he decides to gamble elsewhere, or this new joint overwhelms the camp. Al: We made no agreement. (At this point Al has already started walk back upstairs) Nuttall: W-whata you think of the new joint? Al: Nice sign. Nuttall: (To himself) This far from fuckin’ gunplay. --(At Nuttall’s #10 Saloon, Jack McCall is at the table with Stapleton and another card player) Jack: Jack fuckin’ high! That’s what I have. I bet every fuckin’ cent. Stapleton: Miracle to me is you, sit here braggin’ about it. Jack: I ain’t braggin’, or braggart, or blowhard. I state a fact. I live by a fact— Card Player: Anyways, it’s over. Jack: Yeah, you believe that because you’re a walkin’ fuckin’ cunt. With your cunt, your eye, movin’. Card Player: No matter how your day’s goin’, Jack, you’re always fun to talk to. Jack: Gimme a buck then, Lou. You send me off for a meal. Gimme a buck. See which part of you gets shot. Because that—I possess a fuckin’ gun that I didn’t bet. Stapleton: I’ll pay ya five dollars for that gun sight unseen. ‘Cause what you need Jack is a stake to make your comeback. That’ll getcha out of this, brown study you’re in. Jack: What’d you take off of me? Stapleton: Tag, from your new suit. Jack: Alright, then. Stapleton: Name a price. If it’s close to fair I’ll pay it. Jack: For the suit? Stapleton: For your gun. Jack: No, I believe not. I believe no. (leaves hastily) Card Player: He too is God’s handiwork. (Tom Nuttall enters) Nuttall: Oh, double fuckin’ solitaire. Where’s your fuckin’ ball gowns? Bring a bunch of chips over here and lets get a poker game goin’!(laughs) --(Seth, Hickok and Sol at the hardware store site) Seth: I don’t know this camp. I’d have to bring someone from Montana.
Sol: Would the widow give it that much time? Wild Bill: Yeah, she would. She don’t wanna be stupid or fool. Wants to stand up for her husband better’n he stood up for himself. Not that she ought ta stick around. Seth: Far as that goes, she could sign a proxy. (Jack McCall has walked by and is standing in the distance watching Hickok.) Wild Bill: There’s her hundred in it, and what that saloonkeeper gave me, if you’d wanna take it on. Seth: Alright. Wild Bill: I guess she’s alright. ‘Til that saloonkeep decides I can’t be trusted to betray her interests. Sol: Trust ain’t his long suit. She ought ta be lookin’ for a wagon (Climbs ladder). Wild Bill: Thanks for the favor, Montana. Seth: Sure. --(Dan and Trixie at a table in the Gem) Dan: I like Ellsworth, too. Trixie:There’s a difference between talkin’ a lot, which Ellsworth does enjoy, and oversteppin’ it. Dan: He don’t get in other people’s business. Trixie:Then what are we talkin’ about, Dan? Dan: Well, my own standards as to who’s reliable ain’t the same as Al’s. Trixie:So Ellsworth has to leave camp over the difference? Dan: Yeah, he does if it’s that or kill him. He said tell him if those was the choices. Trixie:Don’t you do it. Dan: Which? Trixie:Either. (The view pans up and then cuts to Al and EB standing near the walkway handrail upstairs.) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
EB: Al: EB:
Asks a bribe for somethin’ he never intends to do, takes my hundred and fifty, then tells her not to sell. Why are you so sure he told her not to, Al? You went back there. You knocked on her door. She said Hickok reported to her his conversation with you. But she wasn’t prepared yet to give me an answer. Does this make sense to you, huh? She pays Hickok to come talk to me. He goes back tells her to sell. And then she says she needs more time to make up her mind. HMMM!! That idiot couldn’t put one in his ear. If you’re talkin’ about Tom Mason, I’d say that’s water under the bridge. And I’d say Hickok has to die if I have to kill him myself. Jesus, Al. Jesus. With all that’s goin’ on? I mean how would it sit with the widow, for one thing? How would that dispose her toward us?
Al:
Let me pose you a question, EB, you fucking cunt! Someone comes at ya, what’re you supposed to do about it?! EB: And I’ll pose you a question back, Al Swearengen! If a friend or at least a professional colleague has a mistaken impression of who’s comin’ at him, and who isn’t , what’re ya supposed to do then?! Huh?! Al: You don’t think he’s comin’ at me? EB: I don’t think Hickok’s comin’ at ya, Al. No I don’t. I think you’re a man with so many different responsibilities, you sometimes get feelin’ beset. And in that frame of mind, take things personal. Al: I’d sooner the cocksucker was dead. Simplify workin’ the widow. EB: We don’t get to choose the world we live in. Al: Bella Union cocksuckers to worry about and every other damn thing… EB: You got a full plate. Al: (Rocking slowly back and forth against the handrail) I need to fuck somethin’. (EB contemplates the floor. Al calls down to the common area floor) Trixie! Hey, hey, hey! Get the bottle. EB: That’s usin’ your old noggin, Al. Getcha self some relief. Let the world do it’s own spinnin’. (Trixie, down at the bar, motions to Dan quickly and discreetly, towards Ellsworth) Dan: Don’t be pointin’ your fuckin’ thumb for me, Trixie. Me and you done talked that subject out. Ellsworth: (calls out) What’s new, Dan? Dan: Nothin’. Ellsworth: No news at all? Dan: If I had somethin’ to tell you, Ellsworth, one way or another, I’d tell it to ya. Ellsworth: Well, then I reckon I’ll have another drink. --(At the Bella Union, Andy Cramed is in bed with the shivers. A knock is heard at the door.) Andy: Who is it? Joanie: It’s Joanie. Andy: Wait a second, honey. Give me just a second. (After trying to get himself together in the mirror, opens door) I fell asleep. Joanie: I broke up three cat fights, Andy. Girls wantin’ to give you a bath. Andy: I fell right the hell to sleep. Joanie: You ready to meet some strange? Andy: Tell you the truth Joanie, I’m—feelin’ out of sorts. Joanie: Well, you had a long trip. And I’ve heard worst confessions Andy: That’s the gospel truth, which I hope you’ll keep to yourself. Joanie: Yeah, sure I will, Andy. Andy: I feel fuckin’ unwell to myself. Joanie: Why don’t you lie back and let me get your boots off? Andy: I don’t think you should touch me, honey. That’s the gospel on that score. Joanie: No girl in the world ever got sick pullin’ off a pair of boots, Andy. But if you want, I won’t take more liberties. (Downstairs, Cy, Eddie, and Merrick are talking)
Cy: Fifty dollars an issue. Merrick: Well! Ah, frankly, Sir, that, that would purchase your advertisement an amount of space wildly incommensurate with the accompanying articles. Cy: See, I never heard that word in my life! Eddie: That’s his trade, Cy. He’s a wordsmith. Cy: Ha! Do you shoot craps, Mr. Merrick? Merrick: Excuse me? Oh, oh, oh…no, ah, no. I haven’t shot the craps in some time. Eddie: Perhaps never? Merrick: If you’ll keep my secret, Sir. No, I’ve never shot them. Um, maybe that would make an article, ah, “Man Learns to Shoot the Craps.” (At this point Cy notices Joanie coming down) Cy: Well, we’re agreed on fifty an issue. Merrick: Have we actually agreed, ah. I feel almost duty-bound to remonstrate you, Sir-Cy: Three months in advance, Eddie. Fifty an issue. Eddie: Let’s see the man with the cash. Merrick: Seriously? Cy: Don’t let him take your money, Mr. Merrick, while he’s teaching you this game.(To Joanie) Who did you give to Andy? Joanie: Nobody, he’s poorly. Cy: Does he need a doctor? Joanie: Maybe he does. Cy: Goddammit! I told you I didn’t like the way he looked! (To one of his guys) Stand outside room eight. Nobody in or out. (To another) Get the Doc. Tell him, someone fell. (To Joanie, angrily) I told you. --(Alma Garret and Hickok sitting in Alma’s room) Alma: Thank you, for your help. I’ll look forward to Mr. Bullock contacting me. Wild Bill: May I ask, ma’am, when you’d expect to leave the camp? Alma: I’m not certain. Wild Bill: Bullock is honorable, Mrs. Garret. You can trust him to see to your interests. Alma: He couldn’t come more highly recommended. Wild Bill: You know the sound of thunder, don’t you, Mrs. Garret? Alma: Of-of course. Wild Bill: Can you imagine that sound if I asked you to? Alma: I can, Mr. Hickok. Wild Bill: Your husband and me had this talk. And I told him to head home to avoid a dark result. But I didn’t say it in thunder. Ma’am. Listen, to the thunder. (Gets up slowly to leave) Very good luck to ya. Alma: Thank you, for all your help, Mr. Hickok. --(Doc Cochran enters the Bella Union) Cy:
Thanks for comin’, Doc.
Doc: Cy:
The boy said someone fell. Room eight.
--(Hickok’s room. He is seated at a table writing a letter, when someone knocks) Jane: It’s Jane, Bill. Wild Bill: Come ahead. Jane: Feel this little one’s forehead. Wild Bill: Fever and you parted ways, young lady. Sophia: (Speaking in her native tongue) Wild Bill: Did she just ask to borrow money? Jane: (Laughing) Anyways, How’d it, How’d it go with Bullock? Wild Bill: He’ll help the widow. Jane: Good for him. Good for you. Did ya tell her so? Wild Bill: Umm. (Nods yes as he tickles the child in Jane’s arms) Jane: Do ya think she’d want company? Wild Bill: I bet she’d enjoy yours. Jane: Maybe she’d enjoy, feelin’ the little one’s forehead. (Laughs) You’re probably enjoying your damn privacy with, Charlie headed for Cheyenne. Wild Bill: I’m writing my wife. Jane: Why didn’t you say somethin’, damn you? Owe you a penny. Wild Bill: So long, Bill. --(Al’s bedroom at the Gem. Al is grunting and hammering Trixie, in his dirty, sagging longjohns) --(Then, Andy’s room at the Bella Union. The Doc is there.) Doc: Andy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Andy: Cy: Doc:
Alright, breathe big breaths. (Gasping) Oh, my back! Oh, my aching back… I’m on—I’m gonna get you somethin’ to ease that. What’s he got, Doc? I guess. It’s his back is what he landed on when he fell. My back is split and broken. I don’t know what he landed on. Wait, who said he fell? Course, if little pussy sores rise up on his trunk and his face, more likely he’s got other trouble. Andy: (Deliriously) Oh, give me a game, how I ache. Joanie: Okay, Andy. Doc: I’m on give ya somethin’ to ease that. Andy: You lost your friend in a fire? --(A busy thoroughfare in Deadwood, Hickok sets out walking) ---
(On the Chinese alley, Jack McCall is seated and eating.) Jack: Hey! Hey, Winkie. Hey, wait a minute. Does that look American to you? (Holds up what looks like a chicken foot) Naw, this ain’t…People don’t eat this shit! (Drops a piece of food) It touched… (Pulls the corner of his eye, mocking the passing Chinaman) Meow, meow. --(Nuttall’s #10 Saloon. Someone chuckles) Poker Guy: Aw, hell. (Hickok enters, pays for poker chips, and takes a seat) Wild Bill: Boys. Card Players: Howdy, Bill. --(Alma, Jane, and the child in Alma’s room) Alma: My father was the best company, from the time I was ever so little. Problems or, difficulties or even sadness, no such thing. Not permitted. The evening I was presented to society I—I found out later, he’d been able to attend only by physically fleeing some dismal legal difficulty. In that sense my marriage to Mr. Garret was a tremendous solution. Tremendous. At the ceremony I remember father whispered to me, “Darling, I can never repay you for what you are about to do, but…I can repay every on else.” And he said, “To think of you with him, in that God forsaken place! It’s almost unbearable.” Jane: Meaning, your husband. Alma: And I said, “Maybe he’ll die.” --(Again, we see Al with more grunting as he finishes with Trixie and drinks from the bottle.) --(Seth and Sol are again shown, making good progress adding the wooden siding to the store) --(Back to Nuttall’s #10. Jack McCall walks in and shoots an unsuspecting Hickok in the back of the head.) Jack: Take that, damn you! (Brandishes his weapon and flees) --(The others pursue and catch him. We see Bullock walking out. He seems to sense something about the gathering commotion. Up in Alma’s room, Jane and Alma’s faces are profiled side by side as they have begun to look out the window. Jane begins to back away slowly with an apprehensive look on her face as she heads down to the street. At the Gem, Al has risen from his bedside and is watching as McCall is jostled about in the crowd. EB observes from the doorsteps of the hotel. Jane is now out on the street and comes upon Stapleton.)
Jane: What happened? Stapleton: He shot Wild Bill Hickok.
--(In the streets, a rider who appears to be Mexican comes through town waving the severed head of an Indian. People stand around transfixed by what they are seeing). --(Bullock walks through the door of the #10 Saloon. He goes over to the fallen Hickok, and drops to his knees. Jane arrives and is obviously devastated. She takes a hard drink from the bottle. Tears well up in Bullock’s eyes.) (Credits roll to the song “Fallen from Grace” by Mark Lee Scott) Credited cast:
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Guest appearances
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane Dan Dority Charlie Utter
Powers Boothe
Cy Tolliver
Sean Bridgers
Johnny Burns
Keith Carradine
Wild Bill Hickok
Larry Cedar
Leon
Kim Dickens
Joanie Stubbs
Garret Dillahunt
Jack McCall
Zach Grenier
Andy Cramed
Peter Jason
Stapleton
Ricky Jay
Eddie Sawyer
Jeffrey Jones
A.W. Merrick
Timothy Omundson
Brom Garret
Tom Simmons Nicolas Surovy
Captain
Bree Seanna Wall
Metz Girl
Gareth Williams
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode #5 “The Trial of Jack McCall” (We see Wild Bill’s corpse laid out, flies are landing on his face, as those paying their respect pass by, they shoo the flies away.) Shyster: Tuft of a recently decapitated Indian…25 cents. Authentic heathen hair tufts. Head brought to camp same day as Wild Bill Hickok was killed. 25 cents a tuft. Or five tufts for a dollar. 25 cents a tuft! 25 cents a tuft! Don’t miss your chance at a fine souvenir, boys, authentic heathen hair tufts. Send them east to friends and family. And if you was to say in your letter with the tufts inside it it was you, who cut the cocksuckers head off who’d be there to gainsay? (We see a line in the opposite direction of the respects line, Seth and Sol are there watching…) Merrick: Anyone, may join the juror’s line. Only those admitted to the bar, may join the line of candidates for officers of the court. Jurors will be drawn from the hat on my right. Officers of the court in the box, on my left. I have no say in either outcome. So please don’t try to bribe me. (Cy and Al are watching from the balcony of the Gem outside Al’s office…) Cy: Al: Cy: Al:
That newspaper fella seems a good sort. He’s alright. How far into the process you think he’ll stay involved? ‘Til them shysters take over.
(Looks up and sees Alma in her room, pacing, looking out the window occasionally) Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc:
I don’t know what’s become of the woman who was Hickok’s friend. Probably, drunk over his murder. Yes, well there’s a child to be considered. And she couldn’t be doin’ better. Despite her situation. I don’t see your medicine. No, I broke the bottle. Alright. (Bends down to his satchel to get a full bottle) No! I don’t know if this is the time for you to stop takin’ this laudanum, Mrs. Garrett. Oh, what a pleasant surprise, doctor. To hear you admit the limits of your knowledge. Have you made any travel plans?
Alma: (Shakes her head “no”) Before his murder, Mr. Hickok arranged with a Mr. Bullock to look after my affairs here. Doc: That’s good, that’ll…that’ll free you up to leave. (Alma looks over and meets Sophia’s eyes) --(Outside, back at the trial line…) Shyster: 25 cents, 25 cents a tuft! Hair from the heathen dead less than one day. (Seth looks over at the shyster – seething) 25 cents, 25 cents a tuft! Man in Line: These are good boots you people sold me. Seth: (Walking away towards the shyster) Glad you’re satisfied. Shyster: Hair from a heathen dead less than one day! Seth: Cut that shit out! Shyster: No law against me selling these, mister. Seth: No law either against me breakin’ your fuckin’ jaw, you don’t quit it! (Grabs the stick with the hair, breaks it over his knee and throws it in a fire) Seth: (To Tom Nuttall) Put him out here like a goddamned circus freak! Nuttall: Whoa, I’m not makin’ a penny from this, Mr. Bullock. People just wanted to pay their respects. Well, I-I-I had him around the side, but ah, they…they knocked the damn tent over. (Seth walks away) Cy: (Looking down from the balcony still) Man has a powerful temper. Al: Them hardware cocksuckers been an ongoing pain in my balls, since him and his partner showed up. Cy: Where do you suppose that heathen’s head go to them tufts of hair came off of Al? Al: Yeah, I don’t know. Cy: Didn’t some Mexican bring the head in for bounty? Al: If it’s important to ya, I’ll look it up in my yesterday’s diary. (Al walks inside) Cy: Couldn’t matter less. (Follows Al inside) Al: As the trial itself, I got no problem acting as host. Loss of revenue’s not withstanding. (Al opens the door for Cy to leave his office) Cy: Well, I’m happy to have it at my joint, but bein’ you’re senior in the community, it seems somehow out of place. Al: Anyways, we’ll have it here. (They leave the office and start to head downstairs) But just let me say this once, in your hearing. For outright stupidity, the whole fuckin’ trial concept goes shoulder to shoulder with that cocksucker Custer’s thinkin’ when he headed for that ridge. Cy: It’s got it’s disadvantages. Al: We’re illegal. Our whole goal is to get annexed to the united fuckin’ states. We start holdin’ trials, what’s to keep the United States fuckin’ Congress from sayin’, “Oh, excuse us, we didn’t realize you were a fuckin’ sovereign community and nation out there. Where’s your cocksucker’s flag? Where’s your fuckin’ navy or the like? Maybe when we make our treaty with the Sioux we should treat you people like renegade fuckin’ Indians. Deny your fuckin’ gold and property claims. And hand everything over instead to our ne’er-do-well cousins and brother’s in law.”
Cy: That we don’t want. Al: But, if we’re gonna have the fuckin’ thing, might as well have it in my joint, huh? (They continue walking, the camera pans to outside) Merrick: Tom Smith, of Lead. Juror number seven! Al: How’s business? Cy: Hot and cold. Strugglin’ to get our craps concept off the ground. Al: That’s the way with any new idea. Takes the hoople heads time to adjust. Merrick: Samuel Smith. Al: Sometimes I wish we could just hit ‘em over the head, rob ‘em and throw their bodies in the creek. Cy: But that would be wrong. Merrick: Jay Johnson, Spearfish. Juror number ten. (Doc is coming down the street, he seems to be in a hurry. He spots Seth and approaches him) Doc: Mr. Bullock? Seth: Doc? Doc: I just seen Mrs. Garrett. Seth: I’ve got a proxy for her to sign. Doc: You oughta go ahead and get that done so she can go ahead and leave town. Seth: Anything else on your schedule I’m behind on? Doc: No, sir. Merrick: I will now draw from the lawyers business cards in the box. The presiding magistrate, prosecutor and counsel for the defense. Al: (Loudly) After that part’s over, for not pre-judging the evidence…why don’t we try the cocksucker at my place? (Sophia is watching from her window) Cy: Second. Merrick: Officers of the court, Magistrate…(This is said off camera as the camera pans down from Sophia to the hotel lobby) EB: There’s a cripple who’d do. If I could pry her from Mr. Swearengen. Alma: How much money would loosen his grip? EB: More likely Al’d bridle at breakin’ his routine. He likes to berate the gimp mornin’s. Alma: I cannot see to the child. She needs someone less distracted. EB: I wish to see you extricated from all these…complications and difficulties, Mrs. Garrett, as much as you do yourself. Alma: (Laughing) Oh, Thank you, Mr. Farnum. (She sees Seth entering the hotel) EB: And in that regard, wonder if you’d decided on my bid for your claim yet? Alma: (Turning to walk to Seth) Are you Mr. Bullock? Seth: (Takes off his hat) Yes. Alma: I’m Alma Garrett. Seth: How do you do? EB: Please, excuse me. I’m spread so thin with my cook out. Seth: I got this for you to sign. (EB, watching as he grabs some plates) Alma: Have you a pen at the desk, Mr. Farnum?
EB: Certainly. (Drops bacon into a pan) Alma: Several days ago I…watched you, and Wild Bill Hickok, support each other in a gun fight from the window in my room. Later, when Mr. Hickok…spoke so highly, ah, Mr. Bullock, I…I imagined it was you. (EB turns the writing desk around for Alma and hands her a pen. She dips it in the inkwell and begins to sign the proxy) Mr. Bullock has authority to act in my behalf on all matters relating to the claim. EB: I see. Alma: In case you couldn’t, I thought I’d tell you. EB: Wonderful. One load off your back. Let me see about getting you that, cripple. (Seth takes the proxy letter from Alma and puts it in his coat pocket. EB goes outside and pauses on the porch, he’s stricken with the news.) --(Joanie comes down the stairs of the Bella Union sees Cy and approaches him…) Cy: Is he dead or alive? Joanie: He’s sick. Cy: And we ain’t no hospital! (To Bart) Number eight’s relocatin’. Bundle him up, put some of Leon’s remedy down him and take him to the hills. Bart: Can someone else do it, Mr. Tolliver? Cy: Sure the can. Shall I get someone else to take him? Bart: No, I-I’ll do it. Cy: And burn the blanket afterwards. Thanks, Bart. (Bart leaves, Joanie steps in front of Cy) Joanie: Some do get well, Cy. Cy: His chances’ll improve outdoors. The bracing air. (Joanie stalks off) --(Back at the Gem…) Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
What are you movin’ the tables for? You said you wanted the jury right here. Can’t they sit at separate tables? Do you want the tables together, or not? I don’t want anything done, that can’t be undone, five minutes after this fiasco concludes. (To Jewel as he comes downstairs) Clean somewhere where I can’t see ya. (To the whores) Go on, get fuckin’! Have patience with the widow, Al. She’s give her proxy to that hardware fella. Oh, Hickok breaks my balls from the afterlife. You fell, before he was murdered, Hickok enlisted Bullock in the widow’s cause? Advance the subject or pick up a broom. Signing a proxy don’t mean the widow can’t do a deal. It just includes Bullock in. If the widow trusts her own judgments, she don’t let Hickok bring the hardware cocksuckers into it. She’s tryin’ to get off the dope. Maybe loaded, she’d get her self-confidence back.
Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
Oh, let me camp beneath her window and suggest that. Hickok’s half woman friend’s off somewhere’s on a tear. The orphan square head’s in the widow’s care. The widow feels put upon. She’s asked me to find her some help. I suggested the gimp. No! So as not to put a whore up first off. Now I will propose Trixie. As a get acquainted gift, she could bring the widow a good-sized ball a dope. Yes. Well thought through, E.B. (Johnny covers the deer head with a sheet) Tell the widow you have a candidate. I have to go look to my roast. My cook’s on the queue to see Hickok’s remains. (Johnny hangs the picture of Abe Lincoln up and covers it with a sheet as well) Then he’ll probably sneak here for the trial. (As Johnny comes down the ladder he causes a bottle of whiskey to crash down to the floor. Al stops dead in his tracks and looks down from above) Oops. (EB, seeing Al mad, tip toes as fast as he can out of the Gem)
--(Seth is walking down the street to the store…) Seth: Rev: Seth: Rev: Seth: Rev: Sol: Seth: Rev: Seth: Rev: Seth: Rev: Seth: Rev:
Seth: Rev: Sol:
Reverend. Hello, sir. Sir, who stands for Mr. Hickok? What do you mean? Mr. Utter has gone to Cheyenne. And I don’t find Mr. Hickok’s woman friend. Mr. Nuttall commissioned the coffin, but wishes not to participate further. Now I need guidance in certain matters. But I don’t know who stands for him. What are you tryin’ to find out? For example, I thought “How Firm a Foundation.” For the hymn. Sounds a good choice. Do you think so? Yes, I do. Might something else be more appropriate? I don’t know, Reverend. I think “H-How Firm a Foundation” for the hymn and from the gospel, first Corinthians 12. Alright. (Sol, this whole time, is watching as Seth gets more and more frustrated with the Reverend’s questions) If the foot shall say because I am not the hand, I’m not of the body, is it therefore not of the body? And if, the ear shall say because I’m not the eye, I’m not of the body, is it therefore not? Now hath God, set the members, every one of them, in the body as it hath pleased him. (Firmly) That is a good choice Reverend. (Smiling) 12 and 13, I think. (Leaves) Are we open for business?
(Seth stalks off, ooh! Pighouse walk! With slo-motion effects! Seth is holding back tears
in his eyes. The pigs are squealing, Mr. Wu glares at Seth as he enters the meat locker.) Jack: I know you. Seth: I know you, too. Jack: I guess after bumrushin’ me outta your fine, fuckin’ hardware establishment, you didn’t see this comin’, did you? Seth: I halfway did, you droop eyed cocksucker! Jack: I was born droop eyed, alright? Seth: And who do you blame for the rest of the fuckin’ mess? Jack: Let me ask you this, cocksucker? You think they know me in New York City by now? (Seth grabs him by the throat) Ah! Seth: If you wasn’t tied up, I’d kill ya! Jack: Ow, what you cryin’ for? Seth: What? Jack: I’m askin’ what you’re cryin’ for? Did you love Hickok so much? Was your sweetheart? Did he stick his dick up your ass? Ah, ah! Counsel: (Entering) Hey, Hey! I’m this man’s counsel. Seth: (Stops choking Jack – seems surprised at the depth of his anger, turns around to leave) I’ll pin a rose on you. (Seth leaves, Mr. Wu watches him) Jack: Why I shake ya hand. I’m all trussed up like a Christmas pig. Counsel: I’d say you’re better situated than your companions. Jack: Well, I’m a hard case for you, counselor. And no mistake, everyone in there saw me shoot him. Counsel: If you’ll let me set our strategy, I don’t think we’ll dispute what people saw. Jack: Now, I guess you’re here to break me out. Counsel: (chuckling) Son, did James Butler Hickok, ever kill a relative of yours? Jack: James Butler Hickok? Counsel: Wild Bill Hickok. Did he ever kill a brother of yours or, or the like? Jack: A brother? (The light seems to turn on in his vacant head) Counsel: I’m asking you, if what happened in that saloon, was vengeance, for the death of a family member? Possibly a brother in Abilene. Or the like. Jack: A brother in Abilene. (Counsel smiles, pats Jack on the knee and leaves) --(Bart is dragging Andy on a sled into the hills…) Andy: Oh Christ. (Bart dismounts, dumps the sled over tossing Andy onto the forest floor – he’s covered in sores) Andy: Oh, Jesus. Bart: You alright? (Andy gasps) Look, I’m sorry as hell about all this. Sorry as hell. I’m not gonna burn the fuckin’ blanket. Fuck Cy! Look, this is not my fuckin’ fault. (Takes his gloves off and drops them on the ground next to Andy) It’s not my fault. Andy: Ah, Christ. (Bart leaves) Ah, God take me! ---
(Al enters the whores room and finds Trixie looking out the window, smoking a cigarette) Al: What do you look at out there? Trixie:Whatever I can see. Al: Clean up. Trixie:Am I on jury duty? Al: Put on a decent enough dress to help a widow with a kid. Trixie:What widow in camp, has a kid? Al: The widow is the New York dude’s widow. The kid is the orphan square head. Trixie:I didn’t know she was carin’ for that child now. Al: Does it change what fuckin’ dress you wear? Trixie:No. Al: Widow’s a dope fiend. She’s been drinkin’ it. (Hands Trixie a ball of dope) Help her expand her horizons. --(At the Bella Union, Doc enters, looks upstairs, gets a concerned look on his face and approaches Cy at the cashier’s booth) Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy:
I see no guard outside of room eight. Yeah, room eight left. Born by angels? You don’t have that man to worry about anymore, Doc. You or me either, just…put the man in room eight from your mind. Doc: Sir, I have no vaccine. For the sickness the man in room eight didn’t have. The closest place that does, to my knowledge, is Fort Kearney. If you want a remedy, the epidemic that you have no reason to believe will break out; I would send somebody there right away. Cy: Heard ya loud and clear, doctor. Doc: Will ya send someone, Mr. Tolliver? Cy: If I do, you’ll be the first to know. Doc: (Hits the mesh of the cashier’s booth – hard) If you don’t, and I have to, that will be known to every damn person in this camp! (Grabs his satchel and leaves) Cy: (Looks over and sees Joey doing a shot) Joey? (Joey looks over and Cy motions with his head for him to come over) You ever had Nebraska pussy? Joey: Ah, not to my knowledge, Mr. Tolliver. Cy: Eddie Sawyer, get in here! (Puts a hand on Joey’s shoulder as Eddie approaches) True or not, Eddie, when a man wets his end in Nebraska pussy, his life is changes forever. Eddie: Speaking only for myself, I still mark the anniversary. Joey: Well, point me in the right direction. Cy: You hear that, Eddie? Eddie: Boy’s got a healthy attitude. Cy: (Chucking) ---(Knocking, Johnny pokes his head into Al’s office) Johnny: Yes, sir.
Al:
Come here. (Holds out the Indian head wrapped in burlap – Johnny takes it) Get this outta here. Johnny: Get rid of it? Al: Did you hear me announce the other night that I’d pay a $50 bounty for every fuckin’ Indian head? Johnny: I was right next to ya, Al. Al: That’s the first head. Some chili chomper’s out there somewhere spendin’ my 50. You get rid of that head, or you’d better know of another place with a position open for an idiot. Johnny: Alright. Got a couple places I can keep it, I guess. Al: Yeah, ‘til after the trial. Johnny: Well, what do ya do with it then? Put it somewhere in the bar? It’s a nice conversation piece. I mean if it’s handled the right way. --(EB is in one of the hotel rooms, squatting down, scrubbing at a bloodstain…) EB:
You have been tested, Al Swearengen. And your deepest purposes proved, there’s gold on the woman’s claim. You might as well have shouted it from the rooftops. That’s why I’m jumpin’ through hoops to get it back. Thorough as I fleeced the fool she married, I will fleece his widow, too. Using loyal associates like, Eustace Bailey Farnum as my go-betweens and dupes. To explain, why I want her bought out I’ll make a pretext of my fear of the Pinkertons. I’ll throw Farnum a token thief, why should I reward E.B., with some small fractional, participation in the claim? Or let him even lay by a little security and source of continuing income, for his declining years. What’s he ever done for me? Except let me, terrify him every goddamned day of his life ‘til the idea of bowel regularity, is a full on fuckin’ hope. (Pours water on the stain) Not to mention orderin’ a man killed in one of E.B.’s rooms. So every fuckin’ free moment of his life E.B. has to spend scrubbin’ the bloodstains off the goddamned floor! To keep from…havin’ to lower his rates. Goddamned that motherfucker!
--(Back at the Gem, the trial is starting, men are chattering, the Magistrate bangs his gavel) Magistrate Clagett: Rules of the court. No nonsense. Prosecution will open. The defense will respond. The jury will be charged and deliberate. (Looks at the prosecutor) Go ahead. Prosecutor: We shoulder a great weight here today. Now we’re many of us miners, but this is no claim dispute. Al: (Looking down from above) Christmas. Dan: Hmm? Al: We’ll be here ‘til fuckin’ Christmas! (The jury turns around and looks up at Al, Dan holds his hand out like – “carry on”)
Prosecutor: Yesterday, a man of reputation was killed in this camp. Now, the killer, had no reputation. But the circumstances speak badly enough about his character that, in time to come he may get one. Now, we all know that, even though the killer is a coward, not all killings are murders. You jurors have to decide if this killing was. And your decision, will come to this. Either a man giving you a dollar for breakfast is provocation beyond endurance, or Jack McCall, shooting Wild Bill Hickok, was murder, pure and simple. Al: Picked up his pace towards the end. Magistrate Clagett: (Looks at the Defense counsel) Go ahead. Defense: Thank you, sir. Why’d you kill Hickok, Mr. McCall? Jack: He murdered my brother in Kansas. Defense: Murdered your brother in Kansas. (Jack nods his head) Thank you, son. Dan: Hmm? (Like – “see? That’s something!”) Al: Don’t count your fuckin’ chickens. Magistrate Clagett: Go ahead. Prosecutor: When did Hickok murder your brother, Mr. McCall? Jack: In Kansas, Abilene. Prosecutor: Are you still drunk? I said when? Jack: Ah, I-I don’t recall the exact year. When they was both in Abilene. Prosecutor: And you were present? Jack: Not at shooting, no. Prosecutor: But you were in Abilene at the time that this happened? Jack: No, when the shooting happened, no. Al: Tell that judge I was to see him. (Dan goes downstairs) Prosecutor: Were you ever in Abilene? Jack: Yes. Prosecutor: Well do you often play cards, McCall, for three days with a man who murdered your brother, before, in passion’s white heat, you take your revenge? Jack: No, it wasn’t white heat. (Dan whispers in the Magistrate’s ear) I had to find my chance. Magistrate Clagett: If that’s it, I’m callin’ a break for nature and we’ll finish later. Prosecutor: Do you even have a brother, Mr. McCall? Jack: Yeah. And Hickok killed him. Magistrate Clagett: Break for nature. (The room starts chattering, the Magistrate Starts heading for the stairs) Card Player Shot in the Arm: Sir? Sir? Bullet that killed Mr. Hickok is in my wrist. Any chance I could testify? Magistrate Clagett: McCall already admitted he killed Hickok. Card guy: Well, years to come when I’m givin’ talks or the like, I just, I’d just appreciate it if I’d be on the record. (Magistrate Clagett heads upstairs) Sir, there’s $50 in it for ya. I’d be tellin’ the truth, sir! --Trixie: (Knocking on Alma’s door) Mrs. Garrett? Alma: (To Sophia) It’s okay. (knocking – Alma heads to the door) Who is it? Trixie:I’m sent to help you with the little one. (Alma opens the door & Trixie steps inside) I’m Trixie.
Alma: Thank you for coming at such short notice, Trixie. (Motions to Sophia) Trixie:Oh, ain’t you pretty? (kneels down) I’m sorry about your husband, ma’am. It’s good of you to care for the child. (Picks up Sophia) Oh… Alma: I was under the impression you were, hurt. Trixie:Ma’am? Alma: Mr. Farnum, said you had some, sort of, physical liability? Trixie:I’m not here. Oh, she’s lovely though, a jewel. May I wash her? Give her a nice bath? Alma: Of course. Trixie:Alright, little one. (Puts Sophia down and pushes up her own sleeves) Alma: She doesn’t speak English. Trixie:(Nods her head) I’m Trixie (Pats her chest) Trixie. --(Back at the Gem, in Al’s office, the Magistrate is seated across from him, Al is getting out the whiskey from his drawer and setting up a couple drinks) Al: You want a blowjob while I talk to you? Magistrate Clagett: No. Al: I wasn’t offerin’ it personally. (Pours the drinks) Magistrate Clagett: Make your point. Al: My point is…before a guilty verdict would get executed on that cocksucker, three men, would walk in that meat locker where he’s bein’ held with bags over their heads and cut his fuckin’ throat. And within half an hour that celestial’s little pigs will be, on their backs, with their hooves in the air, belching up human remains. Magistrate Clagett: Are you saying you’d order that to be done? Al: I’m sayin’, I had a vision, it’d happen. My second of the day. First come when I was watchin’ you and them lawyers on line this morning. They began to slither in my sight like vipers. So as not to puke I had to close my eyes. The vision went on. Got worse. I saw the vipers in the big nest in Washington. They were takin’ us in the camp, for actin’ like we could set out own laws up or organizations and then saw the big viper decide to strangle and swallow us up every fuckin’ thing we gain here. It was horrible. How could we fuckin’ avoid it? How could we let the vipers in the big nest know that, we didn’t wanna cause any fuckin’ trouble? Magistrate Clagett: And that’s when you had your second vision. Al: Yeah, the cut throats and the pigs. But who wants all that blood spilled, judge, huh? Isn’t there a simpler way of not pissing off the big vipers? Magistrate Clagett: (Does his shot) I want to get back to the trial. Al: Go ahead. (We hear the door open & close, Al finishes his drink) --(Back at the hardware store…) Sol: How do you ‘spose the trial’s goin’? Seth: I don’t know. Sol: Should’ve took him into the territory. Hang ‘em here they’ll be openin’ a can of worms. (The Reverend approaches) Guess it’s all a can a worms. Seth: Now you’re talkin’?
Rev: Will you help me with the body? (Seth looks up at him – quizzically) --(Back at the trial – men are chattering among themselves…) Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan:
Good talk? We’ll see. Mmm. You see that one? (Pointing down) Him, that one there in the middle? The curly hair? Yeah, yeah. Told me the other night how bad Hickok needed killin’. (Al raises his eyebrows) Yeah. Said Hickok insulted him in the street. Al: Hope he’s got a forceful personality. Magistrate Clagett: (Sitting down) We’re back in session. This camp is part of no territory, state or nation. Stars and stripes may fly here soon, but that day is not here yet. You of the jury therefore are without the law upon which to decide this case. (Al gives a thumbs up) And how then are you to decide it? You must rely on common custom. That McCall killed Hickok is not in dispute. He says he was takin’ revenge that Hickok murdered his brother. If you believe what he says to be true, custom dictates, that you excuse him. The jury will now retire to the whore’s rooms, and begin their deliberations. (We see Ellsworth below, he winks at Dan) Al: You suppose Ellsworth’s with us? Dan: Oh yeah, four square. (Jury gets up, the men all disperse) Al: Open the bar. Get the girls fucking. When the jury comes back. Dan: Mmm, the downstairs rooms is occupied. Al: Upstairs ain’t. Dan: True. (Dan takes off) --(Back in the hills…) Andy: Oh, strike me dead. (Calamity Jane appears) I apologize. Please, I hurt so much now. Jane: (Approaches Andy) You’re one sick fuckin’ customer. Andy: I apologize. Jane: Don’t apologize to me. I don’t even fuckin’ know ya! You want a drink a whiskey? And no lip in the bottle but I got a pretty steady pourin’ hand. Andy: I apologize. Jane: Accepted, open your yap! Hey! Open up! More for me anyhow. Andy: I apologize. Jane: Hey. My best friend died. The man I had my best friend feelin’ about in the world. Took as he found you, thought the best a you. Sweet to me! Andy: I apologize. Jane: Maybe you’d rather have some water? I’ll go get some from the creek. But if you don’t stop ‘pologizin’, I’m not gonna give ya a goddamn drop. Alright, Mister? I’m comin’ back with some water. Andy: I apologize. Jane: Shut the fuck up!
--(Back in Alma’s room, Trixie is braiding Sophia’s hair…) Trixie:Look how pretty you are. Pretty girl. (Alma looks out the window, she’s clutching her stomach) Are you poorly? Crampy? Alma: Yes. Trixie:Does laudanum help? Alma: It used to. It doesn’t anymore. Trixie:Are you afraid? Alma: Yes. Trixie:I was awful afraid when I was stoppin’. First I was afraid I was gonna die. And then I was afraid I wouldn’t. And then one day I woke up…free. (Alma looks out the window again, then back) Alma: I don’t know why I didn’t think to put her in one of my camisoles. Trixie:No, but you look how pretty she looks in it. Look at her. (Alma smiles) --(Back at the Bella Union…) Eddie: May I confide? Cy: Certainly. Eddie: I’ve never been laid in Nebraska. Cy: We all of us sometimes embellish. Eddie: I feel unburdened. Cy: Happy to help. Eddie: What did you send him to get? Cy: If I haven’t said yet, Eddie, you think askin’s gonna make me? (Joanie comes down the stairs – all dressed up, wearing that awesome hat with the trailing scarf) Look at the Lady. Joanie: It’s quiet, I thought I’d see Hickok buried. Cy: Sure. Joanie: Sure, what? Cy: Sure, Joanie, go ahead. Or was your point you weren’t askin’ permission? (Joanie glares at Cy, turns & leaves) Conscience struck. Needs to sing a hymn. Eddie: She liked Andy. Cy: I did, too. (Eddie nods, turns and goes back into the office) --(Seth and Sol are lowering Bill’s corpse into the coffin. Tom Nuttall places Bill’s hat and rifle in with him. They place the lid on the coffin and lift it into the wagon. Nuttall starts to nail the coffin shut.) --(Trixie is knocking on the Doc’s cabin door…) Trixie:Doc? Doc: I’m in my back. Trixie:Well, I won’t trouble nothin’? (Doc stops what he is doing and gets up) Hi, Doc. Doc: What is it?
Trixie:Couple years ago I took, powders, gettin’ some awful crampin’. I wish I knew what was in ‘em. Doc: Well, that’d be helpful. Trixie:Brownish like (Trixie looks over to where the Doc was working, he sidesteps to block her view) I put ‘em in my tea. Doc: Well, if it’s the monthly’s, I generally prescribe a day or two of laudanum against the cramps. Trixie:Comin’ off the laudanum’s what had me crampy. Doc: Then you used it for more than a few days. Trixie:Little longer, yeah. (Doc sits, Trixie joins him) ‘Tween 12 and…however old I was three years ago. Doc: Have you taken ‘em back up again? Trixie:It’s the rich woman wants to stop. The widow. Doc: And what’s that to you? Trixie:Or to you, why I’d be interested? Doc: I won’t swear, (gets up and begins to pick dried herbs) this is your sovereign remedy. But, the color will be right. And it should give her some relief. (Sits down and begins to make his concoction) Trixie:Thanks, doc. Doc: Why that’s a little enough to do with what’s comin’. Trixie:What would that be? Doc: And what would that be to you? --(Back at the Gem, one of the jury members is “deliberating” with the help of a whore. She’s laughing. Dan knocks and pokes his head in…) Dan: Finish your business. The jury’s comin’ back. Hurry it up! (In the bar area, the jury and clerks of the court are being seated. The Magistrate enters and they all rise. When he sits, all but Jack McCall sits back down…) Magistrate Clagett: What’s the verdict? Curly: Innocent. (Jack breathes relief, everyone starts chattering, Merrick hurries off) Magistrate Clagett: Thank you. The defendant is free. Al: (To Dan) Don’t ever knock this camp to me. (The whores all smile and wave at Jack, he blows them a kiss) Defense: Good luck, son. (Shakes Jack’s hand) --(At the cemetery, they are burying Wild Bill…) Rev:
Mr. Hickok will lie beside two brothers. One he likely killed, the other he killed for certain and he’s been killed now in turn. So much blood. And on the battlefields of the brother’s war, I saw more blood than this. And asked then, after the purpose, and did not know. But know now to testify that, not knowing, I
believe. Saint Paul tells us, (Merrick approaches, sneezing) by one spirit, are we all baptized in the one body. Whether we be Jew or gentile, bond or free. And they’ve all been made to drink into one spirit. For the body is not one men, but many. He tells us, the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee. Nor again, the head to the feet, I have no need of thee. They much more those members of the body which we think of as less honorable, all are necessary. Hehe says that, there should be no schism in the body, but that the members should have the same care, one to another. And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it. I believe in God’s purpose. Not knowing it. I ask him, moving in me, to allow me to see his will. I ask him, moving in others, to allow them to see it. (Stops, clutches his bible) Let us sing, “How Firm A Foundation” as Mr. Hickok is laid to rest. (Jane is looking on from the above the cemetery, the guitar player starts to play and sing…the rest join in after he starts the first word of every line…) Singers:
♪When though fiery trials♪ ♪They pathways shall lie♪ ♪My grace all sufficient♪ ♪Shall be thy supply♪ ♪The flame shall not hurt thee♪ ♪Only design…♪ Merrick: (To Seth) They turned him loose. Seth: McCall? Merrick: They turned him loose. Singers: ♪And thy gold to refine…♪ (Seth & Sol grab shovels and begin to cover the casket. Merrick, sneezing, turns to leave, Joanie hikes up her skirt and leaves, the Reverend has his eyes shut in pure bliss, face upturned to the sky, Jane is watching, crying…) ---(Joanie arrives back at the Bella Union, she heads straight upstairs, Cy watching her…) --(The reverend is kneeling now, face still turned to the sky…) Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Rev: Seth: Rev:
Can we get started? He’s purty near done. Oh, you can tell? Can you believe they let the sonofabitch go? Yeah, I guess I can. Here he comes. Oh, thank you for waiting. Mmm-hmm. You’ve been so kind to me, a stranger. Many of us have asked being broken, how are we to live? Well, you took me into the body of the camp. “I’m from Etobicoke, Ontario.” “I’m from Vienna, Austria.” I-may, may I ask, Mr. Bullock, what you feel now may be your part…
Seth: I can’t say I know what you’re talkin’ about, Reverend. Rev: I would not impose; it’s been given me to ask. Seth: Okay, then. You did what you’ve been given to do. Sol: The camp was lucky you were here today, Reverend. Rev: No, I’m a frail and feeble vessel but, none of us can deny our parts— Seth: (Stops) Can we finish the goddamned walk in quiet? Rev: Certainly, sir. Sol: (Quietly as they turn to continue their walk) Sorry, Reverend. --(Merrick enters the Gem, loud now with celebration and chatter. He goes to the bar, takes off his hat and does a shot. Jack is signing an autograph for Curly) Jack: There you go, that’s for you. Merrick: (Loudly- so everyone can hear) Should it ever be your misfortune, Gentlemen, or mine, to need to kill a man, then let us toast together, the possibility that our trials, be held in this camp. (Holds his glass up to Jack) Al: Hey, what’s your name? It’s Jack, ain’t it? Jack: Yes, sir. You buy me a drink? I’ll make my mark. Al: Stick around camp, Jack. I’ll make mine for you. Jack: What in the hell’s that supposed to mean? Al: Mean’s there’s a horse for you outside you want to get on before somebody murders you who gives a fuck about right and wrong. Or I do. It’s the paint, Jack. (Pointing) Right outside my joint. (whispering) Run for your fuckin’ life. Jack: Jack McCall runs from no man. (Leaves – quickly) Al: (To Dan) Remember this when you run your own place. That type guy hangin’ round gets people agitated. Forces ‘em to take a position, one side or the other. And agitation, brings a slight bump up in whiskey sales but the sale of cunt, plummets. (Looks at the whores, idling nearby) That’s why I often wonder if I should take that fuckin’ picture of Lincoln down. (Looks up at Abe) --(Outside, Jack finds the horse and mounts it) Jack: Come on. Come on. (The horse begins to run, Seth and Sol are up ahead of him..) Yah, yah. (They see Jack galloping by, their jaws dropped) --(Back in the hills, Jane returns to Andy…) Jane: It’s me, mister! Back with water. (Looks at Andy – motionless, eyes open) Are you dead?! (Bends down and pours water in his mouth – Andy spits it out) Ah! There you are. Chokin’ and coughin’ just like the rest of us. Ah. (Sits down) Saw the widow’s husband in the creek. ‘Less they’re keepin’ more than one body cool for shippin’ back east. Tied there, to wrapped up and floating like a lure for some huge fuckin’ fish. The widow’s got the little one now. I had her for a while but, I ain’t the type she should be with long-term. Fuckin’ drunk and so forth. And when I was down at the creek, I heard voices, and I went to where they were singin’, and I saw as they laid my poor fuckin’ Bill to rest…(Jane starts crying
for a moment, she stops herself, blinks hard…) Now there’s a bird I ain’t never seen before. Shall I talk about it to you? --(The Reverend returns to his tent, as he enters he starts to shake, he sits, tries to open his bible and starts to convulse, he falls to the ground, people passing by his tent. No one notices that he’s having a seizure…) --(Back at the hardware store…) Seth: The man is a lunatic. High water, he never made much sense, but now, he just utters pure gibberish. (Taking off his coat, preparing to work on the building) Sol: Did he look pale to you? Seth: What? Sol: Did he seem pale? Seth: How the fuck do I know if he was pale or not? Sol: He looked pale to me. Seth: What if he was? Let’s say he was. Will you shut up about it? What is part and your part? What part of my part is your part? Is my foot your knee? What about your ear? What the fuck is that? Sol: Yeah…I don’t know. Seth: What don’t you know? If he was pale or not? Sol: What your supposed to do. Seth: (drops his hammer) I’m not supposed to do anything! Let’s agree to that. Not one fuckin’ thing that I don’t decide I’m gonna. Alright, Sol? (Puts on his vest, starts to put on his jacket) Sol: Alright. (Seth starts to put on his jacket) Suspenders. Seth: (Looks down) Goddamnit! (Throws jacket to the ground and puts on his suspenders) If I kill the droop eyed sonofabitch, and my part’s gettin’ hanged for it, good luck with the fuckin’ store. Sol: Alright. Seth: I’ll write to Martha and see it posted. You look out after that widow. Sol: Alright, Seth. Seth: Can I impose on ya to pack a bag for me to cut down on the cocksucker’s head start? Sol: Be ready for ya when you ride out. Seth: Thanks, Sol. (Walks off – Sol watches him leave, looking at him like “WTF?”) --(Joanie is bathing the whores upstairs. Cy opens the door…) Cy:
Did you get the prayin’ outta your system?
(Keeping eye contact with Cy, Joanie grabs the nearest whore by the neck, turns the whore’s face to hers and gives her a big ole French wet kiss. Cy leaves, she stops immediately, upset.) --(Jane is wetting a clothe to put on Andy…dabbing his lips…)
Jane: (To the tune of “How Firm a Foundation”) ♪Mmm mmm dooo doo dadoo da doo da doo do do dooo, do, do dodo do doo, eh dah, da da♪ --(Trixie is back with Alma’s powders, she fixes her a cup of tea and hands it to a grateful Alma. Trixie sits down with Sophia and they start to – try – and play patty-cake) --(Sol is outside the store, hears Seth’s horse neigh and approach, he hooks Seth’s bag to the saddle. They shake hands, almost before they stop shaking, Seth takes off…) Seth: Ya! Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Guest Appearances: Marshall Bell Dirk Blocker Sean Bridgers Brent Briscoe Candice Cook Kim Dickens Garret Dillahunt Gill Gayle Zach Grenier Ricky Jay Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones David Ligon Ray McKinnon Glenn Morshower
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane Dan Dority Charlie Utter Magistrate Claggett Johnny Burns Gem Whore (uncredited) Joanie Stubbs Jack McCall Andy Cramed Eddie Sawyer Jewel A.W. Merrick Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon)
Toni Oswald Nicolas Surovy Bree Seanna Wall Everette Wallin Clay Wilcox Keone Young
Captain Metz Girl Loudmouth Drunk in the Gem Saloon Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode # 6 – “Plague” (In the hills, the wind is blowing, all is peaceful…we see the platform with a deceased Indian and his horse atop of it. Bullock is riding is horse in pursuit of Jack McCall. All of a sudden his horse is struck with an arrow and bucks. The horse falls, with Seth still astride.) Seth: Oh! (Groaning, breathing hard – he is hurt. Seth sees his attacker, an Indian approaches rapidly on horseback. Seth is clubbed on the head.) Ah! Indian: (Phonically) Washi sha shitsay. (Spits in Seth’s face) Seth: Uh! Indian: Washi sha shitsay. Shi sha shitsay. Shin sa sitsay. (Bullock grabs onto the indian’s leg. The Indian beats him off. Bullock grabs at him again and this time manages to stand and push the Indian into a tree. The Indian grabs Seth by the neck he tries to push him off, Seth lands a punch and they fall to the ground. Seth grabs a rock and beats the Indian’s head in, grunting, with effort through the entire beating. The Indian is dead. Bullock starts to walk away but falls and passes out.) ---(At the Gem, A.W. Merrick is at the bar, drinking…) Merrick: May I say, Dan, ever since I resumed drinking alcohol, I cannot for the life of me figure out why I ever gave it up. (Dan pours him a drink) Dan: Takes the edge off the tough ones. Merrick: Takes the edge off. Well put. And may I say, Dan, that I often find you the source of many well put and witty things that you say. Dan: Thanks. Merrick: (raises his glass) The Hickok murder, (Johnny and Doc enter) exoneration of the coward McCall, stain on the escutcheon of the camp. (drinks) Doc, Libation! (Doc looks at him and keeps moving.) I wonder if he thought I said, “Live Patient”? --(Doc enters the back whore’s room, Al is waiting, there is a sick man in the bed, breathing hard) Al: Couldn’t get it up. Give her a dollar to wait. Dolly: But he just keeps getting sicker. Al: Shut up. Come talk to me after, Doc. (Leaves) Sick Man: My back hurts so bad. (Continues to breathe heavily, Dolly leaves) ---(At the Bella Union, Ellsworth is drinking at the bar. Joanie sees him and sidles up next to him)
Will you keep a girl company? I will, but, I’m expensive. (laughing) Oh, I knew that lookin’ at you. I’m Joanie. Ellsworth. First visit to the Bella Union, Ellsworth? Yes, Ma’am. My leisure time’s usually spent at the Gem. What fills the rest of your time? Well, Ma’am, I’ve got myself a workin’ gold claim. Well, sir, is that a damn fact? Yes, Ma’am, a hell of a workin’ gold claim. And if we knew each other better, I’d throw a fuckin’ in there somewhere. Joanie: If you did, I’d try to catch it. Ellsworth: A workin’ fuckin’ gold claim, Joanie. And thank you for allowing me my full range of expression. Joanie: Ellsworth. Ellsworth: What? Joanie: Do you shoot craps? Ellsworth: No, I don’t. But I’m a lethally quick study. Joanie: Come on. (She takes Ellsworth by the hand and leads him to a craps table. Cy is watching her. Joey enters. He’s stiff, holding his arm funny. Eddie watches him pass by, Cy approaches.) Cy: Joey? Joey: I’m sick, boss. I ain’t right. Cy: Keep your voice down. Walk this way with me. Joey: I would’ve never made Nebraska. I got fever. My, my, back’s hurt somethin’ awful. Cy: Alright, son, just lay up ‘til you get better. Joey: (coughing into his hands, holding a piece of paper) ah, here’s that list you gave me. Cy: You, you hold it for a while. Joey: Fella who could read said one of the items was for the smallpox. Cy: What are you doin’ showin’ that list around, Joey? Joey: Well, when I got poorly by Buffalo Gap I just wanted to see if I could fill the list there. Cy: That’s a breach of goddamned trust! Joey: Have I got smallpox, Mr. Tolliver? Cy: How do I know? Maybe you got yourself a dose. Joey: No, I-I wouldn’t. I’m virgin. That’s how come I jumped when you told about Nebraska pussy. Cy: Anyway, just – just go lay up. Joanie: Ellsworth: Joanie: Ellsworth: Joanie: Ellsworth: Joanie: Ellsworth: Joanie: Ellsworth:
(Joey hobbles off to the back room, Eddie approaches Cy…) Eddie: Joey didn’t make Nebraska? Cy: Come down with whatever ailed Andy Cramed.
Eddie: I wonder if Joey was after a remedy for Andy? Maybe without even knowin’… Cy: Ain’t you clever, Eddie? Eddie: Was I bein’ clever? I thought I was worrying about the plague. Cy: Why don’t you concentrate on runnin’ in the bones on Joanie’s mark? Eddie: A welcome diversion. --(Al is looking out his interior office window at the Doc leaving the whore’s room…) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
EB: Al: EB: Al:
EB:
Woman lives in your fuckin’ hotel. But you can’t find pretext for pressing the offer on her claim? I can’t outflank Trixie, Al. The whore guards that widow like a mother hen. She’s dosed her with opium! Primin’ her for your approach. Be that as it may… E.B., put that offer in your pocket, you knock on the widow’s door. But Trixie’ll answer. Trixie answers. You tell her I want to talk to her. Trixie leaves, you gain entry, broach the sale. Can you circumnavigate the child? Or must I map that for you, too? No… What? (knocking) Nothin’. Oh, come on in, Doc, (Doc enters) him and me are finished. Anyway, don’t play that shit where you make me drag your words outta you. Declare, or shut the fuck up! I said, (louder) something strange is goin’ on in that hotel room. (EB leaves, Doc shuts the door) It’s bad with that fella downstairs, Al. Plague, is it? Smallpox. Would land in my joint. Yours wasn’t the first. (Al’s face turns serious)
Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: --(EB is leaving the Gem, talking to himself) EB:
No deceit. Too prolonged. No errand too demeaning. (Pushed past a miner) Get outta here! No rebuke too vile. Al Swearengen’s a cue and Farnum merely is…billiard ball. (Waves horse rider away- steps in horseshit) Shit! Quagmire of piss and bullshit!
--(EB is upstairs, he knocks on Alma’s door) Trixie: What? EB: Al wants to see you, Trixie. (Looking over her shoulder) Trixie: Alright. EB: He wants you over there now. Trixie: I’ll be there when I get there, E.B.
EB: How is Mrs. Garrett anyway? Trixie:Hunky – dory. (closes door) (EB ponders for a moment outside the room - puts his hat back on and leaves. Inside the room, Alma is moaning. Trixie dips a cloth in water…) Trixie: My boss wants me. I’ll be back quick as I can. (Hands Alma the wet rag) This passes. Alma: Alright. --(Back at the Bella Union…) Eddie: Place your bets, gentlemen. Place your bets. New shooter, coming out! (Ellsworth tosses the dice) The winner’s seven. (Doc and Al walk in, they head straight for Cy in the cashier’s booth) Al:
What you hear on that vaccine?
(Cy looks at the Doc accusingly) Doc: Cy: Al: Cy: Doc: Cy: Al: Cy: Al: Cy: Doc: Cy:
He’s had a case break out at his place. Let’s go to the cage, or shall the three of us leap up on tables and shout questions to one another across the room? What about the vaccine? The boy never made Nebraska. He took sick. Where is he now? In the back, here. How the fuck long has that been? You don’t want to pursue that tone. You sat on news, and no one went after the meds and I’m askin’ the duration. And I’m sayin’ questions in that tone and pointin’ your finger at me’ll get you told to fuck yourself. Show me the room where the boy is. (To Al) Please, join us.
(Cheering, Ellsworth is winning at craps) Ellsworth:
How long they been playin’ this without me?
(Joanie looks of to see Cy letting Al & Doc into the back room – the smile leaves her face.) ---
(Back at the hotel, EB has arrived with fresh linens, he lets himself into Alma’s room and sees Sophia sitting on the bed next to Alma – clearly not feeling well) Alma: What do you want? EB: It’s laundry day Madam. I’ve come to replace the linen. Alma: Leave it and go. EB: (leaning in for a closer look) Are you ill? Alma: Leave the room. EB: Of course. (He leaves and locks the door behind him) --(In Joey’s sick room, he is sweaty and shaking. Doc leans over him and puts his head to Joey’s chest.) Doc: Al: Cy: Al: Cy: Doc:
Breathe. (Listens for a moment, turns to Al & Cy and nods) We should chat this all out. Sure. Why don’t we do something together? Us and several other? Yeah, alright. (To Joey) Lift up. There we go. (Feeds Joey a spoonful of medicine) Alright, lie down.
--(Calamity Jane is walking the streets. She looks hard at a man walking the street as he passes her…) Jane: If I had that mug on me, I believe I’d cut down gettin’ told how butt fuckin’ ugly I was by not starin’ at fuckin’ strangers. (Stops in front of Doc’s cabin) Sorry lookin’ cabin even in this shithole camp. Passers through has a right to make inquiries? A lead taker has it. (Frowns, breathing heavy as she approaches Doc’s cabin) I carried that fuckin’ child! No, not in my belly but, none of that fuckin’ blood…fuckin’ cocksucker! (Shakes the door handle in anger – the door opens, surprising her) It’s Jane Canary callin’ for Doc fuckin’ Cochran! You fuckin’ in there? I believe I’ll fuckin’ wait! (Enters the cabin) --(Al strides back into the Gem…) Dan: Trixie’s upstairs. E.B.’s waitin’ for you in the kitchen. Al: (To A.W. Merrick – still at the bar drinking) Quit drinkin’ a few hours. We’re havin’ a get together. Merrick: Whom do you mean? Al: (To Johnny) Buy some fuckin’ fruit or the like, huh? (Stalks off to the kitchen) EB: I told you somethin’ strange was goin’ on. Al: Are you prepared now, to tell me what it is? EB: If that widow was high, I am a monkey’s uncle. --Johnny: How much fruit? I mean, how many’s a fuckin’ get together?
Dan: Now one thing I can tell you, Johnny, (Al runs upstairs) right now ain’t a good time to ask. --(Up in Al’s office, Trixie is waiting, Al enters…) Trixie:Hi, Al. Al: You toss the place? Trixie:I know what’s in this room. Al: How’s the widow? You givin’ her that dope? Trixie:I give it to her regular. Al: And she takes it? Trixie:She goes behind where she dresses to spare the child seein’. Al: Oh, when she goes behind where she dresses to spare the child do you see billows of fuckin’ dope smoke rising? Trixie:She says she eats it. Al: Does she act high to you? Trixie:I can’t be sure. I never seen a rich person high before. (Al smiles) Al: Next piece of dope, Trixie…you go behind the screen with the widow. You watch her put it in her mouth, you watch her swallow. Afterwards, you look down her fuckin’ yap and you verify she’s got nothin’ above or below her fuckin’ tongue. Trixie:I’ll find a good reason. Al: You bein’ fuckin’ clever with me? Trixie:How am I supposed to do that, Al, and not arouse her suspicion? Al: Only suspicion you gotta worry about is mine. Of if you’re givin’ it to her at all. (Drops the dope in her hand) Trixie:Why wouldn’t I? Al: I’d rather try touching the moon than take on a whore’s thinking. Only know this, Trixie. That widow better be muddleheaded next time Farnum sees her or you pay. Trixie:Can I go back? Al: Please. (Trixie leaves) (As Trixie leaves the Gem, she fixes her eyes on E.B., standing at the bar, and leaves. Al comes downstairs shortly after her.) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
Trixie and me chatted on the subject of the widow takin’ dope. (Motions to Dan for a drink) I see. Trixie’s gonna make sure she does. Good. You find pretext to determine Trixie ain’t lying. Oh… (Dolly gasps and runs off to the back room) Damsel in distress. And will you want me back here, for the get together? How the fuck could we go it without you, E.B.?
EB: Al: Dan: Al: ---
Truth isn’t in you, Al. Makes two of us. (EB leaves) Dolly’s with that drummer? ‘Fraid he gave her plague. Fuckin’ plague!
(Trixie lets herself back into Alma’s room, Sophia is sitting on the bed, singing) Sophia: ♪ Row, row, row your boat, gently down the “steem” ♪ Trixie: ♪ Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. ♪ Sophia: ♪Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream. ♪ Trixie:It’s lovely. Alma: (Whispering) Very lovely. Trixie: I need you to do something for me. And I know you can. When Farnum’s here, so we can buy you time to get well you have to fake bein’ high. Sophia: ♪Row, row, row your boat gently down the “steem”…♪ Trixie: You can do it, Alma. Look at all the practice you’ve had. Sophia: ♪…merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. ♪ --(Al enters the back room, Dolly is scrunched up on the bed, her head resting on her knees, she’s crying) You better have a payin’ dwarf underneath you. Am I dying? Turn off the fuckin’ water, and tell me what you did. I know you didn’t fuck him. No… You suck his prick? He didn’t want to show it to me ‘til he had a hard on. That’s what you call a mistake of youth. You mug it up with him? A little. French lock or normal? Normal. So any hoople head who drank from the same glass this guy did, have as much right to sit there weepin’ as you, except I can’t kick his ass and send him out to work. Dolly: My mom died of it when we was coming out. And that’s when daddy gave us up. Al: Well, that sad story makes me believe maybe you was exposed and ain’t a candidate for it no more. (Dolly stops crying – sorta – and looks at Al) Stick to hand jobs a day or two if you like. --Al: Dolly: Al: Dolly: Al: Dolly: Al: Dolly: Al: Dolly: Al:
(Trixie comes down the hotel stairs with a bag full of dirty linens…) Trixie:Ah, these sheets need cleanin’. EB: I just provided new linens.
Trixie:And now they got sick on ‘em. EB: Take those to the Chinaman. Show you want a clean exchange. Say, “for Mr. Farnum, Wu. Sheet for Farnum.” (Trixie leaves and EB promptly heads upstairs, as Trixie makes her way to Mr. Wu, Sol spots her…) Sol: Hello. Trixie: Hello, Mr. Star. Sol: May I help with those sheets? Trixie:I got it. Sol: How is Mrs. Garrett? Trixie:Still not receivin’. Sol: You do tell her I’ve asked to call. Trixie:On commission for Mr. Bullock? How’s business at your store? Sol: Brisk. Trixie:Oh. (Trixie turns and heads down Chinaman’s Alley, leaving a smiling, dumbstruck Sol, behind) --(Doc arrives back at his cabin. Calamity Jane is sleeping in a chair next to the door – waiting, she wakes up when he enters. Doc doesn’t notice her right away until he puts down his satchel and looks over – he’s momentarily stunned) Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane:
Jesus Christ! You just shit yourself! I take it you’ve been, out on a…a hoot. I’ve been drunk awhile, correct. What the fuck is that to you? Question was well meant like, if you was…a farmer I’d ask ya, how the farming was going. I did lose my fuckin’ best friend, you know? I know. Anyways, I ain’t here to teach ya any fuckin’ manners. I was wonderin’ about the child. She’s fine. And what else? And she’s stayin’ with that widow and, whore from the Gem’s with her, too. What the fuck is a whore doin’ with her? The widow has health problems of her own. And Trixie’s takin’ care of her. Oh, Trixie bein’ the fuckin’ whore? Well, you have high standards as applied to other people. I ain’t judging anyone, I was seekin’ information! Well, are you adequately informed? Yes, I am, you cocksucker! (Opens the door partway) ‘Cause I am in the midst of a situation. Oh, smallpox?
Doc: (closes the door) What the fuck is that to you? Jane: Fella in the woods I see to say hello to has it. Unless he caught it from a trout. I figured, some in the camp could be down with it, too. Doc: What was he doin’ in the woods? Jane: Someone threw him there. Anyways, he’s better now. Doc: And how do you feel? Jane: What’s that supposed to mean? Doc: How do you feel? Jane: Why? Doc: I take it, that you’re feeling well am I wrong? Jane: No you’re not fuckin’ wrong! Doc: Well, that’s all I wanted to fuckin’ know! Jane: I will lay you out as soon as look at ya! Doc: This is my point. You been carin’ for a sick man who doesn’t seem to have gotten you sick. Jane: Aren’t you wise, fuckin’ owl. Doc: Bein’ as you have a gift for it, and I’m gonna have sick people up to my hips. I was wonderin’ if you might wanna come back to camp? Jane: My best friend died. (Starts to leave) Doc: And he ain’t coming back! (Jane turns around) Now will you help me? You can do your drinkin’ off work, like I do. --(Back in Alma’s room – Sophia is napping, EB enters with more linens) EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB:
Madam? (Sophia’s eyes pop open) (Sits up, slowly, with a funny smile on her face) Yes? How are you? Better, Mr. Farnum. Thank you. I’m glad. How are you? Very well, thank you. Excuse me. I brought more linens. Mmm. I’d heard someone threw up.
(Alma looks at him, smiling dreamily…EB leaves, Sophia sits up, smiling at Alma for her great acting job) --(Back at the Bella Union, Ellsworth is still shooting craps, but now he is loosing) Ellsworth: Joanie: Ellsworth: Joanie:
Well, appears luck pinches out at this game even quicker than prospectin’. It can come back that quick, too. Every weekend, claim’s at the creek. You want to stop for a while, Ellsworth? We can stop. (Cy hears this, looks at Joanie)
Oh, what if my luck comes back? (Cy gives “the office” to Eddie) Won’t be here to reap the benefits. (Eddie nods) Joanie: Well, maybe it’d wait for ya. Cy: ‘Course too, maybe it won’t, right, Joanie? Maybe you should stop for a while, honey. You need to piss? Joanie: Excuse me Did I say that too polite, Cy? Cy: Go head off now. Eddie, take over the game. Push them bones my way, will ya? Eddie: Place your bets, gentlemen. Place your bets. Cy: Alright, let’s warm the world back up now. Eddie: New shooter coming out. Seven, the winner. The winner is seven. Cy: You sure you don’t want to get on me, young man? Ellsworth: Well, I might, hazard a 20. Cy: Alright, now. Do not detain me. Eddie: Seven, the winner’s seven. Hot shooter! Cy: You can’t keep an old man down! Wagon, westward down! Eddie: It’s a seven. Cy: You better get on me now. I got a meetin’ to go to and I got a hot hand here! Ha! Joanie: (Upstairs) Money’s out front, honey. Whore: Okay. Spots are coming out all over his body. Joanie: That don’t decide how it ends. Whore: Joey was cherry. Joanie: I know. Whore: He didn’t want us to do it ‘til he knew how. Joanie: You’d do better if the tricks didn’t think lookin’ at ‘em made you cry. --Ellsworth:
(Charlie is leading his horses through the hills, he comes up on Seth’s dead horse and stops…) Charlie:
Hoo, now. (Dismounts. He sees the Indian’s war horse and studies it’s painted markings. He looks around, rifle in hand. He sees the Indian, dead on the ground and sees Seth nearby, not looking much more alive than the Indian)
--(In the Reverend’s tent, he is laying down on his cot, smiling…) Johnny: It’s Johnny Burns, Reverend. Rev: (Stis up) Mr. Burns. How are you? Johnny: There’s a meeting at the Gem. Mr. Swearengen thought you’d wanna come, too. Rev: At his saloon? Johnny: Yes, sir. Rev: May I ask the meeting’s purpose? Johnny: Well, he don’t get into that with me. Rev: Alright, Thank You. Tell Mr. Swearengen I will be there.
Johnny: He’s having me get fruit. I know that much. Rev: Fine. (Johnny leaves and the Rev drops his head down to his chest) --(Back in the Hills, Charlie is tending Seth’s wounds and talking to him, Seth is still passed out) Charlie: The three red hands on the pony’s flank, was three men killed, hand to hand. The red circle was one killed on horseback. The white lines on the pony’s legs was times that he had counted coup. Hmm, with them whether they mean to kill your man after or you’re just showin’ off you, hit ‘em with a gun butt or a stick or a club. That’s counting coup. That’s why he come for you instead of pickin’ you off with an arrow, like he did your horse. Seth: Charlie. Charlie: Ah, there you are. That was one bad hombre you got by Bullock. Seth: Bill’s dead Charlie. Charlie: (Pauses – dumbstruck) Of your own seein’? Seth: Yeah. Charlie: I heard it spoke of two days ago by this, often as he wasn’t before, I hoped he wasn’t this time, too. Seth: I was after the bastard who did it. (Sits up) Charlie: Anything broke? Seth: No. Charlie: Can you ride? Seth: Yeah. Charlie: Let’s get that cocksucker. (Helps Seth up) Seth: We should dig a grave. Charlie: I’d as soon not waste the fuckin’ time. Seth: It won’t take long. (Goes to the horses and grabs a shovel) Charlie: You ain’t doin’ him no favor. I mean his way to heaven’s above ground and lookin’ west. Seth: Well, let’s do that, then. (Tosses the shovel aside) Charlie: Don’t you want to take him over the ridge? This fuckin’ hole in the ground and put him up there with his headless buddy? I mean, that’s what you nearly got killed for? Interfering with his big fuckin’ medicine, burying his fuckin’ buddy, over the fuckin’ ridge! --(Johnny is putting peaches and pears into bowls on the bar. Nuttall is watching him, studying the cans, Merrick, Doc, Sol and EB are already there.) EB: Al: EB:
Trixie did her work, and then some, Al. Must’ve put a double handful of that dope down the widow’s mouth. Did you happen to offer on her gold claim? The moment was wrong. The dope had made the widow randy. (Cy enters) Lustful looks, heavy breathing. Out thrust chest. The full catalog.
Only hope you comported yourself as a gentlemen, E.B. There was a child in the room. Peaches and pears on the fuckin’ bar. Spoon it out amongst yourselves. (They all sit) First thing to say is, Plague’s in the fuckin’ camp. Doc: Smallpox. Plague is spread by rats. Al: Well, I was raised callin’ it plague but Doc wants that in reserve, in case our luck holds, and the rats decide to descend on us, too hmm? (EB laughs) But whatever you fuckin’ call it, the point is for no one to raise their fuckin’ dresses over their heads. You, you, you wait it out. You outlast the cocksucker. I’ve outlasted several fuckin’ outbreaks. Is it pretty? No, but it passes, so, we need a place for them to get it. To care for ‘em, and to keep ‘em outta sight. So people don’t get frightened and disgusted. Sol: Mr. Bullock and me will have lumber left from puttin’ our buildin’ out. Al: Why tent’s a better impression. Emphasizes it’s a passing phase. As far as the vaccine, one place we know has it, it’s Fort Carney. Nuttall: Well how do we know that? Al: Off the fuckin’ issue, Tom. Doc: Bismark. And Cheyenne, probably got it, too. Al: So we should send to all three places. And as time’s a factor, stagecoaches ain’t the right conveyance, so I suggest three groups of horsemen, huh? Five riders to a group, fend off the dirt worshippers, 60 bucks a rider, 10 dollars in advance, 50 on return. EB: Would be, three times five times 60, $900 at the worst. Assuming they all survive. Al: Add in, for the vaccine and paying the Doc, I’d say $1,500 is the target. I’m in for five. (Puts a roll of money on the table, everyone reaches in their pockets to ante up) Cy: Five hundred. Nuttall: Two. EB: Two. Al: You fuckin’ kidding me, EB? EB: …hundred fifty. Sol: Fifty from Bullock and Star. Al: You’re alright. EB: 150 hits the target. Merrick: I assume there’ll be some sort of public announcement in “The Pioneer.” Al: Yeah, get ah, jump on them, fuckin’ panic mongers. Merrick: Ah, can you give me 5 minutes, Doc, after the meeting adjourns? Al: Yeah, give some sort of positive angle to it. Vaccine’s on it’s way or looks like it’s the mild fuckin’ type. Rev: It would also be useful to avoid apocalyptic predictions. Al: Yeah, nip that Sodom and Gomorrah shit in the bud, huh? Rev: And stigmatizing the afflicted. Doc: Where will we locate the pest tent? Cy: Well, I bought a lot at the end of Chink’s alley you can use. Al: EB: Al:
Al: Cy: Sol: Al: EB: Al: Rev: Al:
Oh, gonna build a joint in future catering to the Celestials, ain’t you, Cy? You clever cocksucker. They’re the fuckin’ degenerate gamblers among all the races, Al. I’ll see to recruiting the riders. (The Rev is shaking, trying to hid it) $10 a rider advance money. If I can get your John Hancock, for the receipt of the 150. So, fruit’s up here, anybody didn’t get any, huh? (Groans, stands up straight, throws his head back and starts to have a seizure) Oh fer chrissake.
(The Rev falls to the ground, Doc rushes over) Doc: Alright, Reverend. Somebody get me somethin’ to hold his jaw open. Johnny: Fruit spoon, Doc. Al: Not with a fuckin’ metal spoon, Johnny. He’ll break every tooth in his mouth. Here you go, Doc. (Hands him what looks like a billfold or something. Doc sticks it in the Rev’s mouth) Merrick: Doc, I won’t say it’s pristine, but…(Hands Doc a hanky) Doc: Alright, Reverend. You’re doing better, Reverend. Al: You ever see him do that? Doc: Alright. (Sol shakes his head no) Al: Used to have a fuckin’ brother given to that. We’d make pennies off it when it’d come over him in the street. Hey, Reverend, you could’ve just said, “Amen.” --(Back at the Bella Union, Eddie is practicing shooting the dice…) Eddie: Quite the civic figure, Cy. Cy: That’s me, that’s what I live for. How healthy we leave that prospector? Eddie: He’ll be back. Cy: Fuckin’ Joanie. Got a crack out of turn. You still got an awful smooth hand, young man. Eddie: Yeah. Cy: Practice makes perfect, huh? Eddie: Yeah, Cy. And you give a good hand job yourself. (Cy laughs, the whore caring for Joey walks through…) Cy: Find out from Joanie how exposed that red-head got to the kid. Eddie: Anything else you want me to ask her for ya? Cy: Eddie, if I talk to her right now, I’ll break her fuckin’ jaw. And if we keep talkin’, I’ll break yours, too. (Eddie continues throwing the dice) --(Doc and the Reverend are sitting in a back room at the Gem…) Rev:
I take it I suffered some sort of convulsion or seizure. Perhaps brought on my irregular hours.
Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Al: Rev: Doc: ---
Oh, I see. And I ‘spect you’ll be soon hangin’ up your shingle in competition with me? No, oh no, no, sir. Mmm. How did you feel before the spell come on you? I-I noticed a peculiar smell in the air. As if something were burning. Is this the first time? No, the first episode occurred several days ago. After the service for Mr. Hickok. And any others between that one and this? (shaking his head) No. Follow my finger. (Puts his index finger out and traces a line back and forth, front and back in the air) Mmm, or, or perhaps I just need glasses. (Al enters) Merrick needs to see you about the article. Prescribe this malingerer (Holds out a can) a can of peaches, and show him the fuckin’ door. (winks, turns and leaves) Am I clear to assist you to tend to the sick, Doctor? You are cleared, Reverend. (Pats his arm)
(We see Cy enters Joanie’s room through the reflection in the mirror hanging above her bed. She is laying down.) Cy: What the fuck’s wrong with you? Joanie: I don’t know. Cy: Well, you better figure it the fuck out, Joanie. ‘Cause this free ride shit’s comin’ to a quick fuckin’ halt. Joanie: (sits up) Free ride? Cy: What would you call it? Joanie: (looks away) I earn my way. Cy: (laughs) How? Posing in expensive dresses and breakin’ up the catfights? Takin’ trouble to steer the trade? That don’t pay the freight, honey. You’re here to create a fuckin’ atmosphere. Fuckin’ atmosphere you create lately, I’m sad. Then on your bad days, oh, I’m so sad. (Joanie looks down) Oh…(sits down on the bed next to her) What is it, sweetheart? Joanie: I guess it’s comin’ here. Cy: What’s wrong with comin’ here? You never liked the river that much. What’s wrong with a fresh start? Joanie: How it feels when there isn’t one. Cy: Well, shit. Stay here I’ll bring you back a fuckin’ lollipop. (squeezes her hand) Joanie: Sorry I cracked on your play with the prospector. Cy: Me and Eddie turned it into a longer campaign. If he don’t get plague it’ll all have a happy end. My worry’s you, and my concerns and, feelin’s of fuckin’ affection. Joanie: Shut up, Cy. Cy: Work on believin’ it, Joanie. (Touches her face) That’s the way I always want to touch you, just like, that. Don’t make me do it different. (Cy leaves) ---
(Merrick is reading his article aloud, Al, EB, Doc & Cy are gathered ‘round) Merrick: Two cases of the smallpox have been diagnosed in our camp by Doctor Amos Cochran. Al: Hey, Doc! (They all turn to see what Al’s looking at, they see Dan & Johnny carting out the sick man from the Gem on a stretcher) Doc: Get the Amos outta there! (Doc goes to the stretcher) Merrick: Scratch Amos. At Dr. Cochran’s suggestions, a pest tent, endowed by the generous retailers of our fine community, is being erected for the afflicted on the south end, and riders dispatched to secure a vaccine. Al: Maybe you should add there, “They’re already probably on their way back.” Merrick: (Throws down his typesetter (?)) Excuse me (Reaches to get his quill and ink well) The Pioneer has been assured of their imminent return. Cy: That’s catchier. Merrick: Thanks also to the aforementioned merchants, the vaccine will be distributed gratis. Al: Free gratis. Merrick: Free gratis is a redundancy. (Al looks at A.W. blankly) EB: Does that mean, repeats itself? (A.W. nods) Al: Then leave gratis out. Merrick: What luck for me, Al that you have such a keen editorial sense. Free, distributed free. Period. It will, take me some time to reset the type. Al: Yeah, hurry up. Merrick: Excuse me. Cy: Al. (Jerks his head. Al walks over to him) Thanks for not puttin’ the stink on me before with the others. Ah, over that Fort Carney business. Al: Sure. Jane: (Walks across the street, stops in front of the hotel and shouts to EB) I’m back. EB: Your room has been re-rented. Jane: Fuck you and fuck the rooms you rent. I’m callin’ on the widow and the little one in her care. And if I was you, or any cocksucker with ya, I wouldn’t try to stop me. EB: Be brief. Jane: Be fucked! (Jane enters the hotel) EB: Her gutter mouth, and the widow in an opium stupor. A conversation for the ages. --(Jane climbs the hotel stairs, a man comes out of her old room, she pauses, turns…) Jane: Hey, fucknut! What you got in that suitcase? Fucknut: Millenary samples. If it concerns you at all. Jane: Millenary samples, ain’t that just perfect! Fucknut: Some women…take the trouble to make a decent appearance.
Jane: Well, for your information, Mr. Millenary sample suitcase cocksucker, you’re staying in the former room of someone you ain’t fit to lick the boots of! Fucknut: Wild Bill Hickok. I paid two dollars a day extra. Had you any connection to Wild Bill? Jane: (Shakes her head a little and waves him off) Good luck with your fuckin’ day sellin’ hats. (knocks on Alma’s door.) It’s Jane! (Sophia opens the door) Oh, my God. Sophia: Hello, Jane. Jane: Look at you. Listen to you, oh, my God in heaven. (Sophia opens the door and reveals Trixie sitting in a chair behind the door) Trixie:I’m Trixie. Jane: I think I’ve seen you. Trixie:At the Gem. Jane: Yeah. Maybe that’s where. I(Jane enters, sees Alma laying in bed) You look like shit. Oh, owe you a penny. (Jane quickly realizes where she is and yanks off her hat) Alma: I’m better. I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Hickok. Jane: Yeah. (Jane puts her head down – choking back tears) You oughtta get your husband outta that creek. Alma: As soon as, I feel just a little better. Jane: Anyways ah, I’m glad to see this little one in good condition and talking to boot. Trixie: Come see her all the time. Jane: Nah, I’m the fuckin’ drunk, ah…I might be seeing to sick people. But I’m gonna keep…this exact recollection of your lovely mug, an put a penny aside every time I curse. And that is my promise to you. And me too, we’ll see each other again down the road. --(Merrick is rolling off a new copy of The Pioneer…) Merrick: Gentlemen— Al: Well, let’s see it. (Grabs the paper) Merrick: Or should I say my fellow authors. Jane: I’m done in there! Where would the Doc have got to? Cy: South end of Chinamen’s Alley. (Two men and a whore come out of the Bella Union, with Joey in a stretcher, heading for the pest tent.) Jane: They’ll get me there. Al: I think maybe it should have a question mark. The Plague in Deadwood? Merrick: The type is set. You’re reading the definitive edition. Al: Let’s run it. (Tosses the paper back to Merrick) Merrick: Nice workin’ with you. (Al crosses the street to the Gem, Cy returns to the Bella Union) ---
(Doc is at the pest tent, directing Dan & Johnny) Take him right over here. Now…it’s alright to breathe, just turn your, your head away from him. Johnny: (holding his breathe) Okay, Doc. Doc: Alright. Roll him over on his side. Rev: Yes. (Rev, Doc, Dan and Johnny roll sick man onto his side, Doc rolls up the stretcher) Doc: Ah, turn him back this way, that’s it. Alright, thank you, fellas. Johnny: (still holding breathe) Bye, Doc. Rev: It’s alright, son. It’s going to be alright. Jane: Hey! Hey somebody! (Jane is approaching the test with the next patient) Doc: Are you sure you’re up to this? Rev: Oh yes, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. (The Reverend comforts the sick man, Doc goes to meet Jane outside) Jane: Here’s another one for ya. Doc: So I see. You already been exposed, you wanna follow him in? Jane: I might. (Doc does a Vanna to the entrance – Jane enters) Doc:
---(Charlie and Seth lift the dead Indian up the funeral pyre alongside the other dead Indian and a horse. The freshly dead Indian’s leg slips off and Charlie respectfully replaces it up on the pyre. They leave) --(Back in the Gem, Al is reading the paper) Al: The Pioneer was assured of their imminent return. Dan: I’ll believe it when I see it. Al: Imminent return is one of my contributions to the fuckin’ article. The idea for that phrase. (reading) Pest tent being erected at the south…what about that fucking Tolliver buying up property on the Q.T., huh? Dan: When look he was strugglin’ with the shit when he made the offer to loan out the lot. Al: Yeah, nonetheless it says the man sees the fuckin’ possibilities of the things. I mean, to come up at this fuckin’ juncture, with the idea of creatin’ an emporium for the fuckin’ chinks takes brass fucking balls, and a long term vision for the future. (does a shot) Merrick. Merrick wanted to put here, gratis. Now is the idea, to inform your read or make him feel like a fuckin’ dunce, huh? I had him put free. Dan: Don’t see why the fuck he doesn’t have news of the baseball. That new league started a team in Chicago. (Al shakes his head)
Al:
Different path taken it, certain it forks in the road, who knows what kind of a joint we’d be in now, huh? Of course, truth is, as a base of operations, you cannot beat a fucking saloon. (drinks a shot) Ah…(Continues reading)…
Cast
Timothy Olyphant Seth Bullock Ian McShane Al Swearengen Molly Parker Alma Garret Ellsworth Jim Beaver Brad Dourif Doc Cochran John Hawkes Sol Star Paula Malcomson Trixie Leon Rippy Tom Nuttall William Sanderson Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown Dan Dority Charlie Utter Dayton Callie Parisse Boothe Tessie Sean Bridgers Johnny Burns Candice Cook Gem Whore (uncredited) Kim Dickens Joanie Stubbs Ricky Jay Eddie Sawyer Jeffrey Jones A.W. Merrick Juddson Keith Linn Milliner Ray McKinnon Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Toni Oswald Bree Seanna Wall Metz Girl (as Breeseanna Wall) Everette Wallin Gareth Williams Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode #7 Bullock Returns to the Camp (OPEN on the backs of Bullock and Utter riding into a settlement. Seth spots McCall’s horse.) Seth: That’s what McCall was ridin’ Utter: All right. (Pan down a cabin to a couple of cowboys just settin’.) Utter: (ever polite) Evenin’. Cowboy 1: (laconic) Evenin’ back Seth: Lookit that paint, Charlie. Utter: I seen it. Seth: I had a half-breed (?) just like that. Utter: Found ‘er. Makes me miserable just reminiscing on it. Seth: Do you know the owner? Utter: If he’d sell the horse is what he really wants to know. Cow: Well I don’t know if he’d sell, but the fuckin’ jerk’s in that bunkhouse (Charlie looks at Seth, who glances over to the bunkhouse, looks back at the cowboy.) Seth: Thank you. Utter: Evenin’. (The two walk into the bunkhouse to the sound of chatter. Seth glances around, finally spots Jack McCall slumped over a table.) Seth: Jack McCall. (McCall raises his head.) Jack: (slurs) I’m done. I’n’twannaplaynomore. (McCall puts his head back down on the table.) Seth: (loudly) Bein’ a loud-mouthed cunt…(People in the bunkhouse start making for the door.)…I guess sometime since he’s been here this fella who don’t wanna play no more probably spoke of killin’ Wild Bill Hickok. (McCall raises his head again.)…well, we’re Bill Hickok’s friends. (People start making for the door in earnest. Once the place is clear, Seth and Charlie advance on McCall. Seth pulls his gun, cocks it, and trains it on McCall. McCall closes his eyes in fear.) Seth: I’m Seth Bullock
Utter: I’m Charlie Utter. Seth: And if you got your head blown off, sitting here with your back turned, that’d be as fair a play as you gave him. (McCall waits for the bullet. Seth hits him on the head with the gun butt and knocks him out. McCall falls to the floor, whiskey spilling next to him.) --( McCall draped over a horse, his hands being tied by Seth. The laconic cowboy walks by.) Cowboy 1: Guess you wanna soften him up some before you make your offer? (Seth eyeballs him.) --( Charlie and Seth leaving with McCall.) Seth: My plan is to take him to Yankton for trial. If you’ve got a different idea, go right ahead. Utter: Naw. Let’s take the cocksucker to Yankton. (The men ride off) --------------------------(Inside the Gem. Dan is busing tables, Miles and Flora in the background) Dan: Naw, I don’t know of a Henry Anderson in camp, but that don’t mean there ain’t. Miles: This was took of him in the Union Army – he’d be twelve years older now. (Flora walks toward Dan holding the picture) Could you let her hold it – Flora: It’s had so much showin’ it’s pretty near fallin’ apart (She backs into Dan, he looks down at her) Here.. Third from the middle. (Dan puts his hand atop Flora’s in a caressing manner) Dan: Right there? Flora: Yeah. Dan: Nah, that face don’t look familiar. Flora: Thanks for lookin’ Dan: You’re definite he’s in these hills? Miles: He wrote from Bismarck – said he’d send for us when he got set up. Asshole: I just gotta say, it’s no guarantee that your dad’s anywhere near this area, (Dan glares at the Asshole, arms folded) and there’s no fuckin’ joy in me tellin’ yuh that, but it’s the goddamn truth and the way human beings are. Flora: He said he’d send for our mother and us…
Dan: Flora: Dan: Miles:
Is yer momma here? She passed. Sorry. (Dan begins walking away.) Well, good luck. D’you know of work for me?
(Dan, still walking, shakes his head in the negative.) Dan: No. (Al’s walking down the stairs) Al: She can get work right here. Miles: No sir! Flora: No, thank you. (Al scrutinizes Miles) Al: Miles: Al: Miles:
Can you push a broom? (nodding) And I can start now. Four bits a day. And I’d bet you’d like the first in advance. If you wouldn’t mind
(Al turns, looks at Dan, inclines his head toward the boy) Al:
Same for her – as regrets for me being such a ruffian.
(Dan hands out coins to Miles, and then Flora) Dan: Here y’go, honey. (Flora turns to Al.) Al:
If I don’t fire him first, you can pick him up at ten.
Flora: (to Al) Thank you, sir (to Miles) I’ll wait for you, Miles. Miles: Find a safe place to wait, y’hear? (Flora leaves. Al glances over his shoulder at Jewel.) Al:
We teach a special sweepin’ technique here. Follow her lead.
(Miles looks puzzled.) ------------------(FADE UP on the pest tent. Jane is tending to the sick. The Rev takes a cloth, dips it in water, and puts it on poor unlucky Joey’s lips, and then his head.)
It’s all right, son, it’s all right. (He turns and looks at Jane, gets her attention.) Excuse me. (Jane gets up and walks over to the Rev.) I’m required to be at the graveyard. The widow Garret is laying her husband to rest. Jane: I’d’a bet a month’s wages that burial woulda took place in New York City. If I had a fuckin’ paying job. Rev: (glancing back at Joey) The wet cloth to his lips seems to give him some relief. Jane: All right. Rev: Thank you. Rev:
(Rev leaves. Jane goes over to the cloth, sees it bloodied, walks away with it. She passes Andy Cramed, who’s being looked over by the Doc.) Jane: What do you think of my patient, Doc? Doc: Well, he might wanna steer clear of his reflection awhile, but you’re symptom-free, yuh ain’t contagious no more and yuh can’t get reinfected, so – (Jane’s rinsing out the cloth.) Jane: Them as heals under my care stay fuckin’ healed. Thanks, Doc. I’ve got clothes for you back here. (Goes off in search of clothes.) Hereafter, in calamity, I’ll be sure to call for Jane. You gonna stick around the camp? I believe I will for a while. Good, cuz I’m gonna monitor your activities, find out what you do weighs so heavy on your fuckin’ conscience. When I first come on you in the woods, all’s you could say was “I apologize.” (Andy grunts bemusedly. Doc returns with the clothes) Afore you exhibit your johnson, I’m gonna see to this fella. S’long. Good luck to ya. Andy: Good luck to you. Jane: All right. Doc: You’re on your own for alterations. Andy: Doc: Andy: Jane: Andy: Jane:
(Jane in the foreground, clean cloth in hand, sits back down next to Joey as Andy gets dressed in the background.) Jane: Now, I’m gonna lay this cloth on your fuckin’ lips. (And proceeds to do so.) ------------------(Trixie looking out the window with Sofia as Sol pulls up in his wagon.) Trixie:There’s Mr. Star to collect us. Alma: Mr. Star has been ever so attentive.
Trixie:(Trixie looks over, stroking Sophia’s hair.) Very considerate Alma: To you. (Trixie looks out the window again. Al is pointedly watching her from across the way, sipping out of a tin cup, Trixie is concerned.) Trixie:When we leave the hotel, my boss’ll be watchin’… Alma: (irreverent) Shall I reel and stagger? (Trixie looks hurt, Alma is instantly contrite.) I – I know the risk lying to him has put you to – I’ve – I can’t imagine why I’d make it the subject of humor. Trixie:(smiling comfortingly) You’re feelin’ better. (A knock at the door. Alma goes to open it. Sol is standing in the doorway.) Sol: Alma: Sol: Alma:
Am I early? Good morning, Mr. Star. I’ll be ready in just a moment. I can have a cup of coffee downstairs – No, not at all. Wait in here – with Trixie! (Alma bustles out of the room. To Trixie) I’ll just be a moment
(Alma watches Trixie and Sol in the mirror, smug smile on her face.) --(On the street of Deadwood Sol, Alma, Trixie and Sofia leave the hotel. Al is watching from his window.) Al: EB: Al:
That widow ain’t high. Mebbe waiting till after the service. When she’d want to get good and fucking loaded is before the fucking service, against all the fucking carrying on. (Alma settles herself on the cart next to Sol. Al turns to E.B.) What do you think?
EB: Al:
Makes sense. Meaning…what that whore’s been telling me the last ten fucking days about seeing the widow takin’ the dope and your own fuckin’ assurances – you verify that she’s loaded personally – are both fulla shit. I checked in on the woman daily. If I was fooled, perhaps I’ve chosen simplemindedness, Al, over realizing a certain friend has used me as an instrument of purposes he conceals – Say what you’re gonna say or prepare for eternal fucking silence. (agitated) I don’t believe you commissioned me to make an offer on the widow’s claim to keep the regulators off you, Al. I think someone found something out there you want. (aggrieved) Assume you ain’t been privy to the ins and outs of that matter, for the sake of fucking conversation, huh? Was - was I asleep, E.B., when you and me declared undying loyalty and full-faith mutual disclosure
EB:
Al: EB:
Al:
EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
about every fucking detail of every fucking move we’re ever gonna fucking make together? You used me as a pawn, Al. And you fucked up the game, is the central fucking present issue. We agreed on $2000, you want a fucking percentage instead? Is that such an inconceivable proposition? Yeah, you got a percentage, E.B. (greedily) How big? Two percent of the first million, half a percent after. (happily) You want to feel a damp palm, Al, select either of these hands – Just get to the funeral, E.B., go to twenty if you have to. Just get that fucking claim. Twenty if I have to. My word.
------------------(At the Bella Union, Flora’s talking to Cy.) Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora:
What a handsome man. Wish I could tell you I recognize him. Thank you anyway. Your dad, I expect? Yes. You’ve reason to think he’s out here? He wrote us from Bismarck he’d be prospecting the hills. Us bein’…? My brother – he just got work over here. (cavalierly) Good for him. (pause) So, it’s just … the two of you? Our mother passed – why we come from Buffalo. And you’re out here lookin’ for your dad? Yes. …Henry? Yes.
(Eddie walks over.) Cy:
Out here looking for her father, Eddie. Her and her older brother. Got a photograph – I don’t -- I don’t recognize the likeness.
(Joanie comes down the staircase.) Eddie: No. Cy: Henry…Anderson. Flora: Yes. (Eddie looks at the photo again)
Eddie: Yeah, I don’t recognize him. (Joanie walks over, smiles.) Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora:
Well, what are you gonna do while your brother works? Work too, while we’re lookin’ to set aside if we have to move on. Yeah, if dad doesn’t turn up here, yeah. Well, what do you do? Cook, clean, uh – sew. Sweep. Uh huh. How quick do ya learn? Guess I learn pretty quick.
(Cy looks to Joanie.) Cy:
Maestro.
(Joanie smiles.) ------------------(At Brom’s funeral, the coffin on the ground.) We are strangers and sojourners. Mr. Garret’s burial place is a great distance from New York City, but his home is in his father’s house… Sophia: (over the Rev’s sermon, putting flowers on graves ) Ingrid…Marta…Mama…Papa Rev: …and on the great day, his father will take him into it, as he will all who confess his son’s savior from wherever we may be put to rest. Our hymn is “A Mighty Fortress” Rev:
(Everyone sings. Trixie smiles at Sofia.) Funeral Attendees: (singing) ♪A mighty fortress is our God…♪ (E.B. sees Seth and Charlie riding up. He scurries to Alma’s side as she’s singing.) My sympathies madam…(Alma stops singing and looks over at Farnum.) …but my own requirements force me to ignore what’s seemly. I must decide where to place my capital. Might raising my offer to, say, $19,500, uh, prompt you to an immediate answer? Alma: (Aghast) No, Mister Farnum. EB:
(E.B. begins to walk away, beaten. Stops, turns around. Seth dismounts and looks up at Charlie, who hangs his head down.) Utter: I’d as soon not see Bill now. I’ll see him some other time.
(Seth walks away, strides toward the funeral. E.B. tries again.) EB: I will require a decision within 24 hours— Alma: (interrupting) Please – stop speaking to me, Mr. Farnum. (E.B. gives up and walks away as Seth joins the funeral party. Seth nods to Sol who responds in kind. The Rev looks joyful and then confused, loses his train of thought. Alma resumes singing as Seth (looking mighty fucking fetching if I do say so myself) comes to stand next to her.) ------------------(Back in the Gem. Al counting money. Dan looks like something’s weighing on him.) Dan: I hope you ain’t gived up on that little runt of a girl, Al. Al: Oh, do you worry for her, Dan? Wandering the muck of our thoroughfare, her tiny self all but swallowed up in horseshit? (Dan just looks at Al, shakes his head, and goes off behind the bar. Al looks up and over at Miles.) Hey kid! C’mere! Miles: Yes sir. Al: Stand with us here a second. (Al and Dan stand with arms folded.) Miles: What – what’re we doin’? Al:
Miles: Al: Miles: Al:
Miles: Al: Miles:
Waiting. (Miles folds his arms over the broomstick. Waits. A man walks out wiping his mouth.) And out the door he’ll go, and prompt as a Swiss fuckin’ timepiece, three big-titted whores will now emerge from behind that screen. (Out come the big-titted whores. Al chuckles.) He lines ‘em up at two foot intervals, smock tops down, and all but sprints past ‘em givin’ their titties a lick, and if he misses a titty, does not let himself retrace his steps. No tellin’ me. Yeah. And then he goes on his way home, relieved for the day. What’s your name, it’s Miles, hmm? Miles, yeah. Yeah. Strange, huh, Miles, but – something ya gotta know about specialists – they pay a premium, and they never cause fuckin’ trouble. Sometimes I imagine in my declining years runnin’ a small joint in Manchester, England, catering to specialists exclusive. And to let ‘em know they’re amongst their own, maybe I’ll operate from the corner, hanging upside down like a fuckin’ bat, hmm? (Al sees Farnum enter the Gem. Al slaps Dan on the arm.) Oh, we’re not such bad sorts here, huh Miles? No, sir. So, do you wanna ask your sister if she’d like to reconsider, hmm? You don’t really mean that, Mr. Swearengen?
Al:
Of course I don’t mean that– how dare you suggest I’d mean a thing like that, huh?
(Al walks over to Farnum at the end of the bar.) EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
I did my part – raised our offer to twenty and demanded an answer within the day. But what, you cocksucker? Complications have ensued. Bullock’s come back. I expect she’ll want to take counsel with him. (flatly) Tell the whore I wanna see her. And I trust this doesn’t alter our agreement. I trust you know two percent of nothin’s fuckin’ nothin’
------------------(Seth and Alma at the absurd restaurant, serving themselves food) That fella from Montana I knew to trust won’t be able to assay your claim. I see. I’ll engage someone local, and I’ll keep an eye on him. As I’ve decided to stay in camp, Mr. Bullock, at least for the near term, I hope you’ll feel absolved of those responsibilities towards my interest that you undertook at Mr. Hickok’s request. Seth: I’d prefer to see ‘em through. Alma: They’re properly mine. I even feel marginally capable of shouldering them, and I certainly realize that you and Mr. Star have responsibilities of your own. Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma:
(Seth looks at Alma consideringly as he holds a pitcher. She walks past him. He looks vexed and puts the pitcher down.) Seth: Are you firing me, Mrs. Garrett? Alma: I’m – offering you – absolution. Seth: Otherwise, I’m stayin’ on. (lma smiles and nods. Seth pulls a chair out for her, then seats himself. She looks up at him.) Alma: (earnestly) I’m so sorry you were hurt. Seth: So – how hard are they comin’ at you to sell? Alma: (haltingly) I could confide, that in an effort to blur my judgment, Mr. Swearengen engaged intermediaries to indulge me with opium, but that would entail acknowledging that I’ve had a weakness in that direction. (Seth looks nonplussed.) Uh – more appropriately, uh, I could add at the graveyard, Mr. Farnum raised his offer – seven thousand, five hundred dollars, presumably also on Mr. Swearengen’s instruction, and set a 24 hour limit to my reply.
Seth: Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s comin’ pretty hard. Alma: Please forgive me for making you uncomfortable, Mr. Bullock. I had better manners before I began to abstain. Seth: That’s all right. (pauses) Anyways, are you at risk for the smallpox? Alma: I was inoculated in New York City. The child whose life you saved presumably has not been, but I assume she’s safer under my care than traveling in a covered wagon with strangers. Seth: Anyways, I’ll line up the assayer. Alma: Thank you. (They keep looking at each other.) Seth: You are changed. Alma: You seem to be, too. ------------------(In the hardware store, Sol’s talking to Trixie, who’s got Sofia in her arms.) Our stock’s depleted, but we are offering a 100% discount on any item that catches your eye. Trixie: I’ve got money. Sol: Our special get-acquainted-with-those-we’d-like-to-get-acquainted-with sale…(Charlie walks in carrying stuff.) Mr. Utter. Utter: I brought these pickaxes for you to sell. There’s two sifters on that black (?) out there. Sol: Mighty grateful, sir. Utter: (Utter looks around) You got this place just about built, don’t ya? Sol: Savin’ the last master strokes for Seth. Sol:
(Utter turns, sees Trixie, tips his hat.) Utter: Uh, hello. I didn’t see ya. Trixie:Hello. Utter: Hey – that’s that little girl, idn’t it? Trixie:I’m takin’ care of her for Mrs. Garret. Utter: Well, she favors you – she could be yours. (Trixie walks off to the back of the store.) I lost the receipts for my costs. Sol: Maybe while you was busy saving my partner’s life. Utter: (uncomfortable) Let me get these sifters for ya. (Sol walks out after Charlie, turns back to Trixie.) Sol:
See if you can make those accounts add up. (Trixie looks at the books, then back at Sol, smiles. He puts his hat on and heads out the door to Charlie, who’s getting the sifters off the horse.) I don’t know if you heard me inside, thankin’ you for helpin’ my friend.
Utter: I heard yuh. It’s all right. Sol: I’m sorry you lost yours. (Charlie still can’t deal with thinking about it.) Utter: All right. Thank you. (E.B. walks up to Charlie, who’s walking away.) Welcome back, Mr. Utter. We’ve had a mild increase in rates, but I do have a room available. Utter: I’ll see. EB:
(Farnum walks over to the hardware store, Sol is standing outside.) Sol: EB: Sol:
What do you want, Mr. Farnum? I have a message for Trixie. That’s lookin’ to that orphan child? She’s to see her longer-term employer. I’ll tell her.
(E.B., the weasel, steps closer to Sol.) EB: Sol: EB:
(smarmy) You know who that is? I know she works at the Gem. And even so, admit her to your trade at public hours. Congratulations, sir, on your advanced thinking. (shouting, to Trixie)Al wants you, Trixie. (to Sol) I’m a stickler for self-delivered messages.
(E.B. scurries off.) ------------------(Back at the Bella Union, Flora talking to Joanie.) Flora: Our dad ain’t here – I know it. Even if my brother don’t. Maybe he never even tried to get here. Joanie: Or maybe he did try to get here and couldn’t – maybe something happened to him. There are so many ways it could be, Flora, there’s not much point deciding which it was. Flora: He’d never think that, though. My brother. Joanie: Must be how he needs to do. Flora: (abruptly) I ain’t a virgin. If you wanna know that. I had a boyfriend in Buffalo. Joanie: And was you upset? To have to leave him? Flora: What do you think? Joanie: I don’t know
Flora: I was upset, at the same time he was a stupid son of a bitch. And rough. (Joanie pulls out a handkerchief and gives it to Flora. ) Joanie:
Here.
(Flora wipes her eyes and nose.) Flora: You can’t tell my brother about him. He’d make it back to Buffalo and shoot Louis in the head. Joanie: All that way in defense of your virtue? Flora: (hard) It’s more trouble than I ever took with it. ------------------Downstairs at the Bella Union. Andy Cramed walks in. Eddie leans over to Cy. Eddie: Cy. (Cy walks over to the advancing Andy. Cy raises his arms.) Cy: Lazarus risen. (smiles) Look at you, you son of a gun. Andy: Hello Cy. Eddie: Good to see you, Andy. Andy: (making to shake Eddie’s hand) Don’t be afraid to shake with me, Eddie. I ain’t contagious no more. Cy: Highly becoming outfit. Andy: I’m here for my belongings. Cy: Well – they’re gone, Andy. Measures to stop the spread. (Andy looks down. He’s upset.)Ah, hell. The important thing is you’re well. I’ll front whatever you need. Let’s get somethin’ going, huh? (Joanie walks down, sees the men.) Joanie: Andy…? Andy: In the flesh, sweetheart. Which ain’t much to look at. Joanie: You made it, Andy. (Cy holds money out to Andy) Andy: We ain’t gettin’ nothin’ going. All I come back for, Cy, was my things, and you tossed them too. Cy: Why don’t you take this and get yourself out of that clown outfit? And once you’ve cooled off a little, think how you’da done different with somebody showed up in the shape you was in and my responsibilities to meet.
Andy: Better, then, to throw him in the woods to fuckin’ die? Cy: Then don’t think about nuthin’, Andy. And go use the money for a whore and a toot and go join the fuckin’ circus. (Cy stuffs the money down Andy’s shirt, Andy walks out, Cy turns to Joanie.) Did you turn her out? Joanie: Her brother’s gonna be a problem. Cy: Fuck her brother. We’ll handle the brother if we have to kill the cocksucker. (He glances up.) That’s an interesting piece of strange. (Cy walks off leaving Eddie and Joanie to look at each other. Eddie walks off) ------------------(Al’s office, a knock on the door, Trixie walks in.) Al: Ain’t you a picture. Trixie:What is it? Al: Hmm? (He gets up from the desk and walks over to Trixie.) Am I – detaining you in some way? (Closes the door to his office) Am I fucking imposing? (He stands behind her.) Trixie:Mrs. Garret’s to sit down with Bullock. I thought you’d want me over there. Al: Ah, yeah, so you could give me a full and fair report, huh? But will the widow have her wits about her, Trixie, hmm, or will they be passing the opium pipe like heathens between ‘em, her and fucking Bullock, eh? Trixie:What’re you pissed off for? Al: (rubbing his temples) I ain’t pissed off, I’m in fucking wonderment. I’m waitin’ to be kept happy by the next fuckin’ fairy tale. Trixie:(softly) Do you want me back at the hotel, or do you want to do somethin’ to me? (Al walks over to Trixie and does the snatch grab.) Al:
Now why would I want you to go back there, hmm? Or rely on anything you said transpired after you lied about her taking the dope? Huhhhh?
(Al hauls up on the snatch. Trixie’s in pain.) Trixie:Her bein’ high. Wasn’t gonna have nuthin’ to do with whether or not she sold you that claim. And she wanted to get off the dope. And that little one needs someone to care for her, and maybe get her the fuck out of here, and I knew it wudn’t gonna be me. So you want me back over there and to tell you what they fucking decide – or do you wanna rip my fucking guts out? (Al releases his hand.)
Al:
Get back there, quick. (Trixie makes to leave.) Don’t kid yourself, Trixie. Don’t get a mistaken idea.
(Trixie looks back and then walks out.) ------------------(At Nuttall’s # 10 Saloon, Charlie walks in, takes off his hat. Nuttall sees him - nervously touches his hat...) Nuttall: Mr. Utter. Utter: This where Bill got killed, huh? (Nuttall nods guiltily, removes his hat, fiddles with it.) Nuttall: Uh. I’ll be sorry about that for as long as I live. Utter: Can ya … tell me about it? Nuttall: Yeah. It was about sunup, over at that Bella Union joint. Mr. Hickok plumb gutted McCall at draw. ‘N now here Mr. Hickok was, at poker again, say a couple hours of daylight left, ‘n in come that coward McCall. Walked up on him, ‘n shot him in the head. Utter: (in wonderment) Bill never know when he come in. Nuttall: Nope. Those of us that did, we didn’t have no inkling of what he intended. He just murdered him. Right where he sat. Poker Dude: If I may sir. (We see him stand up and tap a chair.) This is here where Wild Bill was sitting when McCall entered from the front and approached the table, causing no apprehension because he had often frequented the game. Of a sudden, McCall produced a revolver, and shouting “Take that, damn you!” he fired, muzzle couldn’t’ve been three inches from Wild Bill’s head, and I’m told that Hickok fell dead immediately, but I won’t testify to it, because the bullet, after it passed through Wild Bill’s brain, struck me in my right wrist, and I lost several seconds to pain before regaining my senses. Sir – you have my word as eyewitness to the rest, and I suppose this wound is added proof, for the doctors they feared crippled me, in the hand I use to write, where I will take the murderer’s bullet to my grave. (Utter shifts. Looks back up at Nuttall.) Utter: Thanks. (Utter leaves. Poker dude slaps the bar with his hand.) Poker Dude: Aces over eights. As I just now recall. (He seats himself again.) That is the hand that Wild Bill had.
Stapleton: Sure, sure. ------------------(Back upstairs at the Bella Union with Joanie and Flora. Joanie is fixing Flora’s hair.) Joanie: You like how that falls? (PAN to see the two of them in the mirror. Flora’s in fetching lingerie.) Flora: Sure. Joanie: Do you like it. Flora. Flora: (deadpan) Why not. (Joanie grabs Flora’s face with her hand, turns her head so she’s looking at her.) Joanie: I prefer you happy, honey. But if you can’t be, you need to pretend at it better than you’re doin’, or you’re gonna be hungry, and cold, and getting done to you for nothing outside, what you’d’ve made money to live on and save up besides, if you acted the part in here. Flora: I thought I only had to act it with them that want to stick it in me. Joanie: You never know who that might be, Flora. (Flora contorts her lips into a smile. Joanie lets go of her face.) There you go. (They turn back to the mirror. Flora considers Joanie.) Flora: I prefer you happy. (Joanie looks at her, saying nothing for a moment.) Joanie:
…or at least pretending better?
(And continues arranging Flora’s attire.) ------------------(Back at the pest tent, Jane is staring grimly at the ailing Joey. Doc walks over to her.) Jane: I think he’s dead, Doc. (Doc nods, closes the boy’s eyes.) Doc:
Could you tell the litter bearers not to make so much o’ getting this one outta here?
(Jane nods and leaves as Rev enters.) Rev:
Has young Joey gone to dust.
Doc:
Yeah.
(He slumps away as Rev gets closer to the body, Bible at the ready.) As flesh must, to be restored by the Savior’s return. (Doc just watches the Rev, as Jane comes back into the tent to attend to Joey. The Rev turns back to the Doc.) Mr. Bullock is back among us, and also…(gesturing to Jane)…also Mr. Utter Jane: Does Charlie know about Bill? Rev: They were together, Mr. Bullock and he. They’d captured Jack McCall. Rev:
(Jane raises her fists in triumph.) Jane: Rev: Jane: Rev: Jane:
I hope that’s only the beginning of what they fuckin’ did to’m. They gave him over to the federal authorities. Gave him over?! Rendered unto Caesar. (sorrowful) Jesus Christ!
(The Rev gestures shakily to his temple) Rev: Mr. Bullock was struck by an Indian’s axe – marked like the first born of Adam and Eve. Jane: (skeptical) Are you drunk? (The Rev leans forward, face close to Jane’s) Rev:
No.
(But then his face contorts – another seizure is beginning.) Jane: What the fuck is that? (Jane reaches out toward the Rev as the Doc begins maneuvering him to a sitting position.) Doc:
He’s all right. Reverend, all right, Reverend, all right, all right, Reverend. All right. (The Rev sits, still convulsing.) You’re all right Reverend. All right.
(The Rev slowly comes back to, um, normal, breathing heavily.) Rev: Doc: Rev:
He marks us sinful, and forgiven by confession. All right. (almost gleeful) He has told us and shown us. He has told me.
(Doc is staring intently at the Rev.) All right. (jabbing the Rev in the chest) You listen to me now, Reverend. You are goddamn exhausted and you give yourself no respite. And your seizures may owe somethin’ to that, but it also wouldn’t surprise me if you had a lesion in your goddamn head…(Jane looks on, eyes filling)…and that’s what’s giving you the seizures and generating your chats with the goddamn divinity. No goddamn offense intended. Rev: None taken, sir. Doc: Now, get outta here and get yerself some rest. Jane: Go on, Reverend. (Doc straightens up.) Doc’s tired too, only reason he’s talkin’ so fuckin’ harsh. Doc:
(The Rev mulls on this for a moment, then looks up at Doc.) Rev: Doc:
Could not the lesion be the instrument of God’s instructive intention, doctor, if I am so afflicted? Well, of course it could, his ways not bein’ ours and so forth. But could he not, Reverend, just once, you gettin’ outta here and gettin’ yerself some goddamn rest?
(The Rev looks confused, as Jane and Doc help him up. Rev exits the tent and Jane looks tearfully at Doc.) ------------------(Outside in the street, Flora walking with Terrence.) Flora: You have to go now. Terrance: We don’t have to do nothin’ – I’d pay the same price just to set with you. Flora: My brother works in this place up here, Terrance, and he keeps a hard watch. If you want to stick it in me again tomorrow, you better let me go in there by myself. Terrance: What time you gonna start? Flora: Eleven, I guess I’ll be receiving around noon. Terrance: All right, Flora, here’s – here’s a dollar anyway. You’re swell. (Terrence leaves, while Flora has an inscrutable look on her face. She secures the money in her waistband. Flora enters the Gem. Dan approaches, all smiles. He’s gussied himself up for Flora, he’s a Dapper Dan man and has put on a tie) Dan: Evening – evening miss. You’re early. Flora: Yes. Dan: Do I guess no luck finding Dad?
Flora: No. No luck. Dan: I knew you’d’a had a cheerier look on yer face if you had. Let me get you a place to set away from these rough sumbitches. (Dan goes to a table where a man is sitting, Flora follows.) Hey! (kicks the chair the man is sitting in) Do your drinkin’ at the bar or get the fuck outta here. (to Flora) Have a seat here. (Flora sits.) I --I’ll get you a beverage, you want a soft cider or a sarsaparilla? Flora: Cider, if it’s not a trouble. Dan: Soft cider. (Dan heads off to get his beloved a soft cider. He walks past the Asshole.) Asshole: Did she find her dad? (Dan leans in real close to the asshole.) Dan: (threateningly) Her chances of findin’ her dad are greater than yours of walkin’ outta this door upright, unless you shut your fuckin’ mouth. Ya got it? (Dan moves on. Asshole looks after Dan, silent.) ------------------(Back in the hardware store, Sol is putting the pickaxes away.) Sol: Swearengen’s has his hand on the tiller, far as dealin’ with this epidemic. Seth: Is that so. Sol: The dead don’t drink or chase women must be his thinkin’ on that subject. (Seth is clearly brooding about something.) Seth: That Indian fought like hell. Sol: Guess you did too. Seth: (tightly) Charlie figgered out how it musta been – the Indian had to kill me for comin’ on the burial place, ‘n maybe it’d been me, too, that killed his friend, cut his friend’s head off so his friend wouldn’t have eyes to see the sunset all those years he’d be lying there dead. So he had to kill me for that too. And he couldn’t, before he laid hands on me or the killing wouldn’t be honorable. (Seth looks over at Sol, tears in his eyes. Sol looks sympathetically at Seth.) We fought like fuckin’ hell, I’ll tell ya that much. And I never once had the upper hand, it just – happened out the way it happened out. He was just tryin’ to live, same as me, and do honor to his friend, make some fuckin’ sense out of things, and we wind up that way, and I wind up after, beatin’ him till I couldn’t recognize his face. For
Christ’s sake. (Seth pauses, choked up.) That Indian…saved Jack McCall’s life, I’ll tell you that fuckin’ much. Sol: Not for long. Seth: Brian McDonald not comin’ I want his recommendation who should assay that widow’s claim. Sol: Whose? Seth: Swearengen’s. (Sol looks puzzled as Seth makes to leave the store.) Sol:
(calling after Seth) Shit, Seth, get his opinion too who should guard that henhouse we’re gonna build
(Seth looks back at Sol in the doorway and then walks away.) ------------------(Back inside the Gem, Miles is lighting a lamp for Flora’s table.) Miles: So. You okay? Flora: Yes. Are you? Miles: Yes. They’re nice here. That Mr. Swearengen – he’s funny as all get-out. (CUT to Al, eating fucking fruit, as always.) Miles: (whispering to Flora) So what place would make a better score? Flora: Where I’m workin’ – but why not take ‘em both? (CUT back to Al, fork half raised to his mouth, as Seth walks into the Gem.) Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Can we have a private talk. Sure we can. (raises his fork) Should I be armed? Where do you want to talk. C’mere
(Al leads Seth up the stairs to his office as Johnny watches, with Dan watching…hmm, someone else.) Johnny: What d’you think of that? Dan: I think that son of a bitch better stop lookin’ evil at that little girl (We see the Asshole lookin’ evil at that little girl.) ------------------(Seth and Al in Al’s office. Al opens his drawer to get the bottle.)
Al: So, was it McCall improved your appearance? Seth: No. Al: Well, whoever got the job done, hope you gave as good as you got. And it’s good to have you back, what with me being superstitious and all hell breakin’ loose when you left. (Al resumes eating his fucking fruit.) I’m here to talk about Mrs. Garret. That planted her husband this morning? I wrote a man about coming to assay her claim but he can’t make it. Plenty of local alternatives. I want you to nominate someone. (chewing) Do you. So if any way his work was mistaken, I’d be comin’ after you. (inclining his head) You would. Yes. Well, since I got nothin’ to do with the fuckin’ venture, what if I decline to make the fucking recommendation? Seth: Then you better hope whoever I find does his job right, cuz I’m still holdin’ you accountable. Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
(Al sets down the fucking fruit and grabs the fucking bottle.) Al: I ain’t involved. EB Farnum offered on her claim. Seth: Farnum’s your waterboy. And I know what you been tryin’ to do to her. Al: So here you come, in all nobility, threatenin’ me with a dire result, if the property that widow’s husband thought worthless and wanted sold, turns out not to be pinched out. Seth: You and I know how it is, Mr. Swearengen. Al: How what is? (Seth stands.) Seth: She gets a square shake, or I come for you. (Al rises.) Al: What if I come for you – you ready for that. Seth: I guess I’d better be. Al: Then close your fuckin’ store, cuz bein’ ready for me’ll take care of your wakin’ hours, and you better have someone to hand the task off to when you close your fuckin’ eyes. Seth: We understand each other.
(Suddenly, there’s shouting from downstairs) Johnny:
Al! Al!
(Al runs to the door and sees Dan doing the dance of death with the Asshole.) Al: Jesus fucking Christ. Walk right past me, Your Holiness, so I can shut my fuckin’ office. Johnny: Al! (Dan is holding the Asshole against a post as he struggles. Al is walking down the stairs.) Dan: (muttering into Asshole’s ear) Stare at her now, huh? You like fuckin’ little girls? Well, take a look at that little girl, cuz she’s the last thing you’re ever gonna see. Stare at her now, cocksucker. Al:
(shouting) Let him down! Let him fucking down!
(Dan pulls the knife out. Asshole falls to the floor, dead. Al looks back up the stairs at Seth.) Al: Or should I’ve had him hold him up? Seth: You heard what I said about the widow. Al: Oh, yes, your Holiness. You heard me too. (Seth walks out of the Gem, stepping over the Asshole’s body.) So I take it this was a fair fuckin’ fight, yeah? (Murmurs of assent throughout the Gem as Al makes his way down the stairs.) Two free drinks for everybody! And drinks all night for them that helps with the disposal. Dan: (to Flora) I’m sorry that you had to see that Al: Shut the fuck up, Dan and get her the fuck away from here. Now! (Miles takes a shocked Flora out of the Gem, walks past Al.) Miles: Sorry, Mr. Swearengen. Dan: (to Al) I warned him not to look at her – I warned him. Al: Fuckin’ pussy. ------------------(At the graveyard, Jane is talking to Bill’s grave, hat in hand) Jane: That Joey passed this afternoon – bin sufferin’ awful. But that frog-lookin’ fellow left the tent…(Someone else is approaching the graveyard.)…that I found up in the woods? Left the tent fucking cured, pronounced by the Doc himself. In the dumbest lookin’ outfit a grown man ever wore. (Jane suddenly senses another’s presence and pulls her gun.) Who’s there, goddamnit? Utter: Who the hell’s it look like? (Charlie steps into the light, hat in hand.)
Jane: (belligerently) How the fuck do I know who it fuckin’ looks like? It’s dark! She holsters her gun and puts her hat back on. Jesus Christ, come upon a person unawares in a fuckin’ graveyard. (pauses, speaks gently) I heard you wuz back in the camp. I heard you and that Bullock got the cocksucker came for Bill. Utter: (hoarsely) Was Bill dead – by the time you saw him? Jane: Yeah, he was already dead. Utter: Why did he let that son of a bitch get to him? Jane: (softly) I don’t know, Charlie. (more jovially) Anyways, people don’t scare me past speakin’, I come up here nights, tell ‘im the fuckin’ news. (Charlie looks over at Jane, shifts his feet, backs up, puts his hat back on.) Utter: Go ‘head. (Jane takes her hat off, so does Charlie) Jane: Charlie avenged your fuckin’ murder. Utter: And that Bullock fella was with me, that you seem to like. Jane: Oh, and it occurred to me to wonder why the fuck they didn’t do for the cocksucker right on the fuckin’ spot. Utter: Is that somethin’ we need to get into in front of him? Jane: You got the biggest mouth in the Territory – you talk to him. Tell him whatever you want. Utter: I got that mail route in Cheyenne that we talked about. I was bringin’ back supplies for them hardware boys, and I run into that Bullock fella. He was out there, lookin’ for that McCall that killed you. ‘N he run into some heathen, boy, and he had one hell of a fight, boy, he just, he got, he got fuck, fuck…(Charlie breaks down, Jane puts her hand on his shoulder) Can I tell him more tomorra? Jane: Sure, what the fuck you askin’ me for? I don’t make the rules. (Jane puts her hat back on and grabs the lantern. Charlie puts his hat back on.) Wanna go back to the camp? Utter: Please. (The two walk down the hill together) ------------------(Inside Alma’s hotel room, she’s dithering on to Trixie) Alma: And what must Mr. Bullock have been thinking, as I inflicted my personal confidences upon him? Trixie:I dunno. Alma: (dramatically) Nor do I. At least he kept a decent privacy.
Trixie:I have to go back to the Gem. He’s waitin’ for me now, to tell him yours and Mr. Bullock’s thinkin’ about sellin’ the claim. And I won’t be able to lie anymore. Next I tell’ll be my last. So I better just get back there. Alma: Mr. Swearengen discovered our deception? Trixie:Yeah. Alma: How? Trixie:(acerbic) Lookin’ at you walk out the fuckin’ hotel Alma: (anxious) He did not. I was careful to see he wasn’t watching in the window. Trixie:It don’t matter, Mrs. Garret. Point is, I gotta go back. And you need someone to look to this child. And with choices bigger elsewhere and nothin’ I can tell to hold you here, maybe you’d better think about sellin’ and gettin’ out. Alma: Would you want to take the girl and go? Trixie:Where? I have no people anywhere. Alma: You could go to New York. I could have my relatives there see you established. Trixie:(darkly amused) What the fuck? What would keep you here? (Sophia peeks over at the two women.) You want to fuck this man? Fuck him. Then think about the child. Alma: (upset) Don’t use that language with me, Trixie. Or that tone. Trixie:Don’t you want to say, to remember my place? I do, you rich cunt. And I’m goin’ back to it. (Trixie walks away from Alma, sighs.) She’s about to say her name, y’know. She named her sisters, and her folks. (Trixie turns back to Alma.) Think of sellin’. If you took her away you could hear her say it. (Trixie leaves.) (Sofia looks over at Alma. Alma sighs, upset, and looks at Sophia.) (Credit roll with Lyle Lovett singing Old Friend.) Credited cast:
Timothy Olyphant Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker Alma Garret Jim Beaver Ellsworth Doc Cochran Brad Dourif John Hawkes Sol Star Paula Malcomson Trixie Leon Rippy Tom Nuttall William Sanderson Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert Calamity Jane
W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie
Dan Dority Charlie Utter
"Bullock Returns to the Camp" Episode: #1.7 - 2 May 2004 Guest Appearances Kristen Bell Flora Anderson Sean Bridgers Johnny Burns Greg Cipes Miles Anderson Kim Dickens Joanie Stubbs Garret Dillahunt Jack McCall Zach Grenier Andy Cramed Peter Jason Stapleton Ricky Jay Eddie Sawyer Geri Jewell Jewel Ray McKinnon Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Nicolas Surovy Captain Bree Seanna Wall Metz Girl Everette Wallin Richard Wharton Clay Wilcox Jim Cody Williams Terrence Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 8 - Suffer the Little Children (In the gem, Jewel is busy scrubbing at the bloodstain on the floor left behind courtesy of Dan’s dislike of a customers look towards Flora earlier that night. Upstairs in Al’s office, Dan is sitting across from Al, who is sitting at his desk. Dan is picking at a spot on the tie he is wearing.) Al:
You might, Dan, want to learn how to indicate interest in a girl, other than murderin’ another person. Dan: I apologize for the disruption, and the free drinks you had to give out, restorin’ order. EB: Jesus Christ, it’s false dawn, Al. False dawn already. If we’re gonna act, we should do it in darkness. Al: Where’s the fucking whore? EB: Well, wherever Trixie is, we know what we need to. Bullock’s four square behind the New York woman. The question’s do we act? And to me, the course is clear. Al: Well, what’s the course? EB: Murder them where they sleep! The New York woman and Bullock both. Al: Dan. Loan EB your knife. (Dan reaches to his side for his knife) EB: Now, I won’t brandish the knife. But I’ll wield a pass key at the widow’s door. As for Bullock, he sleeps on his store’s second floor. And I’ll steady a ladder, Dan, at that wall. While you climb up and bushwhack him. Then, with them dead and disposed of we forge a predated bill of sale. Take possession of the claim. With the allocated percentages of ownership previously agreed to in our internal discussions. And don’t spend a fuckin’ dollar in the process! (E.B. has a clever, proud, excited look on his face. Al and Dan look at each other like he’s gone nuts) Bold? I suppose. But when boldness is called for, bold men do not shrink. Al: That’s what the ‘B’ in E.B. Farnum stands for. Dan: Bold Al: You’re goddamned right. EB: Say it, Al. Say the fuckin’ words my bones already know. You’re gonna back off on that fuckin’ claim. (Gunshots ring out in the street, we hear a bunch of whoopin’ and hollerin’ and general cheering outside. Al, EB and Dan all head for the balcony.) Rider1: We ‘brung’ it, sir. Vaccine for the “smallpox” secured in Cheyenne. Al: Well done, fellas. And congratulations on the entire fuckin’ settlement. EB, get downstairs and get these heroes what they’re owed. EB: Yes, sir. $50 a man. Al: Yeah, and if you don’t spend it in my joint I’ll turn the mornin’ over to weepin’. Rider1: Aw, you won’t shed nary a tear on our account, Mr. Swearengen. Al: Vaccine to Doc Cochran in the pest tent. Rider2: And We’ll be toastin’ a treaty too with the fuckin’ heathens. Al: Explain yourself. Rider2: Hell, they’ve all been called back to the agency, we heard that in Cheyenne. Al: Are they goin’s the fuckin’ question. Rider2: Fuck yeah they are.
Rider1: That’s the word in Cheyenne. Red Cloud and Spotted Tail are leadin’ their people in. Al: Dan, 10 dollars in bonus credits across the board for these heroes. 10 in pussy, 10 in faro, 10 in booze. Riders: Woo! Ah, ha ha! Rider1: God bless you, Mr. Swearengen! Al: Well, not likely. But my short term prospect’s just improved. (Al goes back into his office from the balcony. EB is still inside, waiting for him.) EB: Al:
EB: Al:
Say the words, so I can let the dream die. EB did you not hear the fucking news? Did you not listen to the fucking news? The plague’s end in prospect. And so’s peace with the fucking dirt worshippers. (Al opens the shutters leading to his bedroom from his office. He waves EB in.) Come here, come here. Sit down. The dam…has broken, young man. And only ourselves can fuck up. For we are about to be swimmin’ in money. And how could we fuck up? By engaging in open fucking bloodletting. And right here at hand, in our very hour of need, is the priggish fucking douche bag Bullock. Who only wants to sell pots and pans, fan his pretty face and hold his nose from the stench of our fuckin’ sordid carryings on over here. All the time thinking he can protect the meek and innocent. The perfect fucking front man, and you wanna kill him? Much as we might want the widow’s claim, it’s a luxury now to forego. EB, find yourself somewhere to lie down ‘til the feeling passes, huh? First, I’ll go give the hoople-heads their money. Thank you. (Stands up and leaves)
(Takes off his vest, lays down on the bed and begins to undo his pants. Johnny enters the office and looks over at Al, on the bed) Al:
You go find that fucking whore.
(Johnny gives Al an “OK” and “Thumbs up” hand signal.) Al: What the fuck is this? Huh? (Imitates Johnny’s hand signals) Johnny: (hoarsely) I lost my voice. (Al covers his face – like he’s thinking “unbelievable! I’m surrounded by idiots!”) --(Joanie’s room upstairs at the Bella Union. There is a knocking at her door. When she opens the door, Flora is standing there looking scared with big doe eyes) Joanie: What happened? Flora: I seen somethin’ bad. Joanie: Come in. Here, sit down. (Flora sits down on the bed)
Flora: I seen somethin’ at the place my brother works. A man was stabbed and killed right in front of me. (Joanie pours a drink) One man said he didn’t like the way the other man was lookin’ at me and he stabbed and killed him. (Flora looks up at Joanie with big doe eyes and as she is looking up at Joanie, she takes off her shawl.) Joanie: Drink this. (Hands Flora the drink) Where’s your brother now? (Flora drinks some whiskey, she’s looking down at her hands.) Flora: We got a room. (Looks up at Joanie with those big eyes again) I’ll go in a minute. Joanie: It’s alright, Flora. (Joanie sits down on the bed next to Flora) Flora: I just come to say…I don’t know if I can do this. It’s horrible! It’s one thing leads to another, and you never know when it’s gonna happen. Joanie: But mostly, you can steer it, sweetheart, and when it’s going to get to where you can’t, you get just a little notice, just a couple of seconds, before the one thing turns into the other. It’s like a funny smell comes into the air. And then you know, there’s no more steering and get the hell out of the way. Flora: I smelled it in the saloon. Joanie: And did you get out of the way in time? (Flora nods and starts to cry) It’s alright, it’s alright. (Flora puts her head down in Joanie’s lap) Flora: Miles doesn’t know nothin’. He didn’t smell nothin’ and didn’t know nothin’ about what to do. Joanie: Alright, I know. Flora: Can I stay? Can I sleep here with you just this last little while before we have to get up? Joanie: Yeah, you can sleep here with me. (Flora sits up, takes off her boots, undoes her camisole) Flora: Can you help? (Turns her back to Joanie, J helps her take off her bib type thingy, Flora unbuttons her bustier a little bit, lays down, unbuttons a little more, Joanie caresses her shoulder briefly, runs her hand down Flora’s arm and ends up holding her hand.) --(The next morning, out in the street, people are lined up in front of the hardware store for their smallpox shots. Andy Cramed is manning the sign in booth.) Andy: Name? Hoople head: Boland Andy: Make your mark. (Up on the balcony of the Bella Union, across the way, Cy and Eddie are watching Andy man the sign in desk.) Cy: Saint Andy Cramed. All that’s missin’ are the scourges and flays. Eddie: Maybe they’re under his shirt. (Cy laughs, Andy gazes up to them on the balcony…Inside the hardware store, Doc & Jane are giving the shots.) Doc: Kind of you to let us work out of the horseshit and flies. Seth: Sure.
(Jane sticks Charlie Utter with the vaccine. He stands up ) Utter: Oh. Uh-oh. (Falls over) Jane: Jesus Christ! (Jane looks over at the Doc, he just looks at her, she opens her arms out slightly, palms forward like “WTF am I supposed to do about this?” Doc looks back down at what he was doing) (Johnny Burns sits down in the Chair in front of Doc, ready for his shot) Johnny: (Hoarsely) Ha-have you seen Trixie, Doc? Doc: What? Johnny: (Puts his fingers in a triangle shape over his groin. Hoarsely again:) Trixie. Doc: No. (Sticks him with the needle – Johnny gets up and starts to head for the door.) Tea and Honey. Johnny: For this? (Motions to his arm) Doc: You are a stupid sonofabitch. (Seth is looking at Johnny) Sol: Yeah, the traffic’s a boon, Seth. Brought $27 already from yesterday’s entire proceeds. Seth: Good. (Seth walks out, after Johnny. Leave Sol behind with his eyebrows still raised excited from the profit.) Jane: Pitiful Specimen you are. (Jane helps Utter stand back up) Utter: It wasn’t a pin prick. I ain’t ate. Jane: Really. Strange you never keeled over when we was hungry on the fuckin’ trail. --Seth: (Outside, following Johnny) Your boss speak to you about sending me an assayer this morning? Johnny: (hoarsely) Um, no, sir. He didn’t. But I will, remind him once I finish his errand…got one..I only got one place left to look. (Seth looks over into the line and sees Alma with Sophia) Bella Union and that’s our competition. Well, I’ll tell him what you said. (Johnny heads over to the Bella Union and Seth walks over to Alma Throughout this conversation the line for the smallpox shots they are in is advancing, with Seth walking alongside them.) Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma:
Seth: Alma:
Good Mornin’. Good Morning, Mr. Bullock. You’ve come to have the child inoculated? Yes, and to tell you, for reasons we needn’t explore, that my plans have changed. As soon as I can arrange transportation, (Seth looks away, confused) I’ll return with the child to New York City. (Looking back at Alma, intensely) Why needn’t we explore your reasons? Because, Mr. Bullock, I’ve already quite sufficiently imposed upon you my private reasons and facts. (Seth looks confused, he looks like he wants to say something, begins to open his mouth, but Alma cuts him off.) As regards to the claim, my husband purchased before his murder, I’m inclined to accept the last bid from Mr. Swearengen’s hand puppet. And I would be very grateful if you would tell Mr. Farnum so, as speaking to him directly makes me ill. (Seth smiles.) I’m gonna assay your claim, Mrs. Garrett. I promised Mr. Hickok and I promised you. I released you from your promise to me yesterday and today I specifically instruct you not to keep it.
Seth: And you do tend to change your mind. And the first promise, you weren’t a party to. (Steps in front of her) Why don’t you get the child inoculated? I’ll go about my business, and we’ll revisit the whole mess subsequently. (Seth walks away, Alma looks confused at first, then she smiles.) --(In the Gem, Dan and Al are downstairs. Dan is sitting down listening to Al who is pacing as he is talking, drinking coffee.) Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Seth: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan:
Don’t fuckin’ lead Ellsworth right to it so he can hoop and holler and hail fuckin’ Bullock. You walk around. You’re discouraged. (Looks up) It’s not even worth it to make the steep ascent. I start from below? You start at the fucking creek. What, do you want to start at the fucking cliff and the three of you leap the fuck off holding hands? (Seth enters) Top of the mornin’! (Gets up, strapping on his belt) I’m to lead you to the widow Garrett’s claim. You’re the assayer? Nope. Ahh. I’m to take you to him. He’s one claim over. Nice fuckin’ guy and a dead eye for the fuckin’ color. Ellsworth. Ellsworth, is absolutely right. Well come on! (Seth turns his head for a moment, looks back at Al with raised eyebrows, turns & they leave.)
--(Back at the hardware store) Alma: I was inoculated some time ago, but I thought she should be treated before our trip. Doc: I am delighted you’re taking her with you. Alma: It - it was Trixie (Sol looks over, ears perked) who made me realize my reasons for staying weren’t sound. Doc: Glad she succeeded where I failed. Alma: I intend to write her a note of profound thanks. I hope that you’ll deliver it to her at Mr. Swearengen’s saloon. Doc: Is that where she went when she left you? Alma: Yes. I—I certainly assume so. (Doc sticks his tongue out at Sophia – er “the Metz Child” as it were, She laughs, he sticks her with the vaccine, she frowns at him.) Doc:
Sorry, I’m sorry, honey. It’s all over. (To Alma) When will you be leaving? (Sol is still looking at Alma, he looks away, then back) Alma: As quickly as is practical. Doc: Mr. Utter can see to your travel arrangements. Soon as he, gets his wits back, I’ll send him to you. Alma: Thank you doctor. Thank you for everything. (They leave – Sol approaches Doc from behind as they both watch Alma leave) Sol:
What did she say about Trixie?
Doc: Nothin’. --(Jewel approaches Al in the Gem dining room with more coffee.) Al: How’d you do with that bloodstain? Jewel: I scrubbed it real hard. Al: Did I ask you how hard you fuckin’ scrubbed it? Jewel: No. Al: No. I asked if you got it out. (Walking over to “the spot”) Get me the fuckin’ scrub brush. (Muttering to himself) Every fuckin’ thing I gotta do myself, huh? (Louder) Where is she? Jewel: Trixie? Al: No Queen fuckin’ Victoria. Jewel: (Pokes her head out of the back room) Last I saw her was yesterday when she came to see you. Al: Just get me the fuckin’ scrub brush. (muttering again) Gives her word she’ll return. Where the fuck is she, huh? (Jewel is back with the scrub brush and pail of water) What’d she say to you when you saw her? Jewel: She said her pussy hurt where you grabbed it. Al: That has a ring of fuckin’ truth. Jewel: She said you nearly killed her. Al: She said to me she’d be right back. (Starts to scrub the stain) A fools fuckin’ errand anyway. (Scrub scrub scrub) I found out what I needed to know when I looked in that cocksucker Bullock’s eyes while Dority was spilling blood. That you have failed to adequately clean up. Jewel: You want me to do some more? Al: No, shut the fuck up. (Pauses the scrubbing) Now, what’s she doin’?? She makin’ a point? No grabbin’ at the cunt? Is that what she said to you? Jewel: No. Al: I mean, y—you-- she told you, right, that I grabbed her. Did-did she have an attitude about it? Jewel: She didn’t have an attitude she just said her pussy hurt. Al: Agh. Point’s made with the snatch grabs, okay. (Scrub scrub scrub) 50 other fuckin’ things I should be payin’ attention to, rosiest prospects of my career, (Johnny enters) and here I am on my fuckin’ hands and knees discussing snippets of information with a fuckin’ gimp! There! (Stands up, throws scrub brush in the pail) Now that’s how you scrub a fuckin’ blood stain. Johnny: I couldn’t find Trixie. (Arms open, shoulders in a shrug) Al: (To Jewel) You see her, you send her the fuck back to me. ‘Cause if I see her outside she’ll wish I had fucking killed her before. Johnny: That shot didn’t hurt too bad, Al. But it fuckin’ itches! Al: Yeah? Good. Johnny: You had your shot yet kid? Miles: (Taking down chairs) Not yet. The line was too long and I did NOT want to be late for work. Al: Open for business. And talk like him until further instructed. Miles: (Hoarsely) Yes, sir. (We see Jewel put away the pail) --(Doc enters his cabin – sees Trixie on the ground)
Doc:
Aww, Jesus. Trixie? (Sees the needle and the bottle of laudanum on the ground next to her, picks them up and puts them out of the way.) Goddamn it Trixie, wake up. Wake up. Trixie, (Knocking on door) Trixie, wake up. (Knocking) Merrick: Doc, Doc. Doc: What?! Merrick: Doc! (Enters) Doc: Stay the fuck over there! Merrick: It’s A.W., Doc. Doc: Stay the fuck over there anyway. Merrick: Aw, I don’t take your bad temper personally, Doc. The hours you’re working would try a saint. Doc: (Slowly) What do you want? Merrick: I’m in pain, Doc. In the small of my back, which I’m aware is a precursor symptom. (Doc is checking his eyes, feeling his forehead and turns him away so his back is to the wall) Doc: When did the pain start? Merrick: Am I warm? Doc: Answer the question. Merrick: Well, it’s become more concentrated and severe. (Doc slaps him) Why did you strike me? Doc: To secure your attention. When did the pain start? Merrick: The original pain I’ve lived with for quite some time. But in this last period it’s become much more concentrated and severe. In viewing the context of this outbreak, I knew I should consult you, ow! Doc: Well, you don’t have a fever. Merrick: I don’t? Doc: No. You put on weight? Merrick: May I ask that query’s relevance? Doc: It’s harder on your back as you get fatter. (Merrick considers this) Merrick: So in concert with the symptoms I’m already exhibiting, you’d say be alert for fever? (Doc pushing Merrick out) Doc: And work hard on your paper, and get yourself inoculated. Merrick: Uh-huh. Doc: And try to eat less! (Slams the door, pushes a chair under the knob to keep it secure. Walks back over to Trixie and lifts her up into the crook of his arm, supporting her in a more upright sitting position-still on the floor) Doc: You botched this job pretty good, didn’t you young lady? (Pinches her wrist – she squeezes her face up in pain) Now, you listen to me, if you want, I will do the job for you right. But first, I want you to know that that rich woman is leaving town and she told me that she would take you with her. And I know that you thought enough of that woman to help her get off this – this stuff that you tried to use to kill yourself with. But what I don’t know is – is if you wanted to die period, or ‘cus you thought you didn’t have a way outta here ‘cus you DO (squeeze her hand) have a way out. (Trixie squeezes his hand) Is that a vote for New York City? (She squeezes his hand again) Alright, then. (Squeezes her hand, shaking). ---
(Flora wakes up, Joanie is still sleeping next to her. She takes Joanie’s hand off her and sits up. She gets out of bed and starts to dress, a firm look on her face (the real Flora). Joanie opens her eyes and sees the look on Flora’s face as she is dressing. Cy is coming down the stairs when he hears Flora shut the door to Joanie’s room. He stops at the top of the stairs and looks at her…) Flora: Morning, Mr. Tolliver. Cy: Morning, Flora. I swear I saw you leave last night after your shift. Flora: I come back. A man was murdered where my brother works, at the Gem saloon. And I got scared. Cy: You saw it, honey? Flora: Yes, sir. I was there picking my brother up. Cy: Well, you’re brave to even be in a joint like that. (Reaches out and pats – well, shakes, her arm really, I guess as a comforting gesture. Joanie comes out of her room…) And after, sought refuge with Joanie, did you? Flora: Yes, sir. Cy: No better port in a storm. Flora: Anyways, I’ll go change. Cy: Good girl. Good for you. (Flora starts downstairs, passing Cy) You settle in real good, Flora. Flora: (Stops, turns to look back at Cy) Thank you, sir. (Continues on downstairs) Cy: Mmm-mmm, Joanie Stubbs. Is that a fresh scalp I see hangin’ from your belt? Joanie: She saw a gunning last night. She was upset. I held her. Terrance: I was watching for you (Cy and Joanie look down) at the door, Flora, but here you are, already inside. Flora: Not working yet, Terrance. Cy: Poor thing. Adjustin’ so smooth to losin’ her cherry and yet that upset by blood. Joanie: She lost her cherry back home, Cy. I told you that. Terrance: Gonna put your garters on now? (Flora says nothing and enters the whore’s room. Terrance is left holding his hat, dejected. Once inside, Flora pauses, turns, we see two whores sitting on a couch. One is rouging her nipples, the other is busy eating.) Flora: I’ll give you two dollars for that apple and a piece of cheese. (The whore quickly stops eating, grabs the money) Other Whore: It’s my knife. You wanna buy that? Flora: I’ve got a fucking knife. (The hungry whore hands her the apple and cheese. Flora turns and leaves, entering the main part of the Bella Union. Joanie & Cy are still talking on the stairs.) Flora: I’ll just be a second. And take my brother his lunch. Cy: Sure, honey. (Flora smiles and leaves) Unless she ain’t upset at all. ---
(Out in the street, Flora stops to study the Bella Union’s exterior architecture, noting the balcony and windows…) Terrance: What happened now, Flora? I thought you was changin’ into your garters. (Terrance tries to figure out what she’s looking at) Flora: You geek-looking fuck. Get away from me before I cut your fucking heart out. (Terrance turns and looks at Flora – surprised) --(In Alma’s room – she is packing. There’s a knock at the door…) Doc:
It’s Doctor Cochran.
(Alma heads to the door – gesturing to Sophia on the way. Sophia stands up and faces the door…) Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc:
(Opening the door) Doctor. Trixie tried to commit suicide with laudanum. My God. (Sophia turns and heads across the room) She punctured her vein. (Sophia stops and turns) That’s the only reason why she’s still alive.
(They both turn and see Sophia watching. Alma smiles at her and closes one of the interior doors) Alma: Who’s with her? Doc: No one at the goddamn moment is with her, Mrs. Garrett. Her situation in this camp isn’t such that that would be safe. Which is why, while trying to dissuade her from future efforts at murdering herself, I told a fib, invoking your name. And willingness to take her with you on your trip. Alma: Last night, Doctor, I made that very offer to Trixie. She refused. (Doc looks at her – momentarily stunned) More precisely, I offered to send Trixie to New York with the child to make the appropriate introductions to my family, and to pay to see them established. (Sophia crosses the room, the other half of the interior door is still open, she moves to watch…) Doc:
Is it possible, Mrs. Garrett, that leaving this camp and heading to New York City in—in service to you and the child might, to a girl like Trixie, appear a more realistic proposition than being dispatched on some cruel masquerade? Alma: (Eyes downcast, she shakes her head, she look Doc in the eye…) Please tell her she’s welcome. Tell her she’s necessary. If her indisposition doesn’t preclude it, I’d be happy to tell her myself. Doc: Thank you, madam. (Doc leaves – Alma sits down looking sad and lost, she looks up and sees Sophia watching her) --(At the claim, the men are negotiating the rocky terrain as they ascend. Bullock is in the lead with Dan and Ellsworth trailing behind…) Ellsworth: If I’m to get my throat cut, Dan, I’d rather not exert myself further. If I have any choice in the matter, I’d prefer one behind the ear.
Dan: Keep climbing, Ellsworth. You’re off the hook for seein’ that New York dude’s accident. Ellsworth: When Swearengen was moved to trust, I know you spoke for me hard. Dan: Well, I didn’t – just didn’t speak against you. You might try takin’ a gander over to your right. Ellsworth: You don’t have to tell me where to fuckin’ look. Seth: If you’re the goddamn assayer, shouldn’t I be followin’ you? (Dan smiles at Ellsworth) Ellsworth:
Head on back down, Mr. Bullock. We think we found a formation worth lookin’ at.
(Dan gestures excitedly for Seth to come see. Seth merely raises his eyebrows and looks up) --(Back at the Gem, Flora has just entered…) Al: Flora: Al: Miles: Al:
Young lady, thank Christ. I’d feared after the murder you’d shun us. I come for lunch with Miles. Well, bless you then for bein’ a caring sister. Miles! (Coming out from the back) Sir? Miles, you lucky sonofabitch. Your sister’s here with your lunch. She brought you a fresh apple and some kind of delicacy wrapped in swaddling. (Miles nods, Flora looks down and sees she’s standing on “the stain” and steps back) I’ve been scrubbing that bloodstain all mornin’, and the cripple has, too. Miles situate your sister to spare her to stand at that fuckin’ stain, huh?
(Miles grabs Flora by the arm and leads her over to a table…) Flora: Miles: Flora: Miles: Flora: Miles: Flora: Miles: Flora: Miles: Flora: Miles:
Let’s do it. Now? Now, and get the fuck outta here. What if—Flora, if we do it slow and right we’re 50 miles gone before anyone knows we blew. My boss is onto me. Savvy operator from Chicago and you could tell he’s onto you? Savvy enough that he didn’t crack, and I still could fuckin’ tell. (Pauses, looking at Al) You’re full of shit. You want to do it fast and dirty so you have to cut somebody’s throat. This joint, you want to take? (shakes her head) Where I work. Where your boss is onto you? I can move the dyke. Held me in her arms all night like I was a little fuckin’ kid. Can I assume there’s a fuckin’ plan?
(Flora stabs a piece of apple with her knife and eats it off the blade, staring at Miles) --(Seth enters the hotel lobby) EB: Mr. Bullock, what hold? Seth: Mrs. Garrett’s room. EB: Uh, number two.
(EB studies Seth as he walks up the stairs to Alma’s room. Seth knocks on the door, Alma opens it) Seth: Don’t sell, Mrs. Garrett. (Alma looks at him quizzically, he opens his saddle bag and she looks inside. She can’t speak, she holds her index finger up indicating for Seth to wait a moment, she goes back inside to Sophia) Alma: Darling…um, uh, I-I’m going to be unspeakably rude and leave you here alone for just a moment, while I go downstairs with Mr. Bullock, who’s just arrived with the most interesting news, and whom I—I can’t receive here in my room, particularly with you present, for reasons too boring and complex to explain. So I’m going to go downstairs to speak with Mr. Bullock in Mr. Farnum’s absurd restaurant. And then I’ll come back up and we will continue to ready our leaving. Alright, darling? I’ll be in the restaurant for just one moment. Can I bring you a glass of milk? (Sophia just looks at her) Alright. I-I’ll be right back. (Alma leaves the room, she and Seth head downstairs…) EB: May I enquire as to the assay’s outcome? Seth: Ask the owner. EB: Mrs. Garrett? Alma: (Turns to Seth) Is the technical term “bonanza”? Seth: That’s the look of it. Alma: It’s a bonanza, Mr. Farnum. EB: I see. Congratulations. Mmm-mm-mm (EB doesn’t look so good, a little sick) --(Sitting at a table in the restaurant…) Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth:
Does the find change your mind at all about New York City? (hesitates) I can’t see why it would. I can’t, either, but I don’t count. Of course you count. Why wouldn’t you? ‘Cause your changes of mind come so quick and often, I can’t keep up. I can’t understand what changed your mind from yesterday when it was made up to stay. I was made to understand last night that my reasons for wanting to stay have been completely selfish. By who? Trixie. (Seth’s eyes gaze down) Uh-uh, I-I’d offered to send her to New York City with the child, where Trixie, I’ve since come to realize, would be completely unsuited. And because I wished to stay here unencumbered when I should be caring for the child. Why can’t you care for her here?
(Their eyes meet…) --(At the Gem…) Al:
Where the fuck is he?
Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Miles:
Said he was gonna go tell the widow of her find. How the fuck long does it take to tell her? I don’t know, Al, I’m here with you. (Wiping his face with a towel) What, are you getting’ smart with me now? No. (Wipes his neck off – shaking his head) Cocksucker Bullock. When you can’t stand the sight of him, he’s nowhere but underfoot. Sir, my sister was told of a man who resembles our father’s photograph down by Lead. And I’d be grateful if this afternoon I could go look and maybe I could take a night shift to make up. Al: If I said no, I’d hope you’d walk out and go lookin’ anyway. Then seek a new job elsewhere after. Miles: That’s what I’d do, sir. Al: Alright, kid. Go look for him. Tell Arnette at the livery stable I’ll stand metal for the horse. Dan: If your sister looks with you, tell Arnette I’m good for her mount. (Al looks at Dan, one eyebrow raised) Miles: Al: Miles: Al: Miles:
So you think it’s a good idea to go? It’s why the fuck you’re here, isn’t it? Right. I’m gonna go get the horses then. Permission to leave the bar, trooper. (Al salutes, Miles salutes back) Thanks to both of you.
(They both look at Miles quizzically, as Miles leaves, Seth enters…) Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al:
Ah, struck rich for the widow, huh, Bullock? Free drink! (Al grabs a bottle and two shot glasses, pours them, does a shot) Big, huh? (Seth drinks his) Rich and fucking thick, that vein is? Not being expert, I can’t guess at the extent. Dan’s a fucking expert. When he’s not shit-faced drunk, so’s Ellsworth. Well, the immediate result is she won’t be sellin’. Of course she fucking won’t. I should fucking think not, huh? Well, not for any 20,000 at least. Come here, Bullock. Come drink with your vanquished foe. (Seth raises his eyebrows, grabs his shot glass and follows Al to a table) Very good of you and Mr. Star, incidentally, to make your venue available so the hoople-heads can get vaccinated. I was the second hoople-head stuck. Them riders that brought the vaccine say the heathens have been called back to the agency. In a spasm of good sense, they’re fuckin’ going. I heard. (Holds his glass up to Al & drinks) Before you know it, we’ll have laws here and every other fuckin’ thing. Yeah, which brings me, Bullock, to the matter of the widow. I wanted to show you my bona fides for cooperation. If a treaty is signed, be wise for you and me to paddle in the same directions. Tics or habits of behavior either finds dislikable in the other gotta be overlooked or taken with a grain of salt. Would your bona fides extend to Mrs. Garrett’s future safety? (Considers this remark – holds up his glass…) My oath is this: Every day that the widow sits on her ass in New York City, looks west at sunset and thinks to herself, “God bless you ignorant
Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
cocksuckers in Deadwood, who do strive mightily and at little money to add to my everincreasing fortune,” she’ll be safe in the wiles of Al Swearengen. (Drinks) She’s stayin’. (pauses) The oath stands as a gesture to you. Can I take a shave over here? Please. (Seth gets up and walks to the barber chair) Barney, be careful in the uh, area of the throat, huh? If you authorized an offer of 20 on the widow’s claim, your agent was looking to skim a little cream. How high’d E.B. go? 19,500. I wouldn’t trust a man that wouldn’t try to steal a little. (Smiles at Seth – turns around with a look of rage on his face, stands up and goes to the bar) Where’s that fucking whore?
--(Alma enters Doc’s cabin with Sophia…) Alma: You stay here, sweetheart. (Sits Sophia down facing the entrance, walks over to the bed where Trixie lays. She touches Trixie’s arm, Trixie stirs) I’m so very sorry for any part that I may have played in this. Trixie:I don’t remember you being the one that made me a whore, Mrs. Garrett. Alma: I’m going to stay in the camp with the child, Trixie. Uh, Doctor Cochran explained to me the difficulties your extraordinary kindness toward me has put you in, in relationship to Mr. Swearengen. If you wish to stay, I’d be so grateful if you’d stay with us. (kneels down and touches Trixie’s arm) But perhaps you want to go, Trixie. If you do…(reaches into her bag and pulls out a hunk of gold) take this. (Puts it in Trixie’s hand) As your earnest claim on the future. I’ll send you more. Uh, I appear to have struck it rich. (Sophia leaves her chair…) I’ll send you all that you need. Sophia: Trixie? (Trixie smiles) Trixie? Trixie:Hello, sweetheart. Don’t I look tired? Sophia: (Puts her hand on her chest) Sophia. (Both women are surprised, this is the first we’ve heard her name. They look at Sophia with open mouths) Sophia. Trixie:(smiles) Sophia. You’re so beautiful. I should’ve guessed it. Take her home, Mrs. Garrett. Alma: (Stands – hesitates) How do you take my suggestion? Trixie:Are you sure that gold’s real? Alma: Absolutely. Trixie:Uh, let me think things through. Alma: Alright. (They leave, Trixie holds onto the gold) --(At the Bella Union, Miles is flirting with Elizabeth, he puts money in her cleavage…) Miles: What’s your name? Elizabeth: Elizabeth. Flora: (Finds Joanie and approaches her) I’m quittin’. Joanie: Alright, Flora. Flora: I left a pin up in your room. I want to go look for it. Joanie: Go ahead and look.
Cy:
When does that part come when that little piece of trim finally gets into her fuckin’ workin’ clothes and starts makin’ us some fuckin’ money?
(Miles and Elizabeth head upstairs) Joanie: She’s quitting, Cy. Cy: She’s quitting? And that seems to be your room she’s walkin’ into yet again. Joanie: She lost a pin…up there. Cy: A pin!? (Joanie sighs, heads upstairs. We see Miles & Elizabeth upstairs leaned up against a door, canoodling. Inside Joanie’s room, Flora is going through her jewelry box…Joanie enters and catches her…) Joanie: Can you tell the stones from the paste? Flora: (Cuts Joanie a look) Show me which is which. Joanie: I don’t think so. Flora: Let me take it. Joanie: Get outta here, Flora. Put down my things and I’ll let you get out without raising hell. Flora: Why don’t you let me go with your things and shut your fucking mouth? Because I remind you of whoever the fuck I remind you of. Joanie: No. Now what are you gonna do, Flora, kill me? Flora: (Reaches down and grabs the knife from her boot) Maybe. Joanie: Do you think you’re gonna get out of here alive? Flora: I’ll give it a goddamn whirl. Joanie: You’re not gonna get out alive. You’re gonna die here. Flora: Who am I? (Stepping towards Joanie, Joanie backs up with each step) Your little baby? Your little sister? You? (Flora leaves) --(Cy watches Flora leave Joanie’s room, does a shot and puts his glass down…) Cy:
I wouldn’t move this.
(Gives “the office” to Eddie, Eddie nods and give “the office” to a man at the front door, Cy meets Flora at the bottom of the stairs.) Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy: Flora: Cy:
Did you find your pin? I did, sir. Joanie tell me you’re leaving us. Can’t take it anymore, sir. Decided I wasn’t cut out for it. My brother, too. Decided he wasn’t cut out for what? Sweepin’ up at the Gem saloon. (laughs) I see. And my first take on your meaning was they were fuckin’ your brother for money over there like you was gettin’ done to here. (laughs) Flora: Step aside and let me do my business. Cy: (Sees Joanie come out of her room) And what is your fuckin’ business? You with your beady little ferret eyes.
Joanie: She came to say goodbye, Cy. She’s movin’ on. Cy: It don’t feel right to me, babe. (Slaps Flora) Flora: Agh! (Falls down – everyone stops what they’re doing) Cy: But if I’m mistaken in my judgment, may I regret what I just did for the rest of my life. (Flora grabs her knife) Joanie: Now let her go! Cy: (Looks up at Joanie – Flora stabs him in the leg) Agh! (Flora screams) You little cunt! (Flora screams and starts running back upstairs, she runs past Joanie, who doesn’t move to stop her.) Cy:
You’re gonna die here!
(Miles comes out of Elizabeth’s room and runs to the balcony door, holding it open for Flora) Miles: Come on! (They run out to the balcony) Cy:
Get outta here! Get out! Get out front! Get around! They’re goin’ over the top!
(Miles jumps over the balcony, Flora throws her bonnet down to him) Miles: Come on. (Flora jumps down) Cy:
Don’t impede her progress, Joanie. Don’t do nothin’ rash.
(Flora and Miles run for the horses but the henchmen grab them, they struggle. Andy Cramed stands up – seeing what’s happening. Doc comes out and stands next to Andy – concerned. The henchmen are beating the two kids up. Jane marches out into the street. Cy comes out – his would wrapped. The whores are all out in the street watching, too.) Sol: Cy: Sol: Cy:
What are you doing?! What’s none of your business! Them two robbed my joint. That’s where they’re gonna be dealt with. I guess they needn’t get beat anymore out here. Take ‘em the fuck inside, boys.
(The henchman beating Flora chuckles. Jane, Doc, Andy & Sol watch – concerned but not moving) Cy:
And you can help your delicate sensibilities by turning the fuck away.
(One henchmen slings Miles over his shoulder and carts him inside, the other drags Flora inside in a headlock. Cy grabs Flora’s bonnet out of the mud and follows them in. Once inside, Joanie is sitting on the stairs. Eddie comes out of her room and starts down the stairs…)
Eddie: Cy wants you up there, honey. (Joanie, after a moment, stands up after a moment & follows Eddie up to her room…) Cy:
I tell you, sweetheart, your face come out of that in pretty good shape. Matters took a happy turn, you could still probably work. (Door opens) Come on in, honey. Over here on what the dagos call my sinister side. (gestures to his left) Although your beady little rat eyes don’t seem like they’re takin’ in the view. (Flora is senseless, she can’t focus, all is hazy) You bust somethin’ up there, sweetheart? (Cy starts hitting her on the head several times) Does that fuckin’ hurt you?! (Eddie looks down) You fuckin’ understand me?! (Joanie looks away) See, that upsets Joanie now. “Oh, Cy, do up the boy. My God, I can’t stand to see the other.” You want me to see to the boy, Joanie? ‘Cause you know I’m clay in your hands. Eddie: Cy. Cy: What is it, Eddie? We could all be elsewhere? Eddie: Nothing but true. Cy: Are you awake, Miles? Don’t be fuckin’ passin’ out, youngster. (Miles’ head is lolling about, his eyes shut) Next fuckin’ breath you draw, the smell of fuckin’ sulfur’s liable to be strong in your nose. (poking his chin) Where is your fuckin’ nose, anyway? Fuck it, Miles! (Flora gazes hazily at Joanie) You’re found fuckin’ guilty of bein’ a cunt. I’m hereby passin’ judgment for you lettin’ this little bitch push you around and tellin’ you what to do. When you were supposed to be a man and showin’ her the fuckin’ rules! (Slaps Miles) You hear me, Miles, and for bein’ the cunt you are now, before you could have been a man, (points gun at Miles) done your fuckin’ part, you little piece of shit. (Cy shoots Miles, Joanie tries to run away, Cy stops her…) I know you don’t want out of here, Joanie. Joanie: Don’t hurt her, Cy. Cy: (Jerks Joanie closer to him) Don’t hurt her? You mean before I kill her? Joanie: Yu-yes. Cy: (Thrust Joanie away from him) Listen to that, Flora. That’s the person you robbed, had those kind of (takes a necklace out of the bonnet) feelings for you. (Finds the knife in the bonnet and holds it up tauntingly as Flora tries to focus on it) But I’m the one you stabbed. (Waves the knife around.) See? (Flora tries grabbing for it) I think you’re fuckin’ skull’s broken, Flora. You’re trying for the knife. It’s maybe a foot to your left. (Flora grasps) Ah, this is fuckin’ pitiful. (Throws the knife aside, holds out a gun to Joanie) Why don’t you put that out of it’s misery? (Joanie looks at Cy – grabs the gun – points it at gasping, groaning, senseless Flora – Flora looks at her, Joanie cocks the gun, looks regretful, fires the gun) Flora: Ugh! (Joanie cocks the gun again and tries to put it to her temple, Cy grabs her in time) Joanie: Ah! Cy: Don’t do nothin’. Whatever you want to do will be a mistake. You keep drawin’ breath – right – here. (Pokes her in the gut) --(At the Gem, Dan nods to Al, Al looks behind him and sees E.B. approaching. E.B. looks at Al, takes
his hat off, Al does a shot…) Al:
You did everything you could, E.B., to preserve our fuckin’ interests. I mean, you know, sometimes the cards go cold. EB: Far as the events at the Bella Union, by all accounts, it was two young thieves, a boy and a girl. Al: We all know who they are. EB: Who they are now is late night vittles for Wu’s pigs. Dan: That young girl had me fooled. Al: Your dick had you fooled. And in that state of addlement, you mistook her purpose, her socalled fuckin’ brother’s and their entire fucking cockeyed story. (Does a shot) You did everything you could, didn’t you, E.B.? I mean, you went to the limit on our offer. EB: Everything humanly possible. Al: You did go to the limit? EB: Well, I went to the limit’s precipice. Al: Sounds like you didn’t go to the limit. EB: Al, I held back a few dollars. Against some final unforeseen turn. Al: Well, so we’ll never know if them few dollars you held back wouldn’t have made us both fucking rich. (E.B. holds his stomach, grunts, he looks rather sick now. Al does a shot, looks at Dan…) Al:
I’m goin’ up. (Grabs a bottle) You find out how much Tolliver paid Wu. Don’t want to be suckin’ hind tit on disposal fees.
--(Outside, Joanie is standing on the Bella Union’s balcony. Cy comes around the corner of the balcony and sees Joanie, he stands next to her…) Cy:
Don’t think I enjoyed that bullshit, Joanie. Certain things you…have to do to impress upon people what you’re willing to do. Do you like it? No. Do you enjoy it? No. Do you have to look like you do? Yes. I got Eddie in there. Gotta let him know. Capra’s downstairs gonna hear about it. When people come to rob you, Joanie, you gotta get rough. It looks like an act, it’s not gonna work. And then I grab your hand. And I think “My God, this poor fuckin’ girl.” But I did what I had to do in that room. And now I’m out here. I’m telling you, your happiness is important to me, and whatever the fuck I gotta do, if you’re too much in my shadow, if I make things too tough on you, then we’re gonna stop it. We’re gonna do somethin’ else. Joanie: Cy. Cy: You bring warmth into my life. I can’t bear to see you unhappy like this. I want to set you up in your own business here. Independent fuckin’ operator. I’ll put up the money. (Joanie shuts her eyes) And kind of interest in return, that’s fine, but that ain’t what this is about. It’ll be your place. I want you to feel when I walk in there that you can say, “I’m busy, Cy. Come back later.” And I want you to watch me turn around when you say that like I’m some rube trick with my chin down on the floor, “When should I try you again, Joanie?” “I’ll let you know, Cy.” That’s how I want you to feel. Joanie: I used to make you warm, didn’t I, Cy? And I could make you feel like something’s funny. Cy: You still do, honey. When you’re happy, you still do.
Joanie: Kill me to, Cy. Or let me go. Cy: I understood myself to be sayin’, Joanie, I want to find a way to give you a looser fuckin’ rein. Joanie: You’ve gotta figure out a way to mean it. And if you don’t kill me or let me go, I’m gonna kill you. (Their eyes meet – Cy looks down at Joanie’s hand, pats it, walks back inside. Joanie looks down into the street and sees Trixie walking along, slowly. Alma looks out her window and also sees Trixie, she’s heading back to the Gem. Doc is behind her on the street and also sees her walk back to the Gem. Inside, Jewel is back scrubbing the floor.) Trixie:Has he got you at your hands and knees at two in the fuckin’ morning? Jewel: I got myself at my hands and knees, wondering what became of you. (Trixie walks upstairs, Jewel stands up and watches her…) Trixie:Wake up, David. David: (David, chin propped on his hand, stirs from sleep) I’m up. (Starts wiping the bar, when he sees Trixie is now upstairs, he leans his chin back on his hand and goes back to sleep) --(Alma walks over to Sophia, tucked in bed and ready for sleep, and starts to sing, hesitantly…) Alma: ♪Row, row, row, row your boat♪ ♪Gently down the stream♪ ♪Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily♪ ♪Life is but a dream♪ --(Al is laying down in bed – the door opens and Trixie enters. She reaches in her bag and takes out the gold hunk, sets it on his bedside table. He sees her arm and grabs her hand, forcing her to face him. He’s looking in her eyes, sternly; he forces her hand off of her elbow, exposing her wounds. He looks at her with the realization of what she’s done to herself, or tried to do. She reaches out and slaps him. He looks at her, she starts to undress, as she rounds the bed, he pulls down the covers for her. She climbs into bed, naked, and lays down with her back to him.) Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane
W. Earl Brown Dan Dority Dayton Callie Charlie Utter Kristen Bell Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Greg Cipes Kim Dickens Zach Grenier Ricky Jay Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones W. Scott Mason Ray McKinnon David Nelson Bethalyn Staples Monty Stuart Bree Seanna Wall Jim Cody Williams
Flora Anderson Cy Tolliver Johnny Burns Miles Anderson Joanie Stubbs Andy Cramed Eddie Sawyer Jewel A.W. Merrick Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) David
Metz Girl Terrence
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode #9 “No Other Sons or Daughters” (In Al’s bedroom, Al is sitting on the edge of the bed pondering the lump of gold Trixie plunked down on his bedside table the night before. Trixie is asleep next to him. He gazes over at her, slams down the gold on the bedside table – startling her awake.) Al:
Her majesty awakes, huh? (Walks over to the chamber pot and commences pissing) Cocksucker’s gonna grace us with his fuckin’ presence this mornin’. Fuckin’ Magistrate Claggett will impart to me the attitude toward the settlement of him and his fellow lying fucking thieves of the territorial legislature at Yankton. (Finishes his pissing and proceeds to dress.) How fuckin’ much is it gonna cost us to get annexed when to get annexed when they sign a treaty with the fuckin’ dirt worshippers, huh? How hard is the legislature gonna squeeze our balls with regard to our title and properties, huh? I don’t want to talk to these cocksuckers, but you have to, in life, you have to do a lot of things you don’t fuckin’ want to do. Many times, that’s what the fuck life is, one vile fucking task after another. But don’t get aggravated. Then the enemy has you by the short hair. It’ll be different after the annexation. That’s all. There’s nothin’ to be afraid of. Everything changes. Don’t be afraid. (walks to the window, points down at the gold) I can hope those’ll be appearing on a regular basis.
Trixie: No. Al: No? (Looks out window, hands in his pockets.) How’s your arm? Trixie:It’s alright. (She smiles that subtle smile of hers) Al: Don’t fucking try it, doin’ away with yourself again, huh? (Al walks away from the window into his office, Trixie raises herself up onto her elbows and watches him leave, with that same subtly pleased smile on her face.) --(Seth & Ellsworth are heading to the restaurant, as they pass it’s window we see Alma serving Sophia her breakfast as Sophia is watching them through the window. The men enter the restaurant and as they approach the table, Sophia is playing with her bacon.) Alma: Good morning, gentlemen. Seth: This is Ellsworth, who found the gold on your claim. Alma: How do you do, Mr. Ellsworth? Ellsworth: Pleasure. Alma: And this is Sophia. Ellsworth: Pleasure, Sophia. (Seth is smiling at Sophia during this exchange – see! Not the first time! It’s not unSethian to smile at the child!) Alma: I’m grateful for your expertise and keen eyesight. Ellsworth: Luck’s what you want to congratulate me on, Mrs. Garrett. Seth: Until you decide how you want to develop it, Ellsworth can spend time enough at wages on your claim to sustain your ownership. Alma: I’m not as if I understand what you just said. (Smiling)
Seth: He’ll explain it all to you. Alma: Might we have a word, Mr. Bullock? (They walk to the archway) I’m certain Mr. Ellsworth’s are very capable hands, but I hope you’re not disassociating yourself from my affairs. Seth: I already got my impression of this fellow, Mrs. Garrett. This meeting’s how you form yours. Alma: I see. Seth: Then we compare notes and decide how you proceed. Alma: Fine. Seth: Toward a future point when you tell me my thinkin’s so consistently wrongheaded it’s a waste of your valuable time having to deal with me. (Alma smiles at this.) Alma: In any case, I know you have many claims on your attention. Seth: A couple. Alma: Thank you very much. Seth: I’d lean more on what I felt about this fellow than what I saw. (Touches the brim of his hat and exits through the hotel entrance. We see the red-headed pants shitter enter at the same time.) EB: Shit: EB: Shit:
EB: Shit:
EB: Shit: EB: Shit: EB: Shit: EB: Shit: EB: Shit: EB: Shit:
Late as usual. I just comes from the creek, Mr. Farnum. Washin’ my pants. A habit to cultivate. And under a rock down there, I found other pants of mine that I thought I’d lost. But seein’ as I gets drunk and, on occasion shits myself, I figured that must be how I lost ‘em in the first place. I imagine you makin’ your way from the creek rolling into the lobby when all others are abed, bare ass naked with shit streamin’ down your legs. Sir, no. It must have been the night that Mr. Hickok was killed. Now I recall that Mr. Hickok, he gives unto me like a letter for me to put in the post, but what with all the hullabaloo” and me getting’ drunk, I forgot about the whole ting. Uh, until I found my pants. (Pulls out the letter) Do you think I’m gonna touch that? No, uh, I didn’t get my pants wet, eh, and nor did I soil the letter when soiled myself, hey. That’s the miracle of it, sir. So I’m to believe that’s a letter written by Wild Bill Hickok just before his murder by the coward McCall? Just minutes before, sir. Addressed to whom? His wife, sir. Well I only hope you haven’t opened it. No, sir. Well at least that eliminates tampering from the list. Of what, sir? Crimes, in which your inebriation and sloth as my employee has implicated my hotel, which I will attempt to shield you from in the course of trying to extricate myself. I didn’t mean to extricate you, sir. I uh, I—I didn’t –
EB:
Just give me the confounded letter. (Shit hangs his head in shame) And none of this hangdog look. Shit: Sir. EB: Not a word of this to anyone. Shit: Yes, sir. (The shitter walks off to the restaurant and as he passes the hotel entrance we see Charlie Utter enter.) EB: Mr. Utter. Hearty congratulations on your new venture. Utter: Take a while to find out if those are what’s in order. (Looks at the floor and back up, approaches EB) Bein’ this is the first day of my enterprise, I wore this frock coat. EB: Very flattering. Utter: You don’t think it looks stupid? EB: Not to me, no. --(Back in the restaurant, Alma and Utter are conversing while Sophia looks on.) Ellsworth: Mr. Dority, all of a sudden stumbled, and in – in grabbin’ at scrub to steady him, I saw a color beneath. (Sophia plays peek-a-boo with Ellsworth, Ellsworth takes his hands away from his eyes and laughs) Ain’t you a little doll. Alma: She’s formed an instant attachment. Ellsworth: Well, anyways, I’m glad to keep your title good workin’ the surface, but the quartz outcrop we found, you’re not gonna know how rich your strike is until you sink some shafts. Now, I ain’t expert prospectin’ that way. I’m a man who works in creeks. Alma: Thank you for telling me so. Ellsworth: Not bein’ impertinent, your people gonna help you with this? Alma: My brother and my father are aware of my situation and my husband’s parents. I have no idea as to the prospect of their involvement. Ellsworth: Well, blood don’t always prove loyalty, but you’re gonna need some people on your side, Mrs. Garrett, ‘cause I believe you got a big one on your hands. Alma: I believe Mr. Bullock’s on my side. Ellsworth: No question about that. Alma: And I believe you are, tool. (Ellsworth Smiles bashfully) Utter: Excuse me. I was among them found that little girl. I’m glad to see her doin’ well. Alma: I’m Alma Garrett. Utter: How do you do? Ellsworth: Ellsworth. (Standing up, shakes Utter’s hand) Utter: Charlie Utter. --(Al’s office, Al is looking out the window at the sign for “Utter Freight and Postal Delivery Service, there is a knocking at the door.) Al: Come in. Johnny: Yes, sir.
Al:
You see this? “Utter Freight and Postal Delivery Service.” That’s what happens when you drop a fucking stitch. Johnny: What stitch did I drop? Al: I did. This freight and delivery service should’ve been opened by Persimmon Phil as a cover for his other fuckin’ activities. Johnny: He’s dead. Al: I know he’s dead now. Johnny: Well, if you don’t know, nobody does. Al: I should have brought in a replacement, is my fucking point. Johnny: Well, you’ll know better next time. Al: The direction of my thoughts – with the sustained fucking stupidity that you’re exhibiting, I hesitate to voice them. Is that you might want to train for Phil’s former position. Johnny: Al…I have hoped for this conversation ever since you give me that Indian head to hide. (Proud, determined look on his face.) (Al just looks at Johhny, walks past him, not taking his eyes off of him – blinking A LOT – smiles, nods his head and leaves Johnny standing in his office. Johnny is all proud and excited.) --(Downstairs, Dan is shaving, Al comes down the stairs.) Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
How’d it go with Johnny? I have just fled my own office in horror at his fucking dimwittedness. (Smiles and chuckles.) Well, Persimmon Phil wasn’t no genius. I know. And Johnny, so eager. I know. Was it not my fuckin’ idea to ask him? As a minimal standard eager, he’ll be in the wilderness. You gotta be able to sustain a thought. You gotta be able to remember fucking instructions.
(Magistrate Claggett enters the Gem.) Dan: His honor. Al: Oh, yeah. Hold fast your valuables. Johnny: (Coming down the stairs) Hey, Al. Any reason I can’t share with Dan the uh, proceedings of the talk me and you just had about me uh, takin’ over for Persimmon Phil? Al: Yeah, keep Dan in the dark. (Johnny looks at Al, crestfallen) Dan: Hey, Johnny. Johnny: Dan. Dan: What’s new?
(Johnny looks down quickly. Meanwhile, Magistrate Claggett sit down at a table and Al is standing up on the other side of the table.) Al:
I want to know how the camp stands with the legislature. And don’t give me the um, “on the one hand and on the other hand,” hmm? Magistrate Clagett: Alright. Al: Just say, “This is the way I think it’s gonna be,” ‘cause this “several hands” fuckin’ shit don’t help me, huh? Magistrate Clagett: I’ll boil things down. Al: Go ahead. Magistrate Clagett: Well, let’s assume for the sake of conversation that there’s a new treaty with the Sioux peoples. Al: “People,” that’s what we’re callin’ those cocksuckers now? Now, that’s the way things are headed? Magistrate Clagett: Assuming the new treaty, the hills will be annexed. The territory respects the statutes of the Northwest Ordinance, which state that a citizen can have title to any land unclaimed or unincorporated by simple usage. Essentially, if you’re on it and you improve it, you own it. But, what complicates the situations is that the hills were deeded to the Sioux by the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty. This could mean that the land occupied by the camp doesn’t fall under any statutory definition of unclaimed or unincorporated. Al: So who needs to get paid? Magistrate Clagett: Signs of conciliation and willingness would weight in the camp’s favor, but just as important is the presence of a Ad Hoc municipal organization that would enable the legislature to say Deadwood exists, we don’t have to create it. It would be disruptive if we did. The community’s already organized, not legally, maybe, but certainly informally. Why not let’s give this informal organization the blessing of legal standing? Al: What’s the right fucking number for the legislature? Magistrate Clagett: There’s a lot of gold out here, Al. To define “right” in this environment is very liable to be an ongoing process. What I’m prepared to do is make a list of names and preliminary guess at some numbers. (Clagett moves his inkpot over to his right side, dips his quill and proceeds to write his list.) I should tell you as well that a warrant’s reached Yankton charging you with murder in Chicago, Illinois. As the settlement’s status changes, you want to address that. I could help with that, too. Al: How much is that gonna cost me? Magistrate Clagett: $5,000. If you don’t mind, I’ll continue writing. (Al sits back in his chair, eyes smoldering.) --(The Reverend approaches the pest tent, limping slightly) Rev: Good morning, Miss Jane. Jane: (Ripping clothes for bandages with her teeth) Yeah, hello. No one’s croaked today. Tommy’s took fuckin’ sick and the Doc’ll be back I guess whenever he fuckin’ feels like it. I see your fuckin’ eyes are still playin’ tug o’ war.
Rev: Jane: Rev: Jane: Rev: Jane: Rev: Jane:
Well, um, (pointing to HIS right eye) this is the one to look at. Uh, left arm still useful as an old man’s dick? Do I smell strangely to you, Miss Jane? What? Do I have a strange odor about me? What is that, your clever way of saying you smell whiskey on my breath? No. If either of your fuckin’ eyes takes me for hidin’ I’m drinkin’ again, occasionally, it’s sadly mistaken. So desist from any clever odor references. Rev: I thought the smell might be coming off the creek, so I went into the hills last night, but it followed me there, too. As if my, uh, as if my – my flesh were rotting. I, uh…do I looks like a man taken from his own grave? Jane: Goddamn you, Preacher, don’t start talkin’ crazy to go with everything else. Rev: Uh, also, when I read the—the scriptures, I do not feel Christ’s love as I used to. Jane: Oh, is that so? That is too bad. Join the fucking club of the most of us. Let me tell you somethin’, Preacher. I see you skulkin’ around when the Doc comes in. You’re tryin’ to hide your fuckin’ eyes, tryin’ to hide your fuckin’ arm. You’re a fuckin’ mess. (Shakes the Rev’s shoulders) And I am in the process of wearin’ out my own fuckin’ welcome in this camp, and I wouldn’t expect to be around here much longer for people to be disgusted by so they don’t notice what the fuck is goin’ on with you! And you need to (grabs his head) think about some of these things and raise your nerve to consult with the Doc! (Jane walks away from the Rev, he smiles but looks confused. He turns and puts his bible down and attempts to lift the water basin, spilling some of it.) Jane: Oh, Goddamn you! Spillin’ my cleanin’ water too, Minister! (She wrenches the basin from him and shoves him onto the ground just outside the tent. She looks at him, frustrated, then helps him up from the ground). Oh. Oh. Rev: Thank you, I’m fine. Jane: You’re fine. I am off duty. You’re on duty. (Slaps his shoulder) You can go fuck yourself! (The Rev looks at her and smiles as she’s leaving. We see Jane leave the pest tent, she pauses and pulls a bottle of whiskey out of her coat pocket, takes a pull off the bottle, and proceeds to walk away.) --(EB is studying the letter from Wild Bill with a magnifying glass. He turns the letter over and is about to open it with a letter opener – we see Al approaching, coffee in hand – EB sees him and immediately puts the letter down and the letter opener under his armpit.) EB: Al: EB: Al:
Al, what are you doin’ out? Clearing my head. And if I bleet when I speak that’s because I just got fuckin’ fleeced. What’s goin’ on? Be in my joint in two hours. We’re forming a fucking government.
EB:
Yes, sir.
(Al leaves, stands on the porch of the hotel for a moment, looks left, then right, sees Merrick’s newsstand and heads for Merrick’s office door. He tries to open the door, it’s locked.) Al:
Merrick! ( Knees it in an attempt to open it, shattered glass from the doors window falls.) Jesus Christ! Hey Merrick! (Wiping off the main window, trying to peer inside – he turns around and proceeds back across the porch of the hotel). Cocksucker.
--(Hardware store, Sol is measuring gold dust out onto a scale.) Guy: Sol: Guy: Sol: Seth:
Shoot. Thank you, sir. (Hands the bag of gold dust to the man.) Uh-huh. Good luck out there. (Man leaves) I believe it’s time to send for my wife and boy. (Sol looks at him, surprised) Treaty comin’ with the Sioux. Al: (Shouting as he enters the hardware store) Where the fuck is Merrick, huh? Seth: We don’t know. Al: Well, anyways, this is it. What we spoke about before, this puts it to the test. Seth: Alright. Al: Informal municipal organization. Not government. No, that would mark us rebellious. But structure enough to persuade those territorial cocksuckers in Yankton that we’re worthy enough to pay them their fucking bribes. Sol: Uh, we’re to meet to discuss putting this organization together, is that what you’re saying? Al: (Looks at Seth, Points to Sol…) Centuries of fucking inbreeding attune him to the necessities of the times. (Sol laughs) Two hours, my place! (Turns around and starts to leave, pauses) Did a fucking good job here. (Raises his coffee cup to them in a sort of toast, and leaves.) --(Bella Union, Eddie is shuffling cards, Joanie comes downstairs and pours herself some coffee from the urn sitting on his table.) Eddie: You’re room’s put back together. Joanie: That ain’t my room anymore. (She sits) Eddie: Cy needn’t a done for them kids that way. Not in your room, not in the way he did for them. Joanie: I’m getting’ outta here, Eddie. Eddie: Are ya? Joanie: I’m going to open my own place. Eddie: Good for you, honey. Have you saved money? Joanie: I got a way to work it. Eddie: I know you’ll get a long way away from here first.
Joanie: You think I have to? (Puts her cup down, places her fingertips on the table nervously) Cy told me he’d help me open a place here. He promised he’d keep his distance. Eddie: Good. Al: Is he around? (Strides into the Bella Union) Eddie: Asleep. Al: There’s a meetin’ at my place in a couple of hours he’ll want to be awake for, all the pillars of the fuckin’ camp. (Points to coffee urn) You mind? (Joanie shakes her head – Al turns to Eddie) You could use some rest. Eddie: I could use a clean conscience. Al: So could we all. (Joanie looks down at the table, Al leaves the Bella Union, stepping out into the street he takes a sip of the coffee) Al:
Blech! (Spitting out the coffee and dumping the rest on the ground) Where the fuck have you been?! Merrick: As you see. Al: As I see what? Merrick: At my storage cabinet replenishing needed supplies. Al: Be over in a couple of hours. We gotta form a government for the settlement. Merrick: Who does? Al: Us! You and me. Come to me in a vision! You stupid bastard. (Al walks into the Gem, Merrick’s assistant looks at him and Merrick smiles bemusedly) --Joanie:
(Sipping her coffee) Anyways, I’m goin’ to look for a place.
(Joanie gets up from the table, Eddie watches her leave the Bella Union, sad look on his face.) Cy: Eddie. (Calling down from Upstairs balcony) Eddie: Swearengen’s called a meeting. Two hours. Cy: (Descending stairs) Where’s Joanie? Eddie: Out lookin’ for a place. Cy: Good. ‘Cause I told Joanie I’d back her in havin’ her own joint. Eddie: That’s what she said. Cy: Something on your mind, Eddie? Eddie: You fucked me up, Cy. The shit you did to those kids, there’s no angle to it. Cy: That shit wasn’t just about those kids, Eddie. And you need to sit there and tough your way through your problem. Just keep shufflin’ your cards and let your tie hand down ‘til you feel better. Eddie: I want to come to that meeting. Cy: Do ya? Come ahead, Eddie. Put the cards down, tighten your cravat and come on if it’ll cheer you the fuck up. ---
(Joanie is walking through Mr. Wu’s alley. She passes by Wu as he comes out to survey his \ territory. They look at each other as she passes. She continues on but Wu’s eyes never leave her. She stops at the pig pen. We hear the pigs squealing. She sees Flora’s clothes clumped up in the corner of the pigpen and looks back at Wu. He is still watching her. She looks back to the pigs and turns away in slight disgust. She takes a deep settling breath and proceeds through the alley through throngs of chattering people. We see her step across a makeshift bridge across a deep puddle and when she steps off the end of the bridge, she foot goes deep into the puddle. She continues on, heading towards Utter Freight.) Utter: Mornin’. Joanie: Good Morning. (She starts to head away) Utter: I’m opening this business. Joanie: (Stops, turns around and looks up at his sign.) Well, good luck. Utter: Thank you. I’m Charlie Utter. Joanie: I’m Joanie Stubbs. Utter: How do you do? Joanie: How do you do, Charlie? Ooh, I was out of breath, but now I’m better. Utter: Are you off someplace? Uh, you need a escort or the like? Joanie: No, I’m more or less just walkin’ around. Utter: What do you think of this frock coat? Joanie: (She steps a little closer) Very well fitted. Utter: I had it made up in Cheyenne. I’m one for a good appearance and all, but it’s a little out of my path. Joanie: If you would have made me guess, I would have said it’s not your usual garb. Utter: And I’m a considerable hand at the freight business, but far as leasin’ this buildin’ before knowin’ what the traffic’s gonna bear, I don’t know what possessed me. See, I—I do well in a camp or a settlement or a township, but that don’t make me a camp or a settlement or a township type. This is the attire for that type…of type. Joanie: Anyway, you’re wearing it today. Utter: You’re right. I’m sorry for runnin’ on about it. Joanie: I’m looking for a piece of property to start a business on. That’s what I’m doin’ out. Utter: I see. And what sort of business you lookin’ to operate? Joanie: Brothel. Utter: Uh-huh. Well, uh, I’ll tell you what, this camp here, it seems like it’s got some legs under it. Joanie: I’m just a whore, though. I mean, I run the whore for this man, but far as bein’ ready to run a place and stand up to all you have to stand up to, I—I don’t know what go into me. Utter: I tell you what, (steps a little closer), something’s ready for you to do somethin’, don’t seem to matter if you’re ready or not. Joanie: Better lift you skirts and…jump, huh? Utter: That’s what’s comin’ to me to be true. Joanie: I’m surprised you’re not at that big town meeting. Utter: Uh, yeah, well, um, I’m uh, I’m headin’ over there shortly. Uh, I prefer to appear late to that type of thing.
Joanie: Bella Union, where I work, is bigger, but I guess bein’ that it’s Mr. Swearengen’s meeting, that’s why they’re having it at the Gem. Utter: Yeah, that’s – that’s why it’s located there. Joanie: Yeah. It’s awful nice to meet you, Charlie. Utter: Well, it’s good to meet you, too, Joanie. (Tips his hat to her, she walks on) Take care. --(Doc’s at the pest tent fastening the straps on his medical case. To his right, behind a mesh drape, the Rev is having another seizure. The Doc starts to leave and walks right past him and pauses.) Doc:
I’m goin’ to the Gem.
(The Doc leaves, the Rev is still sitting on a cot, leaned up against a post, having a mild seizure. We see the Doc walking down Mr. Wu’s alley, he passes Jane who is standing up, leaning with her forehead against a wall, napping. He stops and takes a closer look at her, looks away and back again.) Doc: Jane: Doc: Jane: Doc:
I’m headin’ for the Gem. Hooray for you. Reverend is laid down tryin’ to hide another seizure. Ain’t you Clever to see through the subterfuge. (A tear runs down the side of his nose) I been lettin’ it go, but if the idea is for you to drink more and more ‘til I say somethin’, I am hereby officially sayin’ I wish you would stop fuckin’ drinkin’. Jane: I have no fuckin’ idea (Jane pulls away from the wall abruptly) as far as you sayin’ one fuckin’ thing about anything I do or don’t, far as drinking or where I stand and nap or any other fuckin’ thing concernin’ me. Doc: I see. (We see Charlie start to pass the alley way and stop to observe the exchange. He has a myriad of emotions on his face; sadness, upset, and humor.) Jane: To go or leave, don’t or when Doc: Alright, Jane. Jane: So you can go fuck yourself. And don’t try and hasten anyone anywhere, ‘cause everyone follows their own fuckin’ pace, and don’t try and fuckin’ hasten them. (points her finger at the Doc.) And you happen to be fuckin’ overlookin’ that you think it’s just one day after another with the same fuckin’ seizure as if it happened the week before. And that just shows you how much you fuckin’ know. And what you pay attention to. Goddamn you! (Jane slams her forehead against the wall and resumes her former position. The Doc lowers his head, almost as if he is ashamed. Charlie is still looking on. The Doc walks away and proceeds to the Gem. Charlie approaches Jane, casually.) Utter: What do they pay you to hold that buildin’ up?
Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane:
Charlie Utter of “Utter Charlie and Freight.” Close enough to get you offered a position. I’m in a position, you eternally meddling cocksucker. Yeah, leaning forward, shit-faced drunk. I am talking about nurse of the plague, fucking tent operation. Caring of the sick in the fuckin’ tent! How about bullwhacker of the fuckin’ freight between Deadwood and Cheyenne? No. How about supervisor, mail delivery? Go away, Charlie. Or any fuckin’ thing else you want to do. Go Away! Congratulations on bein’ a big fuckin’ deal. No one’s any big fuckin’ deal, Jane. And all them offers stand. I seen you in some stupid fuckin’ outfits in my time, but that one takes the prize.
(Charlie walks away, shaking his head.) --(Doc is in the whore’s room, checking up on their health.) Doc: I think that this month, we’re gonna try raspberry leaf. Whore: Thanks, Doc. Doc: Young lady, anything to report with your privates? Trixie:(smoking a cigarette) Nah. Doc: (Pulls up Trixie’s sleeve to check her arm) Oh, Uh—(gets up to go to his bag, Al walks in) Al: Meetin’ outside when you’re done, Doc. Doc: Alright. (Al leaves – Doc dabs some ointment on Trixie’s arm. Replaces the lid and puts it in her hand, he squeezes her hand as he gets up.) Trixie:Thanks, Doc. Doc: In a case like yours I wouldn’t know what else to prescribe. (He lets go of her hand and gets his case together, leaves the room.) --(Downstairs, Johnny is setting out pears & peaches on the tables, now pushed together in preparation for the meeting. Doc is sitting on the stairs, E.B. and Eddie are standing off to the side, idling, waiting for something to happen. Seth and Sol walk in, take a seat, we see Merrick and Cy talking.) Al: Whose idea was them pears and fuckin’ peaches? Johnny: I figured since we had ‘em for the plague meetin’. ( Merrick and Cy take a seat, Eddie sitting off to the side behind Cy. EB and the Doc join soon after.)
Al:
Shows good thinkin’ and initiative. Ladle ‘em out at various intervals on the fuckin’ table, Johnny. Johnny: Yes, sir. Al: I’m declaring myself conductor of this meeting as I have the bribe sheet. (Tom Nuttall walks in, stops at the end of the table.) Nuttall: If I’m excluded, say so, Al. Don’t leave me to die the death of a thousand cuts. Al: Well, sit down, Tom. Nuttall: Don’t subject me to death by water torture. Al: Take a seat Tom, and toss whatever book you’ve been readin’ on the fuckin’ yellow peril, huh? (Nuttall sits down, to EB’s right. Charlie Utter walks in.) Utter: I just opened across the way. Was I supposed to attend? Al: Well, before I can answer that question, I better know who the fuck you are. Utter: Charlie Utter. Merrick: Of “Utter’s Freight and Postal Delivery Service.” Al: Nice sign blocking my fucking view. Take a seat. Merrick: Had a lovely advert in today’s “Pioneer.” Al: So, U.S. Government’s negotiating peace with Spotted Elk, Red Cloud and other leaders of the heathens. (Johnny places some peaches down in front of Al.) Thank you, Johnny. The heathens will get money to give up the hills and the hills’ll be annexed to the territory. (Sol looks over and sees Trixie observing things, the other whores begin to join her.) Cost to avoid getting fucked in the ass by those legislative cocksuckers was just handed to me by Yankton’s toll collector, who suggests also our best case in keeping title to the claims, property and businesses is to start up now, a kind of an informal governing organization that will be recognized by the territorial cocksuckers and given legal status when the territory is annexed, since we’ll all have proved ourselves civilized sorts that don’t only wear our pants to cover our tails. Hence the fuckin’ meeting. EB: (To Nuttall) Do the bribes come out of our pockets? Al: (To Cy) Hmm? Cy: The hell you must have gone through talking to that leech, Al. Hereafter, you let me take my fair share of the weight in those conversations. Al: Yeah, thanks, Cy. EB: Well, couldn’t our informal organization levy taxes on the settlement to pay the bribes, say to license businesses? Wouldn’t that spread the burden? Eddie: Will women who pay the license fees have the same tight to operate brothels as me? (Al and Cy both look at Eddie. Trixie crosses her arms and smirks.) Nuttall: (To EB) What’s that got to do with the price of fish? Al: Our proper order of business is to make titles and departments before the territorial cocksuckers send in their cousins to rob and steal from us. EB: Well, who fills the various positions?
Al: EB: Al:
Seth: Al: EB:
Dan:
Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: EB:
Pick the names from a fuckin’ hat as far as I’m concerned. (Points to Cy’s top hat sitting on the table.) I’d like to be mayor. (Nuttall smiles.) Objections? (Merrick starts to open his mouth – Al pounds the table with his fist, gavellike – points to EB) Mayor. (Everyone has frozen looks on their face. Did that just happen?) Wouldn’t a good use for an informal government with temporary appointees be providing a few services to the camp? Mayor? Well, provide a few services and use the lion’s share of revenues to pay the bribes. (Dan strides in and approaches Al). More than providing services to ‘em, taking peoples money is what makes organizations real, be they formal, informal or temporary. (talking low in Al’s ear) There’s a piano outside. (Al looks up at him like, “What the fuck did you just say?) Piano? (Remember?) Uh, well, when Tolliver opened up across the way, you said we needed a fancier piano. You ordered one. You want me to abandon the fucking meeting to bring in a new piano? Well, I’m just telling you it come in from Montgomery Ward. Yeah. “Any big arrival, notify me immediately” you said that. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, um--Floors open for levy suggestions and nominations for department heads. Selfnominations are permitted.
(EB bangs a tin on the table (ashtray?) as a gavel, sending up clouds of dust into Nuttall’s face) EB: Sorry. We lack a gavel. Doc? Doc: Who’s gonna be comptroller? Merrick: Well, um, elections? W-will we have some elections somewhere down the road? This is temporary, right? EB: Yeah, ad hoc. Merrick: Ad hoc. Ad h— Al: Ad fucking hoc. So free fucking gratis. Can we just get on with the fucking meeting? --(Nighttime, the streets are filled with miners. In the Gem, a good time is being had by all, the piano is playing and people are crowded around it. Merrick is pondering his next article.) Merrick: Timid, huh. Hardly, sir. My own strong personal impulse was to offer my name for office but a fourth estate, independent in name and fact from the operations of government is of the essence of a free society. (While Merrick is pondering, the newly crowned Mayor is back behind the piano merrily receiving a hand-job from a buxom whore. Al is watching with Dan, behind the bar.) Al: I have got to find an early occasion to put the mayor off his pedestal. Dan: Don’t do it with no mud.
Al: Did you wait a day before you ordered that fucking thing? Dan: (Eating peaches with his substantial knife) Mmm, boss, you specifically countermanded my waitin’ and askin’ again when you give me the order to get it. Al: What fuckin’ revenue is being generated by these hoople-heads gathering around that cocksucker and yodelin’ about their fuckin’ points of origin? Dan: Shine’ll wear off. Al: (Puts his had to his forehead) My fucking head. Dan: All that organizing businesses? Al: Aw, 25 cups of coffee and too much circulatin’ in the fresh air. Dan: You chaired the piss out of that meetin’ this afternoon. Al: (Picks up a fork and points it at Dan) That still don’t get you off the hook about that piano. (As Al turns around to walk off Dan points his knife back at Al in a mocking fashion to Al’s pointing of the fork.) --(Seth and Sol are sitting on the Hardware Store porch, Sol smoking a pipe and Seth smoking a cigar.) Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth:
Before I’d told a story on myself, like the Doc did, I’d have just said, “Thank you for the nomination, but I decline being health supervisor.” They buy bodies to do their research. Doctors, they cut ‘em open and study ‘em. All the less reason for saying you’ve been arrested for grave robbing. Seven Times. Anyways, good for you volunteering for the post. If I had known then they wasn’t gonna have a sheriff, I’d never raised my hand. I don’t follow. I only raised my hand ‘cause I didn’t want to be sheriff. It’s all temporary, anyhow. That’s right. And ad hoc. Did you happen to notice at the Gem that one girl we rode back with from Mrs. Garrett’s funeral? Trixie, isn’t that what she said her name was? Who’d been helping Mrs. Garrett with the child. Yeah, I noticed her. Much as she’d taken to helping with that little one. Big pull to that, goin’ back to what you know. You think she’s pretty? Very. (Taps out his pipe, stands up) Take some air. Yes, sir.
(Utter approaches as Sol starts to leave) Utter: Evenin’ Sol: Evening.
Utter: Sol: Utter: Sol: Utter: Sol: Seth: Utter:
Some meetin’ huh? Congratulations on your new post. Oh. And for your freight business. Thank you. Okay. (Takes off) Evening, Charlie. Evenin’. (Sits down, sighs) How much time you think that fire marshal obligation’s gonna take? (Seth just shakes his head) More or less as much as your health commissioner, huh? (Chuckles). How about that doc? Grave Robber. (Seth smiles and nods)
--(Nuttall approaching Johnny in the Gem) Nuttall: Johnny: Nuttall:
Anybody else felled from them canned peaches? Uh, not to my knowledge. Why, you feelin’ poorly? Well, um, uh. it’s – it’s easin’ up some.
(Nuttall walks off quickly, Sol is walking through the Gem, looking for Trixie. He waves hello to Al as he passes him and walks up to Trixie. Al keeps an eye on them.) Sol: Evenin’. Trixie: Evenin’ Sol: I’ve wondered how things were with you…and Mrs. Garrett and the child. Trixie:(She looks to her right, at Al, he walks off) I expect they’re doing well. You know she struck lucky at her claim. Sol: And how are you, Trixie? Trixie:As you see, earnin’ the greasy eye from my boss for idle chatter. Sol: Can I buy you a drink? Trixie:I’d rather you didn’t. (A john and a whore run through the hall between them) This isn’t the place for you. Sol: So YOU say. Trixie:If you insist on my embarrassing myself, have it not where I’d want you to see me. Sol: Come see me then. Trixie:He don’t permit our making calls out. Sol: Come to our store. Come buy a broom. Trixie:I don’t want what I can’t have, Mr. Star. Sol: Alright. (Puts his hat back on, starts to leave.) Trixie:If I did come, I’d buy and ax, a hammer, and a saw. Sol: All fully stocked. And we never ask the purpose of a customer’s purchase. (Trixie smiles – BIG – Sol tips his hat and leaves. On his way out, Merrick stops him.) Merrick: Our mayor. (Looks over to the piano where just behind it, EB is drunk and barely standing upright) Oh, Mayor! (EB takes his hat off and waves it around like he’s a queen in a parade. They laugh and Sol slaps Merrick on the shoulder and leaves.)
--(Doc returns to the pest tent) Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc:
Rev:
Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc: Rev: Doc:
Doctor. I’m gonna have a look at you. Alright. Don’t turn your head away, Reverend. Bein’ sick ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. (The Rev crooks his head more forward.) Look at my finger. I apologize for the smell. What is it that you smell? As if I’ve died. You emit no such odor. I smell my flesh rotting. It isn’t rotting, Reverend. Your flesh does not smell. You have not died. You’re having organic changes in your mind that’s making you believe these things. Do you understand me? Formerly, Doctor, when the work took me as I read scripture, people felt God’s presence through me and that was a great gift that I could give to them. Now the word does not take me when I read nor do I feel Christ’s love. Nor do those who listen hear it through me. Alright. This is God’s purpose. The not knowing the purpose is my portion of suffering. And is there any pain competing with the not knowing? I’m not in pain. There are new smells, I smell, and there are parts of my body I can’t feel, and His—and His love. (shaking his head from side to side) And you want to continue like this? As long as He wills, this must be my part. To be afraid, as well. Well, if this is His will, Reverend, He is a sonofabitch. Goodnight. (The Doc gets up and leaves) Goodnight, Doctor.
Rev: --(Joanie enters the Bella Union and approaches Eddie)
Joanie: Hey, Eddie. Eddie: Hey, kid. How’d it go? Joanie: Alright. And I got me a four-bit room. Play your cards right, I’ll tell you where. (She walks off – Cy is in his office. She enters) Joanie: Hi, Cy. Cy: Was afraid I’d lost you to the heathens. Joanie: How was that meeting? Cy: Alright, we were organizing for annexation until Eddie cracked his fuckin’ mouth. Joanie: What’d it turn to then? Cy: (Laughing) Joint like ours, Joanie, what are we selling? Walk through this door, it’s a new start. Come on in, try your luck here. Of course, we know the percentages bein’ the percentages, you play long enough, your luck ain’t gonna get no better here than anywheres else. Maybe it’s ‘cause we’re in a brand new camp. Since we arrived, certain
people that are near and dear to me seem to have bought into our own fuckin’ line and now they’re trying to get me to go along. But I can’t. See, Joanie, (stands up) ‘cause I’m a big boy. Now, I’m ready for…Eddie and me to have a little chat. Joanie: I did look around for places, Cy. Cy: Good, I wanted you to. Joanie: I want to go ahead and do what we talked about. Cy: Good, honey. With your eyes wide open. (draws a line with his finger back and forth between their eyes. He walks out of the office, approaches Eddie at the bar, who is shuffling cards, and taps the bar for a drink.) Eddie Sawyer. Eddie: Can we keep this short? Cy: Sure, Eddie. If he finds you a 12 year-old farm boy to have some fun with, is that short enough for you? Eddie: I never did that and you know it. Cy: All this crap about what is and isn’t natural, whatever does it for a fella is what does it, ain’t that right? Eddie: I never did that. Cy: But did you ever want to unbutton some farm boy’s dentons and get yourself some relaxation? That’s what I’m askin’ you? Take that boy you spoke up for up in Joanie’s room the other day. Eddie: I spoke up for not torturing that boy. Cy: Well, what you spoke for I (We see Joanie going upstairs, watching their exchange) and what you would have wanted to do if it was just you and that corn-fed in that room alone is what I’m inquiring about the difference between. Eddie: A dry hole, Cy. Cy: Aw, you could work that out. You just use some spit on that or lard. (Eddie shakes his head no in disgust, tries to pick up his cards, Cy grabs them and slams them down away from Eddie.) 17 fuckin’ years and I never saw a look on your face I saw up there in that room the other day, including when I had to smack some girl around. Eddie: I was never in a room with you before where you was gonna kill somebody. Cy: Now, I do not make judgments. I gave that up a long time ago. All I want is for us to get along better, Eddie. So every time you open your mouth in public, I don’t have to worry about what the fuck’s gonna come out! So let me get you some fuckin’ kid to fuck in the ass or the mouth or suck his prick, or let him fuck you! Eddie: Fuck you, Cy. Fuck You. Cy: Yeah, now, now. That’s where I draw the line. Friend or no friend, and us wantin’ to get along better or not. I want you to go up into Joanie’s room which I – I gather she don’t want to go into no more. I want you to go up there with that boy like you were the other day, only this time it’s just him and you. And I want you to figure out what it is that you want. ‘Cause next time we see each other, I want you clear headed, Eddie, and understanding yourself. The old Eddie that knows the percentages and how to play ‘em, and whatever a man does away from the table is his own fuckin’ business. I want you cheerful and ready to help me with my work. Or I don’t want you comin’ the fuck out! Hmm? (Joanie is at the top of the stairs, sitting, she stands up when she hears this) You finish your shift and you go up there to Joanie’s room. You think things though. Alright, Eddie Sawyer? (Slams the cards back down in front of Eddie) Do we understand each other?
Eddie: Why didn’t you volunteer for something at that meeting? Why didn’t you put your hand up? Might’ve kept you from bein’ such an evil cocksucker. (Eddie walks away. Cy drinks the rest of his whiskey in one shot. He’s still breathing hard with anger over the conversation, adrenaline still pumping through him, like a dragon. What a big boy!) --(Jane is sitting on a bench outside of Charlie’s freight business.) Utter: Say hello to the new fire marshal. (Jane throws her arms up like she’s been hit by a wave, smiling) Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane:
Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane: Utter: Jane:
I’m gettin’ out. Goodbye and good luck. Well, wait on until you ain’t exhausted, Jane, and maybe you’ll change your mind. Direction of this entire camp makes me sick, and it bores the livin’ shit out of me. Well, workin’ hours like you’ve been workin’, it’d get anyone out of sorts. And you helped a lot of people. Sent a dozen men out with their plague sores healed to go back to gettin’ ‘em on their johnsons. I will not be a drunk where he’s buried and I cannot stay fuckin’ sober. (Puts the lid back on her canteen) So you and every human being on earth past, present and future can drink mare’s piss. I believe I’ll just have well water. Shut up, Charlie. (smiling) Alright. (Get up, picks up her saddle bag, bed roll and rope) If the subject comes up, explain to Bill. Alright, Jane. Alright. (She heads off) Tell them over at the livery I—I’m good for the mount. Do not fuckin’ worry about me. And inform Hostetler at the fuckin’ livery you saved his fuckin’ life. Alright. (Walking away, yelling, but not looking back) And do not worry about getting’ paid back. Check the mail, Charlie, and you will find soon proper payment. Alright, Jane. Check with Utter Mail and Charlie Freight! Alright.
Utter: Jane: Utter: --(Back at the Gem, Trixie is entering Al’s bedroom)
Al: Since last our eyes were upon each other, lo, I hope you’ve earned me 5 dollars. Trixie:No. (Closes the shutters to Al’s office area). --(At the hotel, Seth is in the lobby, waiting. The shitter approaches him)
Shit: I uh, I gave the lady your note, sir. She says to come ahead but to know low as the little one’s asleep. Seth: Thank you. (The shitter hands him a paper, Seth gives him a tip) Shit: Thank you, sir. (Seth heads upstairs. Alma is in her room, sitting at the little table, watching Sophia sleep. There is a knock at the door. She gets up, smoothes out her dress and pats at her hair. She opens the door) Seth: Evenin’ Alma: Good Evening, Mr. Bullock. Sophia’s asleep. Seth: So I was told. I’m sorry for calling so late. (Enters) I’m to see Ellsworth in the morning and wondered what I should say. Alma: Ellsworth seemed very competent and trustworthy. He suggested that until the extent of the quartz deposits could be proved, he could prospect the creek on my claim each week to keep my title active. Seth: How’d that plan sound to you? Alma: I feel it’s exactly the way to proceed. Seth: Alright, then. Alma: Won’t you sit down? Seth: Thank you. (Alma closes the door of the bedchamber to just a crack, they sit at the little table.) Would it improve your opinion of me if I told you I was commissioner of the board of health? Alma: (Laughingly) How wonderful, I suppose. Seth: It’s to put the camp’s best foot forward as far as being taken into the territory. A number of men took positions. Alma: I see. Seth: Farnum’s mayor. Alma: How horrifying. (Seth smiles and raises his eyebrows) Uh. Seth: I wrote to my wife today. Alma: (Freezes momentarily, nods her head like she’s taking a gulp of nasty tasting medicine like a good little girl) Did you? Seth: About her and my boy coming to camp. Alma: You have a son as well? Seth: They’re in Michigan with her people. My thinkin’ was with the treaty comin’ annexation, the camp would be settling down, a safer place. Alma: Yes. (Pause – Alma looks down at her hands) Any other sons or daughters? Seth: No, that’s it. My brother was in the Calvary. He was killed two years ago. Alma: I’m sorry. Seth: Anyways. (Gets up) I’m glad you got along with Ellsworth. Alma: Well, thank you for all your help, Mr. Bullock. Seth: Sure.
Alma: And congratulations on your new post…and the prospect of your family rejoining you. Seth: Thank you. Good night, Mrs. Garrett. Alma: Goodnight (As she’s opening the door for him) May I ask why you spoke of your brother? Seth: My wife was his widow. My boy is their child. Alma: I see. Goodnight. Seth: Goodnight. (Seth leaves.) (Alma shuts the door, leans against the wall and puts her hands to her stomach. Shakes her head, bites her lips, leans over and blows out the oil lamp.)
Cast:
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Marshall Bell
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane Dan Dority Charlie Utter Magistrate Claggett
Sean Bridgers
Johnny Burns
Kim Dickens
Joanie Stubbs
Ricky Jay
Eddie Sawyer
Jeffrey Jones
A.W. Merrick
Ray McKinnon
Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon)
Toni Oswald Bree Seanna Wall
Sophia Metz
Zack Ward Keone Young
Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of
material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode #10 – “Mr. Wu” (Morning, at the hardware store) Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
(sighs - Makes thumb gesture towards door.) (under breath) Yeah. What was in my mind to raise my hand? Anyways, time for breakfast. You go ahead. Bullshit. Come on.
(Seth gets up, claps his hands as if to say “I wash my hands clean of this” and puts on his hat, coat…starts to door then doubles back for the paper. They leave.) Seth: (sighs) Would a letter to the paper be an idea? Same time I give the proposal to Farnum? Sol: Yes. Seth: Marshal public sentiment in favor, maybe fence ‘em in a little. Sol: Excellent approach. Seth: Goddamn quicksand is what these commissioners positions amount to. Sol: Yes, they do. Seth: It’s all a hoot and a holler to you though, ain’t it. Sol? Sol: No, it isn’t. Seth: (Sees Farnum) Jesus Christ. E.B.: Breakfast vittles at the ready, gentlemen. Sol: Mayor. Seth: As far as use for the fees to be levied on businesses, I worked a proposal up on a permanent infirmary and a camp dump. E.B.: The first use for those fees is payin’ bribes to the legislature. Their bag man’s in transit. Seth: Well, if there’s anything fuckin’ left. E.B.: Why, Mr. Bullock, you sound like you want to wring my neck. (chuckles) We’ll submit your ideas, Bullock, and by all means, I’ll take them under advisement. Always glad to hear from the camp health commissioner. Seth: (To Sol as EB walks away) Give the idea to the damn paper first. Sol: tsk. (WTF? Tsk? More like a cluck or that sound you make when you wink your eye and point to someone with a finger gun.) (They enter restaurant – EB is crossing the street, we hear a horse neighing) E.B.: Please, take your passage. Cocksucker. (He stops and looks shocked) What is this celestial doin’ approachin’ the Gem’s front door? (Sees the titlicker approach the Gem) The titlicker. (Mr. Wu enters the front door of the Gem – Johnny comes running up to him.)
Johnny: Whoa – whoa – whoa – whoa – whoa – whoa! Stop where the fuck you are, Mr. Wu. Mr. Wu: Swe’gen. Johnny: Yeah, well I’ll get Mr. “Swe’gen,” but first, you gotta walk the fuck out and come around the back. Mr. Wu: (Crosses arms – battle ready) Swe’gen. Johnny: Uh, no, no! No! (Running to the front doors – closing them) No, closed for a while. Lick Later. (Yelling up to the office) We got us a situation here, Al! (Gestures to Mr. Wu) Come in the front fuckin’ door. Al: Bring him up. Johnny: You want me to take him out and bring him around back? Al: Bring him the fuck up. Johnny: Come on, Mr. Wu. Come on. ---(Up in Al’s office – surprise surprise, he’s urinating in his chamber pot) Johnny: (clears throat) Al: Put him in the chair and get out, Johnny. Johnny: Sit. Sit! He won’t sit. Al: (To Johnny) Get out. Johnny: Yes, sir. Al: What is it, Wu? Mr. Wu: (drawing) (“speaking foreign language – Keone must hate CC – I’m trying to interpret this phonically) Tongyun – Tsok Tsai --Johnny: (To Dan) Do you think I should open it back up? Dan: I believe that’s what Al would want. (Shakes head likes he’s thinking “Johnny, you’re a stupid fuck) (Johnny opens the doors to an impatient titlicker and E.B. – Dan motions to the whores who giggle and head to the titlicker room) Dan: Mayor. E.B.: August commencement to my administration…(To Johnny) Stand stymied outside a saloon, beside a degenerate titlicker. --(Back in Al’s office – he’s looking at Mr. Wu’s sketch) Al: Now, the---this---this is one of you, huh? Mr. Wu: (phonically, again – sorry!) Hough, Tong yun n tong yun (karate chop and slit across throat) Al: Oh, the—this is him dead? Mr. Wu: Au. Ho…Heyan. Al: And these two. Mr. Wu: Bok Gwai Lo…cocksucka! Al: Yeah, glad I taught you that fuckin’ word. These are whites, huh?
Mr. Wu: uh, white cocksucka! (Pulls out dope bag) Al: Two white cocksuckers killed him and stole the dope that he was bringing to you. Mr. Wu: White cocksucka! You, Swe’gen (gestures to the bag and Al) Al: The dope that you were gonna fuckin’ sell to me? Mr. Wu: White cocksucka. Al: These two white cocksuckers? Who the fuck did it? Mr. Wu: Wu! Al: Who, you ignorant fuckin’ chink! Mr. Wu: Wu?! Al: Who?! Who?! Who stole the fucking dope?! Mr. Wu: Cocksucka! Al: Aw, Jesus. --Johnny: Those are the first “cocksuckers” I have ever heard shouted from that room, Dan, that didn’t come from Al’s mouth that wasn’t followed by Al comin’ over to that railin’, pointin’ at you and beckoning you up them stairs with your fuckin’ knife. (Titlicker comes out with his hanky to his mouth wiping it clean) E.B.: I begrudge that pervert his capacity for happiness. I do. Johnny: (Looking up at the office) Them people worship a fat man seated on his ass. --Al: You listen to me, hmm? Listen. (Tugs ear) I (hand shadowing eyes, turns head side to side) find cocksuckers (Points to drawing). I find. (Repeats hand eye motion) I find dope (holds dope bag out) and cocksuckers (points to drawing) who steal (pulls dope bag to chest) fuckin’ dope, huh? (Throws dope bag down) Mr. Wu: Cocksucka. Al: Oh, yeah. (Walking Wu down the stairs) I’ll find those fucking cocksuckers. Now get the fuck out of here, Wu. The back way, you understand? The back way, or we’ll start getting people having the wrong fucking idea of things around here, huh? (Slaps Mr. Wu on the back – Mr. Wu gives him a look like “did you just fucking touch me?” He then leaves through the back door, pausing when he gets to the whores, disgusted that he has to pass through them to leave) Al: (To Dan) Where’s the dope fiend? Dan: I ain’t seen Jimmy Irons in three or four days. Al: Fucking find him. (Turns head to E.B.) Morning, E.B. E.B.: Morning, sir. Anything the mayor should know? Al: Name of another tailor. (Johnny smiles – Al leaves bar, E.B. scurries after him as Al’s heading up the stairs.) E.B.: Didn’t we have an engagement to stuff envelopes, Al? Al: Not ‘til I get the currency to stuff ‘em with. ---
(Out on the mucky street – we see Silas arrive in town on horseback, with his “butler”) --(In restaurant – clears throat) “Any person who causes offal, manure, Merrick: rubbish or filth to be discharged in the common areas of the camp except in the areas designated the camp dump, shall be subject to a fine of not less than a dollar or more (Seth and Alma see each other – Seth smiles) than three dollars. Such revenues to be used for dump upkeep and to build and keep up a camp infirmary.” (Alma enters, Seth and Sol, men in background, rise. Seth takes hat off to her) That’s excellent, Mr. Bullock. Seth: (To Alma) Mornin’, Alma: Good morning, Mr. Bullock. Gentlemen. (Merrick rises, incomfortably) Sol: Mrs. Garrett. Merrick: Um, good morning, madam. Sophia: Good Morning! Merrick: And good morning to you, young lady. It’s Mr. Bullock’s ideas on uh…refuse disposal. (He shows Alma the proposal – She looks at it as if she couldn’t care less) Uh, it is terribly crowded today. Alma: Mmm. Merrick: We were just remarking just yesterday that it couldn’t possibly (Seth nods his head to the exit at the guys across the room). And yet today, it is. (Guys get up – Alma immediately directs Sophia to the empty table.) --(Silas dismounts, enters Grand Central Hotel.) Silas: I’m gonna ask after E.B. Farnum. Richardson (Bearded Cook Guy): Mr. Farnum’s away from the desk. (Silas takes a coin out, slides it to Richardson.) Richardson: Gem Saloon, across the way. Silas: Two rooms. Richardson: There’s no vacancy, sir. (Silas takes out another coin and places it next to the other.) Richardson: I’ll work it out while you eat. Silas: There’s a man outside with two horses. You send the man inside, see the horses stabled. Don’t ask no fuckin’ extra for it. Richardson: Yes, sir. --(Back at the absurd restaurant…) Merrick: Mr. Farnum’s doing a land office business. Or should I say Mayor Farnum. (Seth is looking at Alma as Merrick says this) Seth: (Looking back to Merrick) Don’t, unless you feel you have to.
Merrick: That very attractive solitary woman is Miss Joanie Stubbs, a supervisory figure at Cy Tolliver’s Bella Union Saloon. Sol: You cravat’s in your bacon. Merrick: Oh. Silas: (Standing in the food line at the restaurant) Fuck this! (He leaves) Utter: Agh! Is it fuckin’ crowded in here or you just got some big fuckin’ feet? Maybe it’s the lethal combination of ‘em both. --(E.B. Counting money into envelopes, licking his thumb after placing each bill in it’s stack.) EB.: Al: EB.: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
This one legislator’s named on the list you were given twice, Al. Lucalis Childs of Bismark. Give him two envelopes. I’ll call him on it if it ever suits my purposes. As damp as your hands are, why do you continuously lick your fuckin’ thumb? Habit, I suppose. Could you learn the habit of lickin’ a fuckin’ stump? (E.B. chuckles) If health commissioner Bullock, has his way, some of the levies meant to defray the cost of these payoffs may get diverted. To what? Infirmary for the camp. Garbage dump. Well, that type of shit’s inevitable. E.B., steal none of this money. Gratuitous, hurtful and unnecessary. When I deal with these cocksuckers down the road. I need to be able to look any one of ‘em in the eye, name what they were paid and know I’m right. Understood. Intact and undiminished.
(Al sees Silas walk in) EB: Al: EB:
What is it, Al? Half a chance this could be him. The bag man? He wasn’t to be here ‘til tonight.
(Silas approaches) Silas: Name’s Silas Adams. I’m looking for E.B. Farnum. EB: (Standing up) I’m Mayor E.B. Farnum, Mr. Adams. And this is Al Swearengen. (E.B. gestures to Al; Al nods his head but doesn’t get up.) Silas: I’m to give this to you from Magistrate Claggett, (to E.B. pointing at the envelopes) And you’re to give those to me. Al: Pour yourself and your friend a drink! (Silas heads to the bar.) Stop! (Silas turns around) You motherless fucking whores. (E.B. jumps up) Silas: Fuck you! Al: Fuck me?!
EB: Al: Silas: Al: Silas: Al:
Gentlemen! You know what he says here? No. You think you should’ve asked me that before you motherfucked me? A double-crossing cocksucker, that’s Magistrate Claggett. Is that the message you want me to take back to him? That’s the gist of it. Let me put it in a better way before I send you and your mute friend back down the fuckin’ trail. Silas: No later than tonight. Al: You givin’ me a time limit? Silas: Yeah. Al: Pussy and whiskey free if you want it. Silas: I make my own arrangements. (Starts to leave, Al nods to E.B. & the envelopes) EB: Mr. Adams, may I accompany you to my hotel, sir? Mr. Adams? (E.B.’s running out after Silas. Al pounds the table.) Johnny: Hey, Al. Dan’s got Jimmy Irons. Al: Tell him I’ll receive him in my fucking chambers, Okay? --(Back at the Grand Central Hotel…) Richardson: (To hungry miner guy at counter) Get out of here. Silas: You work out the rooms? Richardson: You gotta share. Silas: Just send up two plates of fuckin’ food. Butler: And don’t spit in ‘em, partner. --Joanie: Mr. Utter. (Walking up to Charlie Utter in the food line) I’d ‘bout given up hope. Utter: Yes. (Following Joanie back to her table, waves at Merrick, Seth and Sol, hangs up his hat on the antlers and sits down.) Mighty kind of you Miss Stubbs. (Sophia is playing peek-a-boo with Utter) Joanie: How’s the freight business working out? Utter: All a man could wish for and verging on more than he can handle. Joanie: (chuckles) Glad to hear it. Utter: (Winks at Sophia – she smiles) How’d you do, uh, looking for your whorehouse? Joanie: I ain’t found a spot yet. I guess, to be more honest, I’d say I found a few. But I ain’t settled on one yet, absolutely. Utter: I see. Sol: Everyone done? Except now I fear for our lives. Merrick: I’m done. Let’s take a nice brisk walk. (Getting up) Shit. Oh God, did I – did I—did I spill on anyone? Sol: No. Merrick: Sorry. (Sol tips hat to Joanie, Seth smiles at Alma.) Utter: Where y’all headed?
Merrick: Mmm, gonna take the air. Join us if uh, the opportunity permits. (Jerks head to exit) Joanie: It’s good to see you, Charlie. Have a good day. Utter: You too, Miss Stubbs. Merrick: Madam, (To Alma) as crowded as it was yesterday and more so today, it shows no sign of becoming less crowded. (Bends over to pick up his glasses (?) that he dropped) Guy: You mind gettin’ your ass out of my shoulder? Utter: (Slaps guy on the back) You got a rude fuckin’ mouth, fella. (Looks up and over, sees Alma and puts a finger to his lips, underbreath:) Uh – ‘scuse me. (Outside on porch) Merrick: Conditions in that dining room have grown increasingly oppressive. (Takes a deep breath and points the way ahead) Sol: It’s crowded, for a fact. Seth: Price of the camp’s success. Utter: That fella was being smart with you, Merrick. Your ass was nowhere near his shoulder. Merrick: Well, whatever my proximity, it was certainly unintentional. Utter: Well, believe me, I had the angle. Sol: We was just remarkin’ how tight it’s all gettin’ in there. (They all step over a drunk, Sol and Merrick in the lead, Seth and Utter behind.) Merrick: Ah, ye how many memories fond to the recollection have their setting in that tight little dining room? Utter: Yeah, well it’s fucked now. Seth: Anyways, we ought to open soon. Merrick: Who would argue that the venue was the cause of these happy memories, nor the bill of fare? The bitter coffee, the rancid bacon, those stale biscuits that were tomb and grave to so many insects. No, gentlemen, it was the meandering conversation, the lingering with men of character, some whom are walking with me now, that were suck pleasure to experience and such a joy now to recall. Sol: Good of you to say, Mr. Merrick. Utter: Yeah, back at ya as far as that goes. Seth: Yeah. Merrick: Gentlemen, what’s to prevent up from freeing our friendship from dependence on that little dining room? Relying not on happenstance and appetite to further commence between us, but on our own conscious choice? (Seth grabs Sol’s arm) Utter: Meanin’ what? Merrick: Meaning, Mr. Utter, the most informal and disorganized of clubs. Seth: We gotta open, Sol.
Utter: Yeah, I don’t join clubs. Merrick: Ah, now, its sole purpose could be just walking together as we are now. Sol: Well, why don’t we just walk together when we happen to be out? Merrick: We could, we could, or we could dedicate ourselves to the principle of walking together. Would it—maybe all we need is a name. Seth: Sol? We gotta open. Utter: Yeah, I got freight comin’ in. Sol: This was good. I enjoyed this. Utter: Yeah, we’ll do it again. Seth: Morning, Mr. Merrick. Merrick: Thank you, Mr. Bullock. And thank you for the uh, letter to the editor. (They’ve all left, Merrick is alone on the porch – ruminating on his walking club.) The Ambulators. Huh. --(Back in Al’s office.) Al: Where have you been, Jimmy? Jimmy: So fuckin’ sick, Mr. Swearengen. Chills, fever. Al: Yeah, I hear it still in your chest. Jimmy: Couple times, felt like turnin’ my face to the fuckin’ wall. Al: Fuckin’ pale you are, too. Jimmy: I—I’ve rounded the corner, though. Plan for my return today or tomorrow. Al: Wu’s opium courier was robbed. Jimmy: Oh, is that so? Well, was it money they got or dope? Al: All his fuckin’ dope. Jimmy: Uh-oh, so you didn’t get your resupply? Al: No. Jimmy: Had you any laid by? Al: No, sir. Uh-oh, hey, Jimmy? Jimmy: It sounds like I’m in for a dry time. (sighs) Some more aches and pains comin’ up for me. Uh, when Wu suppose he hear again from California? (Al shake his head) Can he even make himself understood to you? I’m that amazed how the fuck you and him can make yourselves understood anyway to each other. (chuckles) Al: Jimmy, what become of the dope fiend faro dealer that I hired to apprise me of what transpired over at Tolliver’s? Jimmy: Uh, Leon? Al: Leon, that’s right. Jimmy: Geez, he just disappeared, didn’t he? Where the fuck has he got to? Al: You’ve been wrong ever since you walked in here. You know that, Jimmy, don’t you? Jimmy: Well, like I said, sir, I feel like hell. Al: Is that what I mean? Jimmy: Well, what do you mean, Mr. Swearengen?
Al:
You been lyin’, Jimmy. (inhales audibly) Smell of cat’s piss, in this room is so bad, I want to burn down the fuckin’ building. (inhales & exhales audibly) Jimmy: I—I’m nervous, sir. I’m always nervous around you. Al: Nervousness don’t cause that. Lyin’ causes cat piss smell. (inhales & exhales audibly) I want to tear this entire fuckin’ structure down, huh. I’ll strangle you and throw you off the balcony, you stinkin’ little cocksucker, if you don’t hurry to tell me where and what’s left of that fuckin’ dope that you and that other fuckin’ weasel have been slammin’ into your dope fiend fuckin’ veins during your fuckin’ convalescence. Jimmy: God, Mr. Swearengen— (Al smacks Jimmy hard upside the head, knocks him to the ground) Al:
Jesus, what a fuckin’ stink! Not to mention you kill a fucking chink courier and the headache over that I’m gonna have with fuckin’ Wu if I ever get this fucking stench out of my fuckin’ nostril. Jimmy: I just shit myself, sir. I’m sayin’ it now before the smell gets you. Al: You shit yourself? Jimmy: I’m sorry. Al: Go ahead, throw yourself off the balcony. Jimmy: I’m gonna crawl, sir. I shouldn’t stand. Al: Where’s the fucking dope? Jimmy: At Leon’s, I’ll show you exactly. I’ll tell you everything. We were four days up in his room. Al: Hurry the fuck up. Go on throw yourself, huh? And stay in the fuckin’ muck until I’m down there. Jimmy: I just got a splinter the length of my arm in my fuckin’ palm. It’s alright. Al: Go. Go, Jimmy, come on. Come on, get your shit-smeared ass off my balcony. Go, go, go! (Jimmy climbs over the balcony railing and falls into the muck.) Jimmy: Ugh! I—I hurt my arm. But I’m okay. Al: (points at Jimmy) You fuckin’ lie there now. Jimmy: I’m just gonna roll forward so uh, so I don’t get trampled. --(Al descending stairs…) Al:
(To Johnny) Jimmy Irons is in the muck. Don’t let him scuttle off until Dan emerges with other orders. Dan: How’d it go with Jimmy? Al: Lyin’ thievin’ cocksucker threw himself off the balcony. He’ll lead you to whatever shithole him and that dope fiend faro dealer from Tolliver’s have been usin’ to slam Wu’s junk into their arms. Change Irons into a pair of the other cocksuckers trousers and bring ‘em both back here, plus whatever dope’s left. Dan: Alright.
Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
Is that the fuckin’ Reverend idlin’ by the piano? Yes, sir. Has he explained his presence at all? No, sir. But he ain’t been tryin’ to lead no lost souls to the Lord. So there’s that.
(Dan grabs his hat & leaves, Al approaches the Rev.) Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al:
Rev: Al: Rev:
Reverend. Uh, Mr. Swearengen. Your new piano plays wonderfully. Ain’t it delightful? (To the piano player) Dave, go get a free touch from Wanda, huh? (To the Rev) What’s the matter with your eye? I-I’m not certain. Something’s been amiss the last week or so. Anyways, not wanting to give offense, would you mind me asking you to frequent another joint? No. No, I understand. A man of the cloth slows business down, huh? I-I understand, certainly. (Rev gets up from his chair with some trouble) Hey, what – what’s that then, hmm? Something amiss with my leg, as well. (Al takes his arm and walks him to the door) Ah. How you dealin’ with the fits, huh? Nothing amiss with those. They come with some regularity. My brother suffered them. Did he? Any case, don’t take me for inhospitable. Off hours, any purpose you want to visit, hmm (drinking motion), hmm? (fucking motion) Incognito or the like, I’ll be happy to make it work. I just happened to hear the piano. Alright, Minister. Alright, Mr. Swearengen.
(Reverend leaves, Al turns around and walks across room) Al: Fuckin’ new piano. --(Hostetler walks into the hardware store) Sol: Afternoon. (Seth rises) Seth: Afternoon, Hostetler. Hostetler: Afternoon. Now, I got other interests in my property. If’n you want it, better make a offer. Seth: I’m not gonna make an offer today. Hostetler: Mmm. How much time would you need? Seth: I don’t know, Hostetler. I said when I was ready I’d be by to you. You don’t want to rush me.
Hostetler: I was giving you first opportunity. No one is rushing you. Seth: Alright. Hostetler: Fair offer from other interests, I’m gonna take it. Seth: (Impatiently) Alright, Hostetler. Hostetler: I’ll be havin’ a pick ax. Sol: Bargain at seven dollars. --(Joanie’s room – there’s a knock on the door) Joanie: It’s open. Eddie: Hi ya, kid. Joanie: Hi, Eddie. (They hug) Eddie: Did that bloodstain get you the special rate? Joanie: (chuckles) Have a seat, Eddie. I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t have any booze. Eddie: Settle on a location for you new place yet? Joanie: I’m looking. Eddie: Good. Joanie: That’s a lie. Eddie: As long as it’s the only one you ever told me. Joanie: I don’t want Cy to back me, and I don’t know how to do anything without him. Eddie: I’ll back you. Joanie: You don’t have that kind of money. Eddie: I will. Joanie: You gonna turn prospector, Eddie? Eddie: I’m gonna rob Cy. Joanie: Don’t Eddie. He’ll know. Eddie: What’s the time, kid? (Joanie looks in her hip pouch – no watch) No, he won’t. --(Back in Al’s office with Jimmy Irons, Leon seated, Dan and Johnny standing guard, Al sitting at his desk.) Al:
I do business with this fucking man. Wu does 50 fuckin’ things for me. You rob his fucking courier and kill the cocksucker. What the fuck do I do with you, huh? Leon: I’m so fucked up, Mr. Swearengen. I can’t make a case for myself. Al: Well, what would you want to say? From you, I have received no service of any kind at any point. That chair would make a better spy. (Kicks chair Leon is sitting in hard, it tips over.) Leon: Oh! Oww… Jimmy: I’ve worked hard for you, Mr. Swearengen. My habit’s a fuckin’ curse. Leon: Oh, God. I wish to fuck I never took up opium in my life. Jimmy: If somethin’ might persuade you, Mr. Swearengen, to say you couldn’t find us and give us a day’s start out of fuckin’ camp. You got almost half the dope back, maybe a little less.
Al:
So I give him a little less than half the dope, which you bein’ the cat piss stinkin’ liars you are, he’ll probably draw a picture explaining it’s ten percent of the dope. And then I’ll probably draw a picture for him, portraying myself a cunt! “Cause in that chink mind of his, I’m supposed to bring you to him for his pig’s fuckin’ supper. Jimmy: Please fuckin’ God, Mr. Swearengen, don’t give us to Wu for his pigs. Leon: (Gags, spews vomit across the floor, sobs) (Al nods to Johnny, Johnny looks at Dan, Dan motions to Johnny, Johnny points to Himself, “who me?” walks to Jimmy Irons and taps him on the shoulder, points to the vomit on the floor, hands him a towel. Johnny, all proud of himself, hooks his thumbs in his suspenders and rocks on his heels.) --Mr. Wu: (phonically again-sorry!) Wey! As sign a! Dit toy bin do wa! Ne fie di ja oh wa ne fie de wa! Al: We’re here to be overcharged on some fuckin’ meat. Will your chink highness fucking permit us to go inside and get robbed blind on a side of elk? (Mr. Wu unlocks the door of the meat locker and motions them inside) Al:
I found the cocksuckers that stole your dope and that’s what’s left of the fuckin’ shipment. (Shows Mr. Wu the ball of dope – swaddled in burlap) Mr. Wu: Cocksuckas! (Slit motion across neck) Al: Oh, yeah, I’m all fuckin’ for it, Wu. But neither of us would have reached our present comfortable position freezing our balls off if we didn’t understand you can’t cut the throat of every cocksucker whose character it would improve. Mr. Wu: Cocksucka! (Slit throat motion again) Al: Yeah, well, what happens after the white cocksuckers throats have been cut and two dozen more white cocksuckers get their loads on and decide to teach you and all you chink friends a fuckin’ lesson? Who’s gonna walk away from that get together, huh, Wu? Mr. Wu: Cocksucka! Al: Yeah, cocksucker. Swe’gen bring you cocksucker. Mr. Wu: (sighs) Swe’gen. Al: But only one, Wu. One cocksucker, not two. (Holds up fingers to illustrate) Mr. Wu: (Breathing heavily) Cocksucker (slits throat) One. No two. (Holds fingers up to illustrate like Al did) Al: I give up two whites for one chink. When they’re finished stringin’ you up, they’ll come get me. (Points to meat) How much? Mr. Wu: (Shakes head no, motions to meat) Swe’gen. (Al bows head to Mr. Wu, Dan unhooks the meat while Mr. Wu exits the meat locker) Al:
Even money this’ll end up a fuckin’ blood bath.
(They exit the meat locker, Al speaks in a louder tone than normal) Al:
Every fuckin’ time I come with one price in mind and leave having paid in double. How does this Wu do it to me, huh? Dan: Think the chinks understand you? Al: (Talking normally) They understand my fuckin’ attitude, that he’s a fuckin’ wily big shot. Builds him up amongst his people. (lowers his voice) Take them two dope fiends over to the baths while I converse with Tolliver over which one gets murdered, huh? (Al walks over to Mr. Wu, holds up one finger, Mr. Wu nods yes, Al holds up two fingers, Mr. Wu shakes his head no – reluctantly.) Dan: It’s a nice piece of meat. Al: So cut a piece off for yourself. Put the rest in the cellar, then take them hoopleheads over to the baths. Dan: (Loudly – to Mr. Wu) Nice Meat! (Dan leaves. Mr. Wu looks at his men and walks towards them, yelling (phonically again As much as I could get– sorry!)) Mr. Wu: A Lea lila e fong goon ga doa gwee er…. --(Al enters the Bella Union, Cy is standing at the bar with his back to the door, smoking a cigar and nursing a whiskey) Al: Cy: Al: Cy: Al: Cy: Al: Cy:
Al: Cy: Al: Cy: Al:
If it’s your missing faro dealer you’re drinking over, he just threw up in my office. (snickers) Had you been sharin’ space with him a while? Only long enough to find out him and a fellow dope fiend works for me robbed and murdered a chink opium courier. Oh, Leon, Leon, Leon. Second best thimble rigger I ever saw when he wasn’t chasin’ the dragon. You do realize I’m presentin’ you with a mutual fuckin’ problem. Which I expect’s a little ways down the road, so I’m waxin’ philosophical ‘til you tell me what the fuck you want. I made a deal with the boss chink to give him one of the two dope fiends. Oh. Do I assume some piece of the opium this courier bore was intended for you? Ah, so you got a reason to keep the chink boss happy. I don’t, so I can stand on principle. What’s your fuckin’ principle? A white dope fiend’s still white. I don’t deliver white men to chinks. Leaving me with a bag of shit to hold. Well, maybe you should think harder about traffickin’ in fuckin’ junk. I’m a purveyor of spirits, Cy, dope fuckin’ included, and when chance affords, a thief, but I ain’t no fuckin’ hypocrite.
Cy:
(sighs) I think we’re done, Al. But in my line, I’m used to certain types thinkin’ they need the last word. Al: My last word is the fuckin’ bag man’s here from Yankton, so get up your fuckin’ share. (He leaves) Cy: (To the bartender) Where’s fuckin’ Joanie stayin’? Bartender: I don’t know, Cy. Cy: Ah, don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Bartender: I don’t know. Cy: tsk. Well, if you see her at whatever fuckin’ place you don’t know where she’s stayin’ at, tell her I have some good fuckin’ news for her about upcoming real estate availabilities. If she’d ever show up to hear about it. Okay? Bartender: Sure, boss. Cy: Thank you. --(Piano playing, the Reverend is back at the Gem sitting next to the piano, kicking his heels to the floor in time with the music, ecstatic look on his face. The whores are playing ring around the drunk guy, Trixie walks down the stairs and sees the Rev, Jewel walks in.) Johnny: That ain’t right, see. My father was a preacher of the word and that ain’t fuckin’ right. --(Doc is checking snatches, the whores are giggling and making fun of the Rev.) Whore: So this what it’s come to in Deadwood, hey, Doc? Ministers kickin’ up their heels and china men walking through the front door. Doc: (To blonde whore after he’s done checking her snatch) You know, when you giggle, you leak piss. Trixie:Poor fucking man. Doc: Lemme see your arm Trixie:It’s fine, Doc, it’s better. (Brunette whore crouching and pulling at her eye, laughing) Doc: Quit acting like a goddamn fool and sit down. --(Whores are still playing ring around the drunk, the Rev is kicking his heels in time to the music, laughing, having a grand old time. One of the whores pinches his cheek.) Al: Rev: Al: Rev: Al:
(Yelling) Get the fuck away from him! Shut that fuckin’ piano down! Hey, big time! Fuck ‘em or get the fuck out! Did we not come to an understanding? In what connection, sir? In the connection of you staying the fuck out of here. I don’t recall that, sir. Do you wish me to leave? Yeah, I wish you to fuckin’ leave. Write yourself a note and hang it over your one good fuckin’ eye. Stay out of Al Swearengen’s joint.
Rev: Al: Rev: Al:
Alright, sir. And stay the fuck out of the Gem, what ever my fuckin’ problem is, hmm? I was drawn to the music. The piano uh, relieves my headache. You listen to a piano where you don’t make a fuckin’ ass out of yourself, huh? (Al walks to the bar) Rev: Do you know where I might find one? Al: No! (To Johnny) Help him the fuck out, huh? (Johnny nods head – goes to the Rev – Al sees the Doc, motions him to the back.) Johnny: (To the Rev) Mmm. (Takes him by the elbow and escorts the Rev out, on the way they pass Jewel and her and the Rev look at each other.) --Al: What the fuck was that? Doc: He’s havin’ changes in his brain. Al: I hope to Christ he’s having changes. I’d hate to think of him conducting performances like that of secret evenings in the forest and the like. Doc: Well, I’m certain now it’s a tumor. Al: Well, that caused the fits too, huh? Doc: Yes. Al: You notice now, too, he’s starin’ cockeyed? He was in here not two hours ago. Don’t fuckin’ remember. Nothin’ to be done, huh? Doc: No. Al: Well, he ain’t comin’ back in my joint. He’s a fuckin’ man of the cloth in case he forgets. Kickin’ up his legs like a four-bit strumpet. How’s Trixie’s spirits seem to you? Doc: Her abscess seems fine. Al: That ain’t what I asked. Doc: And I don’t answer for the state of people’s spirits. (The Doc walks out, Al throws the spices(?) that he picked up off the table upon entering back down on the table. Struts out to the bar.) Al:
(Yelling) Come on! Buy a drink! Get your pricks sucked! Spend some fuckin’ money, huh?
---(Seth and Sol on their porch) Seth: It ain’t circumstance. It’s my own fuckin’ mettlesome nature. Sol: Far as what? Seth: What I’ve done, Sol. And you have to admire me for it - is moved 300 miles to set the dame situation up I left Montana to get away from. Drawin’ up proposals for refuse disposal. Sol: Unsolicited. Seth: Insulted Hostetler out of my own fuckin’ irritability. Sol: I believe Hostetler’s had worse afternoons. Seth: Wife and child I barely know.
Sol:
I don’t guess you need me to say it. If there’s a heaven, your brother sees what you did and he’s grateful. Seth: Maybe he sees me borrowing his life so I didn’t have to live my own. Sol: People have made good lives out of borrowed ones before. But she is a beautiful woman. --Al: Them stuffed envelopes for them cunts at the legislature, past smoothin’ the road for the camp’s annexation they were supposed to clear up a personal situation. But that letter you bore from the magistrate explained my situation would need additional envelopes. Silas: Not my problem. Al: But you’d understand how a man would feel aggrieved, learning that he bribed a legislator to annex a camp, but hadn’t got the sold-out cocksuckers to lift the murder warrant against him, how he’d feel that he spent a lot of time and trouble and expense for the privilege of getting hanged? Silas: Not so far I’d excuse him motherfuckin’ me that only bore the message. Al: No. Silas: I’m here to take your message back to the magistrate. Al: Who I’d be surprised is a lyin’ thievin’ double crossing cocksucker only in his dealin’s with me? Silas: Yeah, Magistrate Claggett is a cocksucker. Al: And. Silas: Make your offer. Al: How can I prove you’re not here to catch me in a switch? Silas: I’m not here to prove shit to you. Al: Does it matter to you the cocksucker the warrant’s out on me for killing needed murderin’ every fuckin’ day he drew breath? Silas: No. Al: Good. Gotta go to the bathhouse. You want to accompany me? No one’s looking to fuck you up the ass. I gotta execute someone. (Silas does a shot and gets up, they leave.) Al:
Here’s the situation. Two dope fiends rob and murder an opium courier. Dope fiends are white, opium courier’s a chink. Silas: So far, who cares? Al: The chink who paid for the delivery is a boss amongst his own, goes berserk. Matter of indifference still, huh? Some of the dope should have been delivered by the boss chink to a pillar of the white community, a wonderful man. One of the dope fiends works for a clever cocksucker who could be considered his rival, and who is watching this from his balcony as we speak. Thank you for not looking. The boss chink wants to feed both dope fiends to his pigs. Silas: No. Al: Would you give him one? Silas: Is the boss chink the only source of opium in the camp? Al: Yup.
Silas: Al: Silas: Al:
Any other business connections with the white pillar? Several. I’d give him one. Let the dope fiends draw fuckin’ straws. Clever cocksucker won’t consent to that. Don’t want his man in a lottery. That could deliver him to a chink. Silas: Is the clever cocksucker spoiling for a fight? (They continue their walk to the bathhouse) Cy: Al! What you asked for earlier? (Throws down bag of bribe money at their feet) I suspect that’s who it’s intended for. Al: Smart thinkin’. (Silas bends over and picks up the bag) Cy: Lilah: Al: Al: Silas: Al:
This is Lilah. Say hello to the fellas, Lilah. Hello, fellas. Speaks, too. Be a big earner for you, Cy. (They continue to the bathhouse) Maybe he is spoilin’ for a fight. Felt that way to me. (They stop) No one asked you how it felt. My money’d be on him trying to put the chink boss in the wrong eyes of the camp. Anyways, Thank God I don’t have to rely on you to formulate my plan of action. You with me? Silas: Yeah, I’m with you. (They walk to the bathhouse) --Jimmy: Mr. Swearengen. Al, we are good and fucked up. We are fucked up, Mr. Swearengen. What have we been sayin’ repeatedly, Dan? Dan: Al’s a good guy. Jimmy: Uh, that you’d fuckin’ allow us your works here and us periodically fixin’ the entire time we’re in the fuckin’ tub, after how we inconvenienced you and fucked you up. Fucked up out own fuckin’ lives from the time I was a fuckin’ child. Leon: Al. Jimmy: Thank you, Mr. Swearengen, and you are a good guy.) (Al looks back at Silas like “can you believe this motherfucker?” – Jimmy splashes Leon) Leon: Thank you, Al. Al: One of you is gonna have to apologize to Wu. Jimmy: Uh, apologize? Leon: I’ll apologize. Bring that slant-eyed bastard over here. He can get in the fuckin’ tub with me. I’ll apologize and then I’ll kiss him. And then I’ll tie him off and I’ll shoot him up and then I’ll blow him with fuckin’ soap. Al: We’re gonna draw straws to see who goes over to see Wu. Leon: We go there? I withdraw my volunteer. I am comfortable where I am.
Al: You’re gonna pick a straw, Jimmy. Jimmy: Well – well, when you say apologize, sir, could you be specific what’s gonna happen? Al: Short straw apologizes. Jimmy: But then what the fuck is Wu gonna do? Al: I worked it out with Wu. Jimmy: So, uh, our apology’s gonna be enough? Leon: We happen to be fuckin’ white. And in case you hadn’t noticed, he happens to be a fuckin’ slant-eyed fuckin’ celestial. He’s lucky to get a fuckin’ apology. He’s lucky we’re willin’ to do even that. Jimmy: Well – well, why do I pick? Leon: I’ll pick. (Puts hand out) I don’t fuckin’ mind. Don’t be fuckin’ afraid. You be fuckin’ afraid your whole life of every fuckin’ thing. You want me to pick, Al? I’ll pick. And then I’ll blow myself with fuckin’ soap. Al: Pick, Jimmy. Jimmy: Show me. Uh, would you show me the straws, please, sir? So I—So I know one’s long and one’s short. Al: Pick. Jimmy: Can I get off again first? (Al shakes his head no, Jimmy hesitantly reaches for a straw, picks one, looks at Leon) Leon: Is that the short one? Or the long one? (Al throws the other straw to the ground, grabs Jimmy’s feet, forcing him underwater, Al puts his foot on Jimmy’s throat, Jimmy struggles trying to grab Al’s leg.) Al: Do not throw up. I don’t want to smell your stink! --(The Reverend enters the hardware store) Sol: Rev:
Reverend Smith. Evening, sir. (Breathing heavily – through entire conversation, advances toward Sol. Turns to Seth) Evening. Seth: Reverend. Rev: I watched goods in the tent this uh, this structure replaced while Messer’s Bullock and Star first took in the camp. Seth: You sure did. Sol: What can we do you for you, Reverend? Rev: I’m in a quandary, gentlemen. Are you Messer’s Bullock and Star? Sol: In the flesh. (Seth gets up from his desk to stand next to Sol, crossing his arms on the way.) Rev:
You are the absolute images of them, gentlemen. But what makes me afraid is I do not recognize you as my friends. And, naturally, I am afraid.
Sol: Rev:
What are you afraid of, sir? I don’t know what’s happening to me. I have various ailments, and I suppose this is a further ailment, but of what sort, I don’t know. And I’m afraid if you are devils, which—which I don’t believe you are, because you were the kindest men of all in the camp to me. But if you were devils, I suppose that—that would be the-the-the type of shape you would take, and – and if you are not devils, I…Then I am—I am simply losing my mind. And with my other ailments, I am concerned and afraid. Sol: Alright, Reverend. Seth: We’re the people you met the night you watched our goods. I’m from Etobicoke, Ontario. Sol: I’m from Vienna, Austria. (The Reverend’s face lights up.) Rev: Seth: Rev: Sol: Rev: Seth: Rev: Sol:
Wonderful. You’re here with friends. Yes. Yes, I feel that now. And I have various ailments of which we all suffer. And next morning, often finds us feeling better. Yes. In any case, part of God’s plan. May we walk you back to your tent, sir? (The Reverend smiles) An evening stroll with friends. I would do enjoy that. Let’s go then.
(They get their hats, Seth gets his jacket as well and blows out the oil lamp, taking a lantern with him. Sol takes the Rev by the shoulder and guides him out to the porch) Rev:
Mr. Swearengen’s saloon has a new piano.
(Seth locks up, Sol pats the Rev on the back, Seth walks to the Rev’s other side and pats his back) --(Back at the bathhouse, Jimmy’s almost done drowning.) Al: You tell your boss. Tell him what you saw here, huh? Leon: I saw a fair procedure. (Reaches for dope) I saw a fair procedure, Al, to tell Mr. Tolliver. (Al drops the finally dead Jimmy’s legs, punches Leon) Agh! Al: Do not fucking call me Al! (Al shakes his hands dry. Does anyone else hear Paul Simon playing in their heads? “You can call me Al, call me…”) Leon: Aw. Ugh. (crying) Aw, aw. (Silas, still stone faced, turns and leaves with Al. Dan pushes up his sleeves and grabs Jimmy from the bathtub.) --Al:
I guess Tolliver achieved his purpose standing on that balcony. (Silas gives Al Cy’s bribe bag.)
Silas: Why’d you kill your own guy? Al: Why? Silas: You give Tolliver’s dope fiend to the boss chink instead of your own guy, gives Tolliver the opening to make the boss chink look wrong in the eyes of the whites. Al: He can go to war with me and make me out a chink lover. What if my guy had drawn the long straw? (Dan comes out of the bathhouse with a dead Jimmy wrapped in swaddling over his shoulder) Silas: I guess he’d have been shit out of luck. Al: (To Dan) Mr. Adams doesn’t think there was a long straw. Mr. Adams, Mr. Dority. Silas: Silas. Dan: Dan (Dan shifts Jimmy and offers his hand – they shake) Al: Silas, life your lid. (Silas takes off his hat) Yeah. Get a fuckin’ haircut. Looks like you mother fucked a monkey. (Al walks off with Dan following him. Silas’ butler joins him on the porch of the bathhouse) Al: Wu! Here’s that cocksucker to apologize. (Lifts the sheet from Jimmy’s face) Dan: Say you’re sorry, Jimmy! (Dan throws Jimmy to the pigs. The pigs start squealing.) Mr. Wu: (Puts right hand over his left fist) Swe’gen. Al: (returns the gesture) Yeah. Swe’gen hopes we ain’t signed ourselves up for killin’, too. Cast:
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Nick Amandos Sean Bridgers
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane Dan Dority Charlie Utter Johnny Burns
Larry Cedar Kim Dickens Richard Gant Meghan Glennon Monty 'Hawkeye' Henson Ricky Jay Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones Ray McKinnon Dean Rader-Duval Ralph Richeson Teresa Shae Gene Thatcher Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Keone Young
Leon Joanie Stubbs Hostetler
Eddie Sawyer Jewel A.W. Merrick Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Jimmy Irons (as Dean Radar Duval) Pete
Sophia Metz Silas Adams Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 11 “Jewel’s Boot is Made for Walking” (Trixie looking out window) Al:
A slob mick cop in Chicago gonna take me off for 35 dollars. Just because he thinks he can. ‘cause when he comes around for his free fuckin’ meal and to have his prick sucked and collect his weekly 20 fuckin’ dollars from the woman that runs the whorehouse, I’m there buying girls to bring out to the camps. I knifed the tub of guts. That’s what this cunt of a magistrate’s shaking me down over. Having already taken $5,000 to have the warrant lifted. Trixie:Can you do business with his bag man? Al: I’ll fuckin’ find that out shortly. Or if you’re never gonna be able to fuckin’ operate in peace. What should I know? Trixie:Bullock’s rode out with that Hostetler from the livery. Farnum’s slithered his way across here. Jewel just left. Al: Where the fuck is Jewel goin’? Trixie:I don’t know. Al: Take half a day off if you feel like. Go see that child. Well, venture out. Sally fuckin’ forth, hmm? Trixie:Maybe I will. Al: But now come back to bed. --(Jewel walking in muddy street) Horse rider: Hey! Get outta the way! Asshole: Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh (laughing) (Jewel walks on…falls) Guy: Watch yourself there. (She gets up, brushes herself off, fixes her hair) (knocks on Doc’s door) Doc: Who’s sick? What’s he doin’ makin’ you walk to tell me? Jewel: I came here on my own, Doc. I got something I want to show you. It’s a book. Doc: Oh no. I don’t read goddamn books on the civil war. No. Jewel: Look! Doc: I don’t need to look. I was goddamn there. Jewel: But it’ll help me walk better. Doc: Okay, you’re referring to the brace on his leg.
Jewel: Yes. Doc: For your information, Jewel, that boy in the drawing was goddamn able-bodied before he got his leg shot up, not born with difficulties and hardships that got no cure and took from you the coordination a brace like that would require. Jewel: I—I was just lookin’ at the picture, and draggin’ my leg really makes Al crazy. Doc: Fuck Al. Everybody’s got limits. You draggin’ you leg is yours. Jewel: I’m sorry. Doc: What do you apologize for? Don’t – Don’t apologize to me. Lemme—let me hold onto this for a while. Jewel: Thank You. --(Out in the street a stage coach has pulled up and packages are being unloaded. Merrick runs up to the stage with glee, his long awaited camera has arrived. He’s dancing around with excitement and nerves as the men unloading the crates are not being to gentle…) Merrick: Ha, ha, ha, momentous! The long-awaited day! Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh God, Oh God, Oh, yes, yes. Uh, careful, careful, careful, careful! Now sir, we must confirm the contents of this precious cargo. Oh God, Philistine. Ah, Joseph, what you see here is an American Optical back focus single swing with a Meyer-Gorlitz trio plan 210 millimeter lens. The finest photographic apparatus manufactured in this country. What William Henry Fox Talbot could have achieved in service of this fine apparatus. Ah, God! Agh! Yo, God, Yes, careful, careful. --(Back in the absurd restaurant…) Guy (To Charlie Utter): Good Day, sir. Utter: Ow, damn. Joanie: What’s wrong? Utter: Uh, bit my d— Alma: Oh. (bumps into Utter) Utter: Leaned forward to give that fella passage and bit my damn tongue. Knocked off my chewin’ angle. Joanie: Is it bleeding? Utter: Now, I don’t want to look. Might upset the child. Joanie: Anyways, maybe a different way’s opened up, Charlie, as far as me getting backing for my brothel. Utter: Uh-huh. I understood the question was location, but glad to hear the backin’ problem’s solved. Joanie: I think uh, I’ve been finicky over the location ‘cause I wasn’t comfortable with the backing. Utter: I’ll tell you one thing, I ain’t makin’ too many friends in this camp in my capacity as fire marshal. ---
Ellsworth: We’re through the easy pickin’ on that outcrop, ma’am. I’ll wade around that creek as long as you like. But, uh you wanna make you claim show it’s colors, you’re gonna need to sink a few shafts. Alma: I’m close to suggesting that we proceed. Ellsworth: Meaning my use to you’s near a finish. Alma: No. Ellsworth: I told you Mrs. Garrett, such as it is, my expertise ain’t underground. Alma: I want you still to supervise. I trust you, Ellsworth, as an honorable man. I take great pleasure in your company. (Sophia looks at Alma’s hand touching Ellsworth’s and back to Alma) Ellsworth: I feel the same. I look forward to our breakfasts, and I’ll just say once, I know I’m too damn old for ya. Otis: Button. Alma: Oh my goodness. (Otis kisses Alma) Alma: (laughing) I can’t bOtis: (too Ellsworth) I take a father’s liberty. Alma: Uh, Mr. Ellsworth, Mr. Russell. Ellsworth: How do you do, sir. Otis: How do you do. Alma: Uh, and this is Sophia. Otis: Hello, Sophia. Sophia: Hello. Otis: (To Ellsworth) Your daughter? Alma: My ward. Ellsworth: Any rate, pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m honored to be in your daughter’s employ. And with your permission, ma’am, I will take my leave. Alma: Uh, of course. Ellsworth: And my plate…and my coffee…and my hat. (sticks tongue out at Sophia – she sticks her tongue out at Ellsworth) Otis: Fine manners. --Andy: Reverend Smith. Rev: How are you, sir. Andy: Andy Cramed, Reverend. Rev: Mr. Cramed, you returned to the setting of your recovery. Andy: Uh-huh. Rev: How have you fared since? Andy: I’ve been trying out the other camps. Rev: To what effect? Andy: No good effect, Reverend. Rev: I see.
Andy: How you feelin’? Rev: Uh, as you see, uh, the tent, as you see is in the process of being dismantled. Our last tenant took his leave yesterday. Andy: Upright? Rev: He was upright, yes. His name escapes me. Doctor Cochran, I believe, uh, is expected shortly, I believe. I was asked to uh, to see to the packing of uh, certain liniments and uh…medicines. Andy: Are you not well, minister? Rev: Sometimes I’m very well, indeed. My energy will return, or even an excess of energy. At other times, I’m not well, or an excess of energy. How are you Mr. Cramed? Andy: Well, I backslid in the other camps. At Gayville, I had the best intentions and I wound up at dice. Rev: Oh, Yes. Andy: At Elizabethtown, I wound up at dice… Rev: Oh, Yes. Andy: Thought I’d try to work here where I’d been good, but you’re putting the tent down. Rev: Ask God’s help Mr. Cramed. Wherever you find yourself, he will show you the path. Andy: Could you help me to pray? Rev: Oh…Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to love than to be loved…and the rest, I forget. (Staggers off) --Dan: “ Why don’t you get a haircut, Adams? Looks like your mama fucked a monkey.” Johnny: Just that affectionate? Dan: Yeah, I’ve never seen Al warm up to anybody so quick. EB: Which should persuade you then of what? Dan: Well, you think it’s just tactics? EB: The magistrate Al counted on to be his advocate in Yankton turned Judas. Adams is the magistrate’s bag man. Al is merely probing Adams’ willingness to betray the magistrate. In turn, his warmth is counterfeit. --(Al is on balcony – sees Adams and goes inside) Al: (To Jewel) Where the fuck were you? Jewel: At the Doc. Al: Fix me a cup of coffee. (Silas Adams enters, EB stands up and smiles like a puppy, Al struts toward him, looks at EB) Silas: Mornin’
Al:
Shorn and groomed to a fuckin’ fare-thee-well. She’d never recognize you. Have to smell you all over to know you was hers. Silas: My monkey mother. Al: Let’s take a table out of the traffic, huh? (EB does his best impression of a Barker’s Beauty presenting them towards the table) Johnny: (To EB) Just that affectionate. EB: (To Silas) I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory, Mr. Adams…Silas. If not, they could always be changed. Al: (To Jewel) Uh, let me fuckin’ pour. He’s gotta make some distance before sunset. What was your purpose at the Doc’s? Jewel: I’m knocked up. Silas: What message should I take to the magistrate? Al: No envelopes and to fuck himself. I’m glad we had occasion last night to spend some time together, so, when he asks if this is tactics or true position you’ll know what to say. Silas: I’ll know. Al: You travel safe. Silas: They believe you’re the man to deal with. Yankton. Al: I am. Silas: It’s just the magistrate looking to earn off that warrant. But no one else even knows it’s out on you. Al: Maybe the magistrate needs to die. Silas: Maybe he does. Al: He won’t come back here without a resolution. He’ll know what’s waitin’ for him. Silas: Maybe he needs to die there. Al: Maybe he should. And the person who did it would only be at the beginning of his usefulness to me. Silas: That person didn’t come back with a warrant on you quashed would be a fool not to think he’d be the next one killed. Al: That’s why he’d be so useful to me thinking that far ahead. Silas: Make your offer. Al: A thousand for the cocksucker proved dead, a thousand for the warrant proved lifted. Silas: A thousand and a thousand. Think I am a fuckin’ monkey? Al: You thought there would be twenty in it? Silas: Kill Claggett and get you out from under that warrant? You’re fuckin’ right there’s twenty. Al: Do it for two. You’ve got to believe the job would open the door to your future, and you gotta believe you’d make your ass hundreds of thousands back and forth between here and Yankton. Silas: 2,000. (Hold two fingers up…spits in his hand and Al spits in his – they shake – pan to EB)
EB: I put him in a room above the privy. --(Up in Alma’s room at the Grand Central…) Otis: I always thought it was gonna end like this, button. A rooming house in a mining camp on Indian Territory, you caring for a Norwegian fondling and operating a bonanza gold claim. Alma: (chuckling) And you, Daddy? Otis: Always a little sketchy about me. I hope I’m here to help. (knocking) Otis: Uh, that would be my room key. Sophia? (Hands Sophia a coin) Richardson: Room 7. Otis: Thank you, sir. Sophia: Thank you. Richardson: You’re welcome, little one. (Closes door) Otis: Oh my goodness, what’s that behind your ear? Don’t you ever clean behind your ear? (Pulls coin out – Sophia walks to Alma and shows her the coin.) Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma:
mmm. Does caring for Sophia please you? More with each day. And do you have any of the gold? As it happens…(pulls gold out of doll basket) The well-mannered Mr. Ellsworth says these abound? Yes. There’s some talk that you did Brom in. From his parents? They have raised the possibility. As it happens, I was not present when Brom fell. You have to admit, it’s a suspicious sequence. The man who was is in the camp. Given their view of the marriage. I doubt he tells the true story of how Brom died, but he would verify that I wasn’t there. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s always about the money, button. In certain circles. But not here, hmm? I suppose here, as well. In certain circles.
Otis: Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis:
Mr. Ellsworth being the exception? Mr. Ellsworth was engaged by a Mr. Seth Bullock, who’s been steadfast and kind. And when did you path cross Mr. Bullock’s? Before Brom’s accident or after? Mr. Bullock was asked to look to my interest by Wild Bill Hickok. Who, if I recall your reading habits, has been an acquaintance of yours since childhood. (Chuckling) I would very much like to meet this Mr. Bullock. Nearly as much as I’d like to wash. (Gets up and walks toward the door) Alma: Daddy. Otis: Ah. (Hands back gold) I’m glad to see you. --(At Nuttall’s #10, Charlie is performing a fire safety inspection…) Utter: Stovepipe directly into wood, no clearance or sheet iron in between. Nuttall: What’s the significance? Utter: Joint’s like to burn to cinders. Nuttall: Well, then why ain’t it yet? Utter: Dumb luck, Tom. Which you hadn’t ought to push, camp bein’ situated like it is, everyone ass to elbow. Hazard to one’s a hazard to all. Nuttall: Why, ain’t you startin’ to talk like a goddamn government official. Utter: I’m Charlie Utter. That attended the same fuckin’ meetin’ you did. And bein’ they pinned fire marshal on me, I ain’t seein’ the camp burn to the ground. So either cure your stovepipe violation or prepare to get levied a fine. Nuttall: Well I’ll lick a bear’s ass before I’d pay a fine to E.B. Farnum. Utter: Then separate your goddamn stovepipes from the goddamn wall! Nuttall: Well, I—I’ll send one of my boys over to pick up the iron. Utter: This ain’t the goddamn day of judgment, Tom. (leaves) Nuttall: Jesus Christ Almighty! That’s the kind of shit that ran me out of WilkesBarre. Stapleton: Where the camp’s headed, Tom. Nuttall: Maybe I’ll just fuckin’ move along. Stapleton: Why is there no sheriff in this camp? Nuttall: What? Stapleton: All these official positions, why is there no sheriff? Nuttall: Because Al Swearengen don’t want one. Stapleton: Well, what if a sheriff took office that Al could trust not to bother him? And you could lay head to pillow nights knowin’ he was your friend. Type of man who’d go up to a fire marshal, say, and tell him and his so-called sheet iron violation that hadn’t proven to be dangerous uh, for, what, goin’ on two months now, should be waived? And whose ear’d be first to the ground when any violence created maybe business opportunities? And who’d remember who got him started. Nuttall: I never thought of you as the type to be sheriff. Stapleton: Nah, I’d be out of the mold, but uh, fit for the camp. My problem, Tom, is uh…whereas he has a soft spot for you as a fellow pioneer, Swearengen hates my fuckin’ guts. So knowin’ how grateful I’d be and all’s, I’d un, show it to ya, wonder if you’d put in a word?
--(Cy’s office – knocking) Cy: Leon: Cy: Leon: Cy: Leon: Cy:
Yeah! Mr. Tolliver. Leon, come on in. Your habit get the best of you a while, son? It got the fuckin’ upper hand. How’s your sight, Leon? Whole left eye’s perfect and the right’s comin’ back. Have I still got a job, sir? I’d dig to hear more from you, what you been up to, who the fuck with. That kind of thing. Leon: Aw, you probably know everything about everything already. Cy: Be that as it may…. Leon: Well…me and Jimmy Irons, we stole the china man’s dope. Chinaman’s courier, he lost his life. We slammed dope for a series of days, and Al Swearengen’s tough captured us. And in the bathhouse, we drew straws and – and Jimmy irons drowned. Cy: Does that about cover it? Leon: If you ask me specifics, I may be able to come up with some more details. Cy: Was Al Swearengen holding the straws, Leon? Leon: Yes, sir. He said to tell you what I seen. Cy: And now is he holdin’ the strings on you? Leon: Sir? Cy: Are you here on his instruction? Leon: I’m telling you what I seen, because you asked me to. Cy: What’d they do with Jimmy Irons? They give him to the china man? Leon: I guess they did. They wrapped him up and took him out. Swearengen turned me loose, but he’d just give me this, (points to eye) so I stayed in the tub until I got my bearings. Cy: That’s a hell of a way to treat a white man, ain’t it, Leon? Leon: Bein’ fair, I’d have to say, I gave Mr. Swearengen provocation. He traffics in dope so I—I guess you could say that I’d stole his property and fucked his action up. Cy: I’m talking about Jimmy Irons. In connection with getting’ delivered to a chink, regardless of his fuckin’ transgression. Leon: Oh, I see. Cy: And in that connection, I’m sayin’ it’s a hell of a way to treat a white man. Leon: I see. Cy: You agree with me? Leon: Yes? Cy: So it’s your own opinion, too? Leon: Yes, sir. Cy: Well, that’s your new fuckin’ job. Expressin’ your own fuckin’ opinion. Leon: I can do that. Cy: With conviction, Leon. (Leon Laughs)
Cy:
Your job is to voice your opinion with some oomph and some character behind it…or you’ll wish you’d got drowned in that bathhouse. Leon: Alright. (They shake hands) Cy: Welcome back, Son. --Nuttall: Oh, uh, well, uh, no, thanks, Al. I uh –or well, uh eh, yes, I will. (Drinks a shot of whiskey) Al: What’s going on, Tom? Nuttall: Well, I—I thought you could uh, make Con Stapleton uh, sheriff, uh, bein’ it’s inevitable anyway. Al: How the fuck did that get to be inevitable? I wouldn’t appoint that cocksucker to empty my spittoons. Nuttall: What I’m sayin’ is somebody’s gotta be sheriff, Al. Stapleton’s got points in his favor. Al: I hope one’s not gettin’ to recover the bribe he paid you when I don’t give him the fuckin’ job. Nuttall: Who’s your candidate, Al? Al: Nobody. Nuttall: Well that’s just postponin’ the inevitable. Al: Tom, nothin’ Stapleton’s got on you can’t be solved by Dan Dority. Nuttall: Well, uh, um…fill me up. Al: Jesus Christ. Nuttall: The – the truth is I—I feel like the – the camp’s gettin’ away from me, Al. I got a fire commissioner who’s about to condemn my building, and we’re still on Indian land. Al: How does Stapleton becoming sheriff keep the camp from gettin’ away from you? Nuttall: Well, I know him. Uh, he’d know I put in a word with you. Al: What the fuck good is that to you, Tom, when the cocksucker can be bought for two pieces of day old bread. Nuttall: Well well well that’s right. That-that all makes sense. It, uh…eh, when you just come up to this camp and hung your sign up for nickel booze and 50 cent pussy… Al: Them was get acquainted prices. Nuttall: But the point is, I seen your fuckin’ tent. I walked over and I – I said uh, “Hello.” I didn’t tell you—you gotta sheet iron your fuckin’ stovepipe. Al: I didn’t have a stovepipe. And you had your knife at the ready if I didn’t make a good impression. Nuttall: Well that’s true enough, uh, but you didn’t. Al: And Dority made a hell of a one on ya. Nuttall: Uh, that – that, too, is – is true enough. Now, I just, uh…I feel like I know the guy, Al. Al: Stapleton.
Nuttall: Well, I don’t feel like I know anybody no more. Al: Yeah, he can be sheriff for all I care. Nuttall: Thank you, Al. Al: Don’t count on him to be loyal, Tom. Nuttall: N—No, no. Uh, just a familiar face. Al: And no fucking paperwork. Nuttall: Well, I don’t even know if he can write. (Al laughs, Nuttall gets up to leave – walks to door, gets to threshold, turns back) Nuttall: Could he be sworn in here, Al? Al: Oh, for chrissake, Tom! Nuttall: Well, he feels you don’t like him. Al: He’s fuckin’ right as rain. Nuttall: But it’d be a comfort to him, say, if he was sworn in under your roof. (Al sees Trixie leaving the Gem) Al:
Let Farnum swear him the fuck in here then. But press your luck no further. Do not expect me to fuckin’ attend. Nuttall: Awful grateful, Al. --Trixie:Mr. Star. Sol: Miss Trixie, pleased to see you. Trixie:I threatened to pay a visit. Sol: You spoke of lookin’ out for some building implements. Trixie:I spoke of looking out for an ax and a say, and if I got ‘em, they wouldn’t be applied to buildin’ nothin’. Anyways, would you want a free fuck? Sol: Why would you say that? Trixie:To know the answer. Sol: Why would you say it that way? Trixie:For chrissakes, Mr. Star, my cherry is obstructing my work. Sir…would you take it from me, free? (Sol closes door, take’s Trixie by the hand and leads her to the back of the store – sets Her Up on some boxes and…bow chicka bow bow!) Trixie:Uh… (door opening) Sol: Seth, you remember Trixie. Seth: Oh, yes. Well, I just stopped for a moment. (Seth picks up a clampy thing)
Sol: Oh yes. Seth: I’ll lock up? Sol: Oh, yes. (They continue where they left off…Sol tries to kiss Trixie) Trixie:Kiss my neck or my tits if you have to kiss somethin’. Sol: Let me kiss you. Trixie:Well you’re a goddamn Jew fool. (They kiss) --EB: Do you swear before this witness to uphold whatever laws may be put in force subsequently? Stapleton: Yeah, if I can, yeah. Nuttall: And don’t forget who your friends are. Stapleton: Always. Merrick: Gentlemen, uh, hold still. Take a breath, don’t move. One, two, three. Very good. (Dan rubs sparks out of his eyes in the background) Merrick: Uh, gentlemen, Tom, I – I wondered if a second one might be appropriate without that putrid apron around your midsection. Nuttall: No. Uh, Let’s drink. EB: (To Stapleton) Our health commissioner. Seth: Whiskey. EB: You’ve just missed my swearing in of the camp’s new sheriff. Stapleton: Con Stapleton, sir. I’m not sure we’ve actually met. Seth: You were at the table when Hickok was killed. Stapleton: Indeed, I was. A horrified bystander. Seth: We weren’t to have a sheriff. Nuttall: Well, that’s been reconsidered as inevitable. EB: Had you designs on the post, Bullock? Seth: I don’t want the post. Stapleton: Well, no hard feelin’s then. Consider me, at your service. Seth: My wife and child are to join me from Michigan. Is Al in his office? EB: Seems to be sequestered. He missed the swearin’ in, too. Nuttall: He did want us over here though ain’t that absolutely correct? Stapleton: Well, then why the fuck didn’t eh come down? Nuttall: Well, why didn’t he come down? That’s unclear. EB: To let you know exactly, I would guess, at whose mysterious pleasure you serve. (Flash) Merrick:
A candid moment.
--(Al watching from balcony) Rev: Circumcision…is indeed profiteth if thou keepest the law, but if, uh…if thou are a transgressor of the law, thy circumcision become uncircumcision. Therefore, if uh, thy uncircumcision uh, keeps the uh, the righteousness of the lay, shall not his uncircumcision that is by nature fulfilling his lay shall judge thee, who by—by letter and uh, circumcision transgresses the law. (knocking) Al: Yeah! Seth: It’s Seth Bullock. (enters) Why’d you let Stapleton have a badge? Al: They sworn the cocksucker in yet? Seth: Hurry down and toast him. Maybe Merrick’ll put his camera back up. Al: No, I prefer to watch the fucking Reverend Smith preach to the oxen and the horses. Seth: It ain’t right for the camp. My wife and child are comin’. Al: Bullock, it’s a ceremonial position to give comfort to Tom Nuttall, who feels the camp’s leavin’ him behind. Putting a badge on Stapleton makes him feel he’s got friends in high places. Seth: That job shouldn’t go to a shitheel. Al: Oh, as my feeling would be, it should go to a shitheel as it’s shitheel’s work. Seth: Doesn’t have to be. Al: No? Al: Mr. Bullock, would you—would you sit down a second? I want to tell you somethin’ about the law. Please. Please, take a seat. Separate from all the bribes we put up, I paid 5,000 dollars to avoid being the object of fireside ditties about a man that fled a murder warrant then worked very hard to get his camp annexed by the territory, only to have them serve the warrant of him and to face the magistrate’s pocket. The money goes, after which he sends a message. The 5,000’ll need company if I’m to be off the hook. I give you the law. Seth: It doesn’t have to be like that. Al: Now, if you were fuckin’ sheriff and you said “Do this, do that,” I’d consider it ‘cause you’re not a fuckin’ whore. Seth: I have personal responsibilities. Al: I’d go downstairs for that fuckin’ swearin’ in. And I’d follow your career, ‘cause you’re one of those pains in the balls who think the law can be honest. Seth: I don’t want it. Al: Well, I do lots of things I don’t want to do. Seth: You think you’re the only one? Al: Well you should have been here when Tom Nuttall was pissin’ in my ear. I think you’d be alright as sheriff. Seth: Listen, I’m only talkin’ to you ‘cause my partner’s fuckin’ that whore. (Al freezes for a minute) Seth: Anyway… ---
(Seth leaves Al’s office and is coming down the stairs when Trixie comes back in and starts to head up the stairs) Trixie:It’s back open. Nuttall: How was your talk with Al? Seth: (To Stapleton) Congratulations. EB: Good sportsmanship, Bullock. --(Al is back on balcony, watching the Rev.) Rev:
Who—who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall, shall affliction or distress or – or persecution or— (Looks to Seth) Rev:
or hunger or nakedness?
(Looks directly at Seth) Rev:
Or—or peril or sword?
(Walks past Seth) Rev:
Yea, in all these things, we more than conquer through him that hath loved us. I am-I am persuaded that, uh, that neither life nor death, nor—nor angels, nor— nor—nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present or things to come, or—nor heights, nor depths, nor any other creature, from the love of—of God! And—and Jesus Christ our Lord.
--(Back at the hardware store, Seth returns…) Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Otis: Sol: Otis:
Seth Sol She wasn’t here in a professional capacity. We have an agreement with Swearengen as to the use we put this establishment to. She came lookin’ for goods and things took a turn. That can happen. Not twice, though, at this location. Yeah. Maybe I’m not the only one who should be looking for a place. Gonna make an offer on that piece on the western slope. Did you have another look? Go ahead and get to buildin’ if Hostetler takes the offer. Maybe have a leg up when Martha and your boy arrive. Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon. I am Otis Russell. Uh, would you be Mr. Bullock?
Sol: Otis: Sol: Seth: Otis: Seth: Otis: Seth: Otis: Sol: Otis:
I’m Sol Star. Oh. How do you do Mr. Star? Very well. I’m Seth Bullock. Mr. Bullock. I am Alma Garrett’s father. How do you do, sir? How do you do? I’m very grateful for the kindness that you’ve shown my daughter. I wonder if you would join us for dinner tonight. I’d be happy to. Oh, Mr. Star, will you join us? Thanks, but I can’t. Regrettable. Would six at the hotel be convenient? My daughter says that the dinner hour is early. Six is fine. Just months that this camp came together, huh? Yes, sir. Remarkable.
Seth: Otis: Sol: Otis: --(Jewel in the whore’s quarter sweepin’)
Jewel: Hi, Doc. Doc: First thing to say, I regret the tone I had with you earlier. Jewel: Okay. Doc: If we hold with the Greeks that we’re made of humors, uh, I guess my bile was in it’s ascendin’. Jewel: Okay. Doc: Sit down. Another thing…that the Greeks say – except I learned this in Latin is “Primum Non Nocere.” And that means “First, do no harm.” And this has been a great concern to me in your case. To interfere, even with the best of intentions and have you misjudge your capacities ‘cause you rely on some mechanical contraption and wind up hurting yourself, would be a poor use, indeed, of my very limited skills. You can get around now, Jewel. I can only imagine with what a difficulty and exertion and pain, but the moving around you can do is precious to you. I do not want to fuck you up. Jewel: No, we wouldn’t want that. Doc: Having said that, and different from the…harness type attachments in that civil war book, I thought we might try something like this. Jewel: Let’s. --(Back at the Gem, Al runs into Trixie…) Al: How was your visit, Trixie? How was the child? Trixie:Had a good visit. Al: Is the child conversant? Moving along from saying her name? Trixie:Anyways, I better take my turn.
Al:
No, you look good having gone out. You’re more relieved, more relaxed. We can’t work all the time, can we? We all need some type of relaxation, companionship or the like? Trixie:Yes. Al: You get away from me now. Hey Doc, how long were you planning on taking before you told me what the fuck was wrong with Jewel? Doc: Nothin’ nothin’ she wasn’t born with. Al: mmm…I mean, she told me she was knocked up, but I assumed that was he gimp sense of humor. Doc: She wants me to brace her leg. So her draggin’ it doesn’t drive you crazy. Al: So what’d you tell her? Doc: Not to worry about your moods, that you generate those yourself and then find your excuse for havin’ ‘em. Al: Saucy words, Doc. Good thing you’re handy with the snatch. Doc: I had an idea for a boot and just now measured her for it. Al: If you treat her as successfully as you did the minister, she’ll be kickin’ up her heels in no fuckin’ time. Doc: I will leave you now to pursue another excuse. Al: (To Johnny) Get that Jew over here (Johnny does a quick 180 back out the door) --(At dinner in the absurd restaurant, it is cordoned off, reserved for a private dinner for Otis, Alma, Seth and Sophia…) Otis: My daughter tells me that before his murder, Wild Bill Hickok asked you to look to her interests. Seth: Yes, sir. Otis: Had you ridden with, uh, Hickok on the plains? Seth: I met him in the camp. I only knew him a few days. Otis: And impressed him at once as being trustworthy. Alma: They rescued a child in the wilderness and brought to justice one of the men who murdered her family. Otis: And um, how was justice meted out? Seth: We shot him. (EB and Richardson Enter) EB:
Slab of beef off the chuck. Bought whole carrots and little brown potatoes. Fresh baked bread and rhubarb pie to come. Your repast awaits your mouths. Alma: Thank you. EB: Postprandial cigars for the men folk? Otis: Oh, no, no, we have our own smokes. EB: I hope you have brought ravenous appetites. Alma: Thank you, Mr. Farnum.
(EB and Richardson leave) Alma: Otis: Alma: Otis: Seth: Alma: Otis: Seth:
Otis: Seth:
(To Otis) He had something to do with it. Would you prefer, Mr. Bullock, that Alma stay in the camp? In any case, I’ve decided to stay. As her advisor, I mean? It’s Mrs. Garrett’s affair. If she wanted to go back east, her interest here could be seen to. But I don’t. Well, and it would show her in a better light should title be contested. The custom is if you give a claim your efforts and staked it or bought it fair someone would have to go some to take it away. And we’ve taken steps to demonstrate her activity. And of course, if the New York courts had jurisdiction they’d sell the holdings to the highest bidder. Not many here would give a damn what a New York court held or didn’t. (Turns to Alma) Excuse my language. On the contrary, Mr. Bullock, Thank you for acknowledging my presence. I thought, button, that you were our entire preoccupation.
Alma: Otis: --(EB behind screen) EB:
The man’s a charlatan, Richardson, a cheat, a broad tosser and a clip. I only wonder if the daughter’s been in it with him, or she’s his pigeon. Richardson: May I look, Mr. Farnum? EB: Yes, when you’ve grown a full head of hair. The brass that would be, to gull your own flesh and blood. --(At the Gem, Sol has arrived to meet with Al…) Sol: Al: Sol: Al: Sol: Al:
Sol: Al:
---
Mr. Swearengen. You own me five dollars. If you ass-fucked her, you own me seven. No. You didn’t ass-fuck her? I’m not paying you. It wasn’t to do with you, it wasn’t business. Trixie! Don’t you think I don’t understand. I mean, what can anyone of us ever really fuckin’ hope for, huh? Except for a moment here and there with a person who doesn’t want to rob, steal or murder us? At night, it may happen. Sun-up, one person against the fuckin’ wall, the other may hop on the fuckin’ bed trusting each other enough to tell half the fucking truth. Everybody needs that. Becomes precious to ‘em. They don’t want to see it fucked with. I won’t pay. You pay…or she pays. No home visits. Do your visiting on the premises, 5, (Sol slides 5 coins across the bar) 7 for an ass-fuck.. (Sol leaves) (To Trixie) You get back to work. You sleep tonight amongst your own. Another fuckin’ bottle.
(Upstairs in the hotel…) Alma: (Looking out window at Seth and Otis) If we had a kitchen, Sophia, after supper we’d have retired to it, to chores and gossip on the most minute domestic matters, while the men walked and smoked and argued more important matters. And, incidentally, decided our fates. --(Out in the street, Otis and Seth are enjoying a cigar and walking along the busy street…) Otis: Understandable, her late husband was so taken with my daughter. I didn’t know him very well, but I certainly recognized his doting infatuation. Seth: I didn’t know him at all. Otis: I admit that I had hoped she might find a man who would dote on her and more, perhaps had a surer sense of what the world was. And, apparently, I’m entitled to hope that again. Seth: My wife and son will be joining me soon. Otis: I’m long past judgment, Mr. Bullock, and I’ve learned that, no matter what people say, or how civil they seem, their passions rule. I see no reason why your wife and son’s arrival need alter my hopes for my daughter’s happiness or security or the security of her holdings. Seth: I’ll say goodnight, Mr. Russell. With thanks, for dinner. Otis: That will disappoint Alma. I’m sure she didn’t think she was saying goodnight when we left for our walk. Seth: She’ll be alright. Otis: If I have offended you Mr. Bullock, I’ve accomplished the opposite of my intentions, which would not be an unprecedented result. Seth: I just want to say goodnight. Otis: Of course. Goodnight Mr. Bullock. Seth: Goodnight then. Otis: Trust me to explain to Alma, I’m a practiced and inveterate liar. --Alma: (Looking out the window at her father) If we didn’t hate them too much to be curious about the world, we’d wonder what they’d had to say. --(At the Bella Union…) Cy:
Craps! Loser! Line away. You’d better not need them fingers, hoss, if you spill that drink on my goddamn felt, too. Eddie: Hand that stick to a Captain of the floating table, Cy. Cy: Eddie Sawyer. Eddie: Back in action if you’ll have me. Cy: Well, alright. Eddie: You need to take it back about that boy, Cy. Me bein’ interested that way. Cy: Aw, hell, Eddie, you know me. I get in a brown study, I’ll say any goddamn thing that comes to mind – withdrawn, with apologies.
Eddie: Comin’ out. New Shooter. Leon: (Loudly) Are we that far west that we’ve wound up in fuckin’ China? Where a white man kowtows to a celestial like that arrogant cocksucker Wu! Cy: Take it easy, Leon. Leon: Sticks in my craw, Mr. Tolliver. Do I have my weaknesses? Yes. But I will not have a fuckin’ chink courier rob me blind and have my friend Jimmy Irons robbed blind in the course of feedin’ off our fuckin’ weaknesses or have that courier’s fuckin’ chink boss—issue an order to Al Swearengen that’s supposed to be so fuckin’ tough to turn one of us over! Swearengen kowtows and turns one of us over to be eaten by the fuckin’ Chinese pigs! This fuckin’ gets to me. I can’t put it out of my fuckin’ mind. Cy: Leon, Leon, Leon. Thin it out, Leon. Prune the patter down, hmm? Eddie: For the winner, pay the field. Joanie: Hi, Eddie. Eddie: Hi, Kitten. Joanie: You and Cy reconciled? Eddie: Thick as thieves. And if I weren’t as good at what I did you’d see I just palmed 80 in chips for the Joanie Stubbs construction fund. (Thumbs nose) Joanie: Hi, Cy. Cy: Hi, Joanie. What are you doin’ givin’ Joanie the office, Eddie? Eddie: Sayin’ “Welcome Home.” Cy: Are you home, honey? Joanie: I gave up waiting for that search party you didn’t send, Cy. Cy: Mind if I show Joanie my peacock, Eddie? Find land for your plot yet? Joanie: I’m still looking. I see the pest tent’s coming down. Cy: Ah, it’s too far off ‘til the camp expands. You’d want a more central plot, say frontin’ Cochran’s Alley. Joanie: Well, those all seem took by the Chinese. Cy: Well, you never know how that shit’s gonna shake out. Leon: Those Chinese cocksuckers! Eddie: A new shooter comin’ out! --(Seth arrives back at the hardware store…) Seth: That man’s not here to help his daughter. He’s lookin’ to root at her claim. You went to see that whore again? Sol: I guess she had to account for her bein’ outside and Swearengen sent for me to pay him his fee. I guess she’d told him where she’d been. Seth: It might have been me he found out from, Sol. ‘Cause I’m sometimes that stupid. Sol: You think it could have been you? Seth: I’m sure it was, speakin’ without thinkin’, justifying being in this place. Sol: Bein’ you’d been ousted from your own. Seth: I was hot seein’ that tinhorn Stapleton gettin’ installed as sheriff, and I used poor fuckin’ judgment. Sol: Sorry Mrs. Garrett’s Pa turns out a shitheel. Seth: Cold enough world without gettin’ gone against by your own.
--Al:
Now, I see what the fuck’s in front of me, and I don’t pretend it’s somethin’ else. I was fuckin’ her and now I’m gonna fuck you, if you don’t piss me off or open your yap at the wrong fuckin’ time. The only time you’re to open - you’re supposed to open your yap is so I can put my fuckin’ prick in it. Otherwise, you shut the fuck up. Now, hold onto that, huh? (Hands bottle over) Point is, the minister’s gotta fuckin’ die. I mean, that’s the—that’s the fuckin’ point. He’s gonna die sooner or later I mean, he’s makin’ a fuckin’ jerk of himself, and, I mean, well, why—why go on with that? Who’s—who’s gonna benefit from that, huh? No, you just gotta kill it and put an end to it. You -- you don’t linger on about it, you don’t fuckin’ go around weepin’ about it, and you don’t, you know, behave like a kid with a sore thumb, you know, a loco suckin’ it, now “mmm, my poor fucking thumb!” I mean, you—you gotta behave like a grown fuckin’ man, huh? You gotta shut the fuck up. Don’t be sorry, don’t look fuckin’ back, because, believe me, no one gives a fuck. You understand? Whore: Yeah. Al: You shut the fuck up, huh? Gimme that! (Grabs bottle) Hey, you suck my dick and shut the fuck up, huh? Come here. Come on. Now then, here. The place where I found you, huh, is where this warrant’s from. Could you believe that I may have stuck a knife in someone’s guts 12 hours before you got on the wagon we headed out for fuckin’ Laramie in? No! Because I don’t look fuckin’ backwards. I do what I have to do and go on. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, what? You got a stagecoach to catch or somethin’, huh? Slow the fuck up. Did you know the orphanage part of the building you lived in, behind it, she ran a whorehouse, huh? Oh, so you knew? So, so what are you fuckin’ lookin’ at then, huh? God. Now, I’ll tell you somethin’ you don’t know. Before she ran a girls orphanage, fat Mrs. Fucking Anderson ran the boys orphanage on fucking Euclid avenue, as I would see her fat ass waddling out the boys dormitory at 5 o’clock in the fucking mornin’, every fuckin’ morning she blew her stupid fuckin’ cowbell and woke us all the fuck up. And my fuckin’ mother dropped me the fuck off there with 7 dollars and 60 some odd fuckin’ cents on her way to suckin’ cock in…in Georgia. And I didn’t get to count the fuckin’ cents before the fuckin’ door opened, and there, Mrs. Fat Ass Fuckin’ Anderson, who sold you to me. I had to give her 7 dollars and 60 odd fuckin’ cents that my mother shoved in my fuckin’ hand before she hammered 1,2,3,4 times on the fuckin’ door and scurried off down fuckin’ Euclid Avenue , probably 30 fuckin’ years before you were fuckin’ born. Then around Cape Horn and up to San Francisco, where she probably became Mayor or some other type success story, unless by some fucking chance she wound up as a ditch for fuckin’ cum. Now, fucking go faster, hmm? (grunting) Okay, go ahead and spit it out. You don’t need to swallow. You just spit it out. Mmm. Anyways.
Cast:
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Sean Bridgers Larry Cedar Kim Dickens Zach Grenier Peter Jason Ricky Jay Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones Ashleigh Kizer Ray McKinnon
Ralph Richeson William Russ Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane Dan Dority Charlie Utter Johnny Burns Leon Joanie Stubbs Andy Cramed Con Stapleton Eddie Sawyer Jewel A.W. Merrick Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Pete Otis Russell Sophia Metz Silas Adams
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 12 - “Sold Under Sin” (We see Al on porch, Dan brings him coffee) --Rev: My darling wife, I have 68 dollars put by (panting) our belly cleaveth to the earth (panting) I hope to be home soon Amanda. I’ll help with the cider pressing. (groaning – seizure). Our soul is bowed to the earth. --Al (to Dan): Tell Johnny brew some coffee, open some peaches. --Johnny: Who are they? Dan: It’s that magistrate, some with soldier saddles. Johnny: Al knew they was comin’ Dan: Well, he knew somethin’ was comin’. Johnny: I’d about decided he just couldn’t sleep without Trixie. --Magistrate Clagett: General Crook bear’s victory’s garland for having routed the miniconjous at Slim Buttes. Al: Well done, General. General: The first meeting out of recompense for the massacre at the Little Big Horn. Am I right in saying that I saw you last year in the hills? Al: Amongst them you gave the boot to? Said you’d see us back once the treaty got amended. Magistrate Clagett: The day the general spoke of…fast approaches, even now he’s called to Camp Robinson… Johnny (to Dan): (whispering) I’m waiting for Al to collect Claggett by the scruff of the neck. Magistrate Clagett: He and his men would require some resupply and respite. Al: Stopped at the right fuckin’ place. General: Respite, Mr. Swearengen, short of the men becoming dissolute or drawn to desertion. Al: Unsaddled, allowed to gamble, roll in the dust, hmm? General: But not so they’d balk at reharness. Al: I’ll make your feelings known to the other operators. General: I and my fellow officers would be grateful now for the use of the bathhouse. Al: Mr. Burns here’ll steer you. For those that avenged Custer, if it ain’t to dissolute, the camp will want a parade. General: A parade is alright. Al: Forego your bath a moment Magistrate. Unless you want a girl to sponge you while we converse. So did young Adams deliver my message? Magistrate Clagett: I haven’t seen young Adams. Al: No?
Magistrate Clagett: I haven’t been to Yankton. I’ve been representing the territory in the treaty negotiations. Al: Well, as to bribing you further for help with that warrant against me, beyond the 5,000 you’ve already pocketed, the gist was fuck yourself. Magistrate Clagett: Do now you reconsider? Al: No Magistrate, I do not. Not if you’ve seen Adams or if you haven’t seen Adams. Magistrate Clagett: Well, that would be imprudent, Al. A failure to properly value your freedom in the promising days ahead. Al: Maybe you don’t value keeping your fucking guts inside your belly enough. Magistrate Clagett: Those are the days behind us. Al: No, those are the days to my fucking left. Magistrate Clagett: I didn’t generate the warrant. My disappearance won’t quash it. You can’t murder an order or the telegraph that transmitted it, or those that are content to put food on the table simply by being its instruments. It can’t be done. Al: Get the fuck out of my joint. --Merrick: Although this may appear to be a purely fortuitous accident, you’re not in this Johnny Burns --- I would be less than honest if I did not admit that I was, in fact, lying in wait, in ambush, if you will. General: Sir make your first effort count. Merrick: Seconds away. Now, General, your most victorious smile…..Alright. Stern and resolute. ---Al: This bloated tick, Claggett, feeding on the neck of the fucking Military. Dan: I guess he bought his bag man back. Al: Who I commissioned to kill him. He proclaims their paths never crossed. Dan: Guess he would. EB: Can you imagine Al, that as mayor, I might like to learn the cavalry’s in camp, other than by comin’ upon them posing for photographs in the goddamned thoroughfare. Al: Calvary’s in camp, EB. EB: At whose behest? Al: The people, as always. EB: To what purpose? Al: A parade’s in the offing. They’ve had a victory over the dirtworshippers. Will you lead the Hosannas? EB: Well, I suppose that’s part of my mandate. (priceless look on Dan’s face) Might’n I also coordinate satisfaction of the forces logistical needs? Al: I hope you charge something for your service. (Doc walks in) EB: Calvary’s in camp Doc. May I number you in the reception committee? Doc: Fuck the cavalry and the committee that receives ‘em. Trixie:Hi Doc.
Al:
(Pointing to Dan., chewing a peach) Fuckin’ Magistrate don’t go back to Yankton alive. Doc: Trixie, seen Jewel anywheres? Trixie:Common room, sweepin’ Dan: Hey Doc? What you got in your tote sac? Doc: Lettuce. --Doc: Set your broom to one side and sit down. I said put your broom aside. Jewel: You have to remove it from my clutches. Doc: OK, Alright. I make this stipulation. You develop any stiffness or numbness, you report these. You do not conceal these symptoms in order to sustain your hopes for the miraculous benefits of your fuckin’ boot. Jewel: That’s my fuckin’ boot? Doc: You lose a leg, your other conditions will prevent you from moving around at all, and I will not have you lost the mobility that you do have for the sake of a few weeks illusion. Jewel: I’ll report stiffness or numbness. Doc: Alright. AND PAIN OR DISCOMFORT! DON’T YOU BE THE DOCTOR! YOU REPORT THE SYMPTOMS, I WILL DETERMINE THEIR SIGNIFICANCE! Jewel: Don’t yell Doc! Doc: I am yelling because I want to make sure you goddamn understand me. Jewel: I do. I understand. Doc: Alright. Here’s your goddamn boot. Jewel: Help me put it on. --Al: Walk in unannounced is a good way to get yourself killed, Doc. Especially as the cavalry has us besieged. Doc: I’m here about the minister. He’s over at my place, past my art if I had any. He’s damn near blind and mostly paralyzed. Past controlling his functions. Al: Well you’re preachin’ to the fuckin’ converted. I mean, I would’ve seen to him, but I’ve been fucking busy. Doc: Well, he doesn’t want to be seen to like that. Al: What the fuck are we talking about? Doc: A man being cared for and made comfortable ‘til he expires. Girls you put to the task, deduct your time from my pay. Al: I get the bag of shit. Doc: You get to care for a human being in his last extremity. Al: I human being in his last extremity is a bag of shit. Doc: Aw, FUCK YOU AL! Al: I’ll send someone over to pick him up. Doc: I made Jewel a brace and a boot. Al: Does it allay the fuckin’ noise she makes when she drags her leg about? Doc: The noise bothers you so much, put cotton in your ears. Al: Get the fuck out of here, Doc, huh? I’m working on my deployments and flanking maneuvers. How about the other one?
Doc: --Al:
Trixie’s fine.
Johnny! Take the sled to Doc Cochran’s and collect the fuckin’ minister and install him in the whore’s quarters. Tell that other one to make up the fuckin’ room. Johnny: Trixie? --Leon: These rags were fine broadcloth shirts before I brung ‘em to launder, huh? Chinaman: six, six bits Leon: No, no, you told me…. Cy (to Stapleton): Looks like a deteriorating situation Sheriff. Stapleton: Yup. Too frequent to be born. Down right intolerable. Leon: Six bits a goddamn piece, you hear me? What the fuck you talkin’ about? Look at this goddamn shit. What is that? Stapleton: I hope that slant eyed cocksucker’s look ain’t as arrogant close up as it appears from this distance! Leon: Smells like shit. You celestials are tryin’ to wash our shit in goddamned feces! --Otis: Mining gold Alma, is a different business from panning it in a stream. The machinery involved, wages, it demands capital. If, as seems clear you’ve determined to stay, I could see after your requirements in NY, secure your holdings credit as its eastern representative. Would that please you? Alma: I – I don’t know, Daddy. I’m not sure it would. Otis: Why not? Alma: I’m not sure I can explain beyond saying the prospect frightens me. Otis: Must the pretense of my behavior generating from paternal concern be abandoned so quickly? Alma: If you acknowledge what else it generates from, I’ll not abandon the idea at all. Otis: From my debts. Of course. Alma: You said they’d been entirely satisfied. Otis: They had, entirely. Those debts. Alma: These are debts you hadn’t admitted? Otis: No, these are debts I incurred subsequently. We might call them the children of t he debts that I admitted to. Alma: Generating from the interest on the previous debts. Otis: Alma, watching you struggle with what is beneath your spirit to understand is always painful for me. After you got me out of debt, I got myself back in. Alma: Having volunteered a promise you had…wept and volunteered. Otis: Conceive my own disappointment. Alma: Oh, Daddy. Otis: 47,000 button. Alma: 47,000? Otis: Has scale doesn’t it? Certainly there’s something to that. Alma: Who would give you that much credit? Otis: My daughter becoming a Garrett raised me in the lender’s estimation. Alma: I could borrow that much against the claim.
Otis: In an instant…and considerably more. Alma: Alright, Daddy. But in consideration you will remove yourself from further connection to the venture. I’ll have that in writing before I help you. Otis: No darling. You’ll help me and you’ll have no such thing. Alma: Get away from her. Get away from her! --Utter: Meal’s on me young lady. Joanie: Why thank you, sir. Utter: My friend Jane repaid some money I thought never to see. Plus that two dollars some odd for Mrs. Garrett give that girl. Fines she levied against herself for sayin’ “fuck” or the like. EB: Something amiss Mrs. Garrett? Has the Child took ill? Utter: I’ll give her the money later. --Sol: Seth. Seth: What is it Mrs. Garrett? Sol: Seth, I’ve got to go do that….thing. Seth: What is it? Alma: Whatever impression my father has made on you, please believe me Mr. Bullock, who has known him longer, that he is here in his own interest and against mine and this child’s. Seth: I do. Alma: And I need your help. I’m asking for your help. Seth: You have it. --Merrick: Having confessed to the miserable outcome of my commemorative effort, I’ll throw myself on General Crook’s mercy and ask for a second opportunity. Sol: I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t give it to you. They love….(HW Store door opens) To have their pictures taken. (Runs off to meet Seth) What happened? Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: --EB: Otis: Seth: Otis: Seth: Otis:
Get away from me, Sol. What is it? Get away. Should I stay with her at the store? Please. Anti-meridian constitutional Mr. Russell, or will we roll the bones again? It must cost you sleep, the guests you drive off, the chances of theivin’ and bilkin’ you lose needing to rub against your betters. You and I are gonna talk. You don’t account for my preferences Mr. Bullock? I will beat you here in the street. First rate thinking. My daughter’s agent beats her father in the street. How better to condemn Alma to deepened suspicion as to her role in her husband’s violent death. And widen suspicion to include yourself.
Some Guy: Shoot craps Mr. Bullock? --EB: I know what’s in the till. --Otis: Were you bullied, Mr. Bullock, when young and incapable? Now you se wrongs everywhere and bullying you feel called to remedy? (to Eddie) Ten lay due. Eddie: New Shooter comin’ out. Otis: The bully who oppressed your youth. Isn’t at the table with us. Perhaps he’s long dead. Eddie: Eight. Otis: If you would view the present with more clarity, perhaps you’d recognize that I’m not victimizing my daughter, but merely asking for a small portion of the ample proceeds…from her veins. Eddie: Seven out. Otis: Alma is hurt only in your particular view of things. -- (To eddie) Ten again, lay due.—and while I’ll sign no guarantee not to return against any future claim on her compassion, realize I do hate it here. And if you inhale and expel pure righteousness, my olfactories are keen to the smell of shit. Eddie: Six, the point is six. Otis: Having heard all that, and knowing, as you must, the injudiciousness of making an enemy of a man who could testify truthfully that 5 minutes before her marriage, he heard his daughter wish her prospective husband dead, and who won’t shrink from lying as to what she admitted to him on his arrival in this cesspool as to her complicity in her husband’s murder. I suppose you’d best take your swing. Eddie: Gentlemen. Watch the felt. Sol: Seth! Seth! Seth! Seth: Alright. Leave this camp, and draw a map for anyone who wants to believe your fuckin’ lies. Anyone who wants to put your daughter or her holdings in jeopardy, you show ‘em how to get here. And you tell ‘em I’ll be waiting. Alma: Please…see to my father. --(Mr Wu Shouting) Stapleton: Now gentlemen stay back! This ain’t no single shot derringer! Leon: He tried to blind me with that lye Sheriff. I show him what he done to my shirts. (Mr Wu yelling) Leon: Fuck that monkey noise! Stapleton: Alright enough! ‘Til I can sort out all the full particulars here. Leon: You may be a big shot in this alley but you are less than a nigger to me! (Mr Wu yelling at Leon) Stapleton: Quiet! Or you’ll be subject to reprimand. (Mr Wu yelling) Stapleton: Take jurisdiction on this corpse! (Mr Wu yelling)
Guy: Back off old man. --General: The Sioux and the Cheyenne having burned the prairie to deny us fodder for our mounts. Our provisions limited to what we could carry. We turned for the Black Hills when the rains began. Crazy Guy: Where my Bay mare Sharon foundered, and he had her shot. General: That march through mud was a trial sent by God. And harsh necessity required of us much suffering and great sacrifice. Crazy Guy: Ate our fuckin’ horses. General: Continuing south, we proved out worth against the Indian. We came upon a village at Slim Buttes, at once attacked from all four sides. Their resistance was overcome. There were no prisoners. Crazy Guy: Paid ‘em out man, woman and child for me, havin’ eaten my mare. General: And after the village was taken, we found the gloves of Captain Keogh, last seen on his person when he rode into battle with the valiant Custer.— Captain---This is the guidon of the 7th cavalry captured by the Sioux at the Little Bighorn. And now reclaimed by white men! Chief American Horse and his village are gone, driven off. From this day forward…. Crazy Guy: Where’s that cunt? General: Any Sioux who will not make peace at Camp Robinson… Stapleton (To Seth): I’m glad you witnessed that transaction among the celestials. You know they’ll bow and scrape ‘til 6 of ‘em get together, then no fuckin’ white man’s safe. General: ….to the progress of the United States, of which I am certain this camp will soon be a part. EB: Huzzah! All: Huzzah! Seth (To Stapleton): Next murder you do on an errand, gotta take off the fuckin’ badge. Stapleton: Not certain I take your inference. And if I do, I’m not sure I like it. (Seth takes badge off Stapleton’s lapel and throws it in the mud) Nuttall: Leave it there you bought out sonofabitch. --General: Captain Bubb is the Quartermaster and commissary officer. Should he deal with you? EB: Exclusively. EB Farnum… General: That’s Captain Bubb EB: …Mayor, and as to procurement of everything listed your civilian counterpart. --Merrick: General Crook, Uh, I believe I have you verbatim, but if you’d just grant me a moment to confirm? General: Oh My God. Merrick: Um, “The Sioux and Cheyenne, having burned the prairie… (Seth pick up badge)
Merrick: “denying us fodder for our mounts and provisions…..will soon be apart. --Magistrate Clagett: You’ll find this hotel the least of all evils. General: Does it belong to that mayor? Bearded Cook Guy: Yes, but I can check you in. Cy: General, Cyrus Tolliver. Small gesture of gratitude. I’d like you to quarter at my place. Merrick: (coughing) Brothel! (clears throat) Excuse me. General: Well that portion to my use would have to be closed to other purposes. Cy: (chuckling) Well, that’d make it a large gesture, but uh, we’ll work somethin’ out. General: Send my trunk General Bubb. Bubb: Yes, Sir. EB: This is a tremendous number of provisions, Captain, But, of course, you’re buyin’ for full grown men. --(Wu enters Gem through back door, walks upstairs) Soldier: I won’t do a two on one. Take turns like white men. Seth (to Dan): I don’t care if the whole US Calvary walks in here, you don’t want to pour another drink. You just want to listen to me, cause if the man doesn’t die whose face I just broke, he’s gonna go to New York City and tell Brom Garrett’s people it breaks his heart to say so, but his daughter had their son murdered. He’ll tell ‘em. Knowin how he does, they won’t want their son’s rightful property in the hands of the woman who killed him. He’ll swear to what he heard from her own lips, and those society people in New York City who live with their heads up their asses anyway, will believe him. And whoever they send out here may take up to 15 minutes before they decide that you were involved in the transaction first to last. It must have been you and your boss hired to push her idiot husband off the cliff. ‘Course they’ll be wrong about Mrs. Garrett, but they’ll be right as rain about you two cocksuckers. You tell him all that upstairs. Dan: IF he don’t die. Seth: If he don’t die. I don’t think I killed him. Dan: Just so I understand you, if he don’t die, you’re sayin’ the man’s luck don’t have to hold out. Now, that’s the message you want me to take upstairs. Seth: Dan: Seth: --Al:
I don’t swim in that shit. You ought to pin that on your chest. You’re hypocrite enough to wear it. You just tell him. When did you start thinking every wrong had a remedy, Wu? Did you come to camp for justice or to make your fuckin’ way?
(Wu goes downstairs and exits through back door)
(Johnny drags Rev in) --Bam! It’s magically nighttime. --(Hardware Store) Sol: I’m sensing you’ve done things today you wish you could amend, Seth. Seth: What kind of man have I become, Sol? Sol: I don’t know, the day ain’t fucking over. --Al: Under what provocation was that clown-hatted card shark when he slaughtered the chink? Johnny: I was head-down Al, towin’ that minister like a canal mule. Al: Well, in the aftermath, when you raised your fucking head, did Stapleton act like a fucking frightened man? Johnny: More struttin’ like a dung heel rooster. Al: Put-up fucking job. That fucknut Tolliver’s moving on Chinatown. EB: That devious fucknut. Al: Far as this matter Bullock commended to our attention. Dan: Well, it’s the exact type of murder you preach, Al. head off trouble down the road. Al: You head off trouble down the road once you’ve dealt with the trouble on it. EB: The trouble on the road, Dan, is Al’s enemy Magistrate Claggett’s cozy-seeming connection to the military. If genuine, Al must decide. Ought he seek some alliance with Claggett, how ever temporary or dissembled? Al: At least until you’re paid for the army’s order. Dan: They’re all in the same fuckin’ place. Tolliver, the widow’s father, Claggett. I can take care of all of ‘em in one fell swoop. Al: What about half of the Calvary while your talon’s are out, huh? Dan: I’ll tell you, by God, you cut that fuckin’ general’s throat, you’ll…you’ll hurry the pace of desertion. EB: (chuckling) Dan: Did I say somethin’ funny? Al: That cocksucker Claggett’s bag man. (To Dan) Moderation in all things. --Soldier: Thank You Sol: Thank you, sir. Soldier: Much obliged. Sol: Good Luck. (Seth shakes Sol’s hand and leaves) --Cy: Full respect to the Magistrate Claggett general, eager as we are to get taken into the territory, those wheels grind slow, while everyday in this camp and environs,
tens of thousands of dollars in gold get cleaned up, put into circulation. It’s an environment to test the moral mettle if we was all members of some religious organization. Which we ain’t. (Wine is offered to the General – he refuses) Are we sure we can’t tempt you? General: I’m sure. Cy: A small fraction of your detachment left behind, a dozen or 18 men, say, would keep the criminal element in check. Cash compensation, unrecorded. General: To defend against threats from without, I suggest the camp create a militia. For civil discords and property disagreements, have you hired a Sheriff? Cy: (chuckling) yeah, we got one. Magistrate Claggett: Did you say to me earlier Mr. Tolliver, that you imagined that the chief use of the military presence was to buttress the Sheriff’s authority? General: Such indirection for a tawdry purpose. Cy: $50,000 in Gold. I want those soldiers, General. That direct enough? Seth: May I speak? Cy: Mr. Bullock. Seth: I was a Marshal in Montana, my father served in the British Royal Army, and my brother Robert was a Cavalryman, killed fighting the comancheros in Texas. General: Why are you here Mr. Bullock? Seth: A man named Otis Russell is laid up in this establishment. He needs protection. General: Protection from whom? Seth: Several in this camp. I beat him badly. Others have reason to wish him dead, and the camp Sheriff can be bought off for half a can of bacon grease. General: Well while we’re here, I will hold Mr. Russell under protection as a gesture to your brother’s sacrifice. Seth: Thank you, sir. General: I would add, in a camp where the Sheriff can be bought for bacon grease, a man, a former Marshal, who understands the danger of his own temperament, he might consider serving his fellows. Bubb: May I have a word General? Seth: I’m through. Thank You. General: We all have bloody thoughts. Captain Bubb? Bubb: That gopher faced merchant’s agent he’s trying for our eye teeth, general. I’d rather we provision with the fuckin’ Sioux. I have 3 men under guard for burying their uniforms and 5 for bartering their weapons. General: Bartering them for what? Bubb: Women, credit at the table and prospecting tools. General: Goddamn it. Form up the men. We’ll bivouac tonight outside of camp. At daylight we head for Camp Robinson. Magistrate Claggett: Please allow me to seek remedy in the manner of resupply, general. General: We move for Camp Robinson, Magistrate, with or without your company. Magistrate Claggett: That I quite understand. Cy: 12 men General. $50,000. General: If I were Sheriff I’d have you hanged.
--Joanie: I brought these. Alma: Are these my father’s? Joanie: Collected off the Bella Union floor. Maybe model replacements after, maybe just remind him not to run his mouth. Alma: Miss Stubbs, will you please come in? Joanie: Oh, Alright. Sophia: Joanie! Joanie: Hi Sweetheart! Alma: We will live though, that seems clear? Joanie: Seems he will. Alma: Mr. Bulloch was my agent in this. Joanie: On our way from Syracuse to Indiana so my daddy could try farming, my mama got cholera and died. He didn’t make any better a farmer than millinery clerk, but he had a way enough with words to get me believing that my mama in heaven wanted me to see to his needs. And then to add to the egg money by seeing to the men he brought, and she wanted me talkin’ my sisters into seein’ to his needs, and then to the men, ‘til he sold me to Cy Tolliver. If he was here, I’d wish a beating mornings and evenings on my daddy, like your Pa took today. (Knocking on door – women jump out of their skin) Joanie:
Oh.
(Alma opens door) Seth: ….Evenin’. Alma: Good evening Mr. Bullock. Joanie: Are you hungry honey? Why don’t we go down to that little restaurant and have some dinner? Alma: Um, Sophia. You go with Miss Stubbs for dinner, Okay? (Joanie and Sophia leave, Seth closes door) Alma: Would you like to sit down, Mr. Bullock? Seth: Until your father’s well enough to travel, I’ve asked General Crook to see to his safety. Alma: Thank You. Seth: If he were to leave once he’s well and return to act against your interest, we’ll deal with that then…..I stand before you a married man. Alma: yes, to your brother’s widow, after he was killed. You took their 5 year old bout as your own son. Seth: Married. Alma: Yes.
(Kiss Kiss Kiss) Seth: If you’d um, if you’d be more comfortable behind the screen. Alma: Wouldn’t that defeat our purpose? ---Al: Young Adams. No Satchel, No Case? But now, don’t tell me you shrunk that magistrate’s head so you can carry it around in your coat. And that warrant against me now quashed, just peekin’ out of his tiny mouth? Silas: I didn’t get the chance to kill him. He’d left Yankton by the time I got there. And I figured I’d catch him here. Al: Well maybe you’re here to implement his fuckin’ intentions against me. Silas: I guess you chew at it a while, you could work out how it could be that way. Al: Havin’ given me time as he has to escape my angry mood, if I continue to ignore his fuckin’ extortions. Silas: Is that how you left it with him? He’s comin’ back here to see you? Al: Give you time to make up which side you’re on, Adams. If the cocksucker would ever show up. ---(Al & Rev & Johnny) Rev:
I, for that which I do, I allow not for…what I would that I do not, for---what I would, that I do not, for--Al (to Trixie): Get out. Rev: But what I hate, that, too, I---now, if I would do what I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. Al: Johnny. Shut the door. --Doc: If was a more adaptable primate or one of your regular petitioners, I suspect I wouldn’t feel this pain. I guess I—I’d have a wad of cartilage covering the patella, protecting me from this—this discomfort. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, Just Please, God. Take that Minister. What conceivable Godly use is his protracted suffering to you? What conceivable Godly use? What conceivable Godly use was the screaming of all those men? Did you, did you need to hear their death agonies to know your—your omnipotence? Mama! Mother find my arm! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy they—they shot my leg off it hurts so bad. It hurts so bad. Admitting my understanding’s imperfection, trusting that you have a purpose, praying that you consider it served, I beg you to relent. Thy Will Be Done, Amen. --Al: Whoa Rev: Oh! Al: Shh… Rev: Oh, Oh, Oh—
Al:
Shh…You want to be a road agent? Deal out death when called upon? Make a proper seal, stop up the breath, apply pressure even and firm, like packin’ a snowball. You go now, brother. Dan: Al, that...(choked up) Magistrate’s here. I-I got those other two guys waitin’ upstairs. Al: join ‘em. (Closes the rev’s eyes) Get the sled for him, huh? (Al, leaving room, wiping at tears) Magistrate Clagett: Things are in the saddle, Al. Al: Tell me what you mean upstairs, huh? --(in office) Al: Adams, your employee, and his butler. Magistrate Clagett: yes, how are you, Adams? Silas: I’m alright sir. We missed each other in Yankton. Magistrate Clagett: Yes, I was in the company of General Crook. Al: Adams bore you the message to try fucking yourself. Magistrate Clagett: And here he is in your office. Silas: Well I figured I’d catch up with you here. Al: Do you no longer serve his interests is what he seems to wonder. Adams, for his part, is stone-featured, steeled in his purpose. Dan: Which he’d be. Al: Wherever his allegiance may lay. Well, be that as it may, Magistrate, living as we all do in doubt, please proceed. Magistrate Clagett: General Crook’s at the point of making a decision whether to garrison some number of soldiers here. Or to leave the camp to find it’s own way. I understand your strong preference in this regard. You must understand that for whatever reason, General Crook has come to trust me. And rely on my counsel exclusively. The appropriate gesture made by you towards me would lead me to dissuade the general from the garrison option, as well as clear away from above the cloud of uncertainty regarding your personal liabilities. Namely the incident in Chicago. Al: You have the document of inquiry from Chicago? Magistrate Clagett: The murder warrant. Yes, Al. I do. Al: On your person? Magistrate Clagett: Yes. Make the appropriate gesture and the constable hand of the past will no longer weigh upon you. Al:
What man couldn’t that be said about? (looking to Silas)
(Knife to throat – Slit! Spill – Whoops!) Silas: I’ll be happy to give you this paper when you take that fuckin gun off me. Both of them.
Al: Silas: Al: --Seth:
Swaddle the cocksucker and dispose of him. His money and effects are yours. That don’t count towards the 2,000. No I still owe you the two.
Crooks troops are mustering. I didn’t think you father would have to travel so soon. Alma: I don’t begrudge him an uncomfortable journey. Seth: I’ll see him secured. After that he’d on his own. --(knocking) Al: Doc! (knock knock) Doc! Doc: It’s your---your competition. Or is that one of your fucking heresies? Al: He passed. Doc: Lemme help you bring him inside. Al: A wily cocksucker, huh? Waited ‘til I got him off the sled, huh? I would have let him lay in state, but I need the room for my whores. Doc: Thanks for seein’ him through. Al: Are you gonna probe into his noggin now to see what went amiss? Doc: No, not tonight. Tonight I plan to drink in. Al: Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh. --Dan: I told him but we ain’t had time to act on your request yet. Seth: yeah, I know. Dan: ‘S been a busy night. Al: Bullock, what is it? Seth: We need to talk. Doc: Right. Al: Yeah OK. Doc, I’m gonna be a few minutes, huh? See this man gets his shine, huh? Come on. Jewel: Hi Doc! Doc: How you doin’? Jewel: No stiffness or numbness. Doc: Well, let me see you move around a bit. Dan: That’ll give you a shine (hands doc a shot) Jewel: How do I look? Doc: How you feel’s the goddamn question. Jewel: I feel good! Doc: Well, good. Jewel: Hey Doc, give me a whirl. Doc: no, no. Jewel: Come on, I’ll teach you how. Doc: no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, I won’t, mmm—no. --Seth: There’s a bloodstain on your floor.
Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
yeah, I’m uh, I’m gonna get to that. Crooks forces in full retreat. Taking Mrs. Garrett’s father with ‘em. Up and about so quick. He’s slung over a mule. Alive is my point. Dority give me to understand you’d just as soon as seen him dead. If that man comes back to the camp, he’d be my problem to deal with. The way you and Hickok dealt with Ned mason. No. I’ll be the fuckin’ Sheriff. Startin’ when? Startin’ now. You have the tin? I do. Produce it. On the tit. I know where it goes. (raises a shot) Huzzah.
Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al: --Soldier:
Hey General! You sonofabitch! Woo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo! Woo! Ha-haha-ha-ha! Al: You know I’ve never spoken to her since she come to camp. You reckon that’s another reason not to kill her old man, besides whatever’s goin’ on between the two of you. Seth: yeah. Al: Anyways, Sheriff, I’m gonna walk past that blood stain that mysteriously appeared and go oversee my business interests. Take your time. ---Jewel: (kickin up her heels) Say “I’m as nimble as a forest creature.” Doc: You’re as nimble as a forest creature. Jewel: No, say it about yourself. Doc: I’m as nimble…as a forest creature.
Cast:
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Robin Weigert W. Earl Brown
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Ellsworth Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Tom Nuttall Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Calamity Jane Dan Dority
Dayton Callie Charlie Utter Marshall Bell Magistrate Claggett Powers Boothe Cy Tolliver Sean Bridgers Johnny Burns Larry Cedar Leon Peter Coyote General Crook Rick Dano Tim De Zarn (as Tim deZarn) Kim Dickens Joanie Stubbs Meghan Glennon Lila Peter Jason Stapleton Ricky Jay Eddie Sawyer Jewel Geri Jewell Jeffrey Jones A.W. Merrick Michael David Lally Al Leong Laundryman Mike McGrath Ray McKinnon Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon) Ralph Richeson Pete William Russ Otis Russell Bree Seanna Wall Sophia Metz Titus Welliver Silas Adams Zack Whedon Keone Young Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2004 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2004 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 13 “A Lie Agreed Upon, Part 1” Directed by: Ed Bianchi Written by: David Milch
Episode 13: “A Lie Agreed Upon, Part 1” (Outside of Deadwood, we see horses running, carrying a stagecoach. Inside, we see who we now know to be Martha Bullock, her son William, Maddie and a set of three new whores seated across from them. William looks excited, the whores looked bored. As the stagecoach jostles them around, William is watching the cleavage on the third whore bouncing away. He smiles. Martha catches him and kicks his foot. Maddie is looking out the stagecoach curtains. Cut to the hills right outside of Deadwood where men are erecting telephone poles.) --(Alma’s room. She opens the door, Seth, on the other side, takes off his hat…) Seth: Morning. Alma: Good morning, Mr. Bullock. Sophia: (Studying at the desk with her new tutor) Ox, Box, Fox. Miss Isringhausen: Mr. Bullock. Seth: Good morning. Good morning, Sophia. Sorry to interrupt your lesson. Sophia: We’re finished. Miss Isringhausen: No, we’re not, Sophia, and we’ll continue downstairs. (They exit, Alma shuts the door after them.) --(Al’s office. We see the back of his head…) Adams: Hills get divided into three counties. Each county has a commissioner. Al: Appointed by fucking who? Adams: The governor. Al: When the fuck does that happen? Adams: It already did. Al: (Leans forward) Anyone I know? Adams: (Shakes his head no.) They’re all from Yankton. Al: (looks down) Well, being as you’re the bearer of unsettling news, why don’t you step the fuck inside? (Adams closes the door) No one from the fucking hills, huh? Adams: All Pennington’s people. Dan: Saves time. Just travel to one destination, murder the three of ‘em. See how they like being commissioner after they’re dead. (Al considers this, rubbing his hands.) --(At the Bella Union, Joanie knocks on door #7. Lila opens the door a crack.) Joanie: Coach coming, Lila. Lila: With your friend and her girls? Joanie: I don’t know. It’s still way up in the hills. Lila: You want me to come watch with you?
Joanie: Oh, no, no. Well, okay. Well, do whatever you want, but I’ll wait outside for you. (Walks off.) --(Alma’s room. She and Bullock are seated at the desk.) Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth:
All the invoices other than this mission from Hendy Iron have been acted on. I see. You’ll note I’ve made partial payment to them… Yes. Questioning a possible duplication. For the bill hooks? Yes. Is that my worth? That’s the amount on deposit. Your worth is considerably more. Thank you for your attention in all these matters, Mr. Bullock. (stands) You’re welcome.
(Alma stands and moves to turns away, Seth grabs her by the elbow and spins her around. They kiss. Passionately. She starts tearing his clothes off.) --(Al’s office…) Adams: He wrote you a letter. Pennington. Al: That you held from me till now? Adams: To say what I knew first. (Adams sets the letter down in Al’s hands. Dan & Adam’s eyes meet, Al looks at them both.) Al:
Please be seated. (Dan & Adams sit, Dan takes his hat off. Al sets 3 shotglasses on the desk, opens the letter, takes out a magnifying glass) Yes, it has fallen to this. (sighs)
(Adams grabs the whiskey bottle and pours two shots, looks over at Dan, nodding vigorously for a shot. Adams pours the 3rd shot.) --(Downstairs at the Grand Central, we see A.W.Merrick shooing away flies buzzing around the “food” in a pot on the stove. We can see through the restaurant into the main lobby where E.B. stands behind the counter. Ellsworth enters.) AW: Damn. EB: Mr. Ellsworth! Is the Garret gold in readiness for shipment to Denver? Ellsworth: That it is. (We hear banging coming from upstairs) EB: I would expect a delay before the owner blesses its passage. While little Sophia is off with her tutor, Mrs. Garret consults with Mr. Bullock. Ellsworth: Alright. EB: In Bullock’s capacity, of course, as her claim’s trustee.
Ellsworth:
That’s all the cleverness on that subject I’m inclined to hear from you.
(Upstairs – Alma & Seth are, ”consulting,” very intensely. Alma is audibly pleased. Downstairs, Sophia is reading from her lesson book…) Sophia:
Fat. (Plaster falls on the book from the ceiling.) Cat.
(More plaster falls. Miss Isringhausen stops, removes plaster from her lap and the book, brushes off the table, removes bits of plaster from Sophia’s hairs and blows a bit more off. They continue with their lesson.) EB: Biscuits? Piping fresh. Ellsworth: Yeah, when both of us was young. --(Al’s office, he’s still reading the governor’s note through the magnifying glass. He snorts, sighs, picks up the shot and throws it back. Dan and Adams follow suit.) Al: Ah! Adams: Anyways, I could use a bath. Al: (reading with the magnifying glass from the letter…) “I urge you, Mr. Swearengen, not to take as injury to your interests my appointing only men from Yankton. For not being of the region, such men serving as commissioners I hold less likely to obstruct those like yourself who actively pursue their destinies in the hills. In those brave endeavors, be assured of my best hopes, high esteem and continued gratitude for your gestures of support. Governor Pennington.” Dan: Well, that’s just the fucking sort – chop ‘em into pieces, and each of ‘em happily slithers away, still lying to your fucking face. Al: (to Adams) What am I to make of this, huh? Adams: He don’t know yet what he wants to do. Al: Knew what to do with them fucking bribes I sent. Adams: That’s a gift they’re born with. Far as how hard to move on the camp, He ain’t sure yet all he’d be going against. Al: (looks at Dan) Maybe that is cause for cutting some throat. Adams: That’d put you right where he wants you. If you got other ways to move on him is what he ain’t clear about. (Al slams his fist on the desk. Dan jumps. Al stands up and takes a nice long pull from the bottle, heads to the balcony. Adams gets up to follow, Dan puts on his hat and quickly gets up to follow them both. Back in Alma’s room, She and Seth are finishing up. Alma is showing her dominance over Seth *wink wink nudge nudge*. Al is now out on his balcony, looking into the hills a the telephone poles being erected.) Al: Invisible messages from invisible sources, or what some people think of as progress. Dan: Ain’t the heathens used smoke signals all through recorded history? Al: How’s that a fucking recommendation?
Dan: Well, it seems to me like, you know, letters posted one person to another is just a slower version of the same idea. Al: When’s the last time you got a fucking letter from a stranger? Dan: Bad news about Pa. Al: Bad news! Or tries against our interests is our sole communications from strangers, so by all means, let’s plant poles all across the country, festoon the cocksucker with wires to hurry the sorry word and blinker our judgments of motive, huh? Dan: You’ve given it more thought than me. Al: Ain’t the state of things cloudy enough? Don’t we face enough fucking imponderables? Dan: Well, by God, you give the word, Al, and them poles will be kindling. --(Alma is reclined back in bed, gazing at Seth, looking very sultry and “natural”) Alma: After we’ve made love, are you sometimes happy? Seth: (smiles) Because I get up from the bed, is that why you wonder? (Alma smiles, biting her fingertip) I’ll intend something, come to myself realizing I’ve only stood or sat thinking about you. Just now, that your toes are beautiful, when I’d intended to replenish the kindling. (Alma giggles) Alma: I was raised believing dereliction of duty is the one sure way to happiness. Seth: So often with you I’ve been perfectly happy. Ellsworth: (knocking on door) Can I start the shipment loading to keep the men from falling to drink? Seth: Yes, please. Alma: (sits up) Now I believe in you. (She kisses him) --(Outside, we see the stagecoach set to carry Alma’s gold to Denver.) Ellsworth: Start loading. Al: Does Bullock think if I wanted, them four horsemen with rifles would ward me off that woman’s gold? Dan: Maybe it’s just precautions against the other operators. Al: No precautions of his protect her. Them other operators forebear out of respect for me and knowing what hot blood your blade would draw if they ever fucking presumed. Dan: Well, he don’t intend it as insult. Uh, Bullock, that’s my point. Al: Horror is you’re fucking right! He don’t know if it’s breathing or taking it in through fucking gills. He is that fucking cunt-struck. (Bullock is outside now, approaches Ellsworth) They’re afloat in some fairy fucking bubble, lighter than air—him, her snatch and his stupid fucking badge. (A gunshot rings out, everyone but Al turns in it’s direction) Where’s that from? Dan: My guess would be number 10. Al: Hope it ain’t Tom Nuttall taking the quick fucking way out. Dan: No. No, there’s himself. (Tom runs out into the street. Seth starts walking toward him. Al slams down the bottle.)
Al:
Self-deceiving cocksucker I am, I thought when America took us in, Bullock would prove a fucking resource…look at him, striding out like some randy maniac Bishop. Sheriff! About his duties to the camp, huh? Luck trouble didn’t jump out earlier, huh, Bullock? Might have found you mid-thrust at other business. (Seth stops and looks up at Al.) What is it? Taken by a vision? You would not want to be staring like that – at me. Tom: (To Seth) It’s only Bummer Dan. But I-I think he’s killed. Seth: (Looking up at Al) Be where I can find you. Al: I ain’t going no place. (Al looks a bit unhappy with the way that all went, he seems to resign himself to it, and turns to go back inside his office. Dan & Adams look at each other, and follow him in.) Dan: I’ll, uh, go get my big gun. Al: No, that ain’t how this wants to resolve. You go down, Dan, see to the cunt and whiskey, huh? Adams: You want me up here? Al: You, go take your bath. (Dan & Adams leave the office.) You want a donkey’s attention…bring a fucking pole down between his ears. (Slams his desk drawer shut and walk out to the middle of the room) Jeez (groans) Ow, fuck! (Grabs his side) --(Cut to the No.10 Saloon. A body on the floor. Nuttall presents the body to Seth, Vanna White style…) Harry:No ways did I wish that man harm or take against him. Seth: You did shoot him, huh? Harry:Only on account of the jacket. Charlie: I’ll hear it from the other drunks. Tom: Harry mistook Bummer Dan for Slippery Dan. Harry: That had pulled his cock out previous, started filling the cuspidor yon! Seth: You will keep this short. Tom: Well, uh, Harry shouts for Slippery to stop, but slippery cast his Johnson toward Harry and pisses at him over the bar. Harry:I pulled my gun, sheriff. I told Slippery, “Get out, you’re ruled off for the day. You darken that door before dawn tomorrow, I’ll shoot you fucking dead.” Tom: Harry’s shirt front’s urine-sopped still. (Harry pulls his shirt up for Seth to see) Seth: But this is Bummer Dan. Slippery Dan:(As Charlie hauls him in by the shirt collar) Oh my God, it’s true! Tome: Well, that’s Slippery. Slippery Dan:Bummer’s fucking dead. Harry:They know that, you filthy piss-spraying beast! Seth: Get up off your knees. Sippery Dan: Oh my God, Bummer – Charlie: Get up and tell your part of this. Slippery Dan:My part, sheriff, was putting Bummer in my jacket and sending the poor fuck in here.
Seth: To what purpose? Slippery Dan:Thinking maybe if Harry winged one at Bummer mistaking him for me he threatened to murder, it’d be funny. Harry:What’s my liability, Mr. Bullock? Hey, ain’t getting pissed on provocation? Seth: You didn’t kill you meant to, or mean to kill the man you did. (Turns to leave) Slippery Dan:What’s my liability? Worse in some way? Seth: Box him and see he’s buried. But I’m telling both of you, watch it! Slippery Dan:May I retrieve my jacket off him, Deputy? Charlie: Yeah, go ahead. Slippery Dan:Gee, the worst fucking joke I ever played! Oh, why do I drink the way I do? Charlie: He pulls that prick stunt again, shoot him! --(Seth is walking up the thoroughfare, Charlie runs to catch up to him…) Charlie: Wait up, Bullock! Seth: Private bidness, thanks. Charlie: It won’t be private if Swearengen’s got his cappers at his flanks. Seth: (Stops and turns) It’s private. Thank you, Charlie. Shyster: Soap with a prize inside! You got any prizes in that meat there, captain? (laughing) Seth: This cocksucker. Shyster: Friend, I got soap with a prize inside. Seth: (Grabs the shyster and drags him away) You were told to keep an interval between yourself and legitimate merchants. Shyster: I-I keep my interval, Sheriff. It’s their increase what’s crowding me— Seth: We’re gonna count out 25 paces. We’re at 14. Count them with me. 15! Shyster: 15. Seth & Shyster: 16, 17… 18, 19, 20… --(Bella Union Balcony, Joanie & Lila are outside. Cy comes out to join them.) Cy: Why, Joanie Stubbs and Miss Lila. What brings you to the air this fine spring morning? Joanie: Stage from Bismarck. Cy: Bismarck, you say? Don’t the kid in all of us look forward to the new arrival? I still tingle at the bottom of my balls. (chuckling) Who could it be? President Hayes? Maybe it’s jugglers or face painters. Where do you feel it, honey? Joanie: The bottom of your balls. ---(Back inside the coach, William lifts up a cheek and lets one fly…) Whore #3: Air’s gone a little fixed. Martha: I guess we know who fixed it. William: Excuse me. (Outside, a man is panning the creek) Look at the man in the creek, Mama. Martha: He’s panning for his fortune. William: Won’t see Mr. Bullock in the creek, though.
Martha: Maddie: William:
No. Didn’t you say he was the Sheriff? Part owner of Bullock and Star hardware, Sheriff of Deadwood camp.
(The coach clatters along the trail, spewing up dust as it passes by Calamity Jane – passed out on her horse’s neck. She pulls herself upright…) Jane: Cocksuckers! (She flops back down onto her horse’s neck) --(Trixie, at the door of the Gem, sees Seth enter, she runs out across the street to the hardware store. Dan & Adams are on either side of the staircase as Seth approaches…) Dan: Bullock. Seth: Do I need to watch my back against you? Dan: Al said to stay out of it. (Seth walks up the stairs, Johnny watching from the bar. Charlie enters, stands at the bar. Silas nods to Dan and they join Charlie at the bar, all watching the office door. Trixie enters the hardware store…) Sol: Good Morning. Trixie:If you’d spare your partner a gutting, Mr. Star, you might make your way to the Gem. Sol: (Moving to the desk) A gutting at whose hand? Trixie:My boss called him out clear across the thoroughfare. Sol: Unprovoked? Trixie:He was seeing after Mrs. Garret’s interests – your partner – when my boss shouted. (Sol pulls out the tiniest derringer in the world, checks that it’s loaded and puts it in his jacket pocket. He grabs his hat and heads for the door...) Sol: Would you lock up for me, please? Trixie:Sure. Sol: Your boss should do like me and learn to look the other way! (exits) Trixie:It ain’t his line. (Locks up) --(Al’s office, he’s in the corner, trying to piss…Seth enters…) Al: Age impedes my stream, no fucking fear of you. Seth: Get in here. Al: All in due fucking course, but tell me one thing first, Bullock, as I stand here fucking humbled. Does the widow Garret have a going fucking hard rock concern and five-stamp mill crushing gold out of her quartz all day and fucking night? Seth: What? Al: But does she cast her lot with the camp, furnish others here a chance to develop what they got, to hang on or even prosper? Seth: You pie-faced cocksucker. Get in here and account for your insult.
Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Or, with you at her ear – among other points of entry – instead of doing your civic duty, does she ship her fucking loot to Denver? Civic duty? Opposed by her own and her dead husband’s family, to put her assets at play in a camp with no law or government worth the name? See as here where she lives and struck lucky, civic duty? Yeah. And it’s time for her and some others to quit their fucking shirking. Yankton’s making it’s move. (shouts) Ah, the fucking thing! Meaning what? “Yankton’s making it’s move?” Without more insults. We’re getting ass-fucked. Carved into counties, but not one fucking commissioner coming from the hills. How do you have this information? From the governor himself in a pricey little personal note. They want to make us a trough for Yankton’s snouts. And them hoopleheads out there, they need buttressing against going over to those cocksuckers. Now, I can handle my areas, but there’s dimensions and fucking angles I’m not expert at. You would be if you’d sheathe your prick long enough. Shut up. And resume being the upright pain in the balls that graced us all, last summer. Shut up, you son of a bitch. Jesus Christ. Bullock! The world abounds in cunt of every kind, including hers.
(Seth stares at Al for a moment, removes his badge, unhooks his belt. Al sighs.) Al:
Of course, if it would steer you from something stupid…I, uh, could always profess another position. Seth: Will I find you’ve got a knife? Al: I won’t need no fucking knife. (Seth turns and they commence to fighting. It makes it’s way to the balcony, they fall over into the muck. The stagecoach approaches. Al looks up at Trixie. She runs inside.) Trixie:They went over the fucking balcony! (The boys grab their guns and head outside, where Al & Seth continue fighting. Cy, Joanie & Lila are watching from the Bella Union balcony…) Cy: Awful possibility in these matters is both men sustaining mortal injury. Stagehand: Whoa! (Dan whacks Seth in the head with the butt of his rifle…) Dan: You looking to die, cocksucker? (Dan aims his rifle at Seth – Adams runs to Dan & wrestles the rifle away from him…) Adams:
He ain’t your kill!
Dan: God damn you! (Sol and Charlie come outside…Sol draws his “gun”…) Johnny: Hey, hey. Hey, don’t come no further! Hey! (He fires and hits Sol, recocks his gun and shoots Charlie) Charlie: (Grabs his head) Jesus Christ! Johnny: Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! (shouting) Jesus Christ Almighty! (Al pulls a knife from his boot, gets up and crouches behind Seth.) A Man’s Voice: Where’s Bullock? Whore #3: Fuck me. (Martha covers William’s eyes…) Al:
I do have a knife. It come to me now.
(Seth looks up at Martha and William, sitting in the coach, watching) Al:
Hmm?
(Al looks up at William as Martha uncovers his eyes. William smiles at Al. Al points his knife to the stagecoach…) Al: Cy:
Welcome to fucking Deadwood! It can be combative. But I’m rarely that fucking lucky.
(Al is staggering away, Seth struggles to stand up. Alma saw it all from her window.) Al:
(To Trixie) Wave a penny under the Jew’s nose. If they’ve got living breath in them, it brings them right ‘round.
(Martha gets out of the coach, approaches Seth…) Martha: Mr. Bullock. Seth: A happy surprise. Charlie: No one’s dead. Mr. Star’s shoulder’s been hurt. Cy: Ain’t that your high-end whore friend Maddie? Joanie: Yes. Cy: That I thought had took her snatch to New York? Joanie: Yes. Cy: Wonderful how folks can get around now. (A.W. Merrick approaches Seth and Martha…)
Seth: Doc Cochran needs to come from Whitewood. AW: Yeah. (Takes off his hat to Martha as Seth is leading her away…) A.W. Merrick. Seth: Mr. Star and Utter should be taken to our store. Trixie: (Helping Sol up) All right. All right. William: (Puts his hand out to Seth) Hello, Mr. Bullock. Seth: Hello, William. I’m all right. (To stagehand) I’d be grateful if you’d take their belongings to a house I built on the west edge. Stagehand: Mm-hmm. (Seth manages a smile at William before he falls to the ground and passes out.) --(At the Bella Union, Cy opens the office door and shows Joanie and Maddie inside.) Cy:
Better let me hold Maddie’s chair, Joanie. (closes door) I need to make a fucking impression. My lady. Maddie: My Lord. Cy: Lack of notice is my only regret. Maddie: That’s my fault for giving Joanie none. Cy: Were you hedging your bets, Maddie? (Throws a package at her) Maddie: Feared losing my nerve all the way to the camp. Cy: Then wondered, had that coach brought you to Gettysburg, huh? Gettysburgh – fucking battle carnage. Maddie: Yes, I wondered. Cy: (shouting) What? Maddie: Wondered. Cy: (huffs) You secured that building, Honey, when? (throws a package at Joanie) Joanie: November. Cy: Got the building in November I guess you’ll be operating out of? Now I’d have thought a trick would have been behind it, but Joanie’s fuck money has been going for Jewels. How long have we had that understanding, Honey? Joanie: Since I was 14. Cy: I’ve been giving Joanie jewels for her fuck money since she was 14 years of age, and not once did I come out ahead. Joanie: Anyways. Cy: Anyways…Since November, it looked to me the project lay fallow, but I guess it was just germinating. Joanie: Shall we talk in private, Cy? Cy: (looks at Maddie) Would that be rude? Maddie: Not at all. Cy: I mean, a 18-year relationship between me and Joanie, - just one moment alone? Maddie: Of course not. Cy: Suck some pricks if you like. Keep whatever they give you as my way of saying welcome. Maddie: Any blind one’s out there? (Cy snickers and laughs at this remark. Maddie leaves.)
--(Back at the Gem, Barney is wrapping up Al’s ribs.) Al: Jesus Christ! Barney: That bandage wants to be tight, Al. Al: That does it! Ask it if it wants to be wound around your fucking neck! Get away from me, Barney! Barney: Yes, sir. (Al wheezes, in pain) Dan: (To Johnny) Fucking Adams. Johnny: Restrained you, didn’t he? Dan: Obstructs me in the thoroughfare. Now he wants to bill and coo. Al: (Screaming, trying to get dressed) Fuck! Johnny: What was that Jewish fella thinking, Dan, to charge at me with a purse gun? (Al wailing) Dan: That’s just an unfamiliar situation. He just overplayed trying to prove himself. Al: Fuck, fuck. Johnny: What was that whole damn thing about anyhow? Dan: Al’s calling Bullock to the fold. Johnny: Bullock ain’t even of Al’s flock. Dan: Al’s gonna be calling numbers to the fold now that he can’t trust like us. Some he don’t even like. We’re joining America. And it’s full of lying, thieving cocksuckers that you can’t trust at all – governors, commissioners and whatnot. By God, that’s just the new way of things. And you just gonna have to get used to it, Johnny. Johnny: All right. Dan: You gonna have to accept it and learn to control yourself. --(Cy’s office) Cy: You get no argument from me! Joanie: Okay. Cy: It’s been me nudging you from the nest, young lady, urging you to take fucking wing. Joanie: Okay. Cy: Where did the money come from that bought that place? Your daddy sold me you for six and a half bucks, so a rich relation is tough to swallow. It is respectful not to lie, Honey, but any further silence will get me violent. Joanie: You know where that backing came from. Cy: A farewell gesture from Eddie Sawyer! I knew Eddie had been stealing from me, and then he flees and you turn up owning our place. Joanie: I don’t work here no more, Cy. You understand? No matter what. Cy: Hmm. It’s kill you or let you go. (Joanie nods) Could I make it with you dead? Joanie: Why try? Cy: Look at that. (touches her face) Look at that beautiful smile. All right, darling. Let me…let you go. Joanie: Thank you.
Cy:
(chokes) Shall we—(clears throat) All take air while Maddie hears the happy news? (knocks a package to the ground) Let’s go get the fucking crone. I feel like a – a boy. I feel like skipping. I’m that fucking hopeful and excited for you. (chuckles)
--(Cut to Flora-vision in the hardware store…) AW: Doc, hot water. Doc: Tell Wu that that drunk better not get ate by his pigs until I have had my way with the corpse. Sol: I’m braced, Doc, if you want to start digging. Doc: Momentarily. (Seth is propped up, watching all the goings on through Flora-vision, he looks over and finally sorta-focuses on William…) Charlie:
Oh, Thank you, Ma’am. The ringing…
(William waves at Seth) Seth: I’m all right, William. William: Where are you gun and badge, Mr. Bullock? Seth: It was personal between me and the man I fought, so I took them off. William: But he kept a knife. Seth: I didn’t know that when I disarmed. William: Will you arrest him now for the knife? Martha: That’s questions enough for Mr. Bullock, William. Doc: Give him a dose of that laudanum. Sol: (laughs) I got my load on, Doc. (groaning) (E.B. kicks his cook, how was leaning in for a closer look.) Seth: Don’t doubt…I’ll have back my gun and badge. Trixie:Shh…shh. EB: (clears throat) Trixie:Shh…shh (Martha steps away from Charlie, E.B. continues to clear his throat, Doc looks over at him, annoyed. E.B. backs off and leaves.) Trixie:Shh…shh. (Martha kneels next to Seth and begins washing the blood off his face.)
--(Back at the Gem, Al is still gasping in pain as he continues to slowly dress himself. Jewel comes down the stairs with Bullock’s badge and gun belt…) Al: Fuck. Jewel: I found these seeing to you piss-pot, and I know they ain’t yours. Al: What tipped you off, the fucking badge? Put them down (gestures to a chair) Is that some kind of private fucking hilarity? Jewel: What? Al: The piss-pot remark. Jewel: No. (E.B. enters) Al: I made water off the balcony this morning, if it’s any of your fucking business. Now get away from me. (E.B. turns on his heel as Al says this – Al grabs his arm) Not you E.B! Get the fuck back here. EB: Heavens. It’s all like some great Greek battle. Al: Yeah, how about that fucking Doc, huh? Seeing to the respectable types, leaving us, the ones that pay him regular, huh? So that woman and child - Bullock’s? EB: His wife and son. Johnny: Uh, how was Mr. Star? How was Charlie Utter? Al: Shut up, Johnny! (gasping) Detail Bullock’s condition. EB: The worse for wear. No clarity to his look or focus, as I could cite in other combatants. (touches Al’s shoulder) Al: You touch me, E.B., I’ll put your nose through your fucking brain! Now, did he state his further intentions? EB: To have his gun and badge back. Al: In what fucking tone? EB: Well, I’d shy from putting a name to it, Al. (chuckles) He was talking to an 8 year-old. Al: Sound like he’d be coming back for more? EB: Well, I’d hate to guess and be wrong. Al: New whores on that coach, huh? Find out where they’ll be working. EB: I could take him his gun and badge, plumb his intent as we talk. Al: And how would that chat start, E.B., huh? (imitates E.B. – Adams chuckling)) “Here’s your hardware, and as he looks a cunt anyway, Al would like you to have this rose.” (Waves a bottle at E.B.) EB: I’ll, uh, look into the new whores. (leaves) Adams: (to Al) How you doing? Johnny: (To E.B.) Uh, is my bullet out? Will Star live? EB: Well, if he don’t, he’s going happy. Johnny: And—and Mr. Utter? Will he be blind and deaf? EB: No! Let me suss out that new trim, Johnny, before I earn some added rebuke. (Adams sidles down the bar to Dan…) Adams: Look, all’s I’m saying is I ain’t your enemy. Dan: Well, whatever you thought your intentions was coming on me like you did, nine times out of 10, that’ll be the last fuckin’ move you ever make.
Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
Bullock will be coming back for his weapon. To what intent? Open question. Well, we’ll be ready. (Picks up his shotgun – looks at Adams) You’ve had your one out of 10. Cow-eyed kid looking from that coach, that’s what fucking unmanned me.
--(Upstairs in the Grand Central, Alma is wrapping a present.) Alma: (sighs) He couldn’t have known she was coming. (holds her hand out to Miss Isringhausen) Just today, I’d asked Mr. Bullock after his family, and he made no mention of their being en route. Miss Isringhausen: You’re kind, extending the hand of welcome. Alma: Well, at it’s best, this camp can be forbidding to new arrivals. Miss Isringhausen: Well, that was very much my experience. Alma: Let alone to come upon Mr. Bullock in the mud of that thoroughfare, injured, who knows how seriously? Miss Isringhausen: Well, thank goodness he seemed coming back to himself. Alma: Miss Isringhausen, I didn’t realize medicine was among your areas of expertise. Miss Isringhausen: It isn’t, Mrs. Garret. Alma: Then perhaps I’ll better learn Mr. Bullock’s condition in his presence. And Mr. Star’s and Utter’s condition. Miss Isringhausen: Yes, ma’am. (Sophia walks around the bed to face Alma…) Alma: Sophia? (Sophia holds out a treat wrapped in a bow.) You put a ribbon around your candy? (Sophia nods her head) And did you want me to give it to that boy? (nods head) Miss Isringhausen: Please answer in words, Sophia. Sophia: Yes, please. (There’s a knocking at the door. Miss Isringhausen goes to answer it.) Ellsworth: Miss Isringhausen. Miss Isringhausen: Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: I’m here to steer Mrs. Garret. Alma: Then Mr. Ellsworth and I will make the delivery. (Ellsworth picks up the basket & sticks his tongue out at Sophia. She returns the gesture and Miss. Isringhausen admonishes her with a silent “Sophia.” Ellsworth and Alma are now walking along the thoroughfare, making their way to the hardware store.) Ellsworth: Not as I’d been asked, Mrs. Garret, but I wonder if this ain’t a call better paid another day. Alma: I’ve stopped believing I can dictate the terms of my opportunities.
Ellsworth: Well, some would say it might be your choice. What chances you decide not to take, some being the butt-in loudmouth types. Alma: Shall I walk on alone, Mr. Ellsworth? Ellsworth: No, ma’am. --(In the hardware store, Doc is prospecting in Sol’s arm. He grunts as he pulls out the bullet.) Sol: Doc:
I’m sorry for throwing up. If you hadn’t, I would suspect your previous habits.
(Alma enters, Merrick pulls off his hat, holding Martha’s bonnet in his other hand. Seth stands.) Alma: Mr. Bullock. Seth: Mrs. Garret. Alma: How are you feeling, Mr. Star? (Seth looks over at Ellsworth, he just shrugs.) Sol: I’ve puked twice. Trixie:Mrs. Garret. Alma: Trixie. Doc: Mrs. Garret. Alma: (turns) Mr. Utter. Charlie: Ma’am. Uh, don’t be alarmed. A lot of this damage is old. Seth: Let me introduce my wife, Martha. And our son, William. Mrs. Alma Garret. Alma: How do you do? Martha: How do you do? Alma: How do you do, William? William: How do you do? (tips his hat) Seth: And Ellsworth, who superintends Mrs. Garret’s claim. Ellsworth: Ma’am. William. William: How do you do? Alma: (looks around for a moment) You’ve discovered us in distressing circumstances. Martha: We’re safe and glad of joining Mr. Bullock. (Seth gives Alma a “What the fuck?” look – A.W. looks really uncomfortable, Alma looks to Ellsworth, he hurriedly hands her the basket. Alma steps forward, and hands it to Martha.) Alma: I hope this can be of some use to you, uh, in your settling in. Martha: Thank you. Seth: Thank you. Alma: My ward included sweets for your son, when his mother decides he may have them. William: Is your ward a boy? Alma: A girl, Sophia. A little younger than you, I think.
William:
Oh. (Looks at his mom, she nods) Thank you.
(Doc is tending to Sol, Trixie rips bandages, A.W. still looks really uncomfortable. As do Seth and Alma and just about everybody in the room…) Seth: You recall Mrs. Garret from my letters. (Blank look on Martha’s face. A moment of uncomfortable silence passes before Martha breaks it…) Martha: Yes. Charlie: That’s good luck you had right there. ‘Cause I carry the mail, and I’ll admit today before lay people (chuckling) we lose more letters than we deliver. (Charlie laughs uncomfortably, A. W. laughs as well, a bit loudly for it to be genuine.) Alma: I’ll say goodbye then, in hopes that I see you again soon. Martha: Yes. Alma: (turns to leave, stops and turns to William) I hope I see you soon, William. William: Thanks for the sweets. Ellsworth: And don’t be pestering me for the good fishing spots. I name them only over breakfast at the Grand Central hotel, or what I call my dog. (Offers his arm to Alma, they leave) Seth: Will you see your house? Martha: I would like to very much. AW: Uh—Ahem—Mrs. Bullock, I –uh, I’ve retrieved your bonnet from your former post. And, uh, at your convenience, the readers of the “Black Hills Pioneer” would be interested in hearing about your journey and perhaps your first impressions of our camp. Doc: You don’t have to give ‘em all. Seth: Thank you for seeing to Mr. Star. Trixie:No need to hurry back. Seth: Go ahead, William. --(Out in the thoroughfare…) Alma: He never wrote of me in his letters to her…did he? Ellsworth: We never spoke on what he’s wrote to his wife or hadn’t, Mrs. Garret. Alma: Or why he hadn’t Ellsworth: No, Ma’am. And you and me hadn’t ought to either. Alma: (nods) Thank you for taking me, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: You’re welcome, Ma’am. --(Seth, Martha & William are walking slowly down the thoroughfare towards the new house…)
Seth: You’ll recall…what I wrote about her husband? How he’d sought his money back on a claim. He died in a fall before gaining satisfaction, and the claim proved out rich. William: Is that the house, Sir, the splendid one ahead? Seth: It is. Martha: You can walk ahead a little piece, William. Just a little piece. Seth: And of my promise to help the widow…as I could, made to Wild Bill Hickok. Martha: Yes, Mr. Bullock. And you must be as weary from the days events and your work readying the house as we are from travel. Please don’t trouble to repeat yourself. --(Up on the Bella Union balcony…) Maddie: We traveled with that woman and her boy. Cy: While that lady was traveling with you, her husband the sheriff was pickling his prick in the cunt brine of another. (The balcony door opens and Lila leads the whores out, bringing a bottle with her.) Look at Lila, delivering her ducklings all undamaged and dry. Joanie: How are we gonna celebrate, Cy? Maddie: My vote’s for hardy but brief. Cy: Vote’s don’t count here just yet. It looks a little small, Lila. But I guess you gals are used to making the best of that. (uncorks the bottle) Just fleeting as fucking innocence, let me toast to bold new venture. Your place got a name yet, Honey? Joanie: Le Chez Amie. Cy: That’s catchy. (to the girls) Open your yap, stick out your tongue. To the Chez Amie! (Starts to pour a drink down the whore’s throats) And to—(grabs a whore by the neck) stick your fucking tongue out! (the whore gags) Joanie and Maddie! Able hands at a whorehouse tiller! And to…Doris, one the Bella’s best cocksuckers, that I send with them as a gesture of friendship. Maddie: We have the girls we need. Cy: Bon Voyage, sweetheart, as long as we’re speaking french. Joanie: We got all the girls we need, Cy. Cy: Ah, don’t fear that she’ll spy, Joanie. Please, don’t reject Doris on that basis. You’ll just get her belly cut by me showing you I’m serious. And an uncut Bella whore sent with you. Being as funds stole from me by Eddie put the Chez Amie on it’s feet, I consider myself an investor. And I will have my interests looked at, 60 cents from dollar one! And a true count fucking verified. Joanie: All right. (whispers) Fine. Cy: Get these girls out of here, Lila! You better get packed, Doris. Did you bring anything with you when I bought you? (she shakes her head no) That’s all right, honey. You just pack the rags you been wiping the cum off with. All right, Joanie? Joanie: Yes. And now we’re gonna go. Cy: What do you think, I’m a monkey in a zoo? Think I’m gonna throw my shit after you? Joanie: No. Cy: Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m a monkey. (door closes) Get those cunts out of here. Don’t believe there’s no good women till you’ve seen one with maggots in her eyes. Joanie! Bet the wheel before you leave. You’re on a lucky run.
--(Cut to the stream in front of the Bullock home, they pass over a little foot bridge…) William: Is there fish in this stream? Seth: Sometimes. (They step up to the porch) This is it. Martha: May we go inside? Seth: Did you get the letter about the house? Martha: I did get that letter. It’s at the very top of my trunk. Seth: That has all my thoughts. Martha: May we go in? Seth: I should go back now. You and the boy go in. Martha: Let’s go in the house Mr. Bullock has made us, William. William: Come on, Mr. Bullock. Seth: Not just now, William. William: Don’t you want to come in? Seth: I can’t come in just now. William: After you’ve seen to the camp, gotten your gun and badge back? (Seth hands Martha the welcome basket…) Well, I’ll take my mother in. Seth: Thank you. William: Come on, Mother. Martha: Thank you. (Seth turns and walks away…we hear him reading his letter to Martha in a voiceover as he makes his way along the thoroughfare to the Grand Central…) Seth: “Dear Mrs. Bullock, Your house is near finished. My satisfaction does not exceed the camp’s lumbermen and sawyers whose patience I have tried by my over watchful eye for greenness and for good square edge quality in the cut boards. I’ve chosen pine, one-year seasoned, for the sills, posts, floor joists and rafters. The other framing timbers is of spruce. Where partitions bear upon them, I have doubled the beams and supported the floor with locus posts set three feet into the ground. I think you may laugh to see the mullioned windows with their view of the camp from out the parlor. Being unfinished, they look like unfocused eyes. I’ve left these and all final decorative choices to your superior judgment and sensibility.” Shyster: Soap! Soap with a prize inside! Seth: “I hope that you and the boy may arrive in good health and safety. I look forward to our opportunity to better get to know each other. I pray that in my brother’s stead, I may be permitted to be a father to the boy as good as Robert would have been, and as to your care and comfort and safety, as good a husband to you. Yours Sincerely, Seth Bullock.” (He finally reaches Alma’s door. E.B. watching from below…he knocks, Alma opens the door, she steps out, they hug, she pulls the door almost closed, we see them cling to each other through the crack in the door.)
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Ellsworth Brad Dourif .... Doc Cochran John Hawkes .... Sol Star Paula Malcomson .... Trixie .... Tom Nuttall Leon Rippy William Sanderson .... Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority .... Charlie Utter Dayton Callie Anna Gunn .... Martha Bullock Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver / Tolliver Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick Geri Jewell .... Jewel Bree Seanna Wall .... Sophia Gill Gayle .... Huckster Titus Welliver .... Silas Adams Meghan Glennon .... Lila Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs Maddie Alice Krige Miss Isringhausen Sarah Paulson William Bullock Josh Eriksson Cast
Jackson Bolt .... Ellsworth's Rifleman Christian DeStefanis .... Ellsworth's Rifleman Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 14 “A Lie Agreed Upon, Part 2” Directed by: Ed Bianchi Written by: Jody Worth
Episode 14: “A Lie Agreed Upon, Part 2” (Al is leaning against his desk, Doc is wrapping up his ribs…) Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc:
That’s good. How’s Bullock doing? I don’t discuss my patients one with another. Bleeding through his fucking ear? He was bleeding through it pretty fucking good out there in the thoroughfare. Tell me about that other department. Inform that fucking lunatic next you see him I’m fit as a fucking fiddle and ready to play on. (Helping Al back into his long johns top) Inform me, Al, to what mark in your piss-pot did you fill? The volume was adequate. I didn’t check the mark. (Sits) Any discharge of gleets, burning or soreness?
(There’s a knocking on the door, Johnny enters with Al’s suit back from Mr. Wu’s laundry…) Johnny: I got your suit back from Mr. –Whoo! It’s kind of, like, aromafied from that solvent. Al: Why don’t you let it cure in the air for a while, huh, Johnny? (Johnny walks to the balcony door) Not on the balcony. Not on the fucking balcony. (Johnny leaves, Al takes a swig from the whiskey bottle.) Doc:
Gleets, burn, soreness?
(Another knocking on the door, E.B. enters the office…) EB: Al: EB:
He’s come back to my hotel. Bullock. Upstairs to the widow. I can’t say if they’re in rut. I didn’t linger for the song of the bedstead. (Al nods his head. E.B. clears his throat and puts his hat back on…) Let me go check on those fucking whores.
(E.B. leaves, Doc closes his eyes and shakes his head in annoyance at all the interruptions.) Al: ---
No more in that department. That fucking discussion is over.
(In Alma’s room at the Grand Central, Sophia is sleeping…over in the main room, Alma and Seth are seated, Alma is fingering her brooch nervously…) Alma: I was relieved Mr. Star and Mr. Utter weren’t more badly injured. Seth: Yes. Alma: (Tilts her head at Seth, puts her hands in her lap…) I hope my coming to your store caused no awkwardness. Seth: It was kind of you bringing that basket for my family. Alma: May I ask if you had been aware their arrival was so imminent? Seth: No. (Alma turns her head away, she seems frustrated, like talking to a brick wall I would imagine.) She had written that William seemed entirely recovered, but no mention of intending to travel. Alma: (Nods her head) He’s handsome…your brother’s son. Seth: He’s a fine boy. Alma: (Kneels down in from of Seth…) I would so like to see to your injuries, however superficially. Seth: My proposal would be we leave the camp immediately, or remain and sever connection. Alma: (Pauses) A choice for me to make? Seth: Yes. I don’t seek to absolve myself. I don’t believe I’m to be relied upon for good judgment. Alma: Or even for an account of your own feelings? Seth: I only know that for us to stay and not sever connection would add lying to her humiliation – renew her humiliation daily. Alma: Yes, I understand. (Alma stands and walks across the room) You say I must choose immediately? Seth: Tonight. Alma: I’d need some part of tonight to consider. Seth: Yes. Alma: Others are involved for me as well. Seth: (Stands) I’ll come back in a few hours. (He turns to leave, Alma stops him…) Alma: Be very careful in the interim, Mr. Bullock. Seth: Alright. Alma: (Whispering) Be careful. (Seth leaves, not turning back. Alma looks over at the sleeping Sophia…) --(At the hardware store, Trixie and Charlie are moving Sol down from the countertop where he lay while Doc removed the bullet…) Trixie:Two, fucking three. (Sol groans.)
Charlie:
Easy.
(They help walk him into the back room, A.W. Merrick lighting the way. Wow! He not only makes a great hat rack, but a lamp as well!) Charlie: A lovely family, the Bullocks. Trixie:Grand. Sol: Looked forward all this while, and meet ‘em with my load on. Charlie: Easy does it. Easy. (Charlie lifts Sol to set him down on a bed, Trixie helps lift his legs up…) Trixie:Two, fucking three! (They all groan as they move Sol.) Sol: Thank you, Mr. Utter. Charlie: Okay. Sol: Much obliged, Mr. Merrick. Trixie:I got him. (Covers Sol with a blanket, he groans.) Look the fuck out. (Charlie leaves, A.W. doesn’t move - just like a lamp – Trixie points to the door.) Look the fuck out. (A.W. exits the back room and joins Charlie in the front of the store.) Charlie: I ought probably to get some weapons. (Merrick looks at Charlie, confused, he leans back to look in the back room at Trixie and Sol, he walks over and closes the door, turning back to Charlie.) AW: (Whispering) Why? Charlie: What? AW: (louder) Why would you? Charlie: Maybe you didn’t notice Bullock was without his gun. AW: No, I did. Perhaps with the ringing in your ears, you didn’t hear Mr. Bullock say he’d get his old weapon back. Charlie: You think maybe a new one might be useful to Bullock arranging his old one’s return? (Duh, Merrick) And more backing his position? (Seth enters and walks straight back to Sol…) Seth: May I have a word with Sol? Trixie:Sure. (Leans in to speak to Sol) Will you mind if I hang around awhile? Sol: Fuck, no. Trixie:(As she’s leaving, she mutters to herself) Self-deluding, interfering motherfucker. (Charlie, and eventually A.W. Merrick, follow her outside.) Seth: I’m sorry you got shot. Sol: A man like me gets used to it. Seth: If it had came to it, I’d have seen to dissolving the partnership, sending your mother the proceeds.
Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
Why would I expect otherwise? And I know you would do the same. What are you thinking of? Along with any funds I might forward. From the afterlife, you mean? (Louder) Any funds I’d send subsequent, I know you’d administer in their interests – Martha and the boy. Yes, you’re correct. What are you fucking thinking of? (Seth looks away and shakes his head slightly) What we’ve built and been through, you don’t get to walk away without saying why. You know why. That don’t mean you don’t have to say it. I’m sick of knowing and you not saying. I love her. Good! You fucking said it. And now I get to tell you you’re wrong. You loved her these months and stayed. It ain’t love that’d make you run, but shame. Now let me ask you this, you think shame would end when you cleared the fucking camp? It’s shameful either way, Sol. It’s life either way, Seth. (Stands up) I’m sorry you got shot. Well I am too, but I like being loaded. I like telling you what the fuck I think, you cocksucker. (Seth looks down at Sol.) I know you will see to their interests. Yes, I will, you cocksucker! And I like saying “cocksucker.” What the fuck do you think of that?
(Outside, Trixie is smoking a cigarette, Charlie is standing next to her, looking around.) Trixie:Want a fast blow-job? Charlie: (Snaps his head around to Trixie...) What? Trixie:Quick open air blow-job. Charlie: (Chuckles, stammering) Uh, no, Thank you. (Seth comes out of the store, passing them) Uh, Bullock. Seth: Charlie. (They start walking down the thoroughfare.) Trixie:Maybe Mr. Star will want one. (Turns and goes back inside.) Seth: Thanks for going against orders. Charlie: I’ll tell you, I got such a fucking ringing in my ears. Seth: (Louder) Thanks for taking my back before. Charlie: Oh, you’re welcome. Hey, (they stop) I’ll bet your wife and son are overtook by that lovely home you built them. (Points to the house, Seth gazes in that direction) Uh, and what did that boy say about a creek in his own front yard? (Seth pauses a moment, then continues walking) And that’s a fine appearance he makes. And if you don’t mind my saying, she is one striking woman, Mrs. Bullock. (Seth stops and looks back at Charlie) Sense of dignified and upright. Seth: Thank you.
Charlie: Anyways, where the fuck you headed? Seth: To get my things from Al Swearengen. Charlie: Oh. Seth: Maybe for a word with Dan Dority too. (Points to his head) Gave me this fucking headache. Charlie: To the Gem then. (Seth nods, turns, and continues walking. Charlie starts acting dizzy, bending over, arms out, as if trying to steady himself from dizziness) Jesus Christ. I’m faint. (Seth walks back to Charlie) A faintness come over me. Oh, Jesus. (Seth puts his hand on Charlie’s shoulder) That’s a lightheaded fucking sensation. Oh. Seth: Did you want to go to your place? Charlie: Oh, maybe I should. Maybe that’s the fucking prudent course. (Seth puts Charlies arm around his shoulder.) Seth: Give me some weight. (Charlie groans) Come on. (They start walking) Charlie: Yeah, to not keel forward and drown in fucking horseshit. Ooh. Seth: How are you feeling? Charlie: Things are a little wavy-like before my eyes. (They pass by the Gem, piano music playing) Fuck the Gem. Gem’ll fucking wait. --(Inside the Gem, Al and Silas are seated at the bar, Dan is behind the bar.) Adams:
For what it’s worth, Yankton’s afraid of Bullock.
(Al, a surprised look on his face, looks at Adams, then Dan. Dan looks at Adams with a contemptuous “What the mother-fucking fuck?” face.) Al: Don’t say no more. Refrain from explaining yourself. Adams: Till Congress approves, nothing’s to say the hills get made part of Dakota. Far as that, Montana’s got pull Dakota don’t. Montana’s got silver for bribes. Al: Thieving Indian agent’s all fucking Dakota’s got. Adams: It ain’t fucking fresh money to the game. Dan: And how does that argue for Bullock living or dying? Adams: Yankton thinks Bullock’s Montana’s man. Al: On what basis? Adams: He was favorite of a judge in Helena that wanted him in politics. They figure he’s a stalking horse here for the judge’s interests. Dan: Then Yankton’s got their head up their fucking asses. If they think Bullock’s anybody’s man. Hell, Bullock himself don’t even know whose man he is. Al: In the thoroughfare, as I readied to stab the cocksucker, did you have no impulse to hint at this? Adams: The moment didn’t seem right. Al: Over time, your quickness with a cocky rejoinder must have gotten you many punches in the face. Adams: Depends on what you call “many.”
Dan: There’s another fucking clever one. (Lays his shotgun on the bar, looks at Al and motions his head to Adams.) Al: To Yankton’s thinking, would Bullock dead curb Montana’s interests or incite them to a stronger expression? Adams: I don’t know. Al: If he’s spoiling to mix it with us further, they may get a chance to find out. (Dan picks up his shotgun and taps the butt on the bar top – ready for action.) --(Back in Alma’s room, Sophia is still fast asleep, Alma is ruminating aloud on her situation…) Alma: He will leave with me, if I tell him that’s my wish. (Pauses) As to what our life would be, that’s another question. Miss Isringhausen: I would say, Ma’am, it might be like – living atop a volcano. (Alma considers this remark, sits back in her chair…) Alma: That’s been done, Miss Isringhausen. Miss Isringhausen: Certainly. And with a good deal of excitement, I should think. A sense of high adventure every day. And, of course, Danger. Alma: As to excitement, would you possibly…add happiness? Miss Isringhausen: Why not, Mrs. Garret? (Alma stands and walks to the window) Please don’t be angry with me, Ma’am. Alma: No. (Gazes out the window for a moment) We do love each other. Our being together ought not to seem so outlandish a proposition… Miss Isringhausen: No, Ma’am… Alma: …except for every other single thing. --(Charlie and Seth have arrived outside Utter Mail & Freight…) Charlie: Uh…Oh boy. Yeah, there you go. Thank you. Thank you, Bullock. Ooh. (Charlie sits down on a crate, outside the building, across from a bench) Seth: Alright. Charlie: (Puts his hand up) I’m next to completely collected. (groans) Three separate occasions I’ve been shot at, hit, and fought on. And now, a miss takes my equilibrium. Seth: Anyways. Charlie: Uh…You – want to get to the Gem, huh? Seth: Yeah. Charlie: Why? Seth: I told you why. Charlie: Well, I mean why just this instant, say, different from later a little while, when a friend could back your play? I mean, someplace you need to get to after that?
(Seth looks at Charlie for a long moment, looks behind him at the bench, backs up a bit to sit down…) --(Joanie’s new place, the Chez Amie, She and Maddie enter with lamps to light up the building…) Joanie: I got the elements stored in the back. Maddie: I hope to Christ you do. (Turns to the door) Come in. (The new whores begin to enter) Don’t anyone bolt for freedom. Joanie: I kept accumulating them secret so Cy wouldn’t think I was proceeding. (They enter a back room, they all look around. Maddie smiles.) Maddie: Well, well, well. Joanie: There’s the wallpaper you sent, Maddie. Maddie: Yes, Ma’am. Ladies, why don’t you put your attention to some of the lighter furniture, and we’ll hire some great minds to do the heavy lifting? (She looks at Doris) Roll up your sleeves, Doris. Hard work dispels worry. --(Back at the hardware store, Trixie is sitting next to a resting Sol…) Trixie:I pray to God your shoulder pain’s like some sharp-toothed creature’s inside chewing at it and gnawing. Sol: How did I give offense? Trixie:No one needs feeling as good as you’d feel otherwise. Sol: Hmmph. Trixie:I say from -- fucking experience. And I didn’t need the fucking activity today – and the fucking crises. I prefer sucking prick is the fucking short of it. Sol: I would settle for a vigorous hand-holding. Trixie:You are a funny fucking Jew. (Sol grunts, laughing) And type that insinuates himself. (Trixie takes her hand and places it on his chest. He reaches for it with his good hand and pulls himself closer.) --(Up in Cy’s office…) Cy:
General principle, I believe in fostering people’s tries at improving their selves, and I think you all also know that I got a special fondness for Joanie Stubbs. And if those things wasn’t true, in this camp at this precise juncture, I, Cy Tolliver, would not have backed an exclusively high-end whoring operation at the far fucking end of the camp without concealed access for it’s trade. But, be that as it may, and – wishing Joanie Godspeed, (We now see who he is talking to, it’s Lila, Leon, Con Stapleton and the dealer) This congregation gathers so that I can assure each of you that our operation here, the Bella Union, is organized exactly
to capitalize on what this camp is ready for and for what it’s going to become. I want each of you to take one of these…(takes out some gold coins, Leon is staring wide-eyed at the sight of the gold, maybe wondering how much dope that will buy him?) As a gesture of optimism and good will. (Slaps the coins down on the desk) --(In Doc’s cabin, Doc is prospecting in Bummer Dan’s skull for some brain. He scoops out a piece of brain and starts to set it in a pan when he hears a body thud to the ground outside, followed by a familiar voice yelling…) Jane: Keep your fucking distance! (Doc looks up and over at the window) Remain on your side of the street! (We see Jane, hanging by one leg from her patient horse) Do not interfere with me in any way! Chinese cocksucker! (Doc, deciding what to do about this unexpected arrival, slurps around at the gooey brain and plunks it in a jar of formaldehyde. He quickly washes his hands and heads outside.) Jane: Aw, Jesus. (She’s groaning with the effort of trying to reach for her stirrup, in order to get herself access to the rope on her foot. Doc reaches her…) Doc: Well, you are an entangled inebriate, are you not? Jane: This happens to be a rig and contraption of my own devising against repeated accidental falls that has temporarily malfunctioned. Doc: (Trying to unknot her…) Very well knotted. Jane: I’m back in camp, Cochran, ‘cause I’m dying – and I need a place to breath my fucking last, and not for no human aid or consolation. (Doc – still fumbling with all the knots…) Jesus Christ, you’re bad with your hands! (Doc looks down at her) If I wasn’t practically fucking dead, I’d reach that knife (straining to point to her knife) and cut myself free. Yeah, I just farted. So what? (Doc takes her knife from her boot…) Hey! Hey! Hey! (Grabs the knife from Doc) Don’t you disarm me, you cocksucker! Lift me up so I can cut myself free. Doc: (Moves behind her, grabs her shoulders…) Alright, you ready? (He lifts her up enough so she can cut the rope and free herself.) Alright now, give me that hand. (Jane groans as Doc helps her stand up) Jane: Ow. Doc: Now…(he steadies her) step inside and let me examine you, even if you are past help. Enhancing my understanding may allow others the benefit of your mortal illness. Jane: (Looks at him for a moment – smacks him with the back her hand in the stomach) Do you mock me, cocksucker? Doc: No. Come on inside. (Jane nods her head) Alright, there we go. (He helps her walk inside) Jane: Promise when I’m dead, you’ll plant me with a view of where Bill is. --(Alma, still standing at the window, continues to ponder her situation with Miss Isringhausen…)
Alma: He couldn’t have meant that, not possibly. Miss Isringhausen: Well, I shouldn’t have thought so. Alma: You don’t believe he imagines where he and I to go, I’d leave Sophia behind? Miss Isringhausen: I can’t be certain, Mrs. Garret. I didn’t hear him speak. Alma: Because others rescued her and nursed her, -- is the idea that she belongs to the camp? Are we some sort of vicious, filthy outpost of Brook farm? (Miss Isringhausen raises her eyebrows) She’s been with me for seven months. She’s a part of my life as I am of hers. He couldn’t have. (She crosses her arms.) --(Back in Doc’s cabin, Jane is lying down on the table…) Jane: I will not! Doc: Jane, (shaking a thermometer at her) for me, the female breast has long ago lost all mystery or allure. Open your Goddamn blouse. (Jane leans up on her elbow in defense. Eying the Doc. She lays back down with her hat on her chest. She moves it sharply to her side and begins to unbutton her blouse. Doc put the thermometer in her mouth…) Jane: (through clenched teeth) I’m keeping my eyes shut but I’ll know every fucking move you make! I’ll have you further promise, that you won’t forage in my remains after I’m dead, as you obviously don’t scruple from that type of sick behavior. Doc: (Holding a stethoscope to her) I promise. Alright, sit up if you’re not too drunk. (He removes the thermometer from her mouth – he looks at it, moving around the table, he put his stethoscope on a sidetable, shakes out the thermometer and places it in a jar as Jane sits up and starts to rebutton her blouse.) Your liver runs from your chin to your genitals, so I suggest you quit drinking. Jane: I will when you do, you ugly son of a bitch. Doc: Nature is a forgiving mistress, and you might could have some time to fill before she collects her due. Jane: As if I’d credit any opinions of yours on the subject of health. Doc: Well, if you do care to sojourn among us, Charlie Utter has put aside a room for you at the freight building. Jane: Does he have any animals in there? --(Outside Utter Mail & Freight, Charlie and Seth are talking…) Seth: Fort Cooper, on the Butterfield stage route. Charlie: I know that Fort – on the Brazos. Seth: That’s where I found him. I was 13, and he had to send me back. But we had a…a good talk before I left. Probably I’d have come looking for him again, but— next year was the war. Robert was Calvary. No way to locate where he was. Charlie: The fucking war had everyone all over everywhere. Seth: We wrote. Less after my father passed and I headed to Montana. I had letters when he married, when they had their boy (he smiles). And we’d threaten visits.
When I finally did come to Fort Quitman where Robert was posted and…met Martha and William, Robert wasn’t there. He was – following back some raid across the Rio Grande. I had let it wait too long. He got shot and killed in Mexico and was buried there. Charlie: Fucking Mexico. Seth: I went down, found him – and brought him back. (Seth tears up) Charlie: Wrong to let him lay there…unless you’re a Mexican. (Seth sighs, starts to tear up, nearly sobbing…Charlie stands up…) Charlie: My bowels are in an upheaval. I’ll walk off to pass wind. (He stands a few feet away, waves his hat behind his – well, behind.) Don’t ever say I’m not a fucking gentleman. Jane: Fuck you two! (Seth looks up, raises his eyebrows as Jane approaches with a big smile on her face.) --(Back at the Gem, Al and Tom Nuttall are talking at the bar. Silas is leaning against the bar a few feet away. Slippery Dan is seated at a table across the room, muttering to himself…) Slippery Dan:Number 10…ruled me off, the round-eyed toad. Cocksucker. Al: (groans) Tom: My concern, past your physical well-being, is what the dispute portends. Al: Yeah, I don’t know. (Dan is glaring at Silas) Tom: Is it unsettled between you two or still unresolved? Al: I don’t fucking know. Tom: Your ribs are hurting, ain’t they? Al: Yeah they fucking hurt. Tom: Well, I always believed, of his sufferings on the cross, his busted ribs would have hurt him the worst. (Al sees Silas’ butler friend enter the Gem…) Al:
Hey, Adams? Cutthroat friend, huh? (To Butler) And I thought you was in Florida having your belly rubbed by a Seminole. Adams: (Approaches Butler) What the fuck? Butler: You aren’t going to believe what happened to me, boss. Adams: If Kate Hogranch is part of this story and fucking that half-breed, go ahead and try me. Butler: That’s not the stop that detained me. Adams: I’m past my fill of this shit. Next time don’t fucking catch up. (Walks away) Butler: Guess the day of the Samaritan’s passed. (Approaches a whore…) Stopped to help stranded sisters. (Sits down with her…) Hi. Al: (To Silas - mockingly) Severe reprimand.
(Johnny pours shots for Adams and Dan, Dan holds down the bottle, forcing Johnny to pour him a stout shot. Silas does his teeny shot (in comparison to Dan’s ginormously huge manly shot. Dan gulps his shot down, slams the empty glass on the bar and throws his hat down on the bar top. He glares at Silas as he walks away.) Tom: Them two seem disputatious as well, huh? Al: (Pouring another shot) Storm clouds gather. (Tom looks up at the ceiling – looking for the clouds. Dan approaches the table that Butler boy and the whore are sharing. He slaps the whore on the shoulder with a towel. She jumps up and hurries away. Dan begins vigorously wiping the table clean.) Butler: Think you about got her clean there, Hoss. Dan: Another fucking clever one. You know, I bet when you and your partner’s out on the trail, when you ain’t greasin’ poles and choosing who’s going to be rider, Oh, I bet you and him just bust each other’s guts with your little fucking funnies. Butler: Well, we do laugh some about you. (He takes Dan by surprise with a headbutt to the belly and the fight begins. Dan flips Butler boy ass over teakettle onto the floor. He kicks him, straddles him and pins him to the ground. Dan: Let’s here a belly giggle now, (Looks at Silas, then back to Butler boy) you cocksucker. (He starts punching Butler boy…Al smiles at Silas. Dan is really punching the hell out of Butler boy now. Silas looks to Al, pleadingly…) Al: No. Adams: (Throwing his hat to the ground) God damn it! Slippery Dan:Christ, that’s one country ass-kicking! Adams: (Charges Slippery Dan) Shut your fucking mouth! (Silas grabs Slippery Dan by the jacket collar and slams him up on the wall, piercing his chest on a pair of antlers hanging on the wall. The crowd gasps.) Tom: Ooh, he just 12-pointed Slippery Dan. (Slippery hangs dead, Dan is still punching the hell out of Butler boy. Al fires a shotgun into the air. He points it at Dan.) Al: Next one is to your head, Dan. Do not doubt me. Dan: Well, that’s just fucking great. That’s fucking beautiful. (Dan gets up and storms off) Al: Feels like a cannon ball up my ass. (Puts the shotgun over his shoulder and turns away.) ---
(Back at Utter Mail & Freight…Charlie and Seth are sitting quietly, listening to Jane tell a story of her past months away…) Jane: Fella in Livingstone went sweet on me. Finnish fella from Finland, hardly spoke fucking English. Brought me flowers and some dry food they like there. And, uh, one night, he takes my arm and he starts in and he, uh, whispers in his Finland accent, (Whispers) “I want to suck your cock.” (She laughs, Charlie, not having heard the punchline, just looks at her. Seth isn’t much for laughing and joking (big surprise) and he doesn’t react either.) What do you fucking think of that? (She looks at Charlie, proud, hands on hips – she was mistaken for a man! Come on guys, isn’t that something? Funny at least? Guys? Hey, Guys?) Charlie: Uh, oh, I missed the end part, Jane. Uh, can’t practically hear fuck-all. A fucking bullet near creased my ear. Jane: It didn’t do your face no fucking favors neither. Charlie: Yeah. Jane: (Looks to Seth – his eyes are closed) Put him to sleep. Seth: I got to go. (Starts to stand, Charlie stops him.) Charlie: No, no, no, wait, wait, wait. Uh, wait. (Sits down next to Seth) Let me get weapons. Jane: For what? Charlie: I told you, we was involved in a falling out, and I guess (Seth tries to get up, Charlie holds him down) hostilities may be about to resume. Jane: You gonna tell me now who it was with? Charlie: Swearengen. Jane: The limey cocksucker nearly did for the little one? Charlie: Uh-huh. Jane: Well why the fuck was you withholding that information? Charlie: In the futile hope of preventing you roiling the fucking waters. Jane: How is that little one the limey cocksucker nearly killed? Still in the care of the widow Garret? (Seth stands up) Seth: I’ll have my badge and gun back. Jane: Well, go get the fucking weapons for us to back him, Charlie. Charlie: Let me just wake my fucking watchman. (Bangs on the door) --(Silas, with Slippery Dan slung over his shoulder, heads over to Mr. Wu’s. Mr. Wu’s pigs are already feasting on Bummer Dan. Doc is leaning over the fence, watching the picnic. Mr. Wu stands guard next to him.) Doc: Alcoholic encephalopathy. MrWu: Huh? (He looks at Doc with a skeptical, WTF? Face) Doc: Um…wet brain (Makes a pantomime of him taking a shot, points to his head.) (Mr. Wu sighs and walks away, looks like he thinks Doc is one strange cocksucka! Doc points to Bummer Dan’s body, looks back and notices that Mr. Wu is no longer paying attention. Silas approaches Mr. Wu with more Wurina Pig Chow™ and gets “the glare” as Mr. Wu blocks his path.)
MrWu:
Five Dollar.
(Silas just looks at Mr. Wu, tries to proceed to the pigpen, Mr. Wu holds up his hand, five fingers splayed. Silas stops, resigned, he shifts the body so that he can reach into his pocket , he takes out a coin and hands it to Mr. Wu. Mr. Wu steps aside and allows Silas to proceed to the pigpen. Silas dumps Slippery Dan into the pen and walks away, not interested in watching with Doc. Butler boy approaches Silas, wiping his face with a handkerchief)) Hawkeye: (A name! A name! Butler boy has a name! Thank you Closed Captioning!) Anything else I can do for you, Boss? Adams: Keep up. (Hawkeye looks down and nods his head. Silas grabs his shoulder, turning him around. They walk away.) --(At the Gem, in Dan’s room, he’s sitting on the bed, hunched over with his back to us. We see Al enter the room in a reflection in the mirror to Dan’s right.) Dan: Just save your fuckin’ words, Al. Don’t waste your precious time. You got any orders, you just send Adams and he can deliver them. (Sobbing) Al: Dan— Dan: You chose! You took his fucking part! Al: As was right and fucking proper at the time. Dan: Yeah, but you pointed the fucking gun at me! Al: And persuaded you I’d use it in order that I didn’t need to. (Dan sobbing) Dan? Where you or me would have slammed that hoople up, planted him back and twisted the cocksucker till all the points of that buck’s rack showed out his chest, and then done it twice more in case the fuck mistook the first for accident, what did Adams do? Dan: (Still sobbing, he looks up at Al – distraught) He fucking walked away. Al: Different man from you and me. (Dan looks down) Whatever looks ahead of grievous abominations and disorder, you and me walk into it together like always. (He holds out the shotgun to Dan. Dan takes it…) Dan: As you’ve never say to Adams? Al: (Spits in his hand) As I’d never say to Adams. (Dan stands, spits in his hand, they shake, nearly hug, Al groans, walks away, grimacing/smiling, Dan wipes his hand on his shirt front.) Send fucking Dolly up, huh? Dan: (Nods, smiling) Yeah, sure thing, Boss. --(Alma is looking down on the thoroughfare from her window…) Alma: When I first came to this camp and for many years before, I depended on spirits of laudanum. Miss Isringhausen: May I ask against what indisposition?
Alma: (huffs through her nose) Various indispositions. The remedy was invariable. Caring for Sophia has been a great joy and a great freedom. To give up her care in love’s name or any other – the selfishness of that…I’d be too afraid. --(Back at the Gem…) Johnny: I ain’t never seen a man killed like that. Dan: By God I’ll tell you what, Johnny, there would have been a hell of a lot more than two tines sticking through that cocksucker’s chest if it had been me or Al impaling him. Al: (Upstairs, yelling) Jesus Christ! Johnny: Either Al got God or Dolly just stuck her thumb back up his ass. (Up in Al’s office, Al is bent over clinging to his desk while Dolly is working her thumb in his ass.) Al:
Oh (groaning)…Now, I’m halfway thinking this exaggerates the condition rather than alleviates it. If I might should query the Doc, but then that cocksucker will only ask after gleets. (gasping) Oh my God. (Al tries to move away, Dolly is persistent and scoots her chair to keep up with him) Take it out. Take it out. Remove your fucking thumb. (he gasps, Dolly finally removes her thumb) Why, if I was moving forward to get away from you, would you have fucking pursued me? When I stopped, pressed on yourself to drive your thumb into my intestine? Dolly: Sorry. Al: (sighs) Is it a river of blood, or what the fuck’s pouring out of it now? Dolly: Nothing. Al: Huh. (sighs) Close the ass-flap. (She does) The entire area of my fucking asshole is now one gigantic fucking throb. I have no idea what’s transpiring in there. Dolly: Shall I suck your prick? Al: Please. --(Trixie is outside the hardware store, smoking a cigarette. She sees Bullock and an armed Charlie and Jane following him, approaching the Gem. She throws down her cigarette and goes inside, pissed off and determined. She pauses outside the back room a moment, deciding what she should do. She collects her thoughts, and huffs into the back room.) Trixie:Does he want to fucking die? I understand that has its fucking appeal, but not going out a fucking cunt—taking others fucking with you. Sol: (lifts a finger in the air) Dulled faculties! Trixie:Your fucking stupid fuck of a stupid fucking partner. Sol: Wants to die? (He starts to lift himself up) Help me, Trixie. --(Back in Al’s office, Dolly is giving him a blowjob while he waxes rhapsodically.) Al: Even this now gives me no pleasure. Seth: (From outside) Swearengen! Be down in five minutes with my gun and badge!
Jane: Start down now you limey cocksucker! Allow for getting stuck crawling out from under the bed. Al: That Bullock’s a fucking strategist, ain’t he? Sets terms to publicly humiliate me, and my penalty if I don’t comply is he walks into the bar downstairs and takes 15 bullets in the chest. (Lifts Dolly’s head up to look at him) And that ain’t no hooplehead, you know. Bullock, he’s one of those special fucking cases. You don’t know what in fuck’s going on in their mind. And he’s big with Montana. (guides her head back to his prick) Big. I heard that today. Because the news earlier from Yankton and the fucking commissioners wasn’t adequately confusing. Not to mention the fucking telegraph coming in and four whores that I don’t know who the fuck they work for. Seth: Three minutes! Al: (Yelling) Shut the fuck up! (normal) I suppose I do fucking understand. So fucking confused and disgusted and wanting it to end and looking for the blessing of a quick way out. Sets himself to a higher fucking standard than our natures, and he wants execution ‘cause he’s failed. Seth: One minute! Charlie: What the fuck happened to two? Al: (Dolly finishes) Talk about one person fucking up another person’s entire fucking day. (He walks to the balcony, buttoning up along the way, Seth reaches for the gun in his holster…Al points at Bullock) Wait. (He turns and goes back inside, Seth drops his hand.) Sol: (He’s on the porch of the Hardware store watching the scene with Trixie) I had best go over. Trixie:Wait. (He stops, she goes back inside) Al: (to Dolly) You linger awhile. Do no think of thieving, huh? (Picks up his pocket watch, Dolly wipes her mouth with her ass-poking-thumb-hand. Al walks downstairs…) Johnny, produce that coal-oil-stinking suit. (Johnny does as told – Al looks at Dan) Unless you’d rather get it for me. (Dan shakes his head “nah, That’s alright.”) Seth: (Outside) I wish the fuck you two would let me finish this the way I prefer. Jane: Well, we wish to fuck you would find something else to wish for. (Johnny steps outside – Jane and Charlie take their aim…) Johnny: Jesus Christ! I’m unarmed (opens his jacket) He’s coming. He’s detained. Getting dressed. Jane: Ain’t it always a trial picking out the gown best conceals you fucking pissed yourself? (Johnny heads back inside, A.W. Merrick enters the thoroughfare from his printing shed. Trixie comes back out of the hardware store, a rifle and a six-shooter in her hands…) Trixie:I recommend the six-shooter, being this rifle’s first recoil’s liable to knock you unconscious with pain. Sol: (takes the six-shooter) Thank you.
(Sol steps ahead, Merrick readies his notepad, Trixie aims her rifle…) Trixie:(Whispers) Selfish cocksucker. (Dan sets Bullocks Gun and Badge down for Al. Al’s nearly done getting dressed. He sighs, groans with the effort of dressing, Dan offers him a knife.) Al: Huh-uh. (Dan offers him a six-shooter, Al shakes his head “no”) That’s not to say should the situation deteriorate, you boys wouldn’t open fire from concealment, huh? (Al picks up the Gun and Badge and proceeds outside. Merrick licks his pencil – Ready to report! Sol approaches Jane and Charlie…) Jane: (Scoffs) Hardware Jew at less than full force, now they’ll be fucking quaking. (Al, holding the gun and badge, steps out onto the porch of the Gem. He & Bullock lock eyes. Dan peers out the window.) Al:
I regret the delay, I was sequestered. Have been, one thing and another since last we met. I also apologize for the stink. Jane: Welcome change from your usual odor of skunk. (Charlie swats her arm, Seth stares back at her, Al approaches Seth…when Al stops, Seth looks back at him…) Al:
I offer these, (lifts up the gun & badge) and I hope you’ll wear them a good long fucking time in this fucking camp, whosever fucking thumb we’re under. And where it come to me just a few moments ago that the Reverend Smith—may he rest his soul – he was found on the road, apparently murdered by heathens just some months ago. What he said on the subject of you, “Mr. Bullock raises a camp up, and I hope he’ll reside with us and improve our general fucking atmosphere for a good long fucking time, even with all the personal complications and fucking disasters that we all fucking have, and where, running away solves absolutely fucking nothing.”
(Seth, for lack of an immediate response to that, takes his gun & badge from Al) Seth: (quietly) Did you find my hat? (Al lifts and eyebrow, turns to the balcony and yells…) Al:
Dolly! (She pokes her head out) Would you look for the Sheriff’s hat? (She nods) Remember the reverend’s half-dead face, that cock-eyed look like he was the victim of a lightening stroke, hmm? (Dolly comes out onto the Balcony with Seth’s hat.) May she sail it down or would that be degrading?
Seth: No. Al: Toss it, Dolly. (She tosses it down with her ass-poking -cum-wiping-hand) I wish her aim was as good with her thumb. (Seth has an “I don’t want to know” look on his face. Al smiles and starts to walk back inside. Seth puts on his hat. Trixie lowers her gun. Seth looks up at Alma’s window. She closes the curtain’s on him…) --(Inside her room, having just closed the curtains, Alma takes a moment, turns to Miss Isringhausen and holds out her hand. She’s holding a pocket watch.) Alma: When the opportunity offers itself, please return this to Mr. Bullock. Miss Isringhausen: (Takes the watch from Alma’s hand) Yes, Ma’am. (Alma turns, walks across the room, picks up a pillow from a chair, she walks into the room where Sophia is still sound asleep, she tucks the pillow behind Sophia and strokes her hair tenderly.) --(Outside in the thoroughfare, Seth is leaving the scene – Merrick in pursuit.) AW: Mr. Bullock. Seth: I don’t want to talk about it. AW: As a practical matter, self-censorship of the rigor which obtains from this camp so muzzles the press as to make the first amendment a hollow superfluity. Seth: (To Sol, walking ahead of him) Thank you. Sol: She can situate me. (Nodding to Trixie) Seth: Alright. --(Outside the cooperage – aka Chez Amie – E.B. is nosing around some barrels, trying to see what’s going on inside. Sussing out the new trim I suppose. If sussing means spying like a little weasel.) Whore: Man says he’s finished, needs to get to his claim. Maddie: Four hours work, he’s earned two bucks. Whore: Says he wants to take it in pussy. Joanie: No, you want cash, Elmer, to convert to pussy at the Gem or Bella Union. Elmer:Alright, Joanie. Joanie: And let it be known in camp, close to pussy as two bucks will get a man in here is a deep whiff walking past. (The whore holds out Elmer’s two bucks.) Elmer:Hey, can I, uh (takes his money) get one of those and keep my money? Joanie: Have at it. Maddie: Fan some at him, Rosie, as he’s leaving.
(Rosie ruffles her skirt at Elmer – he leans over and takes a deep whiff.) Elmer:Whoo! Mother, it’s the ocean! (Elmer walks out, E.B. quickly turns away to hide better behind the barrels before Elmer or any of the girls see him. He sucks at this.) Maddie: There’s a rodent-looking creature lamping one of your barrels. Joanie: Pay him no heed. That’s the mayor. --(At the Gem, Al collects the nights take and places it in a cash box.) Al: You’re tenacious, Merrick, I’ll fucking give you that. AW: Just tell me how it began. Al: After the conflict’s genesis, I’d lay it at cunt’s doorstep. Now, had cunt one “n” and two “t”s or the other way around? AW: (laughs) Jeez, Al. Al: You solicited the true account. (Begins walking upstairs to his office, A.W. follows) AW: Within the limits of decency. Al: You want the decent truth, huh? AW: I choose to believe that truth and decency need not be at odds. Al: Oh, you’ll hear no argument from me. Let it help me accumulate capital or, at worst, not interfere, the story is true and decent. AW: I would define as true and decent in such endeavor, the facts rendered fully within social standards and sensibilities without bias or abridgement. (They reach the office door.) Al: Why do I imagine a snake swallowing it’s tail, huh? (They enter) AW: Which is to say the economic motive is but one strand in the social tapestry my exemplary account would weave. Al: Ass-fucking the dirt worshippers being another, huh, as a pleasure beyond gain? AW: Now, now, now, now, I, Uh— Al: Wait, was that your heathen imitation, huh? Jump up and down a few times and shout out “Whoops,” as in “Whoops, that ass-fucking hurts.” AW: A more elevated perspective would construe our conduct as white men to be enacting a manifest destiny. Al: Whereas the warp, woof and fucking weave of my story’s tapestry would foster the illusions of further commerce, huh? (Al is now laying down on his bed, sideways – his ass must hurt that much!) “Tonight, throughout Deadwood (cut to a shot of Seth, standing before the little footbridge leading to his house…contemplating) Heads may be laid to pillow assuaged and reassured, for that purveyor for profit of everything sordid and vicious, Al Swearengen, already beaten to a fare-thee-well earlier in the day by Sheriff Bullock, has returned to the Sheriff the implements and ornaments of his office. (Seth crosses the bridge, steps onto the porch…) Without the tawdry walls of Swearengen’s saloon the Gem, (Seth enters) decent citizens may pursue with a new and jaunty freedom
(Martha watches Seth enter…) all aspects of Christian commerce. In which connection, we particularly recommend—“ There you’d throw in the names of a few businesses gave you good-sized adverts, huh? (Merrick throws up his hands, backs away to leave. Seth hangs his coat up, Martha approaches him…) Seth: May I come in with my boots? Martha: Of course. (She looks away) Seth: You haven’t slept? Martha: I waited for you. (Seth looks down, grabs his badge and gun and walks over to where William is sleeping…) Seth: To show the boy when he awakes, I’ve got these back. (He places them in a basket on the floor near where William is sleeping, his arm hanging off the side of the bed, the hand gently brushing the basket. Seth moves the basket slightly back, pulls the blanket up to William’s shoulders, he stands up and approaches Martha.) Martha: I saw that you installed a bundling board in the bed upstairs. Seth: I did. Martha: I hope you don’t mind that I removed it. Seth: (pauses) No. (Martha turns and walks upstairs…Seth eventually follows, as he does, we hear in voiceover…) Al:
“A full fair-mindedness requires us also to report that within the Gem, on Deadwood’s main thoroughfare, comely whores, decently priced liquor and the squarest games of chance in the hills remain unabatedly available at all hours, seven days a week.”
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Ellsworth Brad Dourif .... Doc Cochran John Hawkes .... Sol Star Paula Malcomson .... Trixie Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall William Sanderson .... Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane Cast
W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Anna Gunn Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones Geri Jewell Bree Seanna Wall Gill Gayle Titus Welliver Meghan Glennon Kim Dickens Maddie Miss Isringhausen William Bullock Hawkeye Dolly
Lila
.... Dan Dority .... Charlie Utter .... Martha Bullock .... Cy Tolliver / Tolliver .... Johnny Burns .... A.W. Merrick .... Jewel .... Sophia .... Huckster .... Silas Adams .... Lila .... Joanie Stubbs Alice Krige Sarah Paulson Josh Eriksson Monty “Hawkeye” Henson Ashleigh Kizer Channon Roe Maury Sterling Nick Amandos Fiona Dourif Meghan Glennon
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 15: “New Money” Directed by: Steve Shill Written by: Elizabeth Sarnoff
Episode 15: “New Money” (We hear a soft groan as the camera pans across Al’s office. He’s lying on the floor, shaking, clutching a towel with one hand, and his pelvis with the other. We see his pisspot overturned on the floor in front of him, at his head. There’s a small amount of liquid on the floor, having spilled from it. Downstairs, Dan and Johnny are standing side-byside, Dan holding his coffee cup. They’re looking up at the whores gathered upstairs near Al’s office.) Dan: (loudly) You want to know when we’re gonna open, Tess? (She nods impatiently) Well we’re gonna open when me and Johnny fuckin’ say so! And you three, hoverin’ around like buzzards outside Al’s door, will not hasten the situation. (normal voice, to Johnny) It was fucking sun up before Al called it quits. Now, he has earned a sleepin’ in. Johnny: He locks the door, Dan, when he leaves his office. Al does not lock the door when he’s inside. Dan: That’s just the exception that proves the fuckin’ rule. Johnny: I suppose. (Out in the thoroughfare, a stagecoach has arrived, men are unloading the baggage as E.B. greets the new arrival.) EB: May I ask, Mr. Wolcott, what purpose draws you to our hills? Wolcott: Gold. EB: Gold? I see. (Charlie walks past, does a double take at Wolcott) Morning, Mr. Utter. Charlie: Morning. EB: Frequents my buffet religiously. Wolcott: Yes, I hope to locate and secure an assortment of claims. EB: An assortment? Shrewd hedging—which makes me think this is not your first foray. Wolcott: If it was, I don’t suppose I’d admit it to you. (He touches E.B. on the arm, as he says this. He then walks over to his luggage, stacked nearby.) EB: Only confirming my original impression. (Richardson comes out onto the porch, leaning between the two to toss a bucketful of – something (I shudder to think what) into the muck. E.B. grabs him by the arm…) EB: Get his luggage. (To Wolcott) My staff will install your possessions. Wolcott: I thank you. (He turns to enter the hotel, E.B. scuttles along behind him…) --(At the house that Bullock Built, Martha is pouring Seth his coffee. He’s standing in the kitchen…)
Seth: You bought provisions. (He takes the coffee cup as Martha places the kettle back on the stove.) Martha: During the night…while I was waiting for you to come home. Seth: It’s a 24-hour camp. Martha: So I saw. Seth: (Pauses) Certain things I said yesterday, I regret. I‘ll be grateful if you’d not rely on them. Martha: (Nods) All right. Seth: Representations I made as to letters I’d written—I didn’t. Martha: I’ll be grateful then if you not rely on my – assurance that I got them. (She serves Seth his breakfast, could be eggs, could be hash browns. Either way, what ever it is, looks better than the alternative at E.B.’s absurd restaurant.) Seth: All right. Martha: I’ll hold my deepest gratitude, Mr. Bullock, for what will let us live as we are now. (Seth kinda looks at her like he’s smiling. Or he has gas. I dunno.) --(In the absurd restaurant, Mr. Wolcott is looking for food, he’s finding “food” instead…) Wolcott : This oatmeal looks old. EB: It does, doesn’t it? Richardson, Goddamn you! The oatmeal is clotted. Richardson: Well, it’s 45 minutes yet till the three hours. EB: Stop spouting gibberish and replace the damned oatmeal. Wolcott: I’ll make do with the bacon. (sniffs his plate…they walk over to a table, E.B. wipes off a chair and pulls it out for Wolcott.) EB: A camp like this, (He hovers over Wolcott’s shoulder) one draws one’s menials from a small and brackish pool. (We see Maddie and Joanie across the room, having breakfast. Maddie’s eyes light when she notices Wolcott, as she’s sipping her tea.) EB:
Once the pig is digested, perhaps we could pursue a possibility that’s come to mind. Wolcott: If the spirit still moves in you, sure. EB: Maybe we could do it now? (Maddie meets Joanies eyes, she tries to silently communicate to Joanie about the man across the room. Joanie doesn’t get it.) Wolcott: No. Let’s let your mind ripen and mature the possibly first. Maddie: (She sets down her coffee cup, says to Joanie…) The creature I saw outside our place last night, who you said is the camp’s mayor, now perches like a vulture over that man at breakfast. EB: Of course, Certainly. Joanie: Farnum. He owns the hotel. Maddie: Have you affection for Mayor Farnum?
Joanie: (shaking her head) None. Maddie: Good. Because the man the mayor expects to digest is going to toy and play with Mr. Farnum from camouflage for as long as he finds it amusing. And then make him a meal of his own. Joanie: Who is the man? Maddie: A trick. A specialist. Who asks to be called Mr. W. (Wolcott chews away on his bacon, seemingly enjoying it.) --(At the Gem, E.B. has scuttled his was over, and is knocking on the locked doors…) EB:
E.B. Farnum demanding entry.
(Johnny looks to Dan, shaking his head about E.B., Dan nods to the bartender, seated at a table by the door, to let the scuttlebutt inside. He does so, showing E.B. in with a Vanna White style sweep of the arm…) EB: Summon Al. Johnny: He’s not summonable. EB: For the news I bear, he’ll be plenty summonable. Dan: Why don’t you go on up and summon him yourself, E.B? EB: Happily. (He walks to the stairs, pulling off his sweat sopped gloves…) Dan: He’s behind lock and key. EB: (stops) You’re certain he’s within? Johnny: Called out to my knock, said, “Get the fuck away.” EB: Fornication demanding discretion or a bribe. Dan: He’s fuckin’ alone, and he’s gonna stay that way until he chooses to be otherwise. Johnny: I think he’s fuckin’ poorly. (E.B. strokes his chin beast in thought…) His voice has got a gravelly timbre. Dan: Want to leave a message? EB: In fact, I do. Yes. “Al, if you’re not dead and already molderin’, I send news to revive you. A fish to rival the fabled leviathan has swum into our waters. Get well soon and we will land the cocksucker together. Your Friend, E.B.” (He nods, happy with his message, starts to leave…he stops, turns back to the guys…) You might add as a postscript, “I also have the news you dispatched me to secure of the newly arrived cunt.” Please. (He leaves, a befuddled Dan and Johnny watching him do so.) --(Outside the house that Bullock Built, William is talking to a little red-headed boy. He’s on one side of the footbridge, the boy on the other side.) Boy: You just move here? William: Just yesterday. Boy: I watched the Sheriff build this house. William: Mr. Bullock’s my Pa’s brother, that married my mom when my Pa got killed. So now he’s my Pa and my Uncle. Boy: (Points down the creek) Big Trout lives in that deep part down there.
Boy’s Dad: Damon! (Nice, the red-headed boy has a name that reminds me of Satan. Incidentally, Damon is a Greek name, meaning “Constant.” Guess not in this case – huh?) Damon: Coming! My Pa and me are going to grow apples in Oregon. William: Will you come back? Damon: (Backing down the steps, toward his father’s wagon…) Pa says we ain’t never coming back. (William looks disappointed, aww. So much for his “constant” friend.) Keep your eye on that rainbow. I call him Jumbo. (Damon leaves and hops in his father’s wagon. Will walks a few steps to the end of the footbridge…Seth comes outside and stands just behind him, his badge gleaming from it’s rightful place – yep, on the tit.) Seth: Morning, William. (William steps up to Seth and shakes his hand.) William: Morning Mr. Bullock. You got your gun and badge back. Seth: I did. I put ‘em in that basket for you to see. William: Did you fight that man again? Seth: (Shakes his head) No. We didn’t have to fight. William: (Nods his head towards Damon’s wagon) That boy is going to Oregon. Seth: (Looks at Damon’s wagon leaving town, Damon is still looking back…) There’s a trout that loiters just downstream there. William: The boy called him Jumbo. (Seth walks across the footbridge, down the steps, turns back to William…) Seth: Maybe after work we can make him pay for his slothful ways. (William nods his head in agreement, Seth turns and leaves.) --(Up in the hills, Alma is cruising her claim on Ellsworth’s arm. Machinery clanging loudly. The machine is labeled “Risdon Iron Works San Francisco Cal.” It has 5 large iron rods clanging up and down, propelled by a giant wheel.) Alma: (loudly) Does the scope of the find, Mr. Ellsworth, warrant more than the fivestamp mill we operate with now? Ellsworth: (loudly) Oh, no question, Ma’am. Your holdings justify 25 stamps easy. Just a matter of waiting till the legalities get resolved. Alma: (loudly) And why would the purchase of a larger machine await legal resolution? Ellsworth: (loudly) Well, Ma’am, ‘cause without title, you wouldn’t own no quartz for your 25-stamp machine to crush. (Alma admires her mill…) --(Seth is standing in the entryway of the hotel, Richardson presents Miss Isringhausen &
Sophia to him as they come down the stairs…) Miss Isringhausen: Good morning, Mr. Bullock. Seth: (Takes off his hat) Good morning. Good morning, Sophia. Sophia: Good morning. Miss Isringhausen: Mrs. Garret has gone to see her claim. Seth: (Looking up at the door to Alma’s room) Has she? Miss Isringhausen: Yes, with Mr. Ellsworth. Seth: I see. Miss Isringhausen: She asked if I saw you, please to give you this back. (She holds out his pocket watch.) Sophia can learn on another watch. Seth: (Quickly grabs the watch from her hand, looking at Sophia, puts it in his pocket) All Right. When opportunity permits, you might inquire of Mrs. Garret, as few children as are in the camp— Miss Isringhausen: I take your meaning, Mr. Bullock. Seth: If she decided it was appropriate, other parties would be delighted and grateful. Miss Isringhausen: Yes, well, she will have to decide that. Seth: Yes. (Miss Isringhausen and Sophia turn, walking back upstairs. Seth puts his hat back on and leaves. E.B., carrying in Mr. Wolcott’s bags, passes him in the entryway.) EB: The camp pugilist. --(Maddie & Joanie walk along the thoroughfare, back to Chez Amie.) Maddie: Fond as I am of you, Joanie, I wouldn’t have brought my girls and my own tired ass out here on just your kind invitation. Joanie: The trick sweetened the prospect of Mr. W? (We see Wolcott being shown to his room by E.B.) Maddie: He offered on one of my girls to bring her out here. Being as Mr. W is chief lookout for George Hearst—that struck biggest in the Comstock and Mexico—I knew he’d just endorse the camp’s future. (As E.B. helps settle Mr. W into his room…) Short side, Mr. W enjoys being cranky with his women. (They brush off the much from the thoroughfare from their boots as they reach their doorstep) But sometimes when disappointed his crankiness runs away with him. Joanie: (looking up at Maddie) What’s gonna disappoint him? Maddie: Devious sort that I am, I’ve got the girl he’s interested in on ice. --(Back in the hotel room, E.B. hands Wolcott his key…) Wolcott:
Thank you.
EB:
(sitting down) Mr. Wolcott I’m the custodian—note I do not say owner—of Wild Bill Hickok’s final earthly communication. (Takes the letter from his inside jacket pocket, hands it to Wolcott…) Wolcott: It’s damp. (Shakes it) EB: Mr. Wolcott, (grabs the letter) not an hour before giving me the letter, Bill confided to me, having come upon a quartz deposit promising in Bill’s own words “Wealth beyond counting.” How much wealth is that? I don’t know, Mr. Wolcott. I don’t know how high Bill could count. Wolcott: How much do you want me to pay? (E.B. laughs, gets up from the bed where he was seated, retrieves another bag from the hall…) EB:
I’d hardly expect you to pay anything. Imagining rather I will pay you your cost (strains as he brings in a bag) to see the letter delivered to it’s proper recipient. Plus $100…set against whatever profits you may generate. (He groans as he drags in a heavy trunk) Should delivery prove impossible…from the information the letter contains. Wolcott: (stroking his beard) So, this set-off against profits I might gain in the event that this letter, proving undeliverable, contains such valuable information, have you an amount in mind? EB: $10,000. Wolcott: Less the $100 you would pay me? EB: Correct. Wolcott: $9,900 net then, me to you. EB: Yes. Wolcott: And I would pay you that now before attempting the letter’s delivery? EB: Oh, yes. Once you have the letter, all my connection to it is severed. Wolcott: I see. EB: To deliver it or not, or whatever the hell you want to do. Wolcott: (standing up) Well, you will have my decision shortly. EB: Fine then. Wolcott: Uh, for the luggage. (Offers E.B. a tip) EB: Oh no. I wouldn’t hear of it. It was my great pleasure. (turns to leave) I trust I will, uh, hear from(high voice, throws up his hands) you soon. (nods, leaves.) --(Back at the hardware store, Trixie is pulling up her beetlejuice looking stockings and lacing her boots as Sol lays in bed…) Sol: I see now what it takes to bring you back into my life. Trixie:Just passing through, Mr. Star. Sol: Even so, (getting up) it makes a man glad he has three limbs left to be damaged. Seth: (Enters the store…) Morning. (He closes the door and heads back. Trixie looks at Sol with some trepidation about the new arrival.)
Trixie:A man can get me in his life with five bucks. $2 if he just needs a handshake. Seth: (Clears his throat) Good morning. Sol: Morning. Seth: Morning. (Trixie grabs her cigarettes, puts them in her special cigarette holder – her breasts – and makes to leave…) Sol:
Trixie! (She stops & looks at him) Many thanks. (He stands, holds out his hand, she takes it, he shakes it) Ah.
(They smile, what a funny fucking Jew. Trixie leaves. Sol sits back down, Seth pulls up a chair, sitting across from Sol. We hear the door shut.) Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth:
Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth:
How bad does that pain? It’s all right. I’m in my house, Sol. With Martha and the boy? Chose not to put ‘em in the thoroughfare. (Sol raises his eyebrows) Or, I see what you’re asking. Far as her having a different opinion, possibly, once I showed up-no, she chose to stay. Well, good. (Seth stands) Anyways, could you open up? Sure, glad to. Any help with your person? No, I’m all right. (Walking to the front) Swearengen said the county commissioners are all from Yankton. When was this? Just before we hit the mud. (I think he’s smiling!) It’s wrong the hills get no representation. Even in an Eden like this, wrongs sometimes occur. (Walks to the back) I meant maybe we should try to do something about it. I’m with you.
Sol: Seth: Sol: --(Doc, outside of Al’s door…) Doc:
God damn it, Al! Such as they are, my arts cannot be practiced at this remove. (He knocks – listens a moment, hears nothing.) Stop being a baby! (Still hears nothing. He speaks softly…) Any secrets that you feel need keeping will not be betrayed by me. (Trixie approaches) Trixie:Doc. Doc: Trixie. (loudly) Rest, uninterrupted. No visits, no exception. (Shakes his head and approaches Trixie.) Trixie:From his fray with Bullock he’s poorly, or his trouble with his prick? Doc: (whispers) If you can get him to grant you entry, maybe you’ll confide that to me?
(Doc leaves to go downstairs, Trixie approaches Al’s door, knocks softly, almost petting the door…) Trixie:It’s Trixie – that’s overheard the Doc’s instruction. So let me just shout my information from here. (We see Al, in the same, shaking position on the floor he was before…) Nobody’s dead. Bullock’s gone to that house he built. Star is on his feet, more or less. (Al is writhing in pain) Anyways, I’m gonna stay on the ear over to the hardware store. Al: (strained) Yeah. Trixie:(Pauses) Fucking telegraph poles, Al, are the next thing to landed in the fucking thoroughfare. Next leap of the creature, they’ll be here. (She pauses, still hearing nothing) All right, Al. (Al whimpers in pain. Trixie strides downstairs, determined. She approaches Dan at the bar...) Trixie:Where’s fucking Dolly? Dan: Fuckin’. Trixie:When was she last with him? Dan: Daybreak, just before he give Bullock back his iron. Johnny: We’ve seen him after she did. Trixie:(To Johnny) You brew him my fucking tea. Put it on a tray, take it up to him and make him fucking drink it. Johnny: All right. Trixie:(To Dan) If he don’t present himself in a few hours, kick down the door and get the fucking Doc in there. (She downs a shot and leaves. Dan, concerned, massages his temples, thinking on the plight of his beloved mentor…) --(Wolcott enters the Bella Union, Cy nods to Lila to greet him, she stands and grabs his elbow, attaching herself to him like a barnacle…) Lila: I’m Lila. Welcome to the Bella Union. (She strokes his hand) Wolcott: And I’m Frances Wolcott, which I would be grateful if you would tell your employer. Lila: (Escorts Wolcott over to Cy, standing at the bar…) This is Frances Wolcott, Cy. Cy: Cy Tolliver, Mr. Wolcott. How do you do, and what’ll you drink? Wolcott: Kentucky Bourbon if you got it. Cy: Pour Mr. Wolcott a bourbon, Jack, and tell him it’s from Kentucky. Jack: Kentucky Bourbon. Straight up? Wolcott: Please. Cy: Shall we have Lila drink with us, or would you like to drink with Lila alone? Wolcott: I would rather we two converse privately. (Cy motions with a nod of his head, for Lila to beat it. She walks to the other end of the bar…)
Cy: Just talk now, sir? I’m not that kind of fella. Wolcott: Maybe you’re just waiting for the right offer. (drinks) Cy: It’s late in the game, but I suppose anything is possible. (drinks) Wolcott: Will you take the air? Cy: If I’m to lose my virtue, I’d as soon do it outside these walls. (They walk outside, Cy puffing on his cigar…) Wolcott: You’ve approached a group in San Francisco that does business with my employer. Cy: That group and employer bullshit really quickens me with fuckin’ trust. Wolcott: That group you’ve approached is a fraternal Chinese organization. Cy: “Tong” is not a clever enough word? Wolcott: You offered them a contract to send members to this camp. That organization has a pre-existing arrangement with my employer. Cy: So you work for who, Wolcott? The railroads, some mining combination that brings those slant-eyes in by the boatload? Wolcott: No, sir. I work for one man. Cy: Jesus Christ. Doesn’t every one of us? Wolcott: George Hearst. Cy: (The smirk falls from his face) I meant no disrespect of any kind to you or Mr. Hearst by any word I’ve said from the moment we have met. Wolcott: I understand that. Cy: I have nothing but respect for Mr. Hearst. He’s in the Comstock of Montana, every other place he’s ever operated, without jape or jest. Wolcott: And the overture you made to the group in San Francisco showed imagination and foresight and a tolerance for risk that was impressive to Mr. Hearst. We want to work with you here. Cy: (Blinks in disbelief) You do? Wolcott: Yes, we do. (Cy smiles, nods over to Con Stapleton & Leon over in the Chinese quadrant of the thoroughfare. The original Frick and Frack, they are.) Cy:
Con Stapleton! Leon! (They begin to approach) Get over here and meet a fucking gentleman! Those two work for me now among the Celestials, setting up that (nods to Mr. Wu, glaring over at him) miserable cocksucker to get knocked off his high horse. Con, Leon. (They’ve just about arrived behind Wolcott) Wolcott: I don’t want to meet them. Cy: (pauses) Go inside. (Leon eyes Wolcott, Con looks expectantly at Cy.) Meet me inside. Con: Yes, sir. Leon: Yes, sir, Mr. Tolliver. Cy: Just go on in, fellas. (They do.) Wolcott: My only contact’s with you. Cy: As far as they’re concerned, you and Mr. Hearst don’t even exist.
Wolcott: As far as you’re concerned, Cy, (Wu glares) in the tasks you’ll be performing for him, Mr. Hearst doesn’t either. Cy: (smirks) Who? --(In Charlie’s freight building, he opens a jail cell door, we see Jane, bare footed, sleeping on a cot under a fur “blanket.”) Charlie: Wake up. Take account you’re indoors. (He pours a glass of water while Jane grumpily stirs…) Here. (Offers her the cup, she sits up, blearily, goes to take a sip…) That’s water now. Jane: Oh, get it the fuck away from me then. Charlie: Drink it and don’t be stupid. Jane: (Takes a sip, looks around) Oh, Christ, are we arrested? Charlie: I explained all this to you, Jane, that I’m the fucking Deputy, and I fixed the overflow cell in case you come back. Jane: Shut up then. (She lays back down.) Charlie: And you replied I was boring the shit out of you ‘cus Doc already told you all about it. Jane: Well, evidently, I don’t remember fuck-all. Charlie: No, ‘cause after every other fucking think we went through last night, you got to make us stop at that new joint across from Nuttall’s. Jane: Would you kindly shut your fucking mouth? (Charlie stands up) Hey, what the fuck’s Bill’s coat doing here? (She sits up, in awe and confusion.) Charlie: Well, he wouldn’t have seen it useless or a souvenir. I figured I’d give it work keeping the bed warm. Jane: Uh, where is it headed now I’m the occupant? Charlie: It ain’t going anywheres. Jane: (She smiles, looks at the coat, lays back down) Thank you, Charlie. (Charlie smiles and leaves.) --(At the Chez Amie, quick set up! In one night they’ve got it all decorated with furniture, draperies, wallpaper, the whole shebang! The whores are lounging around, bored.) Joanie: It’s cool. Sit outside. (She opens the door and the girls stand, exiting…) Wide knees. (She shuts the door behind them.) Maddie: Are we gonna argue? Joanie: We’re partners, ain’t we, Maddie? Ain’t that a lot of planning and thinking to not let your partner in on? Maddie: Not sharing it before I even knew the trick was in camp—don’t put me wrong, Joanie. Joanie: It don’t put you right, far as an atmosphere of trust. Maddie: Joanie, was there any odds when me and my girls got out here that you might have told us you’d changed your mind? Joanie: I guess there was a chance. Maddie: Or I’d have found you dead or moved along? Joanie: No chance on moved along.
Maddie: Only way to guarantee an outcome, Honey, is contracting to be fucked. Everything else is a chance – including me letting you down. But if I do, using my head won’t be the tip-off. (She sits) Joanie: How will you bring the girl in to it? Maddie: At the trick’s fierce insistence. Joanie: What’s our split? Maddie: 50-50 (She lounges back in the chair.) Joanie: What’s the girl’s end? Maddie: I wouldn’t rule out a wooden box. (Joanie’s eyes stop at that remark.) --(At the hardware store, Seth lays a pick axe down on the counter for a customer…) Seth: Timely purchase. That’s our last in stock. (The customer nods, takes the pick axe and leaves.) Sol: Goddamn out-thinking myself—resupplying in smaller orders. Seth: You’ve been dealing with a few uncertainties. Sol: If the claims get allowed or they don’t, or Yankton stacks the commissioners or not, we’re either in business, or we ain’t, and if we are, you reduce costs buying in volume. Seth: Your old man? Sol: On his death bed in fucking Vienna. (Seth chokes back a laugh, Charlie enters, holding a box.) Charlie: Fellas. (To Sol) On the mend? Sol: Doing better, thank you. Hope you are too. Charlie: (To Seth) We was gonna thin these inquiries yesterday before that trouble with Bummer Dan. (Holds up the box.) Seth: We’ve been gonna thin them for several weeks. Charlie: Is Farnum’s slop-house okay? Jane is sleeping a load off in my place. (Sol looks to Seth.) Seth: (To Sol) Inquiries from other jurisdictions, we’ve been somewhat remiss. Charlie: Whose that fella said “Never put off till tomorrow what’ll wait till the day after?” Sol: Not my old man. (Seth turns and smiles, leaves, Charlie follows with a smile…) --(Wolcott slams an envelope of money down on E.B’s check-in desk…) Wolcott: To buy the Hickok letter. EB: Wonderful. (E.B. puts his hand on the envelope, Wolcott does as well, stopping him…) Wolcott:
Uh, I’ll have a bill of sale.
EB:
Well, certainly, sir. Of course. Uh…(Picks up his notebook, dips his quill in ink and starts writing.) For reasons of legal nicety, we’ll say you’re purchasing the right to deliver.
--(Jewel & Doc are at Al’s door, She knocks…) Jewel: You gotta let me get to your piss-pot, Al. (Dan & Johnny watch from below.) Otherwise, when your mood changes, you’re fucking gonna yell at me for not doing it. (Doc nods to her) I think I should get the Doc, Al. You need to let the Doc in. You need to let him see to you. When I was sick, the Doc helped me. And you ain’t fucking yelled since then my foot’s dragging. (She pounds the door, turns to Doc…) Fuck this, right, Doc? Doc: (nodding) Fuck it. Jewel: (yelling) Dan! You need to fucking break the door down. Dan: (yelling) Now? Jewel: Isn’t that what I just fucking said? (Dan runs hell-for-leather up the stairs, Johnny following, tripping over himself and the others on the stairs as he tries to keep up with Dan.) Dan: (yelling) Al! Jewel: If I was you, Doc, I would get out of the fucking way! (Dan charges the door with his shoulder, he slams into it…) Dan: Ow! Jesus fucking Christ! Uh. (Kicks down the door, grabbing his shoulder…) (Doc runs in, Dan’s clutching his shoulder, Johnny leans toward him…) Johnny: You all right? Dan: Mm…I think I broke my fucking shoulder. (Doc steps over to Al, still laying on the floor, writhing in pain.) Doc:
(To Jewel) Would you open up my case? (Jewel kneels down and opens Doc’s medical bag…) Al? (Al twitches) Al, Al?
(He probes Al’s bladder, Al scrunches up in pain. Johnny watches with his hand over his mouth, not sure what to do, Dan’s still clutching his shoulder.) Jewel: Do we need to get him laudanum? Doc: Please. (Johnny looks to Dan & back…Jewel gets out a bottle of laudanum…) All right, Al. (Holds Al’s forehead) All right, It’s all right. --(Seth & Charlie are sitting in E.B’s restaurant, Seth’s reading from a letter…) Seth: “Please don’t let up on the Stackpole case, as I’m sure he’s out there.”
(Seth looks up at Charlie, Charlie looks back with a completely blank face.) Charlie: No idea. Seth: I never hear of it either. Charlie: All the portions you had on your plate, I hesitated to fucking inquire. Seth: I couldn’t have helped if you had. Charlie: Fuck the Stackpole case then, and the letter from Arapaho County concerning it. Which goes in the fucked-case file. (He tosses the letter under his hat, laying on the table.) --(Alma & Ellsworth are traveling back from the claim, the wagon bumping along…) Alma: I’d like to buy Mr. Farnum’s hotel. Ellsworth: To do what with, Mrs. Garret? Alma: To renovate and make my residence. Ellsworth: I can think of better locations, Ma’am. With friendlier views. Alma: None that would offer the further pleasure of putting Mr. Farnum in the thoroughfare. Ellsworth: I expect a man like Farnum finds quarters pretty easy. Alma: I would expect even with his venality satisfied, a man like Farnum would feel himself dispossessed and unanchored. I think he’d be very sad, and I would like to see him in that condition. Ellsworth: I guess most of us got enough luck to be too broke to act on them type ideas. (The wagon stops in front of the hotel, Ellsworth gets up to climb out.) Alma: What type ideas do you refer to? Ellsworth: The type the lowborn would say we get when we’re pissed off. (Ellsworth steps out of the wagon) Although…my own aristocratic lineage causes me to use the term “sore-disappointed.” (He helps her down.) Alma: I am pissed off. Ellsworth: Well, last turns the wheels took for you, Ma’am, I’d say you’ve come by it honest. If punching somebody in the nose would help, I’ll volunteer one that’s well broke in. (They enter the hotel, Alma turns her head toward the restaurant and sees Seth. Their eyes meet. Alma steels her resolve and continues upstairs…) EB:
Safely returned.
(Alma stops, takes a deep breath, grabs her skirts and walks upstairs.) --(Trixie enters the hardware store and closes the door.) Trixie:Is he here too? Sol: No. (Trixie approaches Sol) He’s my friend, Trixie. Trixie:Among other fucking things. (She smokes a cigarette, pacing.) Anyways…I wonder could you teach me to do accounts?
Sol: All right. Trixie:I’ll pay you. Or you can take it out in cunt. Sol: I won’t teach you if you keep that up. Trixie:Fuck every fucking one of you. I wish I was a fucking tree. (She mashes her cigarette out and leaves…Sol staring after her…) --(E.B. is at his ledger…) EB: Mr. Wolcott. Wolcott: Mr. Farnum. The contents of that letter are a deep disappointment. Not a word of any find or promising location. EB: You opened it then? Wolcott: Are you trifling with me? EB: It occurs to me, sir, this conversation were best had elsewhere. (He puts the cashbox behind the desk.) Wolcott: But not postponed? EB: Not postponed, Mr. Wolcott, no. (E.B. puts on his hat & walks out from behind the desk.) We are men, sir. When we disagree, we come to resolution promptly. Wolcott: Where are we going? (E.B. places his hand on Wolcott’s shoulder, leading him outside…) EB: The Gem Saloon. It’s just over there. Wolcott: Please take your hand off my shoulder. (E.B. quickly does as told, they walk across the thoroughfare towards the Gem…) EB: Some ancient Italian maxim fits our situation, whose particulars escape me. Wolcott: Is the gist that I’m shit outta luck? EB: Did they speak that way then? (They enter the Gem, Wolcott removes his hat…We hear Dan screaming at the top of his lungs…) Dan: (yelling) Oh for the love of God! (The patrons turn around to see where the yell came from, we see Doc leaving the room where the good Reverend met his end, carrying a stick and rope contraption, having set Dan’s shoulder.) EB: Please, won’t you sit down? Wolcott: So you would have me take the experience then as a lesson dearly purchased? (They sit, Dan stumbles out of the back room into the bar. In obvious pain, but trying to look tough, he holds his arm stiffly by his side…)
EB:
I should tell you, Mr. Wolcott, I have seen men in this very camp, (Wolcott eyes Dan) feeling themselves victimized, seek redress in fashions I thought imprudent. Wolcott: Violently, you mean? EB: Thus, at the lesson, dearly bought as you would have it, is where I would leave this business. Wolcott: In any case, I was an intermediary in this transaction. EB: Ah, then, having been a pupil, it falls to you now to instruct your principal. I wonder, Mr. Wolcott, if some second letter couldn’t be drafted to put some sharper point on the lesson, maybe remunerative to both of us. Wolcott: So, your idea would be that we fuck Mr. Hearst twice? EB: I missed the name, sir, but I can aver as a general principle, (Dan, hops a bit, trying to get his arm to flop on the bar, gives up and drags it onto the bar by the cuff, across from Johnny. He smiles, like nothing’s wrong.) My days of fucking anyone are long in the past, whomever you represent. Wolcott: George Hearst of the Ophir find in the Comstock. EB: Of course I know George Hearst. (He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.) Wolcott: Oh, you know him personally? EB: I do not know him personally, I do not know him personally. Wolcott: Oh. EB: But of course I know of George Hearst, and his reputation and accomplishments and wealth, and his power and reputation. And I would say, as well, most importantly, I have nothing to teach that man. George Hearst need learn no lesson from me. Nor would I permit him entrance into a lesson, either inadvertently or by accident, I wouldn’t subsequently and immediately cancel him back out of. Or his agent or intermediary. Wolcott: Mr. Hearst doesn’t renege on contracts. EB: (pauses ) Then what am I to do? What am I to do, Mr. Wolcott, (stands up to move to the chair next to Wolcott) but to admit a terrible and tragic miscalculation and supplicate myself and beg mercy (EB sits down now in the new chair, Wolcott moves his hat out of E.B’s way…) and understanding and forgiveness? (He puts his hand on Wolcott’s arm) And to aver, if you would contemplate, any separate or side transaction or understanding. Wolcott: Remove your hand from my forearm. (E.B. jumps to obey) Do not touch me again. EB: (He clasps his hands, looking down @ the table) I look poor, but that is a cultivated pose and posture. I am not poor and I am not stingy when fundamental interests are at stake—(he leans over and spits on the floor) as a complete aside. Wolcott: (looks contemplative) There is a service you could do Mr. Hearst that would set off exactly against the funds he might otherwise believe you fleeced him of. EB: Anything, Sir. Wolcott: This service would enlist you and one or two others, circulating certain rumors about the future of the camp. In particular, about the validity of the present titles to the claims. EB: (considers this) Done. Consider me enlisted. Consider the validity called into question.
Wolcott: (In hushed tones) I also wish to know the location of your highest-end brothel. EB: As it happens, a whorehouse succeeding to that title has just opened. Wolcott: (leans in quickly to E.B.) Nothing just happened, Mr. Farnum. (He puts on his hat, sits back in his chair, trying to look distinguished, he looks at E.B.) Do you think this hat makes my head look big? EB: No, Sir. It makes your head look the perfect size. Wolcott: (looks off into the distance) Thank you. --(Cy is showing out a group of customers, quickly shutting door behind them. He strides up stairs, looking down upon his employees, who are gathered expectantly.) Cy:
(sighs) You’re gonna find out somethin’ now about yourselves and your fellow man, how you handle adversity—or rumors of adversity—or ill fortune, or turns of luck. And I’m not going to further rumor or be a party to that bullshit. Do you what to know where I stand? You just look the fuck where I’m standing. You’ll find out all you need to know. I ain’t going anywhere! And if anyone else wants to, two weeks fuckin’ severance is waiting for you right fuckin’ now. You step the fuck up! Step right the fuck up! (They all look around at each other) Now that shows me somethin’. But any time, day or night, anyone wants to fuckin’ waver or fuckin’ change their minds, you just step right the fuck up and get your severance. (pauses) Let’s open the fuck up and get it while we can, all right? Leon: (turns to the rest) Open up! Con: Open up! You heard him! Let’s go! (As the rest ready the Bella Union for opening, Con and Leon confer with each other…) --(Doc is holding a probe – with a curved end – by a pair of tongs, having just sterilized it in boiling water.) Trixie:What are you going to do to him? Doc: Pass this instrument through his penis into his bladder. If he has stones, it will click against the metal instrument. Assuming I can hear the clicks above his screams, I will have identified the cause of his obstruction. Trixie:To what fucking end? Doc: To the end that if I think he will die otherwise of cutting him open above the pubis and taking out the stones. (He traces on his body where he means) Trixie:Which will probably kill him anyways. Doc: (steps closer to her) What shall I say to you, Trixie, that I’m sure of a happy outcome for Al and every one of us? --(Cy is sitting in his office, there’s a knock at the door, Con & Leon poke their heads in the door. My God, Con looks just like the doorman from Emerald City.) Leon: Minute for us, Mr. Tolliver? Cy: What is it? (They don’t know what to say) Come in and shut the door. (They enter, Leon closes the door, they look expectantly at Cy.) What the fuck is it?
Con: Anything you want to tell us, Mr. T? Cy: I told you all I want to tell you outside. Con: Well, believe me, uh, you don’t have waverers standing in front of you, or doubters or, uh, anyone looking for fucking severance. Leon: Just the opposite. Cy: What‘s that mean? You lookin’ for a raise? (They stare at Cy, unsure of how to say what they want to know without pissing him off more.) Con: Uh, well, what’s going on, I suppose is Leon’s question, Mr. Tolliver. (Cy and Con both look at Leon, he is seriously uncomfortable.) Leon: The truth is, my questions is answered 90%. And as for the rest, I’m gonna get good and fuckin’ loaded (Cy picks at his ear) and let the devil take the hindmost. Con: If you fuckin’ walk out of here, us two are gonna have words. (Cy is still picking in his ear) And more than words at my first opportunity, (Cy looks at what he’s mined from his ear) because this was 90% his idea to come in here. Cy: Somebody better turn over a hole card. Leon: (They both approach closer) Both of us took a real positive impression, Sir, of the talk you give us just recently here in your office. Con: Yeah, relative to this talk you just concluded. Cy: And? Con: And, uh, I guess you’d say a wonderment with us is if we mistook the tone of one talk or the other, and if so, which? Cy: (stands) I dispute that one fuckin’ thing changed between those two talks as to my attitude and resolve. Leon: (nods) Did the facts of the camp situation change? Cy: (mulls this over) Not to my certain knowledge. But if you’re asking in the interim, have I been privy to a rumor far as claims being invalidated, all titles thrown out, the answer is yes. (Leon’s face falls at this news, concerned. Con just smiles like a dumbass at Cy.) Con: Well, that would account for it. Cy: But the only goddamn fact that I’m aware of is I never knew any man ate a rumor or clothed himself with one or secured himself a piece of pussy. Con: Well, rumors are not facts. Cy: So if any gutless cocksucker tumbles to what‘s going on and decides he wants to cut and run, sell his fucking holdings, you tell him to come see me. Just say Cy Tolliver will buy whatever he’s fuckin’ selling if he has that little faith in the camp, or rumors of judicial invalidation, or the panic that‘ll ensue from that. (He sighs, waves the guys away) Go ahead, boys. Go on outside and do your jobs. That’s all we can fuckin’ do right now. And not waver. (They leave the office.) --(Jane and Trixie are outside, each taking a long pull from a bottle – perhaps beer by the
looks of it. Interesting fact, in 1877 Anheuser & Co. of St. Louis began shipping beer in refrigerated train cars. So, one is led to believe the comments Jane makes about progress and needing to go get whiskey, allude to the fact that they are consuming beer.) Jane: (belches) Ah. Now that’s fucking progress. Trixie:Cocksucker upstairs, across the way, whorehouse where I work— Jane: He is a fucking cocksucker. Trixie:Locks the fucking door so people can’t get to help him. (yelling) Fucking ashamed to be sick! Jane: You know he had a design to murder that little one. Trixie:(looks at Jane) No, I didn’t. Jane: Hell, yes, he had a design. Charlie and me spirited her from camp, forced him to a second victim more suitable to his cocksucker’s purpose. Trixie:Think they’re any different if they’d had their fucking dicks cut on? They ain’t no fucking different. You gotta like their friends or they won’t teach you numbers or every other fucking regulation they set! Jane: (eyes Trixie, confused) Anyways. Trixie:Far as it fucking goes, he also brought the cripple from that orphanage. Jane: Uh—what orphanage? Trixie:And don’t buy his bullshit about the 9 cent trick. Jane: What cripple? Trixie:Jewel—that he says he’s got around against some hooplehead only having 9 cents and wanting a piece of pussy. That ain’t it. Why she’s around is…it’s his sick fucking way of protectin’ her. Jane: (pauses, looks at Trixie) I’m gonna get whiskey. Trixie:There’s entries on both sides of the fucking ledger is the fucking point, as I already talk like a fucking Jew! Jane: (pauses again—really not sure what the fuck Trixie is talking about) Shaping up to be a nice cool evening. (pauses, looks at Trixie, who is staring angrily up at the balcony) Maybe he has a good side to him too that I entirely fucking missed. It’s always fucking possible, drunk as I am fucking continuously (She smiles at Trixie, steps away, waving) It’s nice to see you. (She waits for Trixie to do/say something. Trixie just continues drinking, staring up at the Gem balcony. Jane leaves) --(Alma and Miss Isringhausen are seated on the bed in Alma’s room…) Alma: You returned his timepiece. Miss Isringhausen: Yes. (She nods and smiles) I thought I had told you. Alma: You did, Miss Isringhausen. I’m recurring to the topic, hoping you will be more expansive. Miss Isringhausen: He accepted the timepiece, Ma’am, and raised another subject you and I ought pursue at some different moment. Alma: Must I credit the right of that “ought,” Miss Isringhausen, or may I suspect—you enjoy setting terms. Miss Isringhausen: Terms, Ma’am? Alma: Playing arbiter of the when and why of things.
Miss Isringhausen: Pursuing the second subject Mr. Bullock raised, Mrs. Garret, might upset a person now present, junior to you and me. (Alma looks at Sophia, who snaps open Alma’s red feather fan – looking at them sidelong.) Alma: I cannot imagine how such a pursuit could be any more upsetting than the atmosphere of relentless disapproval that you so consistently generate. (Miss Isringhausen looks at her, mouth agape) I’ve no further need of your services, Miss Isringhausen. (Alma stands up and goes over to Sophia.) Miss Isringhausen: I’ll say goodnight then to you and Sophia. Alma: My preference is your saying goodbye. (Miss Isringhausen pauses, seemingly stunned. Sophia looks at her…) Miss Isringhausen: I wonder, Ma’am…if having made so many decisions so quickly, your patience may be short just now. And I’d appeal you to reconsider your preferences in the morning. Alma: In any case, you’ll want to retire to your room. Miss Isringhausen: I hope you’ll recall that I’ve traveled from Chicago to enter your employ and have no emergent prospects. Alma: We’ll come to some arrangement. Miss Isringhausen: All right. (nods in resignation) I’ll say goodnight then. (She turns to leave.) Alma: As is your custom –(Miss Isringhausen turns back) without having spared one affectionate look for my child. Miss Isringhausen: My training, Ma’am, is that being engaged to see to the child’s education, my soliciting her affections would intrude on the mother’s province. Alma: (Alma pauses and steps closer) And I would call that a logical distinction, Miss Isringhausen, having nothing to do with the way people live. (Miss Isringhausen blinks, stonefaced, she turns on her heel and leaves. Alma stares at her as she leaves. Miss Isringhausen shuts the door – loudly – Alma looks shocked, but whether it’s at the slamming of the door or the fact that she just fired her tutor like that…who knows?) --(Cy and Lila are in bed, looking as if they just finished having sex. They are laying sideby-side, Cy, with his hands behind his head, Lila, with her hands over her pelvis.) Lila: Cy: Lila: Cy:
The people downstairs are scared. Are they? Off your talk. They think you believe the camp’s in jeopardy. I ain’t answerable for misinterpretations. The truth is, Lila, the weather’s gettin’ better, and it looks to stay mild a spell. (laughing) Old Cy has outlasted the cocksuckers one more time. If it was in me to kid myself, I’d take this for proving God loves me.(laughs) Lila: I believe he loves us.
Cy:
Do you, sweetheart? Did his hand lead me buyin’ and turnin’ you out? That’s a lovely thought. Next you’re in touch, would you put the good word in? Lila: I do. I pray for you every night. Cy: (pauses) All right, stupid, time to shut your fuckin’ mouth. Shut your fuckin’ mouth now and turn over and close your eyes. (Lila obediently does as told. Nearly spilling out of her corset in the process. Careful, Honey, Daddy is holding the camera, he doesn’t want to have to edit that.) --(Chez Amie, the girls are dressed and posing at various places around the room. Maddie is evaluating them.) Maddie: Lift your leg. (The whore in the red dress does so, Maddie steps over to her and strokes her leg) Languid and open for adventure. (She turns, looks at the whore in the corner – Doris? – moves on to the whore in the chair) In your case, Atlantis, present the tits a little more. (She pushes against Atlantis’ back, making her sit up more.) Can you hold that for half an hour? Atlantis: I’ve been holding this my whole fuckin’ life. (Wolcott enters) Maddie: Mr. W. Wolcott: Hello. Maddie: You jumped the gun on our opening by half an hour, but I believe we can make an exception. (Joanie enters) My partner, Joanie. Joanie: How do you do? Wolcott: How do you do? (He paces, looking around) Maddie: Our caller fancies Basil’s Bourbon, Joanie, which is hid beneath the floorboard at the bar. Joanie: All right. Maddie: Won’t you sit? Wolcott: I don’t know that I will. Where is she? Maddie: Carrie’s been detained. Wolcott: Detained? Maddie: You don’t need me telling you Carrie’s mind’s her own. We hit Cheyenne and she stopped to see a relative. (Wolcott nods) Joanie: Basil Hayden hid beneath the floorboards as advertised. (She hands him the bourbon, he sniffs it, points to the whore in front of the bar…) Wolcott: Would you get out of my sight, please? (The whore moves) How close a relative is she fucking in Cheyenne? Maddie: She’s coming soon, Mr. W. Wolcott: Is her arrival imminent? Maddie: A matter of days. Wolcott: How many days are in a matter? Joanie: Would fucking something else fill the time? Wolcott: Yeah, how much you cost? Joanie: I ain’t for sale, sir. But I would fuck you for free.
Wolcott: I have to say you ain’t my type. Joanie: Do you stand there, Mr. W., saying you’re dead solid sure you’ll not ever again be surprised till you’ve completed your earthly course? Ain’t that presumptuous, Sir? And ain’t our quoted fee, to surprise you, fair and just? Wolcott: I always pay for pussy. Joanie: Well, I may let you then, if you go ahead and twist my arm. (She holds her arm out for him.) You pay extra for that? (Takes him by the arm and leads him to a back room.) Wolcott: Do unhand me. Joanie: I, Mr. W—who I just unhanded—and Mr. Basil Hayden (Holds up the bottle of bourbon) do no wish to be disturbed. (She lifts the flap of her corset to reveal a small gun to the others, turns & shuts the door). Whore: You want me back where I was? Maddie: She kills that fucking cocksucker, I’m gonna be working for the rest of my life. (Maddie is seething) --(Richardson is wiping down a table in the absurd restaurant…) EB:
Richardson, Richardson, Richardson. When will come the quiet hours of our declining years? (Richardson continues cleaning without looking up) I’m talking to you, dimwit. Richardson: I wasn’t lis’nin’. EB: Richardson, won’t you sit yourself? Allow me to take up your labors, (Richardson sits and looks up at E.B. through Droopy Dog eyes) I am confiding that turbulence, (shifts the bucket on the table) upheaval of the most violent sort, (lifts the bucket and swirls it) churning seas, waves of a scale and force to make the most seasoned seafarer vomit—bleah (fakes vomiting into the bucket, sets the bucket down – speaks calmer, ) Are in prospect for this camp. And, We, Richardson, you, I, and tragically others—(picks up the scrub brush inside the bucket and starts to scrub the table) so very many others who journeyed to the hills to stake their claims, and with those claims their hopes for the future—are but pawns of the savage sea (throws the brush in the bucket, picks up the bucket) and playthings of the fucking deep. (He sets the bucket down, sits on the table) Not for us, apparently, the placid harbor, on which voyages, near complete to bob and rot, bob and rot, (he rocks back and forth, whispering that) be calmed. For us, to the very end, (yelling, stands up-grabs the bucket and sloshes it back and forth) the dizzying surges of the storm and it’s crashing descents! (He slams the bucket on the table) Do you understand me, you repulsive lout? Richardson: No. EB: (Grabs Richardson’s shoulders) The claims, Richardson. They’re being overturned. (He starts scrubbing again) Save those few who dispose of their holdings before word circulates. Destitution looms! (Throws his arms out wide, looming over Richardson) Richardson: Oh dear. EB: Yes, yes. Even you now recognize the situation. Ah well. Take the rest of the night off, Richardson. Richardson: (stands up) Thank you, Sir. (He goes to leave as quick as he can)
EB:
But confide in no one! (Richardson pauses, then continues scurrying to the door) About the claims!
--(Back at Chez Amie, Wolcott is seated in a chair looking at Joanie, who is laying on her stomach on the bed, propped up by her elbows, head in hands…) Joanie: Would we have even more fun naked? Or I could, and you could stay dressed. Or the opposite. Wolcott: Who am I? Joanie: You’re Mr. W. Your boss struck bigger than anyone in the Comstock and Mexico. So you bein’ here puts a shine to this camp’s prospects. Wolcott: (He pauses, pulls at his cravat) Unbutton my shirt. Joanie: Yes, sir. (She gets up, kneels in front of Wolcott…) Wolcott: Do not look at my face. Joanie: No, sirree. (Begins unbuttoning his shirt) Wolcott: Shall I tell you who I work for? Joanie: As you wish. If you do, how shall I occupy myself while you’re doing it? Wolcott: The same as if I don’t. Joanie: (She looks up at him) For me to judge? Wolcott: As you wish. Joanie: Your shirt buttons are your big interest? Or shall we advance to these buttons here? (She begins to unbutton his pants – ooh! Buttonfly!) And shall I hazard an approach I rarely find ill-received? Wolcott: (pauses) No. Joanie: (takes her hands away from him) Shall I hazard an approach I myself, I never remember refusing? And will you supervise closely? (He breathes heavily, almost a sigh of resignation) Mr. W., I am gonna take that as a yes. (She stands up, goes over to the bed, sits, throws her skirts to the side, lays back and starts pleasuring herself. Wolcott sits back, looks down and starts rebuttoning.) Wolcott: No. Take it as a no. Joanie: (sighs – throws her skirts over her legs) Nuts! Wolcott: (laughs) What a tiny corner of operation for such an amusing mind. (stands) I’ll promise as I sojourn here to bring you stories of the world of men. Joanie: I’ll just be here in my girl’s world diddling myself. Wolcott: (still buttoning) I admire you coming armed. --(Al is laying in bed, he looks like shit. He raises his eyebrows at Doc, holding the probe.) Doc:
Al:
Hmm. (Nods to Dan, Al is panting, Dan throws his hat to the side, approaches the bed.) I’m ‘onna pass this through your penis up into your bladder, Al, and I’m ‘onna say this to you once—I’m sorry for how it hurts. (Dan kneels on the bed next to Al and holds him still, Al is wheezing, Johnny looks on, Doc inserts the probe, Al bucks) Goddamnit, hold him still! (screaming) Mother of God! (Trixie looks up from the thoroughfare, Johnny winces…walks out to the balcony) Help me! Mother of God!
Trixie:(yelling up to Johnny) Fuck you, Johnny! Get in there and fucking help him! Johnny: What am I supposed to do? (E.B. steps outside and dumps his bucket) Trixie:Put your hand in his mouth! Let him bite your fucking hand! (Johnny, pained with grief, goes back inside.) Doc: Alright, Al. I’m in your bladder. I can hear the fucking stone. I’m gonna try now to move the stone to release your water, so you push now if you can, son. Al: (gags, straining…yelling) Oh God! Mother, take me! Doc: Push now if you can. Get your water flowing. Al: I’m trying! Help me. Christ! (Al screams, the whole camp seeming to hear) Dan: I’ll fucking kill you, Doc! You take it out of him! Doc: Shut up! (Al screams like Wesley does in “The Princess Bride” when Prince Humperdink pushes the torture machine up to 50. “Not to 50!” Seth, Martha & William enjoy a quiet meal, you can barely hear the scream in the background. We see Doc manipulate the probe, blood dripping from it.) Doc: All right. I can see some fucking urine with the blood. Good for you. Johnny: (near tears) Is he all right now? Is he cured now? Doc: It’s fucking something, anyway. Dan: Is that something anyway, Doc? (motioning with his head to Al, Al’s face seems to relax a bit.) Doc: All right, Al, I’m ‘onna take it out of you. You hold on and it won’t hurt so bad. (Doc slides it out. We hear another blood curdling scream. Johnny steps outside.) Johnny: (to Trixie) He put something out of himself, Trixie. Now, that’s something anyway. Trixie:Is it out of him? Johnny: Well, that instrument’s out of him. Trixie:And what of the fucking stone? Johnny: I didn’t see no fucking stone come out. (Trixie throws her cigarette in the muck, turns, sighs – pushing her hair back- she walks away. Johnny is still on the balcony, distressed.)
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Ellsworth Brad Dourif .... Doc Cochran John Hawkes .... Sol Star Paula Malcomson .... Trixie .... Tom Nuttall Leon Rippy William Sanderson .... Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority .... Charlie Utter Dayton Callie Anna Gunn .... Martha Bullock Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver / Tolliver Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick Geri Jewell .... Jewel Bree Seanna Wall .... Sophia Gill Gayle .... Huckster Titus Welliver .... Silas Adams Meghan Glennon .... Lila Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs Maddie Alice Krige Miss Isringhausen Sarah Paulson William Bullock Josh Eriksson Peter Jason Nick Amandos Fiona Dourif Lila Meghan Glennon Gary Leffew Chandler Richards Pete Richardson Ralf Richeson Damon Damon Weber Cast
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 16 “Requiem for a Gleet” Directed by: Alan Taylor Written by: Ted Mann
Episode 16: “Requiem for a Gleet” (Seth is in bed with Martha, he slowly stirs from sleep, realizes where he is and sits up…Martha wakes as well…) Martha: Let me light the lamp. Seth: I’ve misplaced my boots. Martha: I put them downstairs by the kitchen door. Seth: (sighing, he holds the bridge of his nose, Martha lights the lamp) I was asleep…when you took ‘em and did that. Martha: Yes. Would you rather I not? Seth: (shakes his head) No. (Strokes his hair back with both hands) No. Only I had intended to be awake last night so we could talk, which, what with how it’s been, we have not done in the peace of the evening as I would like, since your arrival. Martha: I would enjoy to converse in the stillness, after the day, like that. Seth: Tonight, I will have two cups of coffee, and I will not fall asleep. Martha: In the morning…(reaches her hand behind her, rests it on the center of the bed between them, their backs still facing each other) in the quiet before we each take up our work, is also a pleasant occasion for such intercourse. (Seth slowly starts to turn his head around to look at Martha.) Seth: Yes. Martha: Would you like to start a discussion this morning? Seth: (pauses) I wouldn’t…want to – disturb the boy. Martha: William sleeps soundly. (Seth contemplates) If you will see to the bedroom door…Mr. Bullock? (Seth slowly stands, we see him walk to the door, Martha still seated on the bed in the background. The door shuts.) --(Trixie and Dolly are sponge bathing a shivering Al…) Dolly: Have I killed ‘im? Trixie:First, the dead don’t shiver. And next, you just done what he asked. (Al shivers and shakes, delirious) Ain’t it more likely what turned him worse is underlyin’ woe than a thumb up his ass attemptin’ his fucking relief? Go on, get the fuck out of here. (A sullen Dolly gets up from the bed and leaves. Trixie clutches Al’s hand, sponging his shoulder) It’s alright, Honey. --(At Alma’s claim, the rig is pounding, laborers are shouting. We see Francis Wolcott standing stock still in the center of it all. Surveying his surroundings. Ellsworth sees Wolcott from above, as he begins approaching Wolcott, we see his right hand rest on his gun, at the ready. Wolcott is turning slowly, he spots Ellsworth, gun at the ready, heading his way…)
Wolcott: Hello. Ellsworth: What’s your business? Wolcott: I’m Francis Wolcott. Ellsworth: (approaches closer) My name’s Ellsworth, Mr. Francis Wolcott. Can you hear me? Wolcott: Yes, sir. How do you do? Ellsworth: I’m well. Glad you make me out. Wolcott: Yes, sir. Ellsworth: Because them as poke around Miz Garret’s workings without a by-yourleave ain’t welcome, Mr. Wolcott, and you ought not to repeat your fuckin’ mistake. Wolcott: Well, that’s an uncivil response to an innocent error. Ellsworth: Did you work in the Comstock when you was beardless? Wolcott: I did. Ellsworth: For Mr. George Hearst, as a keen eye for the color? Wolcott: As a geologist for Mr. Hearst. Well, you have the advantage of me, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: That ain’t a possibility, Wolcott. No more than an error of yours would be innocent. Wolcott: I do dimly recall an Ellsworth—superintended the consolidated Virginia operations. Ellsworth: I don’t give a fuck what you recall. Wolcott: A hero. Dug a week without respite to save three poor souls from a cavein. Ellsworth: And 46 corpses in a fucking hole that ought never to have been dug. Wolcott: Always a choice…to count the saved or the lost. Ellsworth: Get off this property. Wolcott: Just as a man opposed to inevitable change needn’t invariably be called a luddite, another choice might be simply to describe him as slow in his processes. Ellsworth: You tell that cocksucker you work for the next surrogate he sends oughtn’t to be bloodied from the Comstock. Wolcott: (Looks up at the stamp, turns to leave, turns back to Ellsworth…) The noise is terrible, isn’t it, Mr. Ellsworth? Like fate. (Ellsworth eyes Wolcott as he leaves the claim, heaving with rage at the retreating figure…) --(Sophia is seated on the bed, playing teacher to her dolls, reading from her book. Alma sits next to the bed in a chair, reading her own book…) Sophia:
“Ox, Box, Fox.”
(There is a knock at the door. Alma looks up from her book, points to one of the dolls…) Alma: Nora’s attentions are wandering. If I were you, (pulls out a stick of green rock candy) I’d bribe her with candy.
(Sophia takes the candy with a smile. Alma stands and walks to the door, putting her book down on the desk along the way. She opens the door to Miss Isringhausen.) Miss Isringhausen: Good Morning. Alma: Please come in, Miss Isringhausen. (Miss Isringhausen enters) Will you have a seat? (They sit, Alma at the desk and Miss Isringhausen in a chair across from her.) Miss Isringhausen: Do you remain of a mind, Ma’am, to dispense with my services? Alma: (Sophia watches from the bed) I have immense respect for your training and intelligence, Miss Isringhausen, and gratitude for your efforts toward Sophia’s education. I am ill suited temperamentally to collaborate with you as women in our positions must do. Miss Isringhausen: I see. Alma: I propose to pay you six months’ wages severance and an additional $200 against the expense for your journey here and return to Chicago. While you’re making your arrangements, I will also continue to pay for your room here at the hotel. Miss Isringhausen: As to those terms, Mrs. Garret, your behavior is very fair. Alma: Miss Isringhausen, Cotton Mather would have found hard and joyless the standards you so resolutely apply to me and Sophia, and of course to yourself. (They stand, Alma turns to the desk and retrieves the ‘severance’ package…) I wish you very well. (Hands over the cash.) Miss Isringhausen: Thank you, Madam. Alma: Would you—(Turns head to the bedroom where Sophia is) Miss Isringhausen: I will not say goodbye to Sophia, to spare her upset. (She promptly leaves.) --(At the Gem, Dan stands behind the bar, he looks nervous as he stares up at Al’s door. E.B. approaches the bar…) EB: Dan. Dan: E.B. Coffee? EB: Please. (Dan reaches behind the bar and pulls out a cup. He shakily pours E.B. some coffee. E.B. looks up towards Al’s door and back to Dan.) I’ll be candid, Dan. I did not sleep well last night. I heard screaming from Al’s room. Dan: Happens up ‘ere many a fuckin’ evenin’. EB: Well, Al was fuckin’ screamin’, Dan. And I’m wondering how he’s feeling this morning. And you dancin’ around the pole ain’t allayin’ my fucking anxieties. Dan: Well, do you hear any screams from him now? EB: Silence ain’t proof either way. Dan: Take no tongue with me, E.B., (Louder – pointing) or I’ll slap you fuckin’ silly! (They pause) He’s on the mend, and he ain’t fuckin’ receiving. EB: Well, that’s all I was fuckin’ askin’. Dan: Then that’s your fuckin’ answer. EB: Convey my joy. (They drink their coffee) And tell him numerous scores await. (Dan does the “bowing without actually bowing” hand gesture, E.B. mockingly returns the gesture but it looks more like a “forget you I’m swimming sideways now” gesture.
And ugly, dirty guy enters the Gem and approaches Dan. He looks like the uglier, shorter, dirtier little brother of Billy Crudup. Johnny leaves Al’s room, he & Dan’s eyes meet, The ugly-dirty-guy follows Dan’s site-line up to the balcony and turns back to Dan…) Eamon: Soft-fuckin’ day, Dan. Dan: Morning, Crop Ear. Oh—sorry—Eamon. Eamon: (Strokes his ear hole) Take a good look. Ain’t growin’ back. (loudly) Is he about? Johnny: (Coming downstairs) Uh…Al’s out early. Look at a place in Gayville. Eamon: Oh, yeah? (waves his fist a la “jerking off” miming. He huffs) You must seize fortune by the forelock, Dan. That’s why I’m here, to put a matter before him. You know I’ll not waste the man’s time. Dan: No, you won’t. Eamon: That’s some fuckin’ way you have about you, Dan. Dan: Now, you could either say your piece to me and Johnny, or you can-get-the-fuckoutta here. Eamon: I’ll say it gladly, and hope you’ll commend my words to him (nods his head towards Al’s office) who’s in Gayville at the earliest opportunity. I contemplate a piece of activity. I need to organize some reliable fellows, locate a right place to waylay that metal. Dan: (nodding) Well, I’ll let him know. (nods) Eamon: 25%. One full quarter of the proceeds in total go to (raises his arms and looks to the heavens) Al Swearengen, (looks at Dan) the Gem Saloon, (pointing) or you and Johnny as the fucking case may be. Dan: You may need to clean the wax out of your holes, because I said I will let him know. Eamon: When do you suppose I could expect a favor of a response? Dan: Tomorrow afternoon. Eamon: He’s overnight in Gayville then? (Dan nods) Then tomorrow afternoon it is. (knocks on the bar, turns and leaves.) Johnny: Gettin’ particular of where he was gone, I realize now, it was a fuckin’ mistake, which happened because I’m so fuckin’ upset. Dan: From this point forward, I’ll handle that earless cunt. --(In the thoroughfare, a stagecoach has arrived, a geeky looking man gets out…) Driver: Top two bags. (He taps a suitcase, another man climbs up to retrieve the luggage. We see another man help a pretty blonde out of the coach, we know her to be ‘Carrie’ the whore on ice. E.B. steps out onto the porch. Carrie looks around, Wolcott approaches her…) Wolcott: May I help you with your bags, Miss? Carrie: No, you can’t. Or look at me or talk to me until I’ve took a bath. Wolcott: (Swings an arm to indicate up the thoroughfare) Well, follow the quagmire then, Ma’am. The establishment you want is the last on the right. (To a
man unloading the coach, holding out a tip) Take this lady’s luggage to the Chez Amie. Man: Yes, sir. Wolcott: Do not look at her or talk to her until she’s bathed. (Carrie smiles smugly and follows the man up the thoroughfare. Wolcott heads up to the hotel…) EB: Mr. Wolcott. (Wolcott stops and looks out on the town next to E.B. – speaking loudly) Deceptively fair weather given the devastating rumors. Wolcott: Less volume, Mr. Farnum. More conviction. EB: Yes. (Wolcott steps away. The nerdy man, whom we know later is Hugo Jarry, dressed in a clean grey suit, addresses E.B from just beyond the porch.) Hugo: EB: Hugo: EB: Hugo: EB:
Your hotel? Yes, it is, sir. (Hugo steps up to the porch) Your luggage? Yes. May I install it in one of our better rooms? Please. Uh, direct me to the Bella Union. Not 50 yards as the bird flies, or a man is lead on by his prick, or needing to test his luck. To whom shall I assign the room? Hugo: Hugo Jarry. EB: E.B Farnum, owner-proprietor. Also mayor, though that position is largely ceremonial. Hugo: Lawrence County Commissioner. The position is real. (He nods and turns away from E.B, heading to the Bella Union. Silas is waiting at the end of the porch for him, casually leaning up against a column) Silas: Hello, Jarry. Commissioner Jarry. (They walk) Hugo: Commissioner Jarry now, yes, as of the last five days. Delighted to find you here, Adams. Silas: You could have known my next whereabouts if you had talked to me in Yankton, where I sat outside your office for half a fuckin’ day. Hugo: It seemed (they stop) to many of us in Yankton that in the aftermath of Magistrate Clagett’s disappearances, you chose different companions. (He tries to proceed, Silas blocks him) Silas: Last I saw Clagett, he rode in here with General Crook. I figured he left with him, too. Hugo: And perhaps was plucked up subsequently from amidst the troops by savages? Yes, such moonlight treachery being their stealthy hallmark. Silas: Maybe he took a bribe from someone, didn’t hold up his end, got his just desserts. Hugo: (Looking into the distance) That’s of no personal interest to me (We see Wolcott talking to Mr. Lee.) or anyone in Yankton, any more than your choice of companions. Silas: If you’re trying to freeze out Swearengen before the Governor makes his play, (we see Mr. Wu, glaring at Mr. Lee) You are bettin’ the wrong way.
Hugo: (eyeing Mr. Wu) Someone certainly is. Silas: Anyways, I’ll tell him I saw you. Hugo: I have a close schedule, otherwise, I’d pay the respects myself. (Eyes Silas) I wonder if you will let me pass. (Silas steps out of the way. Hugo continues looking in Mr. Wu’s direction.) ---(At the Bella Union, Con is counting out gold coins, Cy is seated at a table…) Cy: I only hope, Marvin, you ain’t privy to information that I ain’t. Marvin: $600 U.S. Dollars, Mr. Tolliver. Claim 16 above Discovery. Cy: That ain’t responsive to my previous fuckin’ statement, young man. Marvin: I tell you what, sir. It’s the fuckin’ altitude that’s got to me. Cy: I see. Marvin: Nosebleeds and every fucking thing else. Cy: Well, your health’s got to come first. Leon! (Leon picks up a piece of paper, pen and ink) Light as my kit’s got, we can go ahead and say done. (He and Marvin spit in their hands and shake as Leon sets down the paper, pen and ink.) Cy: $600, Con. Con: Right here, sir. (Cy wipes his hands with a handkerchief…Hugo Jarry enters and eyes Cy…Con sets down to stack of coins in front of Cy) Cy: Jesus Christ, don’t pay it to me, Marvin here will shoot us both! Con: (nods, grabs the coins and sets them in front of Marvin) Here you go, Marvin. Cy: You lettered, Marvin? Marvin: I’m up to making my “X”, Sir. Cy: Con you sign as witness. (Stands) Con: Will do, Sir. (Hovers over Marvin’s shoulder) Marvin: Don’t be lookin’ over my shoulder when I’m signin’ my fuckin’ X! --(Maddie is seated at a desk in the front room of the Chez Amie, doing accounts by the looks of it. She looks pissed. Or happy. Or sad. I mean, she’s Maddie. She looks like – Maddie.) Maddie:
Don’t ever say that to me again. You surprised yourself.
(Joanie is seated at a desk in the middle of the room, her back to Maddie, looks like she’s also doing accounts. Cool! Instead of banjos it ledgers and quills!) Joanie: It’s what happened. Maddie: I don’t want to hear it spoken of, because it darkens my thoughts. Joanie: (looks up, turns her head back to Maddie) About who you’re partnered with? Maddie: Exactly. (Doris & a dark-haired whore look at their bosses from their place at the bar) They get led by their dicks. Our cunts lead us, we lose our only edge. (A pretty-curly-haired whore and an ugly-profiled blond whore step into the doorway, watching)
Joanie: That wasn’t what was going on. Maddie: Was it worse? Were you angry at him, Joanie? (Doris watches) Was that what surprised you, (Doris exits the bar – the other whores leave as well) How angry you were that George Hearst’s second was a cruel and evil man? (Stands up & approaches Joanie) Did you think maybe you’d shoot him to get us little people even? (Joanie looks back up from her books) Joanie: I took that gun into the room with me to protect myself. Maddie: (loudly) Who fuckin’ asked you to go into the room with him? Nobody gets even. We get dead. And before I go, I intend a long and comfortable retirement, and that cocksucker’s gonna pay the freight. Joanie: Something terrible is going to happen here. Maddie: (Turns away) You don’t even know the girl—he wants to harm. (Turns back to Joanie) You stay the fuck out of it. (The door opens) Carrie: He tipped you! (She huffs inside) This whole place smells like shit. (Throws her bags down.) --(Richardson is cutting up vegetables and stuff, throwing them into a pot. E.B is pacing behind him…) EB:
It is no disloyalty to be a realist, Richardson, we are mortal. One hopes for the best. One perseveres. One reevaluates constantly. One is an asshole if one doesn’t. (rubs his neck, still pacing) Loyalty expanded is not loyalty betrayed. (Richardson sniffs some questionable – meat? – and throws it in the pot) I contemplate no disloyalty to Al Swearengen. (bites his hand, sits) I feel exposed. I don’t like being weak, and I know that I am. I yearn to rely on a stronger will. I fear what I’m capable of in it’s absence. (E.B. rubs his face, pausing, Richardson is snapping carrots and tossing them into the pot. E.B. looks on, sadly.) Whereas you, Richardson, (stands up, angry) know nothing of yourself. (Richardson looks back at E.B.) Are you shitting or going blind? Or on foot or horseback? You vile (grabs a frying pan and makes to whack Richardson) fucking lump! (Richardson sorta flinches, goes back to what he was doing…E.B. grabs a pan of “offal” and sets it in front of Richardson.) Bury that offal in the Shepherd’s Pie.
--(Dan is leaning on the bar – yawning – Silas enters.) Dan: (Sees Silas – mutters) Oh, God damn it. (Pounds the bar lightly, stands up and faces Silas – sighs) Silas: May I go up today? Dan: Unh-uh. Silas: How long is my fuckin’ sentence? Dan: Any messages? Silas: Is there any fuckin’ chance you and me don’t end up in blood? Dan: Any of you realizin’ that the sun don’t rise and set on me and you? Silas: What the fuck does that fuckin’ mean? Dan: Means there may be other fuckin’ factors factored into my decision-making. Besides the fact that I find you to be a pain in the balls, personally.
Silas: Please report – Commissioner Jarry from Yankton has arrived to the camp and intends to fuck Al up the ass. Dan: Said he to you while doin’ the same? Silas: (Calmly, measuring his words) It is important that he hear that. You do him disservice not to tell. Dan: (Relents, calmly – softly…) Listen, Adams. Al is fucked up bad. May be dyin’. Silas: Jesus. Dan: Goddamn right, Jesus. Them stones have done plumb blocked off his piss passage. Silas: Fuck. Okay, Alright. Dan: It’s all backed up in him. Hey, shit, he’s got piss in his lungs. Silas: Can he talk? Dan: Fuck no, he can’t talk. He just lays there and shivers and stares at nothin’. Uh, he screams when Doc abuses him with them fuckin’ prick poles of his. Silas: Sorry I broke your balls. Dan: Well, I’ll see to it he gets your news if he gets to a point I think he can understand my meanin’. (Silas starts to leave) Listen, how uh – how’s your little buddy, the one I put the beatin’ on. (He’s got another buddy we don’t know about? Way to rub it in, Dan. Dan smiles.) Silas: Hawkeye. Dan: Yeah, Hawkeye. Silas: He’ll live. (Dan smiles as Silas leaves, he looks over and sees Johnny snoozing at the other end of the bar. He throws a wet rag at Johnny’s head, hitting him in the face. Johnny wakes with a start…muttering.) Johnny: It’s something anyway. (He looks up at Dan, confused) --(Alma sits on a bench by the stairs in the hotel, Ellsworth enters and approaches her. He takes off his hat…) Ellsworth: Mornin’, Ma’am. Alma: Good morning, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you spent a restful night. Alma: I did. And you’re forgiven. But this morning, I note an amount of confusion…and anxiety abound, and words of panic about Yankton’s disposition of the claims. Ellsworth: Panic’s easier on the back than the short-handled shovel. Alma: I see. Ellsworth: (kneels down next to Alma) The creator, in his infinite wisdom, Miz Garret, salted his works so that where gold was, there also you’d find rumor. Though, he decreed just as firm that the opposite wouldn’t always hold. Alma: You understand I needn’t be comforted at the expense of the truth. Ellsworth: I’m late, Ma’am, over shooin’ a man away from your diggin’s named Frances Wolcott, that scouts for George Hearst, (Alma cocks her head in interest)
who wouldn’t spare attention for a camp or the sun itself if he didn’t think it likely to fill his coffers. Nor the sort’d shrink from a lie, or more than one, to advance his purpose, or be ignorant or of how to circulate his falsehoods without anyone knowin’ their source. (Alma smiles tentatively) And now I come to camp to hear the waters called muddy and the current quickened, though I see no change in the creek. And the “Hooples,” certain sure that flood crest fast approaches, have begun to think keenly, “I’ll get ahead of the event. Maybe I’ll sell my claim at discount.” Anything to unharness so they can head for the higher ground. Myself, Ma’am, I’d be bettin’ that the levy’ll hold. (Alma smiles with satisfaction.) --(Martha, in the kitchen of the house that Bullock built, spoons out some oatmeal onto a plate. William is seated at the table.) William: Did you speak of it to Mr. Bullock, Mama? Martha: Not yet, William. William: Will you speak of it today? (footsteps approaching) Good morning, Mr. Bullock. Seth: Good morning. Martha: Oatmeal…Seth? Seth: Please…Martha. William: Mr. Bullock, mother was wantin’ a kitchen garden, (Martha looks away, back to the stove, a bit uncomfortable, hmm?) which I would have care of. Seth: (sitting) Have you chosen a spot yet? William: I paced one out in the back of the house, sir. Yesterday, I would have broken the ground, but from wantin’ the tools. Seth: (looking at Martha, back to William) Would you like to go now and tell Mr. Star you need shovel, hoe and a rake? William: Yes, sir. (Jumps up to leave) Seth: Do you recall your way to the hardware store? (Shit, Seth, it’s like – right next door. Do YOU recall where you built your house?) William: (Turning back to Seth) I do, sir. Is it okay if I go now, mama? (She nods, William grabs a handful of food and runs off to the hardware store. Martha rubs her forehead, turns back to the kettle, stirs and sniffs.) --(Alma, surveying the hotel lobby below, from the vantage of the upstairs balcony, thumps her jeweled fingers on the banister like Cruella D’Ville eyeing a new batch of puppys to kill. We hear men talking, see E.B. approach his ledger, she proceeds downstairs…) EB: Mrs. Garret. Alma: Mr. Farnum. (She eyes him smugly, turns and sits back down on the bench by the stairs. E.B. scuttles along behind her…) EB: Mrs. Garret? What male would not trade our small superiority of intellect to possess that gift of intuition so bountifully bestowed on the lesser sex? (Oooh…wrong choice of words, E.B.) Alma: Mr. Farnum, your meaning is beyond me.
EB:
Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB:
Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma: EB: Alma:
I imagine you, Madam, awakening the other morning, suddenly and for no earthly reason, convinced the camp was at peril. ”My gold should be spirited to Denver,” I imagine you thinking, maybe as you brushed your hair, (Alma smirks as E.B. makes a brushing motion against his greasy locks) and without worrying the conviction or studying upon it, sending the gold away. At peril? Mr. Farnum, the camp? Oh, your meaning is beyond me. (She turns to face the wall, EB scuttles to a trunk facing her, sitting.) Ma’am, if a Nubian genie were at my disposal, I’d see his great nigger fingers whisk up my hotel and deposit it in Denver, just as you did your gold. (smiling) Because the camp’s at peril? Yes, Madam, yes. Peril. (He leans in…) And worse than peril. (mouth in an ‘O’) Perhaps you should sell. Mrs Garret, had I your intuition, would I not have done. I’ll buy it. (Flustered) Aren’t you wonderful and kind and intuitive and generous. No, I couldn’t burden you (Alma leans back) nor impose upon your generosity, tremendously wealthy as you are. (Spits expertly in her palm, holding it out for a handshake) Name your price, Mr. Farnum. We’ll close the transaction now. Madam, now you unsettle and trifle with me. (He stands, hitting his head on the stairs) Ungh—and make me nervous and uncertain. (Still holding out her hand) My intention is quite otherwise, and intuition. Oh, your intuition? (He sits) Name your price. (He looks at her) How do you males put it…”Shit or get off the chamber pot?” (flustered) Oh, Mrs. Garret—shit, indeed. Oh dear. (Stands, watching his head this time) Unless, Mr. Farnum…(taking out a handkerchief to wipe her hand) Unless, what, Madam? Do you reconsider? No, no. I’d understand. It’s your sex’s prerogative (And Bobby Brown’s too). Unless, I meant to say, you’re lying about the camp’s peril? Lying? I? But why would you do that? Exactly. (Standing) You will make a price for me then. Let me…consider, Mrs. Garret. Don’t, Mr. Farnum. Trust your instincts. (She leans forward and picks up a ruffle from his collar) I’ll have you in a dress in no time. (She walks back upstairs, E.B. sits in her spot, muttering…) Miserable, haughty, cunt. Putting me beyond my depth.
EB: --(Doc is sitting next to Al, in bed, still shaking and delirious.) Doc:
We’ve come to a crisis, Al, and I have to say my piece. (Dan looks at Al, then to Doc.) The stones can be excised surgically in one of two ways…(Dan looks to
Johnny – nervously) The so-called “High Method,” which cuts into the bladder from above your penis, and the other which enters from below. Johnny: Below what, Doc? Doc: His balls. Johnny: So the “low” entails cutting through his ‘tain’t. Doc: Now, I have seen the high method performed. I assisted at a closing, afterwards discussed it with the surgeon. Come to it, that is the one that I would prefer. (Dan looks back and forth from Al to Doc.) Dan: Al’s with you. Doc: Well, how’d he indicate it? Dan: A hard blink for the upper and a scowl for cutting through his ‘tain’t. Doc: With a knife in expert hands, two men in 10 survive the procedure we contemplate. But at what point, without intervention, will your condition so worsen as to put you beyond recovery? I believe we have approached that point. I am not an expert, but I will give it my best effort, and I ask you now for your consent, should we need to proceed. Dan: He’s with you , Doc. He wants the upper. Hey, that’s it. That’s the final call. Right, Al? (Dan, shaking his head ‘yes’, with tears in his eyes, look at the Doc.) The upper? He wants the upper. Well, I guess you better go make ready. (Dan gets up) Doc: All right. All right. (gets up) Come with me, Johnny. Help me with the stove. Johnny: Sure. Sure, Doc. (Johnny grabs Doc’s wooden case and runs after him. Dan goes out onto the balcony, barely choking back tears. Al, inside, shivers in the bed.) --(At the Bella Union, Wolcott, Cy and Hugo Jarry are talking.) Hugo: As to claims filed and worked prior to the new treaty—in essence from when the hills still belonged to the Sioux—the presumption of legitimacy will apply, subject to qualification, according to mitigating facts. In short, with no controlling principle being invoked, title will be determined on a case-by-case basis. When claims are overturned, new title will be awarded at said prices, via lottery, to those submitting verified offers. Cy: I only hope territorial officials will be excluded from eligibility. Hugo: Yes. Cy: Better tell your friends and relatives to pick their lucky suits out for that drawing. Hugo: Only after Mr. Wolcott’s have picked out theirs. Of course, anticipation of the forthcoming judicial holding may itself largely cleanse the market. Wolcott: It’s always preferable to allow the market to operate unimpeded. Hugo: Would that argue for allowing word of my presence to circulate a bit before presenting myself officially? Cy: Man might use that time to put some stink on his Johnson. (Wolcott looks at Hugo who looks at Cy.) ---
(Trixie enters the hardware store…looking around.) Trixie:Hello? Sol: Down here. Behind the counter. (He slides out from his hiding place, holding a book) Taking inventory. (He stands and approaches her, smiling.) Trixie:(Distraught) I can’t do a lesson today. Sol: All right. Trixie:(Holding back tears) He’s too sick. Maybe he’ll fuckin’ die. But I can’t stay. But it’d be smart to stay and learn to calculate fuckin’ interest on that accommodation paper and those fucking discount notes and whatever the fuck— Sol: Another time. (She starts to really sob, he hugs her) It’s fine, Trixie. (She clutches his arm – stops, realizing what she’s doing, rubbing his arm…) Trixie:Did I hurt your shoulder? Sol: No. (They hug, Seth sees them from outside…Trixie sees him…) Trixie:(softly) I gotta go. (She turns and runs out.) Seth: (Enters the store) Want to go out for a bit? Sol: She says Swearengen’s bad off. Last night I heard him screaming out again and again. I guess he’s…worsened with the day. (Steps away, gazing out the window) Seth: Thanks for outfittin’ the boy with garden equipment. Sol: Oh, he’s planning to take some prizes come harvest fair. He mentioned corn and squash both. I had some news from Denver…concerning our proposal on the bank. (Seth starts sweeping) We’d need to find 15% of our proposed capitalization. Seth: If we capitalize at the two million we figured on— Sol: $300,000 separate from what Denver will underwrite. (pauses) Or they’d credit Mrs. Garret’s accounts as collateral. Seth: Not doing that. Sol: I don’t advocate it. I’m informing you of a communication they volunteered. Seth: (stops sweeping, looks at Sol) We’re not doing that. Sol: Suppose I’ll have to dip into my own kit then. (Smiles as he throws down the paperwork) Even so, it’s back to cutting my own hair. Seth: I’ll take the idea around. Sol: Swearengen’d put it up. Seth: Fucking reputable people. Sol: If money had to be clean before it was recirculated, we’d still be living in fucking caves. Seth: Your old man? Sol: Me. --(Wolcott and Cy are seated in the Bella Union, Mr. Lee is standing next to Wolcott.) Wolcott: Mr. Lee will provide opium to you exclusively for sale to whites in the camp. You will receive 50% of the gaming proceeds from Celestial’s Alley.
Cy:
(looks at Wolcott) My men will lamp the take. It will spare Mr. Lee here explaining how slow business was ‘cause of Buddha’s wedding anniversary. (chuckles) Wolcott: Your men lamp the take—also on proceeds from Celestial prostitutes. How many do you want? Cy: How many can you bring? (Wolcott looks to Mr. Lee) MrLee: How many? Cy: That- that sounds like a man with an inexhaustible supply. How much English do you have, my friend? (Mr. Lee just looks at Cy.) Maybe when we get to know each other better. (pauses) I’ll take a dozen, and I don’t want ‘em fucked out. I set the rates. The upkeep’s on him. Wolcott: And my understanding is the upkeep is quite minimal. Cy: Good! Gives him more to spend on Mah-Jongg. (chuckles) I won’t question the apparent one-sidedness of our arrangement. Wolcott: Uh, the arrangement is not yours and Mr. Lee’s alone. Cy: Yes, and in ways that I don’t understand, it must benefit you and the man whose name I must never say, to have Mr. Lee in camp…and perhaps Mr. Wu out of it, maybe among the spirits of his ancestors. But what a blessing for me, finally to reach a point in life where…I don’t feel I have to know. (He chuckles, puff on his cigar.) --(Trixie is seated at a table in the Gem, smoking a cigarette, Dan is behind the bar, puffing on a cigar…) Dan: A creature walking ‘round on hind legs. Just like crop ear and them half-dozen bushwhackers out in the forest, ones I’d fall in with or out—whatever suited my daily purpose. (Trixie looks at Dan) That’s what I was till I crossed paths with Al. Trixie:Well, bang the drum and play the pipes and I’ll rend our fuckin’ garments. Dan: I was just sayin’. Trixie: I ain’t hearin’ confessions this afternoon. (pauses) Say you’ll burn it down with me, Dan. Dan: What? Trixie:This fuckin’ place – before letting Tolliver take it over. Dan: (choking back tears) Done. (A door closes upstairs, we see Jewel come out of Al’s office. Trixie stands, looking up at Jewel.) Trixie:Well, open your mouth, Jewel, and say somethin’ we can’t fuckin’ understand! Jewel: He’s asking for you. Trixie:(Turning around, looking up behind her to Al’s door) Don’t die with your fucking secret. Dan: (To Jewel) Clean the number three. Dolly said she bled. --(Doc is shaking as he’s taking his hemostat out of the boiling water…)
Doc: God damn it. Johnny: (looks at Doc, panting, trying to calm his own nerves) I may get me a whiskey, Doc. You want a whiskey? Doc: No, I do not want a fucking whiskey. Jewel: Well, maybe as far as steadyin’ the hand. Doc: (hands on hips) How dare you? You shut your fucking mouth! Johnny: I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Doc: (picks up his hemostat) Whiskey does not steady the hand. It just dulls the worry over the hand’s unsteadiness. (Shakes as he tries to remove his scalpel from the boiling water to set it on the tray next to the pot, it drops to the floor.) Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ, I do not need to kill another man! (Sniffling…Johnny reaches down to pick up the scalpel and yelps in pain at the heat and sticks his fingers in his mouth.) (calmly) Top left corner of my fucking bag. Johnny: (mumbling) What? Doc: Balm, you fucking idiot, against the burn you fucking just sustained. Johnny: (Still sucking on his fingers) Thanks, Doc. Doc: Alright. (Calmer, he takes the hemostat and picks up the scalpel, putting it back in the boiling water.) --(Mr. Wu enters the Gem – through the back door – striding in, determined.) MrWu: Dahn! (Pointing to Dan – FYI “Dahn” sounds like Dan, but it also translates to ‘Egg’) Dan: (turning) Go away, Wu. MrWu: (pointing) Swedgin. Dan: No. MrWu: (slower, making a beard-stroking-karate-chop-motion) Swed-gin! (Points to Al’s office.) Dan: Well, it ain’t gonna happen. MrWu: (yelling) Swedgin! Dan: (loudly) No, Wu! He’s fucked up. Now, Al can’t talk to you right now, and I can’t understand you, so you go the fuck back to chink alley! MrWu: Diu na Ma ga hai! Nei go Bok Gwai Lo! (Loosely translated: Fuck your mother! You white cocksucker!) Dan: (angry) Do not start drawing air to talk gibberish to me! MrWu: (angry, throws something to the ground. Takes a deep breath, puts his hand up “wait”. He points to his face, drawing a half circle around it’s circumference.) Cocksuckah. Dan: Oh, fer Christ’s sake. MrWu: Cocksuckah! (Puts hand up high – a tall cocksucker Dan!) Dan: It’s wasted on me, Wu. MrWu: (He pulls his braid) mmm—cocksuckah! (hands up high again) Cocksuckah! Dan: I—I—I don’t get it, Wu. I am not as smart as Al. And there’s too much on our fuckin’ plate right now to deal with it.
MrWu: (points to himself) Cocksuckah! (Hands up high again) Cocksuckah! San Francisco. Dan: Jesus-fucking-Christ. All right, there’s a-there’s an invisible cocksucker next to you, and he’s from San Francisco. MrWu: (phonically) Hou! (points to himself) Cocksuckah! (Hands up high) San Francisco cocksuckah! Dan: I-I’m going with you—you want me to tall Al that there’s a cocksucker (pulls his hair) – he looks like—(he sees Doc and Johnny come through and starts to head upstairs with them) he looks like you, and he’s from San Francisco and he’s got your dander up. I’m going up now. I’ll go tell him. (Hurries up the stairs, Mr. Wu watches hi go upstairs.) Johnny: Tell him what? Dan: Oh, God only knows. Johnny: (yelling) Why don’t you learn to talk American! Save us all a lot of fucking trouble! MrWu: (enraged) Wu no Englishee! Bok Gwai Lo! Swedgin! --(Silas is relaxing on his bed, there’s a knock at his door…he gets up to answer it. He opens the door to find Miss Isringhausen there.) Miss Isringhausen: Mr. Adams? Good day. Silas: Good day, Miss Isringhausen. (Looks at his door number, it’s #5 if you care.) Miss Isringhausen: I can’t imagine what you must be thinking at the moment. Silas: (steps aside) Please, come in. (He steps back into the room, pulls out a chair for her and pats the seat, indicating for her to have a seat. She shakes her head ‘no’ – standing by the door with her hand to her mouth, about ready to burst into tears.) Silas: I can offer you a whiskey or – water that I just washed my face in. Miss Isringhausen: I will have whiskey, Sir. Silas: Sure. (pulls out a bottle and a glass) Miss Isringhausen: I’ve just been discharged. Sacked. Silas: By Mrs. Garret? (pulls the stopper off the bottle and pours the whiskey) Miss Isringhausen: As tutor for her ward. (He steps forward, offers her the glass, she steps back, unsure, clutching her brooch.) Silas: Well, I hope you punched her in the nose. (She takes the glass, walks over to the chair.) Miss Isringhausen: This is a day of firsts. Dismissal from employment, unchaperoned presence in a man’s room. (Lifts the glass up as if it’s an afterthought toast) Silas: I’m sorry for your news, Miss Isringhausen, but if that’s your first taste of liquor, I’m sorry for the hand you’ve been playing your whole life. (She downs it like a pro, not taking her eyes off him – sets the glass down.) You mind if I drink from the bottle? Miss Isringhausen: No, Sir.
(He takes a swig from the bottle, she starts to sob. He really looks even more uncomfortable than he has this entire time she’s been in his room – and that was pretty uncomfortable.) Silas: Oh boy. (Sits on the bed) Oh boy. Miss Isringhausen: I’m sorry (sobbing). Silas: You want me to get outta here? Miss Isringhausen: It’s your room. Silas: That’s okay. You’re not a thief. Or would you feel better if I shot myself? Miss Isringhausen: (she looks up) Why do you say that? (looks to the door and back) Silas: I apologize. It-it was just a stupid way of trying to be funny. Miss Isringhausen: Because I fear I may be killed. Silas: (turns around) What? Miss Isringhausen: I can’t explain -- It’s nightmarish. It’s incomprehensible. Silas: Who’s threatening your life? Miss Isringhausen: Mrs. Garret. (She says with disgust) I know it sounds impossible, but I can testify to you, Mr. Adams, I would not be the first person she’s killed. --(Back up in Al’s office, Dan is fastening strips of cloth to Al’s wrists. Doc is perched over Al…) Dan: You want I should tie him high or tie him low? Doc: (nodding) Tie him high. Trixie:(at the foot of the bed) Should we go ahead and put a good fuckin’ hit of dope down him, Doc? Doc: Yeah, go ahead and get a hit ready. Dan: (loudly) Al, I have to secure you for surgery! Doc: What is it, Al? (Al shifts his eyes from Dan to Doc to Dan to Doc to Dan again) Dan: He’s afraid. Trixie:You afraid, Al? Dan: Ah—you’ve got a fear of the knife. He wants to try passin’ them stones natural. Doc: Are you afraid, Al? Trixie:(in the middle of the bed, yelling) Are you afraid, Al? (He looks at Trixie & raises his eyebrows at her) Oh God! I’m on his fucking nuts! (She backs off – Doc goes to his bag.) Doc: Goddamn smelling salts is what we’re goin’ to administer! Do you here me, Al? (holds the vial to Al’s nose) Here is a fucking dose (Al pushes Dan’s face away – struggling) of smelling salts to your nose! (Al groans) Johnny: What are you doing, Doc?! Doc: Be quiet! Sit him up and get him to his goddamn feet! (They all haul him up) Take his prick out! (Johnny motions to Trixie) Johnny: Come on! Come on! (They all encourage him, Al begins to leak – eww – gleets) Trixie:There you come, Al! There you come! Dan: There you go! You’re doin’ it! Doc: There you go, you ox-minded son of a gun! Push at it, you bastard! Push at it! Dan: Come on, Al!
Trixie:You’d do a horse proud with the strength of that fuckin’ stream! Doc: Lay him down. Lay Al down on the bed! (They lay him down) We are gonna take care of this. I’m gonna put this instrument back inside you and clear that cocksucker you’ve been making progress with, and we are not gonna cut you! (To Trixie) Bring his knee up to his chest. (To Dan) You hold him down. Johnny, you…go on out to the balcony. Johnny: I have charge of the salts! (Al wheezes in pain, Johnny holds the salts to his nose, Doc inserts the prick-pole) Doc:
Alright—(Al groans) Alright! (instrument clicking) I can feel the fucking click of the gleet! Alright, now I want you to milk his prick from top to bottom, and I want you to bring that cocksucker down. (Trixie nods) That’s it. Now. Trixie:Come on, Al. Doc: Alright! Look at it! One gleet chasing a-fucking-nother! God—(Al moaning) God bless you, Al! Thank you. (Hugs Al’s head) Thank you for saving me, God… (Al moans weakly, Dan beside him, Johnny on top of Dan, hugging Al’s side, Trixie at the bottom, Doc to the left.) --(Four of the Chez Amie whores are standing next to each other, facing the wall…) Wolcott: Are you uncomfortable, Girls? Maddie: They’re fine. You’re paying them to stand in that position, Mr. W. They’ll stand in that position. They’ve been in more awkward positions before. Wolcott: Thousands of years ago, in Cyprus, women went about their own lives only after first spending time as prostitutes at the temple of Aphrodite. (Maddie & Joanie are sitting up straight and proper as they listen to Wolcott, Carrie is lounging in another chair, casually fanning herself.) The tribute to their promiscuity meant to secure for the island the goddess’ grant of bountiful crops and beautiful weather. (Maddie looks on, Carrie looks askance) Woman’s generative instrument on the altar of the race’s necessities, have we not come some far piece since then? (He chuckles, Doris and – Atlantis?- whisper to each other) Who, for example, fucks on altars anymore, or pretends anything can make up the weather’s mind? Carrie: (Fanning herself) Are you gonna fuck me tonight, Francis? Wolcott: I bore Carrie. (He stands and crosses the room, approaches Doris…) You were peeking. (She looks at him) I asked you not to look. Doris: Sorry. (He shoves her to her knees into the corner) Maddie: Why not just go do what you’re gonna do, Mr. W.? Wolcott: Am I on a schedule then? Joanie: She only meant our educations can wait. Wolcott: I quite enjoyed our talk the other night. Carrie: Do you want to fuck her? Wolcott: No. (Grabs Carrie by her shoulders, sits her back in her chair) Carrie, no. Or I’d say so. (pauses) The atmosphere of the room turns against me. A growing
collective impatience, where should be a haven of indulgence. (He takes out a pouch and throws it to the floor) Won’t you indulge me? Joanie: (Through clenched teeth) We’re trying, Mr. W., but you are behaving badly. Wolcott: Disappointing, from you who I thought to regale with details of the myths—gods fornicating with mortals, the endless incest, fathers upon daughters upon sisters—(Joanie stands up in a huff and walks to the far wall – facing it.) Maddie: Take her in or get out, please. Wolcott: Excuse us. Maddie: Of course. (Carrie rises) Wolcott: Er, be generous. I think I’ve upset her. (He follows Carrie to the back, Joanie turns and she and Maddie look at each other.) --(Hugo Jarry is taking a bath upstairs in the Bella Union. He blows through his jowls like a horse, blows bubbles on the chest of the whore bathing him…) Whore: Well, whatever were you aimin’ at? Hugo: Your titties! (Playful blubbering, whore snorts, the door opens and Cy enters. Hugo looks at himself in a mirror –bubbles on his head but not covering his eye!) Cy: Any chance in here of an imminent (we see Hugo, this time with bubbles covering his eye!) finish, commissioner? My thought bein’ you might want to deliver our newspaper editor a certain document before he’s too drunk to make it out. Hugo: (Takes his glasses off, we can now see both eyes) I think not, until my bath is finished. Cy: Uh-huh. And I think a finish would involve (looks at the whore) you blowin’ some of them bubbles underwater, Honey. (She looks at Hugo provocatively and he quickly leans back and puts his glasses on as she bends over and proceeds to “blow his bubble.” He reaches for the sky in triumph and manly bluster. Cy leaves.) --(Dan is seated downstairs at a table, receiving a much deserved shoulder rub from a comely blonde whore. The piano plays “Down by the River” –so helpful CC! Thank you for that tidbit of information. Now if we can only get you to provide more than “speaking Chinese” when Mr. Wu is on the screen, we’ll finally be getting somewhere.—Anyway, Dan looks over and sees Eamon coming. He nods to the whore to stop and leave him – she does.) Dan: Eamon. Eamon: (Sits) Has he per any fuckin’ chance returned from Gayville, Dan, which he had never been to? Dan: Al’s upstairs. Now if you agree to a few fuckin’ rules, I’ll give you a brief audience with him. Eamon: Don’t it feel good to play at “Boss,” Dan? Dan: (pointing, angry) Unless you want to sit down here and bust my fuckin’ balls over you never learnin’ to move amongst civilized people?
Eamon: No, an audience is more important. Dan: (nods) Alright. Now, you listen careful while we walk up. (They rise and start to head upstairs) You get up ‘er, you propose the robbery. You give him the location, the take that you are prepared to guarantee, Al’s fee on that take, and then a bonus for overage. And then, Eamon, you shut the fuck up. (They stop) Al has had a tough fucking day. Now, you let him indicate to you however he fuckin’ chooses as to a yes or a no. Now, that’s fair ain’t it? Eamon: (snorts) You’re a great man, Dan. It’s you that’s the great one. (looks to the heavens) Dan: Don’t bust my fuckin’ balls. Eamon: Don’t call me “Crop Ear,” you gutless son of a bitch. Dan: Eamon, we live life however we choose. Eamon: And you choose life as a cunt standing behind a bar. (He walks on past Dan.) Dan: Just tryin’ to do you a favor. Eamon: I’ll have no favors from you! Dan: (follows him up, drawing his knife out) Alright, then. Crop Ears. (Grabs Eamon and slits his throat, Eamon tries reaching for a weapon, but fails) Or whatever the fuck it is you want to be called! (Johnny moves out from behind the bar…Dan spits on Eamon’s face as he gasps for air…his neck bleeding.) Trying to gauge Al’s recovery and do you a fuckin’ favor. (Eamon pushes Dan away, reaching through the banister…Dan walks downstairs, Johnny approaches him…) Crop Ears is dyin’ up ‘er. You take him over to the Chinaman’s and you throw him away. Johnny: Sure, Dan. (looking confused, concerned) Sure. Yeah, I’ll go get the sled. Dan: I don’t have the patience for this fucking bullshit! I have had a tough fucking day! (The comely blonde whore walks back up to Dan and grabs his shoulder to continue his massage, he slaps her away, works his shoulder out…) --(Back at the Chez Amie, Wolcott is seated in a chair, Carrie is standing nearby, fanning herself.) Wolcott: Were you seeing a relative, Carrie, or did the madam withhold you to frustrate me? Carrie: (Snaps her fan shut and walks away to sit at the vanity) She doesn’t tell me why she does things. Wolcott: But you’d know if you were seeing a relative. Carrie: Yes. I wasn’t. (She unlaces her shoes.) Wolcott: Were you seeing anyone? Carrie: A wild Indian. (looking in the mirror)I fucked him and I fucked his horse. Wolcott: You hate it here. Carrie: (looks at Wolcott) I suppose you don’t. Wolcott: (Shaking his head) I don’t, no. (Carrie stands, walking over to him, removing her petticoats) The rocks tell me stories. And now I have you.
Carrie: Well, I’m not a crazy person, so they don’t talk to me. And I’m with me wherever I am, so I wish I was in fucking New York. (Sitting on the bed) Wolcott: The rocks don’t “talk” to me, but—still I learn their stories. Carrie: (Taking off her garters and stockings) Oh, I understand now. Thank you for saying it like I’m a baby. Wolcott: (stammering) Well, uh…these hills are unimaginably rich. Carrie: So what? Wolcott: To compel even the vagrant attentions of someone like my employer. Carrie: I won’t stay for any amount. Wolcott: For a large amount, will you stay for a little? Carrie: (She looks at him) Give me some now. Wolcott: Of course. (Hands her a fat pouch) It’s more than I gave the madam. Carrie: (She sets the pouch down next to her on the bed, looks back at him) And you musn’t hit me like you do the others. Wolcott: You’ve never displeased me. Carrie: (She stands, hikes her skirts and straddles him) Don’t-fucking-hit me, Francis. Wolcott: Done. Agreed. Carrie: (She starts to gyrate on him) I will run away to the Indians. Wolcott: You would change the course of history. Be the first of the women chiefs. (moaning) Oh…(he closes his eyes, she stops, he sighs) I’m too quick.(He looks up at her.) Carrie: You can’t be too quick for me. (She stands and walks back to the bed. He “repositions” himself.) You might try it sometimes with your prick outside of your pants. Wolcott: (pauses) I sense Miss Stubbs has fucked a relative. Carrie: It’s a big club. --(Al lays in bed, all tucked in, a look of relief, resignation and relaxation on his face.) Al:
Pff-fft.
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Ellsworth Brad Dourif .... Doc Cochran John Hawkes .... Sol Star Paula Malcomson .... Trixie .... Tom Nuttall Leon Rippy William Sanderson .... Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority .... Charlie Utter Dayton Callie Anna Gunn .... Martha Bullock Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver / Tolliver Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick Geri Jewell .... Jewel Bree Seanna Wall .... Sophia Gill Gayle .... Huckster Titus Welliver .... Silas Adams Meghan Glennon .... Lila Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs Maddie Alice Krige Miss Isringhausen Sarah Paulson William Bullock Josh Eriksson Con Stapleton Peter Jason Hugo Jarry Stephen Toblowsky Carrie Izabella Miko Mr. Lee Phillip Moon Lila Meghan Glennon Eamon Jeff Cahill Parisse Boothe Gary Leffew Chandler Richards Pete Richardson Ralf Richeson Alan Jordan Dolly Asheigh Kizer Allen Keller Erica Swanson Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her Cast
personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 17: “Complications” Directed by: Gregg Fienberg Written by: Victoria Morrow
Episode 17: “Complications” (In Alma’s room at the Grand Central, Sofia is sleeping soundly. We see Alma in the background, clambering to get out of bed and reach the pitcher on the bedstand. She makes in just in time for a nice morning retch. She wipes her mouth, breathing heavily, contemplating…she turns her head as if to gaze upon Sofia…We see Al, lying in bed, wheezing. Doc is sitting next to him, sipping from a tin cup.) Johnny:
Psst!
(He motions his head to Al, stirring from his slumber. Dan is sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed, gazing happily upon his employer.) Al: Doc: Al:
Boys. (Johnny stands up next to Dan) How are you? (Looks around, sees Dan smiling happily at him, he points at Dan) Did you fuck me while I was out? Dan: Hell, no. Al: Well quit looking at me like that. Johnny: (Laughs) Except for talking a little cockeyed, Al is back to his accustomed self! Doc: And what that is, speech—crisis he went through, Al’s body parts are showing they’re healing at different rates. Johnny: Well, you talk cockeyed, Boss, all you want, long as you want, just so you’re miserable and mean. Al: How cockeyed do I look? Doc: Appropriately cockeyed, for one who’s been through what you have, and then the fall you took. Al: Bullock look worse? Doc: Naming your adversary shows your memory is intact. Dan: You’re gonna have to gather all your fuckin’ wiles, Al, ‘cause they’s developments that need interpretatin’ on every front. Doc: Al is out of the development interpretation business for the short time bein’. Dan: Wu’s got a big tall Celestial what’s hauntin’ him. He’s invisible. W-Wu’s convinced he’s from San Francisco. Doc: Goddamnit, Dan. Will you shut the fuck up and let this man harbor his resources? Al: You look in chink’s alley? You see any big unfamiliar chinks? Dan: Well, there ain’t nothing to it, Al. I just told you for a giggle. I mean, you know? Excitable Wu. Al: So what else is new? (Doc shakes his head and mouths “Nothing” to Johnny.) Johnny:
Nothing special—
Dan: Not a goddamn thing that can’t wait till you get well, Boss. (Nods to Doc.) Al: There is a bell…behind the bar. Johnny: Absolutely. Al: I know there is a bell. I’m telling you I want it brought over here. Johnny: Absolutely, Al. (Doc motions for Dan to go too.) Dan: Uh, I-I best help. If there’s anybody can fuck up the gatherin’ of a bell, it’s Johnny. (He leaves) Doc: (Pouring some water) You want some water? Al: Yeah. Fuckin’ water. (Doc sets the glass on the edge of the table, Al looks at it. He looks back at an expectant Doc.) Al:
Don’t be a fuckin’ jerk.
(Doc picks up the glass and brings it to Al’s lips. Al takes a sip.) Doc:
Your right eye is filled with blood. Can you use your right arm at all?
(Al musters up enough strength to lift his arm up slightly and over to Doc, he puts his hand on Doc’s.) Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al:
Put your nose between my fingers, you’ll find how much I can use my fucking arm. That’s good. That is a good sign, Al. Don’t bullshit me. I won’t. I think you’ve had a small stroke, guessing maybe from the strain of that stone. You keep bullshittin’ them. I will. This gets out, I’ll slit your fuckin’ throat. I wield a blade good with my left. It won’t get out. If I need it, you will fuckin’ kill me. You stop that. You find me no better, you will wish to hell I was fucking worse, ‘cause I wield a blade good with my left. (Shaking his head) Don’t you put a fuckin’ clock on this.
Doc: --(E.B. is standing beside the staircase of the hotel, pacing, practicing his speech to Alma.) EB:
Madam, in the chambers of my heart beats a love for every crooked timber of this shitbox of a structure, this building. This building, it’s warped floorboards and— (We here plates crashing)
Richardson: Fie! EB: Why, even Richardson my chef, my eyes see a beloved household pet somehow walking upright…See in Richardson…a half-witted child, nonetheless adored. (Alma comes down the stairs) Oh, Mrs. Garret. Uh, the very subject of my thoughts. Alma: May I borrow Richardson, please, Mr. Farnum, to escort me on an errand? EB: (Steps closer) Would you prefer other company, Ma’am? Less mysterious? Alma: (Glaring at E.B.) No, Mr. Farnum. EB: Richardson! (Richardson turns and hurries over.) Richardson: I saved a lot. I’ll mop the rest in a moment. EB: Go with Mrs. Garret. Alma: Thank you, Mr. Farnum. (She proceeds ahead, Richardson following.) EB: Eyes down. (Richardson does as told, E.B. continues practicing his speech) Therefore, Madam, as to your generous offer to purchase my hotel, I must gratefully decline. --(Commissioner Jarry enters Merrick’s printing office.) Merrick: Oh. Hugo: I take you for the man in charge. Merrick: A.W. Merrick, Sir, owner, publisher, editor-in-chief, and for the moment, sole reporter. Hugo: Hugo Jarry, County Commissioner appointed by Governor Pennington. Merrick: Of-of this county? Hugo: Yes. Merrick: (Excited) Has our county a name? Hugo: Lawrence County. Merrick: Ah—Well! Well, thank you for that information, and congratulations. Lawrence, Lawrence County. Hugo: (Crossing the room) My father was a newspaperman. “Lowell Sentinel-Bee.” I was raised among these contraptions. Merrick: Were you? Hugo: Great respect for the fourth estate. (Pulls the notice out of his bag and holds it out for Merrick) Here’s a statement to be printed. Merrick: (Unfolds the statement) “As to ownership of the claims in the newly constituted county of Lawrence, as annexed to the Dakota Territory, a presumption of legitimate title shall obtain for claims worked actively and continuously prior to amendment of the treaty with the Sioux Nation, September, 1876. This presumption shall be subject to qualification according to mitigating facts.” Uh, if I discern this correctly, Sir, this statement could be taken to mean, uh, nothing. Hugo: The statement continues. Merrick: (sighs) “New title will be awarded on claims to which title is denied at set prices via lottery. As conducted by the County Commissioner.” Hugo: I would be grateful if that gets in your next edition.
Merrick: I must tell you, Commissioner, that even with that last bit added, what exactly will or won’t qualify or mitigate the presumption of ownership eludes me. Hugo: I didn’t realize that was a bar the statement had to hurdle. Merrick: Uh, with-without an accompanying explanation, Sir, this statement may work an unsettling effect. Hugo: In any case, Sir, being the Commissioner of this county and bidding you good day, I have presented you with that to publish in your paper as organ of record in this camp. (Merrick looks at Jarry, then back to the statement…) Front page. --(Alma is standing outside the Gem. She puts her hand down on a stack of antlers, as if to lean, realizes what they are and picks one up. She settles it in her hand, a determined look on her face. Richardson comes out of the Gem and scuttles over to Alma – not looking up.) Richardson: Trixie’s to the hardware store, (Alma looks in its direction) the big one said. Alma: May we go there then, Richardson? Have you time? Richardson: Yes. I only have stew to mop before lunch. (Alma turns and heads across the thoroughfare. The antler still clutched in her hand. Richardson follows. She realizes she’s still holding the antler and contemplates handing it to Richardson, thinks better of it, and continues walking determinedly to the hardware store.) Richardson: I like you. Alma: Thank you, Richardson. Richardson: You’re purdy. Alma: Thank you very much. And probably that’s all either of us needs to say on that subject ever again. (She pauses outside the hardware store. Turns to Richardson…) I’m uncertain how long I may be, so I’ll send you back to the hotel. Would you be so kind as to return this to the pile outside the Gem? (She hands him the antler – he gazes lovingly at it, as if it’s the best gift in the world – she puts some coins in his hand.) Thank you, Richardson. (He doesn’t move, still dumbstruck at the antlers.) Goodbye. (She turns and leaves.) --(Trixie is seated behind the desk, working on her studies. She gets frustrated…) Trixie:Oh, cunt! (She throws her pencil down violently, it bounces to the ground. Seth looks up at her. She looks at him, stubbornly “what?” – Sol smiles at her. Alma enters, looking at Trixie.) Alma: Good Morning. (Seth stands.) Trixie:Morning. Alma: May we have a private word? (Trixie nods, grabs her cigarettes. Sol & Seth start to head for the back.)
Trixie:Don’t flee, don’t flee. I’m going outside for a smoke. (She walks past Alma outside. Alma pauses for a moment…) Alma: Gentlemen. (She slowly backs up and joins Trixie outside.) Trixie:You knocked up? Alma: (pauses- stunned) Why would you ask? Trixie:You wouldn’ta come here first, which means first you went to the Gem, which you’ve never yet stepped foot in. Alma: I sent in Richardson. Trixie:Meaning first you crossed the thoroughfare with him, opening the possibility you’re only puking from the company you keep. Alma: (Pauses) I think I’m pregnant. Trixie:(nods) We make tea – pennyroyal and cohosh, if that’s what you come to find out. Alma: I might very well die in delivering. Trixie:Holy cow! (Sarcastically) Alma: I meant to say more likely than other women, I might die, because an ailment when I was little shaped me for difficulty in childbirth. Trixie:Why not take your tale of woe to the Doc? Alma: I feel that Dr. Cochran judges me. Trixie:Lucky then you come to me that takes you to my bosom and smoothes your hair and tells you all will be well. (Throws her cigarette down, crushes it out) I can tell you this much, Mrs. Garret…If you take the tea, lay plenty of dope in. ‘Cause I’ve killed seven, and every bleeding out I laced on good and tight and for a long fucking while after. Alma: (pauses, stricken) I want children of my own. Trixie:(Looks down, nodding) Let me finish up my Jewish lessons here, then come find you. Alma: Thank you very much. (Reaches out touching Trixie’s arm) Thank you, Trixie. Trixie:Alright. Alma: My name’s Alma. Trixie:I know your name. (Trixie walks back inside the hardware store. Alma sighs and walks past the hardware store back toward the hotel. She looks inside as she walks past, Seth looks back at her as she walks away.) --(Silas smoothes his hair and knocks on door #5 – Hey! Wait a sec! That’s HIS room number! What the? Why the hell is it Miss Isringhausen opening the door – in her nightgown no less! The hell? Shameless hussy.) Silas: Miss Isringhausen. Miss Isringhausen: Mr. Adams. Silas: May I collect a change of clothes? Miss Isringhausen: Of course. (He enters, pauses by the bureau.) Silas: I hope you slept well. Miss Isringhausen: I’m mortified to say I did.
Silas: Mortified? Miss Isringhausen: Having done so at the cost of your comfort. Silas: I sleep anywhere, Ma’am. I’m like a dog in that regard. We don’t want you murdered in your bed. Miss Isringhausen: Perhaps it was irrational, my being so afraid. Silas: That ain’t a test fear’s got to pass. Miss Isringhausen: I know she’s had others done for. Silas: So you’ve said. (He opens a drawer, taking out some clothes.) Anyways— Miss Isringhausen: May I know your given name? Silas: Silas—if I remember correct. Miss Isringhausen: You have shown charity to one among strangers, Silas…(steps closer) giving her great solace. Silas: Thank you. Or you’re welcome, I guess. Miss Isringhausen: Thank You, Silas. (She takes his hand and puts it inside her dress, over her bare breast—holding it there.) Miss Isringhausen: And you’re welcome. (She smiles, he pauses, puts down the clothes he’s holding in his left hand and grabs her. They kiss.) --(A black man in a Union cap is on horseback in the thoroughfare outside Hostetler’s livery. He soon announces himself, last name of Fields. We know him to be Samuel Fields.) Fields: Hostetler. It’s the Nigger General Fields. (He dismounts, Hostetler marches over and grabs the reins.) Hostetler: Now, you was to have had this horse one week. Fields: Shit, Old Nugget here is sound and spoiled. (Hostetler checks it over) He’s been living on peppermints and apples in the private stables of a San Francisco dry goods big shot. Hostetler: (Leading the horse into the livery) Making you owing 17 weeks additional! Fields: Yeah, I was delivering emerald earrings to Mrs. Big Shot, and a diamond bracelet and matching choker to Mr. Big Shot’s mistress. Hostetler: (Picking up chalk, begins writing on a board) $4 a week, times 17… (Fields pulls out a wad of cash) is— Fields: Here, cipher the result against this 100. Hostetler: (Nods and takes the bill) $100 take away 68… Fields: Put the balance toward our future trade. Hostetler: (Pausing) Owing General Nigger— Fields: Nigger General. Hostetler: $32 credit. Being you was away, maybe now you got a chance to take off this half-ass uniform. Fields: Then who’s gonna know I’m the Nigger General?
Hostetler: By your own telling you never was in no Union army. This ain’t the time or the place to be drawing people’s attention. Even for a goddamn fool. Fields: Yeah, well, I keep missing the place where it’d be a good time. Must be my goddamn foolishness. --(Cy is stacking coins in his office, he looks frustrated.) Cy: Doris: Cy:
Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy:` Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy: Doris: Cy:
You wouldn’t suppose they’d be saltin’ the fuckin’ find over there, now would you, Doris? I don’t understand. I was wonderin’ if maybe your new bosses Maddie and Joanie are sendin’ me more than my proper share, give me a false fuckin’ impression of how their pussy’s sellin’. I don’t know. ‘Cus this is—this is fuckin’ heavy action for an operation ahead of itself far as décor and location and every other fuckin’ aspect! It’s mostly from just the one trick. Which is who? I don’t know his name. They call him Mr.W. (Cy looks up at Doris) What does he look like? I wouldn’t know how to say. Oh, you fucking mutt. Is he tall or short? Tall. Thin or fat? Thin. Good looking, I guess. Clean shaved or beared? Bearded. He threw me into a wall last night. Huh. Don’t tell me. (standing) On what pretext, Sweetheart? I looked at him. And that was against his instructions? He had all the girls facing the wall. And you peeked? (She nods) Now, was this—was this more or less a push to the wall, or did he fucking fling you, violent-like, with more of the same in mind? Violent-like. Huh. Well, that’s a man with a problem, ain’t it, Doris? (She nods) Mr. W. Jesus Christ, can I be that fuckin’ lucky?
--(Carrie is washing her legs, lounging in a bathtub. There’s a knock at the door, it opens. It’s Joanie. Her bathing-whore radar must be set to ‘high’.) Joanie: Warm it up? Carrie: Thank you. (Joanie enters, shuts the door.) Joanie: How did you sleep, Carrie? Carrie: All right, I guess. How did you sleep? Joanie: (Lifting a pot off the stove) All right. (She dumps the hot water into the bathtub.)
Carrie: Are you guessing? Joanie: I guess I’m guessing. Do your back? (She kneels down next to the tub.) Carrie: Yes, thank you. (She hands Joanie the wash cloth, leans forward and turns her back to Joanie.) My trick got you upset. Joanie: I was in with him the night before. I guessed he took to watching. Carrie: How did that work out? Joanie: I guess he don’t. Or, anyway, not that night. Or maybe just not me. Carrie: Do you want to know what I do with him? Joanie: If you want to say. Carrie: I get him off through his pants. Joanie: Ah. Carrie: Acting like my hand’s my snatch. Joanie: (Pauses) Reaching around behind you? Carrie: Behind me and between my legs. Joanie: Through his pants? Carrie: Yes. Joanie: You don’t put your hand inside? Carrie: (whispers) No. Joanie: Are you naked? Carrie: Dressed. Except for my stockings and my bloomers. Joanie: Do you talk any special way? Carrie: I remind him not to hit me. (Joanie pauses) Do you want to be writing this down? (Joanie chuckles.) --(Trixie enters Doc’s cabin.) Trixie:Congratulations, Doc, on your high and holy bullshit. It’s water off a duck to some, but others still got feelings. Doc: Of whom are we fucking speaking? Trixie:One as might die in childbirth more likely than us lucky others, but so sponged down in your disapproval when she was kicking the fucking dope, she’s afraid now to seek your care. Doc: (pausing) I’ll call on her. Trixie:Under some other fucking pretext. Doc: All right. Trixie:Mighty fuckin’ big of ya, Doc. Doc: You have about as miserable a disposition as your employer. Trixie:I ain’t exclusive to him no more. (She leaves, slamming the door behind her. Doc turns back to his desk, what to do?) --(Fields walks up to some crates in front of the freight office, putting his foot up on one, looking out onto the thoroughfare. Jane is seated on a bench behind him. He looks quickly behind him to her and back.)
Fields: Hey now, Miss Lady. How much do you want for that bottle? (He flashes the cash in his pocket quickly, puts it back.) Jane: What the fuck are you supposed to be? Fields: Currency still spends, Ma’am. Jane: Is that some dilapidated-type fucking uniform? I scouted for fucking Custer. Fields: A great man who would have wanted you to sell me that bottle. Jane: He was no great fucking man! (Fields chuckles) He was a long-haired cocksucker that could have saved many lives by more drinking and stop being so fucking ambitious, and many still above ground and not scalped by the fucking heathens and their guts spread over the plains. (Fields looks back at her.) You’re a short nigger, aren’t you? Fields: For a fact. Jane: My name’s Jane. Fields: I’m the Nigger General Fields. Jane: (Holds out the bottle) Want a drink? Fields: I want to buy that bottle, that’s what I want. Jane: Well, ya ain’t buyin’ it, but you can have a fuckin’ drink. (He looks around, walks back to the bench…) Fields: Thanks. Jane: Don’t fuckin’ look around! I don’t care who sees a nigger drinkin’ with me or drinkin’ from the same bottle or how…stupid his fucking outfit is. Fields: (He turns his shoulder to her) This here is the epaulet of a Union army General. Jane: Oh. (Lifting a cheek – pointing to her butt) And this here is the ass (grabs her butt cheek) of a drunken shitbird. (Fields smiles, chuckling. They smile at each other.) Finish this with me…(she takes the bottle) If you can sit beside someone and not stink or fart. Fields: (He sits, looking around, she offers him the bottle back) I’ve been known to cut the odd fart…(drinks) but they’ve never stunk. Jane: I’ve got the self-same gift. --(Silas and Miss Isringhausen are lying in bed.) Silas: If I took advantage, I apologize. Miss Isringhausen: You took no more advantage of me, Silas, than the Samaritan did the traveler from Jerusalem. Silas: Good. Miss Isringhausen: I should tell you, Silas, that the Mr. Swearengen I’ve heard you say you work for is named by Mrs. Garret as her instrument in her husband’s murder. Silas: Named by Mrs. Garret? Miss Isringhausen: Yes. Silas: As her instrument? Miss Isringhausen: Yes. Silas: Jesus Christ. (He gets up, revealing his faded red “boxers”) What’s your first name? Miss Isringhausen: Alice. (Yay! A short name! Alice! Her name is Alice!)
Silas: Well, Alice, your story don’t get less strange the more of it you tell. (He takes a drink.) Alice: Because Mr. Swearengen wouldn’t do such a thing? Silas: Generates a fuckin’ strangeness is her saying he was her hire. Alice: I see. Silas: Yeah, well, that makes fucking one of us. (He takes another drink.) Alice: Would you introduce me to Mr. Swearengen? Silas: You’re asking me to? (She nods) You want to meet him? Alice: Please. Silas: Why do I feel lucky we didn’t meet across a poker table? (She smiles) Anyways, he ain’t up to chatting just now. (She pulls back the covers, leaning back in the bed, showing off her goodies.) Alice: Silas? (She crooks her finger at him – come back to bed big boy!) --(Doc is giving Sofia a check-up in Alma’s room.) Alma: Her bearing gives you suspicions as to her health? Doc: No, not at all. My notes indicate that it had been a year since her last exam, and with the day-long lull between gun fights, I thought I’d have a look. Alma: I see. Doc: And she seems to be coming along beautifully. (He indicates to the next room, puts his instruments away and grabs his bag. They step into the study and Alma pulls the bedroom door closed. One of them anyway.) Since I have cared for you as well, can I ask after your health? Alma: (pausing) I continue relieved of the weakness you treated me for. Doc: And you have nothing else to report? Alma: Thank you for examining Sofia. (Her arms are crossed – she’s on the defensive.) Doc: Folk wisdom and remedies known to others in the camp are often quite adequate to the requirements of health. And Trixie, for example, is a stalwart and – and a reliable source of these. (Alma puts her head in her hand – conflicted) However, I do have some particular competence as to the implications of anatomical anomalies, congenital or consequent of previous illness, and I would hope that you would avail yourself of this, notwithstanding my idiosyncrasies and-and-and my defects of character. (He pauses, looking to Alma, she looks down. He proceeds to the door – grabbing his coat and bag. He stops at the door and looks back at Alma.) (sigh) Please. (Alma looks wide-eyed, unsure of herself.) --(Francis Wolcott is leafing through the sales papers of the claims Cy has snatched up for Hearst…) Cy:
My experience, Mr. Wolcott, come to makin’ restitution for others’ outlays, the rich can be tardy.
(Wolcott sets down a thick billfold. Cy reaches for it. Wolcott puts his hand on it,
stopping Cy from taking it.) Wolcott: I’m just satisfying myself that my employer’s getting what he’s paying for. Cy: Bills of sale, drawn good and legal, signatures genuine and witnessed. (The door opens, Tessie shows Commissioner Jarry inside.) Ah, join us, Commissioner. Hugo: Gentlemen. (Door closes) Notice about the claims is in your newspaper publisher’s hands. That the Yankton statement may cause unease among local claimholders as to the security of their title, Mr. Merrick found personally distressing. He found it wrong and unfair. Wolcott: Was he looking for a bribe? Hugo: No, no. He was not. I have a nose for that. In any case, (he sits) he’s manageable. I quite stared him down. (laughs) (Leon bursts into the office.) Cy: We’re just chewing the fat in here, Leon, barge the fuck amongst us. Leon: (shuts the door) Mr. Merrick posted that statement outside his office, Mr. Tolliver. Hugo: Put out an extra, did he? Leon: No edition of the paper at all. Just the statement on the outside wall, and people are fuckin’ riled. Hugo: Riled or frightened? Leon: Riled, Sir. Cy: That’s the type of unsettlement we ain’t necessarily after. Leon: Wanting to know where he’s at, who the fuck he thinks he is. Cy: You want to manage this, commissioner, or shall I? Wolcott: (Handing Cy the billfold) You go on, Tolliver. Cy: Maybe take another bath. (Cy leaves, Hugo looks worriedly at Wolcott.) --(Outside the printing office, a bunch of riled hoopleheads are reading the notice.) Hooplehead: What in fuck’s that word sposta mean? Merrick: Uh, “mitigating,” as applied to a presumption, would mean to lessen or soften strength or rigor. Steve: I ought to punch you in the fucking nose. Merrick: (laughs) Why would you punch me? (Johnny is looking on) Steve: You had him here, didn’t you? (Johnny runs off) You give him your fucking words to print on your fucking machine! Merrick: (Putting his hands up) Ah, which is short of saying I should have forced him to some purpose of my own? (Cy and Leon are approaching…we see Sol come out of the hardware store…) Steve: Show me where the cocksucker’s at. I won’t fall short of force! Cy: (stepping up) Who convened the meetin’, boys?
Steve: New county commissioner give Merrick a statement mitigating us into an ass fucking. Cy: Ouch. (Smarmily, with a smirk on his face.) --(Up in Al’s room, Jewel is telling her tale of heroism, Dan looking on…) Jewel: And then I yelled, “Break the fucking door down, Dan!” (Al sighs, bemused, there’s a knock at the door, Johnny strides in.) Johnny: Doc said only what would jolly you, Al, but I do believe Mr. Merrick might be in the fucking soup. Dan: You have got one yawnin’ fucking chasm of a mouth on you! Johnny: Fucking county commissioner made Mr. Merrick post notice—titles of claims to be decided case by case. Al: The county commissioner’s in the camp? Johnny: Yeah, and that hooplehead Steve is about to punch Merrick for posting the notice, and I know that you got a liking for Merrick. Al: I want you to stop thinking now, Johnny, and only answer the question I’m gonna ask you. Johnny: Yes, Sir. Al: Where’s the commissioner now? Johnny: The commissioner or Mr. Merrick? Al: The commissioner, Johnny, where’s the commissioner? Johnny: He’s at Bella Union. He-he moved over there. Al: Jesus-fucking-Christ! (Dan gives Johnny a thumbs up, mockingly) Al: (Sitting up) Get Bullock. Dan: Bullock? Al: Bullock! Get Bullock. Dan: Yes, Sir. (Dan gets up and leaves, Johnny nodding.) Johnny: May call the Sheriff in, huh? Fisticuffs between Merrick and Steve! Al: Shut the fuck up, Johnny. Help me get situated. --(Cy looks at the statement…) Cy: It reads to me they’re inclining toward the present titleholders. Steve: But then they start to fucking mitigate! Cy: (Looks to Merrick, then back to the statement) Yeah, they do get to mitigatin’ this last part here. I guess my question is who of us here didn’t know what gov’ment was before we came? Wasn’t half our purpose coming to get shed of the cocksucker? And here it catches up to us again, to do what’s in its nature—to lie to us—(Dan walks by – watching) and confuse us and steal what we come to by toil and being lucky just once in our fucking lives. Heh-and are we gonna be surprised by that, boys, government bein’ government? (Dan approaches Seth & Sol.) Will we next be shocked by rivers runnin’ or trees castin’ fuckin’ shade? Look, I have said before and I still fucking say those of a mind, make a price on your claims. Get out from under uncertainty. And that’s from no fuckin’ goodness on my part and no fuckin’ charity either. I am past pickin’ up again.
(Dan & Seth head to the Gem, E.B. watches from the hotel porch.) This spot might be wrong, but here’s where I’m makin’ my stand! And I’ll also say, for bein’ a fuckin’ commissioner, this – Jarry - don’t seem such a bad sort, under the limits of what he is. (Puffs his cigar) Steve: Wait a minute. (Cy looks at Steve) Does that mean you’ve been fuckin’ talking to him? Cy: When in fuck did I say I wasn’t? Steve: I am asking you where the fuck he is, and if he’s at your fucking joint! Cy: And I am tellin’ you yes, and makin’ no fuckin’ apologies, and sayin’ one more question in that tone will collect you a broken jaw. (He nods to Leon, Leon heads for the Bella Union, the hoopleheads all watch him…) Steve: I don’t need another fucking question, ‘cause I’ve located the fact that I was seeking, which is the whereabouts of the fucking commissioner, and whoever wants can come with me! (He leads the hoopleheads to the Bella Union.) Merrick: Dangerous turn, Mr. Tolliver. Cy: Yes. Temper loosened my tongue. --(Al, sitting in bed, Seth is standing at the entry to the bedroom…) Al: (Chuckles) You got gall—comin’ before me prettier ‘an ever. Seth: Are you all right? Al: On the fucking mend, that’s all to say on that. What do you know of this new commissioner? Seth: His notice on the claims has people pissed off. Al: I wouldn’t want the cocksucker harmed. Seth: I don’t intend him any. Al: Don’t be fucking clever with me. He’s allied with Tolliver. Are you aware of that? Seth: No. Al: Bedridden, I know more ‘an you. The point is, if their man’s allied with Tolliver and fuckin’ harm comes to him, between the hoopleheads and me, who will Yankton put it on? Seth: You. Al: Yeah. Do they understand how most of what happens is people being drunk and stupid and trying to find something else to blame besides that-that makes their lives totally fucked? No, they don’t. Seth: Yankton. Al: Yankton, exactly. They’re too busy stealin’ to study human nature. (Puts his tea cup down, Johnny enters.) Johnny: Did you ring, Al? Al: (Grabs the bell and starts clanging it) Now that’s the sound of that fuckin’ bell being rung. Did you hear that sound? Johnny: No. Al: No. Then get the fuck out. (Johnny leaves) And both of you being government officials…you ought to fuckin’ look out for each other…(lifts his teacup in a mock toast.) Sheriff.
(Al sips his tea, Seth contemplates a moment, turns, and leaves.) --(Jarry is pacing behind the cashiers cage at the Bella Union, on the other side, Steve is pacing, following him.) Hugo: Had you vision as well as sight, you would recognize within me not only a man, but an institution and the future as well. Steve: Fuck you, fuck the institution, and fuck the future! Hugo: You cannot fuck the future, Sir. The future fucks you. Steve: Come out from that cage, you billiard-ball looking cocksucker. Hugo: I do not take orders from hooligans. Steve: Come out! We’ll see if them cappers choose you to look at or Tolliver’s fucking money! Con: (To Leon) It’s a chancy call. Hugo: Should you impede my progress, Sir, were I to attempt to leave this cage, you would seal your fate as irrevocably as the tyrant crossing the rubicon! Steve: Is he asking to suck my prick? Hooplehead: Why don’t you just explain (Cy gives “the office”) your fuckin’ statement, commissioner, (Con gives “the office”) as far as us keepin’ title to our claims!? (Two armed henchmen nod at Con, they’re ready!) Hugo: I explain nothing under duress. Steve: Have you ever lived a day in your fucking life? (Grabs the cage) Pitch, commissioner, burning off the top of your fucking head! (Hugo grabs the cage) Is that vision or sight? (Hugo screams as the hooples grab the cage and begin to rock it back and forth.) Cunt, or duress? (The cage comes down.) Son of a bitch! Seth: (entering) What the fuck, Tolliver? Cy: The mob is an ungodly creature, Sheriff. (Seth draws his gun.) Steve: Come on! (Cy give “the office” as the mob drags Jarry to his feet. Seth fires a shot into the ceiling.) Seth: Stand away or be shot! He’s under protection of the law. (Fires again) Cy: You’ve got their fuckin’ attention. (Cy hold his hand in a “woah” way to Wolcott – you know, no worries dude, Hakuna Matata Wolcott.) --(Fields and Jane are still drinking merrily on the bench outside the freight office.) Fields: Fuck ‘em anyway. Jane: Don’t get me started. Do not get me started, Little Nigger General. Fields: If something got to go in front of “nigger”—and – don’t it always?—I prefer “short” to “little.” Jane: (nods) “Short nigger” is a deal, and I am a girl who keeps a bargain. Or I could just call you plain “Nigger General.” Fields: (nods) Call me “Just Plain Nigger.” Jane: “Short Plains Nigger.”
Fields: “Nigger of the High Desert.” (Chuckles) (Fields sees Steve and the hoopleheaded mob marching down the thoroughfare. The smile falls from his face. He gets up, Jane squints to see what he’s looking at. She sees Seth leading Jarry down the thoroughfare.) Fields: Thanks for the conversatin’, Miss Jane, and the whiskey. (Fields sneaks away) Jane: I am going blind as a fuckin’ bat. Who is that, the fuckin’ Sheriff? Flanked by some assholes? (She turns, sees that Fields is no longer there.) Hugo: (to Seth) I feel no less manhandled by you, Sir. Seth: If they still had you, by now you’d be feeling worse. (Steve stops the hoopleheads behind him, watching Seth escort the Commissioner away.) Seth: (To Jane) I need the lock-up. Jane: Wait’ll I take out Bill’s robe. (She sets down the bottle and looks at them menacingly, heads upstairs. Seth tips his hat to the armed man from Tollivers, a black haired version of Wild Bill. He tips his hat back at Seth and keeps an eye on the mob. Steve sees Fields scurry into the livery. Hugo and Seth follow Jane up the stairs of the freight office.) Hugo: And now to jail, as wretched indignity accumulates. Seth: A beating short of murder might have done you considerable good. --(Back at the Bella Union, Cy and Wolcott talk as Con & Leon direct others into righting the cage.) Wolcott: The commissioner meets his constituents. Cy: A man has to work some dogs to learn how the world’s tail wags. Wolcott: Not coming to his aid, you mean to build his character. Cy: We all ain’t sound like you, Sir. Many could use some construction work. Fellas like yourself, that’s hard to understand. Your foundation’s sunk deep. Framework’s first rate, your mason-work. Nothin unfinished in you, or rotten or damaged. Or sick. (Cy gives the thumbs up to Leon & Con, the cage is back up. He turns back to Wolcott and gives him a smarmy smile. He heads upstairs.) --(In Hostetler’s livery, he’s pitching hay.) Hostetler: Five long years talking to nobody. “Hostetler, you got enough problem of your own. You don’t need other bodies, especially a fool! (He pounds the hay with the pitchfork) A fool! Hostetler, a fool!” (panting) I hope you fuckin’ strangle under there.
Fields: Mark us even on that $100. (He pokes an arm up through his hiding place in the hay, giving Hostetler a thumbs up.) Hostetler: If you don’t get your fuckin’ thumb down, I’m ‘onna run this pitchfork through it. (Fields lowers his arm back into the hay quickly.) --(Steve and the hoopleheaded mob are gathered in a corner of the thoroughfare.) Steve: We drag the nigger from the livery to our pitch pot in chink’s alley. And we make a good fucking racket so that Bullock hears. He comes out, he gives fucking pursuit. Once he’s across the thoroughfare, the several of us come from under the fucking stairs and go up and grab the commissioner. Hooplehead: Well, suppose Bullock comes out shootin’? Steve: (Ponders this a moment.) Or we just grab the nigger. --(Up in Alma’s room, she’s seated on the bed, Doc is sitting across from her…) Doc: Your pelvic girdle does show the effects of your childhood illness. Your labor may be difficult. Alma: When you say “difficult”…. Doc: I have counseled patients on the basis of their anatomy against taking pregnancies to term. I do not make that argument with you. Alma: Do you distinguish between difficult and dangerous? Doc: Yes. Your shape does not add danger to the delivery such as to justify, for instance, the risks of a caesarian procedure. Alma: It adds pain, difficult in that sense? Doc: (nodding) Especially since you might be reluctant to mollify the difficulty’s effects with – opiates. (She nods, Doc moves to his case, packing it up.) Alma: I’ve been told it wasn’t an alternative for me even to contemplate, so—this is new information. Doc: I see. And now that the-the choice is within your province, do you incline in one direction or another? Alma: (Pausing) To be honest, Doctor, I’m living into the thought that I’ve any choice at all. --(Hostetler is writing on his chalkboard…) Hostetler: You know what I’m fucking writing, fucking Nigger General. To my ingrate fucking sister Etta, who will outlast me, I am writing my fucking will. “One…” (Footsteps approach, he stops.) Steve: What else did they teach you, Hostetler—at that school where you learned how to write? (Hostetler stands up, setting his jaw.) What else?! Hostetler: (Hangs his head) He’s back up in the stall up under the hay. Steve: They taught you good. (Pats Hostetler’s shoulder) Come on, you gutless cunts! (In the thoroughfare, Charlie, armed, is approaching the scene in his wagon. The mob is yelling now.)
Man: Grab that nigger! Man2: Come on, Nigger. Steve: Come on, Boy! EB: (Having seen what was happening from the Gem balcony, runs inside, followed closely by Dan) They grabbed up a nigger. Al: When did a fucking nigger come into this? Dan: Hooples got him from the livery. Al: What about Bullock and the commissioner? Dan: Reckon they’re still upstairs. Al: You’ve told me nothing. You’ve added a fucking irrelevancy. Dan: It wasn’t Hostetler. It—it was some little nigger. (Al growls quietly) --(At the lock-up, Seth slides the latch shut on the cell door, he puts a lock on it.) Hugo: I’ll give you $20 if you’ll let me use that as my bedroll. Jane: (Rolling up Bill’s robe) You got a better chance waking up looking normal. (Charlie enters) Hi, Charlie. Charlie: Is the Nigger General back to camp? Jane: Yes, he is. Charlie: Don’t act like you know, Jane, just ‘cause you’re already drunk. Jane: You are an ignorant cocksucker. Charlie: He come over winter when you was gone. Jane: That’s ignorant. I met him today. Seth: Why did you ask about him, Charlie? Charlie: It looked like he was gonna get done for. I mean, I couldn’t see to be sure. (Seth puts down the keys and he and Charlie leave. Hugo looks at Jane.) Hugo: I’m thirsty. Jane: (Turns her head to Hugo, sneering) Lie on your back, take aim and piss. --(Outside, Steve is ripping off Fields’ clothes.) Fields: How did I wrong you choice gentlemen? Steve: You want to start with me getting’ drafted so my cousin got the fucking confectionery? (Steve tears off Fields’ pants to his ankles, dropping Fields to the ground.) Fields: And that’s why you’re going to vulcanize me? Steve: Shut your fucking mouth! (The pitch is set down nearby. Men are holding Fields down.) Fields: Your cousin, trapped east, allows you to come here to strike it rich. Ain’t that so? Sir? Steve: Get him the fuck up! (Fields struggles) Get him the fuck up! (Picking up the pitch spatula) You stole my look at riches, you and your fucking monkey cousins! (Seth approaches as Steve puts the pitch to Fields’ shoulder. Fields screams.) Fields: You motherfucker!
Seth: (Seth fires his gun into the air, Steve turns to him.) Disperse this riotous assembly! Charlie: (Aiming his gun) Let go of Nigger General. Steve: That monkey just motherfucked me! Seth: I’ll motherfuck you and blow your head off. (Steve throws the pitch spatula to the ground. He looks around.) --(Alma approaches the hardware store, Richardson watches her, holding up the antlers like some prairie version of the Romper Room lady “And I see Alma, and hooplehead, and the hardware store, and…”) Trixie:(Shouting) Cunt! Sol: May I please go over those columns with you? Trixie:What is the fucking point of you going over the columns? You know the method of this shit already, took in probably at your mother’s fucking tit! Sol: God help me for enjoying you out there, even only to abuse me. Although, I also wouldn’t mind getting fucked. Trixie:A last try at twinnin’ these columns, then you’ll have your fuckin’ wish. Sol: The correct answer in each instance is $127.49. Trixie:(chuckles) You fuck. (Sol smiles, Alma approaches the door and knocks on the glass. Trixie gets up to open the door, grabbing the keys along the way. She opens the door for Alma.) Alma: Good evening, Trixie. Trixie:I was coming to you once I’d done these columns and fucked a friend. (Alma motions “no biggie” with her hand, Trixie looks at her, they both pause) Anyone else look in on you today? Alma: (Smiling) I did have another visitor, yes. Trixie:I’m gonna light a fucking cigarette in here. (louder) Fuck anyone who doesn’t like it! Alma: Please, do smoke. Trixie:Thank you so much. (She starts rolling a cigarette) So how’d the other visitor’s visit go? Alma: I am, as we thought. Trixie:And? (Licks the paper) Alma: And he expects an uneventful course, though not without difficulties. Trixie:I love how they fucking put it. Alma: Well, that’s my formulation. Trixie:(lights the cigarette) Does “formulation” mean “plan”? Alma: (pauses) My plan…at the moment, is to watch, and wait. (She smokes, Alma pauses.) Trixie:“I couldn’t help noticing, Trixie, you’re occupied now at the hardware store.” (Alma cocks her head at Trixie, interested) Yes, Alma, I am. I’m spending time at Bullock & Star’s learning to do accounts. Alma: (smiling) I’m so delighted.
Trixie:Though, I’m also fucking one of the owners. Alma: (laughs) Well. I’m delighted by that as well. (Alma smiles at Trixie, Trixie nods) Alma: Trixie, can I have a puff of your cigarette? (Tentatively reaching for it.) Trixie:You ever smoked before? (Offers Alma the cigarette.) Alma: No. (Takes the cigarette) Hm…(She puffs delicately, smiles, coughs.) Thank you. Trixie:(smiling) Sure. Alma: (looks away, turns back to Trixie) Good night. (She turns to leave, Trixie grabs the key to lock up, she grabs Alma’s arm…) Trixie: Congratulations. (Alma, surprised it seems, nods, leaves and shuts the door. Trixie puts her cigarette out. We next see Sol lying in bed, he hears Trixie approaching.) Sol: Hello, there. Trixie:$127.49, both columns-separate-verified. Sol: Lying with aplomb, you’ve got the true calling. Trixie:What you heard otherwise is none of your business. Sol: I didn’t hear anything else. (Trixie leans over and kisses Sol) Trixie:(whispering) Let me work on your column now. --(Wolcott and Carrie are sitting on the bed at the Chez Amie. Carrie’s back is to Wolcott, he’s reading from Bill’s letter.) Wolcott: “My own darling wife Agnes…I have but a few moments left before this letter starts. I never was as well in my life. But you’d laugh to see me now, as I just got in from prospecting.” He’s lying. I’m told he never prospected a moment of his time in the camp. Carrie: We must report him so he’ll be punished. Wolcott: “I am almost sure I will do well here. We will have a home yet. Then we will be so happy.” He spells like a child. “Sure” is spelled S-H-U-R-E. Carrie: Is it a very long letter? Wolcott: No, as you’re about to discover. “Here the man is, hurrying me. I have but a few moments left before the mail must start. Goodbye, my dear wife.” Carrie: Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Wolcott: “J.B. Hickok, Wild Bill.” Carrie: Goodbye, Wild Bill. Wolcott: There’s a postscript. Carrie: Is it a very long, postscript? Wolcott: “Agnes, darling, if such should be we never meet again, while firing my last shot I will gently breathe the name of my wife Agnes, and with wishes even for my enemies, I will make the plunge and try to swim to the other shore.” (He puts the letter back in the envelope, looking contemplative. Carrie looks close to tears.) Carrie: Are you a man who needs his trousers rubbed? Wolcott: I am a man…who needs his trousers taken off. Carrie: (Pauses) I can do that. (She turns and looks at him.)
--(Doc is examining Al’s eye.) Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al:
Al:
Seems to me there’s reabsorption of the hemorrhage. What the fuck good is less blood in my eye. I want use of my fucking limbs. I understand. I have spent my last day abed hearing secondhand news from imbeciles. It strike you as overweening, Al, settin’ nature to a schedule? I’m not setting’ terms for nature. I’m settin’ them for myself. Who has dominion over nature? Al Swearengen, owner and proprietor. As to when he takes his leave, you’re a-one fucking right. (He takes a swig of whiskey, there’s a knock at the door, Johnny comes in and tries to mouth “Bullock”) Well I don’t understand.
(Johnny points to his chest, then holds his hands over his pockets to undicate a badge and guns. He mouths again – “Bullock” – Al sighs.) Doc: Bullock? (Johnny nods.) Al: Why the fuck do you whisper? (Puts whiskey bottle down.) Bullock! Johnny: I could have said you was asleep. (Johnny leaves as Bullock enters.) Seth: Doc. Doc: Sheriff. (Gets up, walking in between the two, he puts his fingers up) Pithy and civil. (The Doc leaves.) Seth: The commissioner’s all right. Al: (Pauses mid-swig, offers the bottle to Seth. Seth steps forward to take it.) You wipe the rim of that bottle, I’ll knock you out from my present vantage. (Seth takes the bottle, smiling, sits, lifts the bottle in a toast – drinks.) They’re comin’ against us. Seth: (nods) Posting notice like that, not award even one commissioner of the three to local citizenry. (Hands the bottle back.) Al: I’ll guarantee you this too…(drinks) Politicians ain’t got balls for this type unsupported move. (sighs) Someone’s backing their play. Or they’d be here bending over for us. Seth: Is it Tolliver? Al: Tolliver is us. They ain’t gonna pick Tolliver over me this early in the game. (Offers the bottle back) Seth: I see. (Swigs) Al: There’s a nigger in the fucking woodpile somewhere, someone from outside the camp. Seth: Anyways. (Starts to get up.) Al: That nigger the hooples grabbed, did they kill him? Seth: Tarred his shoulder. Al: What stopped them at that? Seth: (Pauses – taking a deep breath) Me. (Gets up.) Al: I get back on my fucking feet, I’ll carry my share of the water.
Seth: (pauses-looks at Al) My money’s on you. --(Up in the lock-up, Jane is tending to Fields’ shoulder.) Jane: Here comes some pain for you. (She pulls a strip of tar off his shoulder. He groans.) You ever think of screaming instead of biting through your own fucking flesh? Fields: (He sighs, breathing heavily) It’s my fucking pain. (panting) Jane: And I am suggesting an improved way of dealing with it, which is how progress occurs. Hugo: (Sitting up in bed) Will you two be quiet? Jane: Not only will we not be quiet, you frog-faced fuck…(standing up, grabbing a club) I’m gonna take this stick and drag it back and forth across the bars of your cell. (She does, Hugo stands – yelling) Hugo: I am not a prisoner! I am in protective custody! Jane: In care of a deputy deputized by the deputy Sheriff, who orders you to shut the fuck up! (She pounds the cell with the club, Jarry sits, she tosses the club to the side as she turns back toward Fields. He’s breathing easier now.) Fields: You know Hostetler? Jane: He runs the livery? Fields: Taller than me. Jane: I know him. (She goes back to tending his shoulder.) Fields: I’d be glad if he heard I’da done just what he did, only quicker. Jane: I guess he’ll understand that if I don’t. Fields: He’ll understand. I’d tell him myself except—I’m keeping indoors tonight. (panting) Jane: Here comes some more pain. (She tears another strip of tar off his shoulder. He groans in pain. We see Hostetler, holding his head, rocking back and forth. Ridden with the guilt of turning his fool friend over to the hoopleheaded mob.)
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Brad Dourif .... Doc Cochran John Hawkes .... Sol Star Paula Malcomson .... Trixie William Sanderson .... Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver / Tolliver Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns .... A.W. Merrick Jeffrey Jones Geri Jewell .... Jewel Bree Seanna Wall .... Sofia Titus Welliver .... Silas Adams Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs Maddie Alice Krige Miss Isringhausen Sarah Paulson Con Stapleton Peter Jason Hugo Jarry Stephen Toblowsky Carrie Izabella Miko Tessie Parisse Boothe Pete Richardson Ralf Richeson Hostetler Richard Gant Steve Michael Harney Hooplehead Cade Carradine Erica Swanson Cast
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 18: “Something Very Expensive” Directed by: Steve Shill Written by: Steve Shill
Episode 18: “Something Very Expensive” (In Al’s office, Al is sitting on the edge of the bed, his right foot propped up on a chair, Doc is examining him…) Doc: Al: Doc:
You, Al, are an object lesson in the healing powers of obstinacy and a hostile disposition. My leg and arm are waxy. How they feel to you is not the relevant measure. I judge objectively the way they respond to stimuli, and they are much fucking improved. In the overall, Sir, I call you a miracle. (Al arches an eyebrow at Doc.)
--(Al rings the bell, still in his office. Downstairs, Dan and Johnny are busy at the bar, they look up at the sound of the bell. The door to his office opens and Doc steps out…) Doc: Ready to meet the world. (Johnny smiles like a little boy at Christmas.) --(Outside the Bella Union, Cy and Wolcott are puffing on cigars…) Cy: How much longer you suppose I’ll be buying claims, Mr. Wolcott? Wolcott: We’re close to the end. Cy: Otherwise, I’ll need to start dancin’ out here in long johns or bayin’ at the moon—give people some idea of why I’m going against logic. Wolcott: This phase is nearly over, even as another begins. (He gestures toward a wagon arriving with a large tarp covering it’s contents.) --(In Alma’s room at the Grand Central, she is seated next to Ellsworth, sipping tea, across from Sol Star…) Alma: I propose formation of a bank, Mr. Star, with yourself as Chief Officer, my holdings in the camp standing surety, and Mr. Ellsworth as overseer of my interests. Sol: I see. Alma: (looks at Ellsworth) Not quite a rousing endorsement. Sol: It’s just what’s needed, Mrs. Garret. I don’t know that I should be part of it. Alma: Why, Mr. Star? Sol: Other obligations. Alma: Oughtn’t you, or anyone urging such connections as disqualifying you, think of the good of the camp? We all have…(cup clinking as she shakes, setting it down) complicating obligations. (She gags, suppressing the immediate urge to puke, but not for long. She stands, the men follow suit, she makes her way over to a basin on the dresser and proceeds to empty the contents of her stomach ever so delicately into it. Ellsworth and Sol look at each other – stricken with what they’ve just witnessed.)
--(The covered wagon has stopped in the Chinese Quadrant, Mr. Wu grabs a knife, looks over at Mr. Lee and his henchman that drove the wagon, disgusted, he starts cutting away the tarp covering the contents of the wagon…) Wu:
Daio! (Women – Chinese slaves – reach out desperately through the cages they are being held in, squinting at the sunlight.) Cy: Might those be my new employees? (Mr. Wu looks at Mr. Lee, disgusted.) Wolcott: There’s a combat in prospect between those two, (Mr. Wu looks back again, distressed and disgusted.) As equal as the Sioux with the whites. (Mr. Wu glares at Mr. Lee, turns and strides away. Mr. Lee and his bald henchman approach the wagon as Doc passes by – looking at the women reaching, gasping, and straining inside the cage. He looks over at Cy with a questioning “What the fuck?”-face. Cy looks back, smarmily.) --(Up in Al’s office, He’s preparing to meet the public. Straightening his suit, he looks up to Dan and Johnny. Dan paces around the desk next to Johnny, looking critically at Al.) Al: All right? Dan: Well, you—left upright, about half a cunt hair. Al: Well, bring me fucking straight then. Johnny: I got him, Dan. (Johnny walks behind Al, thumbs to his left…) Hmm? (Dan nods, Johnny shifts Al to the left.) Dan: Whoa. (Throws up a hand.) Right, there you go. Straight as a string. Al: Stand back then, Johnny. Any drool, first fucking fleck, you give me this. (Tugs ear.) Johnny: (Shaking his head) Uh, you never showed no fucking spittle, Al. Al: Do as I fucking say. Johnny: Yes, Sir. (tugs ear.) --(Dan opens the door, E.B. and Trixie stand, Tom Nuttall, Alice Isringhausen and Silas Adams all are waiting between them.) Trixie:I’m going in. EB: Then why am I in first chair? Trixie:Anyone else suck his prick? (E.B. says nothing – dumbstruck. Mr. Wu, the last in line, snaps his head back to his magazine, snickering. Trixie goes in, Johnny & Dan guard the door.) --(Hugo Jarry is carrying his bags down the stairs of the Bella Union, he looks angrily at Cy, who is calmly sipping a cup of tea.) Hugo: You washed your hands of me, Mr. Tolliver, when I was beset amid that rabble, no less contemptibly than Pontius Pilate.
Cy: Sometimes the shadow’s cast by the sheltering hand. Hugo: (Sets his bags down, mouth agape.) Meaning the rabble was under your control? Cy: No, Sir. Wouldn’t have ‘em. I am attuned, though, to the workings of what passes for their minds. This morning we see the result—more claims offered for sale and prices pressed downward. You suppose the owners fear you might visit your ire on their titles? Hugo: I want to get out of here. Cy: I understand. (He looks over at Tessie and another whore, lounging…) Will you have a quick wind of your timepiece before you go? Hugo: No. No, Sir. I will not. I feel the earth washing away from beneath me. I want to go away. (Wolcott looks on.) Cy: We’ll fucking miss ya. Hugo: (Walks past Cy, addressing Mr. Wolcott) And you, Mr. Wolcott, I find you the most severe disappointment of all. Wolcott: (Not looking up from his paperwork) Often to myself as well. (Hugo leaves.) What impressions do we expect he’ll take to Yankton? Cy: That your money spends, and I’m a dangerous man with whom to disagree. You put us together, don’t that make us the very image of Mr. Hearst as he’d want Yankton to thinka him? --(Up in Al’s office, it’s Trixie’s turn with Al…) Al: How’s the Jew-fucking going? Trixie:(smoking) It’s alright. Al: What does it add to my understanding? Trixie:He’s meetin’ with the widow this morning—spoke to the other of formin’ a bank, and of her in that connection. Al: Who’s the fucking “other”? Trixie:Fucking Bullock. Al: My sensibilities do not need coddlin’ either. Trixie:(shaking head) It’s no concern for you. (Ashes her cigarette) I don’t like naming the cocksucker. Anyways, that may be it’s purpose, his sittin’ down with the widow. Al: The Jew? (Trixie nods) I hope you’re getting paid for the pussy. Don’t put a price to it, you’ll lose their respect. Trixie:He’s teachin’ me accounts. Al: That’s all right then. Learnin’ is like currency to them. Trixie:(Widens her eyes) He stares in my eyes when he fucks me, longing-like. Al: Jesus Christ. Trixie:(Studies Al) You don’t look so bad. Al: Yeah, next thing to up and about. --(In the thoroughfare, a stage has arrived. A woman makes to get out – taking Hugo’s hand. He uses it to pull himself inside, impatient bastard. Merrick hustles out…)
Merrick: Uh, Ma’am, may I? (Extending a hand, she takes it – getting out) A.W. Merrick, Ma’am, of “The Black Hills Pioneer,” making bold to introduce himself. Mary: I am Mary Stokes, Mr. Merrick. Merrick: (Excitedly – fairly jumping up and down.) I thought so! I—uh, I hoped so. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Ma’am. (Hugo holds her hand bag out the coach window) And-and for the camp’s children, whom you will edify. (Hugo shakes the bag at Merrick – Merrick takes it.) Uh…is this yours? Mary: Yes. Merrick: And your bags, your bags. Let’s see, are they up here? --(Trixie leaves Al’s office, E.B. & Tom Nuttall looking up. She smiles at Johnny, strolls over to E.B., pantomiming a blow job with her hand. She leans over in front of E.B…) Trixie:Liar. (Silas and Mr. Wu watch her walk past, E.B. still speechless to her. He gets up and enters the office. Downstairs, Ellsworth is looking around as Trixie walks down the stairs.) Ellsworth: Miss Trixie. Trixie:What is this now? Ellsworth: Nothing nefarious. I was looking for you. My nerves have had a shock. Trixie: How so? Ellsworth: Miz Garret took poorly. Trixie: At the meetin’ with Mr. Star? Ellsworth: (nods) Blech. (Pretends to puke) Trixie:Hmm…(Whispering) Come here. (She pulls on his lapel, turning him around, leading him to a back room. A whore is passed out on the couch, Trixie pries a whiskey bottle from the whore’s clutches. She wipes it off and takes a drink.) Ellsworth: I’ll add that…she hasn’t looked well the last few weeks, especially in the morning. Pale. Trixie:What are you fucking hintin’ at? (Hands him the bottle) Ellsworth: Nothin’. Trixie: Nothin’? She ain’t looked well mornin’s opposed to the rest of the day, pale? (They sit) Ellsworth: How does sharing observations make me liable to rebuke? Trixie:You got her knocked up, in other words. Ellsworth: Me?! I ain’t got her in any way at all, Trixie. Trixie: In your opinion, I’m saying – she’s in the way. Ellsworth: I work for the woman in her fucking employ. (Takes a drink) Trixie:I understand that. Ellsworth: And that is the sole fucking full extent of it. Trixie:Would you do the right thing?
Ellsworth: I was not involved. Trixie: We’re fuckin’ past that. I know you wasn’t fuckin’ involved. Ellsworth: Who was involved too, (drinks) far as that fuckin’ goes? Trixie: Would you? Ellsworth: Would I fuckin’ what? Trixie: Do the right fuckin’ thing in that fuckin’ situation? Ellsworth: What’s the situation? Explain it. Trixie: If she wanted the child—how a woman wants one that ain’t certain she’s made to bear many, willin’ even to bear it outta wedlock but for the hurt she’d do another and the humiliation she’d do, and to that other woman’s little boy. Would you do it then? Ellsworth: (realizations sinking in) Do? Trixie: The right fuckin’ thing. Don’t get fuckin’ coy with me. Ellsworth: Marry her, you’re sayin’? (Trixie nods) And the child in the eyes of others—the issue of my loins. Trixie: As much as they care to see. This is only a passin’ glance. So the come’s true author ain’t thrown in their fuckin’ face. Or the true author’s wife’s face, or the face of that little fuckin’ boy. Well? Ellsworth: (pausing, conflicted) Would—would she fuckin’ have me? Trixie: I’d work on that next. --(Merrick is helping Mary Stokes with her luggage, unloading it from the stage.) Mary: Books. Merrick: Ah, wonderful. Mary: I parted with several boxes in Bismarck. Merrick: (struggling with the box) I’m sure to Bismarck’s betterment. Mary: Mostly for the sake of the children. Merrick: The other few, might I suspect for the sake of certain childhood memories of your own? Mary: You may, and be in the right. Merrick: Uh, when-when you’re situated, Miss Stokes, (stammering) may I take you on a tour of the camp? Mary: I would be grateful. Merrick: No more than I, Miss Stokes, I assure you. --(It’s E.B.’s turn in Al’s office now…) EB:
Al: EB: Al: EB:
Oh, a man’s come to camp, Wolcott. Agent for the Hearst’s interest. (He gets up, puts on his hat – he’s nervous) I believe he’s made calls with Tolliver and Yankton. That’s why Yankton’s suddenly got balls. I made him think I was trying to gull him, (sits) and that he had turned the tables on me. How much did he buy you for? I kept Dan apprised while you convalesced, in abbreviated fashion.
Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
How much. Oh, $10,000. (He stands back up, biting his nail, pacing, not able to look Al in the eye.) Enlisting me, so he thought, to spread rumors about rescission of the claims. Tolliver’s the front, hmm? (nods) Buying from the panicked sellers, engaged by this Wolcott. This agent for George Hearst? That’s it in a nutshell. (He sits, chuckles, looks at Al – who is staring thoughtfully at him. E.B – uncomfortable – stands back up) I meant you no disloyalty, Al. You looked out for yourself against the chance I’d die. I never wished for that outcome. But I am a born follower. In any case, here we are, if tactically disadvantaged, exactly as before in strength. (Makes a “huzzah” with is arms, moves to leave, Al rings the bell, E.B. turns back to Al, shutting the door, nervous. Al waves him off.) Oh, sure. Thank you, Sir.
--(At the hardware store, Seth looks out the door and smiles, walking to the desk. Sol enters.) Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
Morning. Morning, Sol. (Hangs up his hat, removes his coat) Thanks for opening. You were out. (Pauses – turns) Yes. Yes, I paid a call and then I’ve been walking. (Pauses – apprehensive) The call was on Mrs. Garret. We agreed – that wasn’t gonna happen. Our agreement was to not solicit her investment in a bank. The call I paid was at her invitation. (Angry – walks out from behind the desk, approaching Sol) I don’t give a fuck who invited who, Sol. That’s your position. Was the bank the subject of the meeting? (A customer walks in) Get out! (The customer stops, turns, leaving) (To the customer ) Uh, excuse us a little while, please. (Turns back to Seth) She invited me, Seth. To talk of forming a bank, came here and invited you? Sent Ellsworth that works for her. You told me none of it. Suspecting maybe you mightn’t act rational. (Smirking) But I bet you told the whore. We’re done talking about this for now. (Turning) No! (Following Sol) Yes, Seth. We’re done talking about this. If you keep it up, we’re going to fight, and you’ll have to work by yourself while I convalesce.
(Seth nods, grabs his hat, leaves.) --(It’s Alice Isringhausen and Silas Adams’ turn with Al.)
Alice: Until late, Mr. Swearengen, I was employed by Alma Garret, as tutor to her orphan ward. Silas: Sacked two days ago. Al: Let her tell it. Alice: In the course of my employment, I frequently saw Mrs. Garret under the influence of opiates. In this state, she admitted to me having commissioned the murder of her husband. Al: What a world. Alice: She named you as her instrument. Al: Said I killed him. Alice: She never specified you had actually killed him. Al: Left it vague-like. Alice: Exactly. Al: That I was her instrument? Alice: Yes. Al: So we could pin it on someone else, or I could take the fall—confess, supportin’ your version. Alice: Yes. Al: In writin’ and then subsequently escape. Alice: Such has been known to occur. Al: Leaving the widow lonely at the bar of justice. Alice: Better one than none at all. Al: (Slowly looking at Alice full-on.) Who do you work for? Alice: People of means. Al: The people you work for were hired by people of means. Don’t get cagey, Miss Isringhausen. Alice: Let me suggest, Mr. Swearengen, you do not get distracted from your opportunity. Not who I work for should concern you, but the amount you’ll be paid and the surety of its delivery. Al: Too fucking true. Why I pray fervently it ain’t the Pinkerton’s whose pay you’re in, and that her dead husband’s people hired to steal her gold. I got unrelated reasons to hate those cocksuckers. Alice: $50,000. Al: I’m hard-pressed to think who the fuck else it would be. Alice: $50,000, Mr. Swearengen. Separate from pay to your subordinates. Al: Your pockets, not mine? Alice: Yes. Al: Would it go against his (points to Silas) for the pussy? (points to Alice) Alice: No charge for the pussy. (Silas pauses mid breathe – looking at Alice.) Al: (leaning forward) Mind if I take the day? Alice: Not at all. Al: I’ve got a lot on my plate just now, and I’m feeling less than my full fucking self. Alice: You seem quite formidable to me. In any case, I’ll wait to hear from Silas. Al: Do. (Sitting back) That’d be grand. (Rings the bell.) --(Silas and Alice stride out onto the thoroughfare—he looks pissed.)
Silas: Alice: Silas: Alice: Silas:
I guess if I called you a cunt, I needn’t expect you to faint? No. Gettin’ struck be a first? How have I injured your interests? You think he’s upstairs considering me for promotion? Anyway, (stopping on the porch of the hotel, he gestures upstairs) clear out of my room. Alice: Come up and fuck me, why don’t you? Silas: Simple as that? (She nods) I’d fear a snakebite. Alice: (Sidling up to him) Come up and fuck me, and I’ll answer every one you want to ask. (She turns to go upstairs, Silas looks after her, considering what the fuck is going on with this devious bitch.) --(Steve is at the No. 10 Saloon, doing shots, Bullock walks past, turns and looks inside the No. 10 and sees Steve. He strides inside the saloon.) Nuttall:
Morning, Sheriff.
(Steve looks up at Bullock, inhales deeply and looks back down at his shotglass. Seth leans over him) Seth: You sober enough to listen? (Steve looks up at him, raises his brows, turns and spits) Did you just intend to insult me? Steve: Excuse me, Sheriff. Seth: I know—you face bidness reverses. Steve: Like losing my fuckin’ claim! Seth: People angry at their difficulties often act like fuckin’ idiots, but there’ll be no murderin’ people in this camp of any color, or assaults on officials of any stripe. Steve: Even Yankton thieves who are in league with God knows fucking who? Seth: (Angrily) Officials from Yankton or otherwise, or thieves or not. (Stands upright) If you can’t live with that, get out of this fucking camp. Steve: I can live with it. You have to keep rubbing my fucking nose in it? Seth: (Punches Steve, causing him to tumble out of his chair to the floor) Do not misconduct yourself again in this camp. (He leaves, Steve struggles to get up.) ShitStirrer: Must he take what the Sheriff just fucking give him? Nuttall: Apparently so. ShitStirrer: He needn’t. Not by custom, not by fucking law. Steve: (sits) Name my remedy then. ShitStirrer: Outside every county courthouse in the land is the lady blindfolded. Nuttall: True, far as it goes… ShitStirrer: To ignore how them scales she carries sometimes gets balanced out… Nuttall: There, I take no position. Steve: I could take a leather punch and stab the bastard’s horse in the fucking ass. ShitStirrer: You could, and you’d be in the right. Steve: Carve on its coat, “Bullock, I fucked your horse,” and square the fucking scales.
ShitStirrer: And if the blindfold was down, see the lady a’winking, while she told you-you done it like a man. Steve: And if I carve “Fuck,” I will have fucked the horse beforehand. ShitStirrer: Preachin’ to the choir. Steve: (Gets up, grabs his bottle, heading out) Thanks. ShitStirrer: Sure. (Steve leaves, Nuttall clears the table he was at.) Mingle the shit somewhat. Nuttall: You ought to take up whittling. --(At the Bella Union, Cy is signing papers, Wolcott sitting across from him. Cy blows his signature dry. Wolcott is looking down, busy.) Cy: Ready to receive currency, Captain, in exchange for titles. Wolcott: Yes. (Tosses down a thick billfold, still not looking up.) Cy: And as I’ve learned to sustain discourse while counting, I’m gonna ask you to take counsel with me. Wolcott: In what regard? Cy: Well, first, let’s agree them chink whores make a poor appearance. Wolcott: Yes. Cy: And as far as locales for fucking, them cribs they’re in lack allure. Wolcott: They might attract the intended clientele. Cy: Now that’s an attitude right there I want us to counsel on. Smart-alecky sorta attitude and almost with a quality of…fucking anger to it. I-I-I don’t find exact fucking words for it, but it fucking disturbs and concerns me. Wolcott: By my lights, I feel I manage well. Cy: Well, you can say that, Mr. Wolcott, yet I hear accounts that you’re a dangerous lay, (Wolcott finally looks up at Cy) and that adds to my feeling of disturbed. Are you inclined, Sir, every so often to…ride one off the cliff? Girls, I mean? Wolcott: I am disturbed at my private conduct being spoken of. Cy: Well, I should think you fucking would be. And to think of Mr. Hearst’s disturbance if he was to fucking know. Because…that’s a dangerous habit to indulge when you’re not among friends. Wolcott: Are you my friend, Mr. Tolliver? Cy: (laughs a bit) And as someone past surprise at habits or inclination, or turns of events, and who don’t confuse himself far as sitting in judgment with our Lord in fucking heaven. Wolcott: I see. Cy: And who would never tattle to your employer or jeopardize what’s gotta be a handsome fucking income. Goddamn right, I am your friend, Mr. Wolcott. All I can’t provide for the party is the cliff. Wolcott: Believing yourself past surprise does not commend you to me as a friend. A man inadequately sophisticated, or merely ignorant or simply stupid, may believe himself past surprise, then be surprised to discover, for example, that Mr. Hearst already knows of my inclinations and finds them immaterial. Suggesting, as a corollary, that your skills for blackmail and manipulation no longer are assets to you, and for your fatuous belief in their efficacy, in fact have become
Cy:
liabilities. In short, you’ve overplayed your hand. Now I should think in consequence, now recognizing yourself as a man past his time, that during this last transitional period you would devote yourself with grateful and quiet diligence to such uses as others may still find you suitable. Oh, you bet I’m grateful. A man like yourself, warmed at Mr. Hearst’s bosom, secure in his confidence and trust, taking the time and spending the energy to persuade a relic like me.
(Wolcott gets up, pushes in his chair, takes the claim papers and leaves. Cy, still smarmy, takes the cash and puts it in his pocket.) --(Alice and Silas, have done the dirty, done dirt cheap, are side by side in bed…) Alice: She’d placed adverts for a tutor in Chicago, Boston and New York. The interests that employ me saw. Silas: What was you doing at the time? Alice: Piloting a steamboat. Silas: Was Al right who hired you people to fuck her up? Alice: That’s not something I’m told. Silas: Must be the dead husband’s parents if they want to hang that murder off her neck. Alice: That would make sense. (Stone faced – she pauses) Why does Swearengen hate the Pinkertons? Silas: Beats me, a stalwart organization like ‘at. (pause) Did you help send them miners up the fucking scaffold in Pennsylvania? Alice: I was busy on the Mississip’. (She sounds bummed about it.) (Silas looks sideways at Alice, eyebrows raised.) --(Wolcott is walking the thoroughfare…talking to himself, getting angrier with each statement…) Wolcott: Past hope. Past kindness or consideration. Past justice. Past satisfaction. Past warmth or cold or comfort. Past love. But past surprise? What an endlessly unfolding tedium life would then become. No, Doris…we must not let you be past surprise. (He arrives at the Chez Amie, enters, slamming the door behind him. Maddie is sitting down comfortably in a chair, her hair down.) Maddie: Carrie’s napping. I’ll awaken her. Wolcott: You needn’t. (Crossing the room, revealing Doris sitting at Joanie’s desk.) I would like to see this young lady just now. Maddie: All right. Doris? (Doris, apprehensively gets up from the desk, she looks scared. Wolcott grabs her arm and escorts her into a room.)
--(Merrick and Mary are walking the camp…) Merrick: Ah, teachers one remembers. The thrilling kindness of the extra moment taken, the extra word of encouragement offered. “You, young man”—or woman as the case might have been—“have an interesting turn of mind.” Mary: (chuckling) Yes. And to take that extra moment in turn. (Merrick takes her hand, guiding her through the muck) Merrick: Oh, Miss Stokes, to alter a life’s course with a word—(he gazes upon her) how I revere your…your profession. Mary: Well, thank you, Mr. Merrick. Merrick: No, thank you, Miss Stokes, and all teachers in you. (Pausing –releasing her hand - looking ahead) Um, there before you is the Bullock house. It was recently constructed by Mr. Bullock. (groans) Ah, these streets. (He guides her through the muck.) --(Mr. Wu is now having his turn with Al. Al is looking at a classic stick figure drawing a la Wu, depicting two men and a wagon. Al is tapping one of the stick figures.) Al: I got to meet him, Wu. MrWu: (Through clenched teeth) cocksucka! Al: San Francisco cocksucker, I have got to meet him. MrWu: Swedgin, San Francisco cocksucka meet! Al: San Francisco cocksucker and Swedgin gotta meet. (slowly) I’ve got to meet him, Wu. I’ve gotta see how much juice he’s got. MrWu: “Jews?” (Rubbing fingers together – “money”) Al: Yeah, I’ve got to see how much juice San Francisco cocksucker’s got, hmm? (Mr. Wu stands, goes to window.) MrWu: Jew Gwai? Jew Gwai? (pointing out window – shouting) Jew? Jew? (Pantomimes and absurdly large nose.) Al: No. N-no no, Wu. No no no no Jews. MrWu: Jew? Al: No Jew. Forget Juice - forget juice. MrWu: No Jew? Al: Forget juice, huh? MrWu: No Swedgin, no San Francisco cocksucker. No Jew. Swedgin, Wu. (Crosses fingers – we’re tight bra!) Hang Dai! Al: Wu and Swedgin—Hang Dai. (Crosses fingers) --(Back at the Chez Amie, Joanie enters, Maddie quickly grabs a magazine and starts reading.) Maddie: Joanie: Maddie: Joanie:
Where are the other girls? Mooning over a dress at that store. What is it? (pauses) He’s in a room with Doris – Wolcott. Why is he with Doris?
Maddie: I don’t know. Joanie: Well, why ain’t he with Carrie? Maddie: Carrie’s napping. I can’t imagine what—Carrie might have told Wolcott about Doris to make him wanna fuck her. Joanie: Maybe that she reports to Cy Tolliver? To keep Wolcott from bouncing Doris off more walls? Look up from your fucking magazine, Maddie. (Maddie looks up, Wolcott comes out of the room.) Wolcott: I would like to see Carrie now. (Maddie stands slowly, she looks extremely apprehensive, like she wants to say something…) --(Cy grabs two shot glasses, Con and Leon are with him. He hands the glasses to them…) Cy: Con: Leon: Cy:
Leon: Con: Leon: Cy: Con: Leon: Cy: Con: Cy:
Leon: Con: Leon: Con:
Assist me in a flight of fancy, Gentlemen. (They take the glasses from him. Leon looks confused.) Well, don’t make me think of Leon in a dress, Mr. T. (Cy chuckles.) Or me of him anything but fully clothed. (Turns around) Mr. Merrick appears before you. “Somebody’s fucked with my newspaper office,” He says. “My presses are a mess. My vowel trays are overturned” or the like. How do you respond? “Go fuck yourself.” “We don’t know anything about it.” “If you ain’t here to fuck or be fleeced, get on your merry way.” Good. Now, how about, “Referee’s the only neutral in a prize fight, Merrick, and you ain’t one of those.” (Mulls this over) We could say that. What would we mean? Tch. I don’t know, fellas. I do not fucking know. Well, if you don’t, we don’t have to either. I am saying, far as I’m concerned, your initiative and leadership abilities and stick-fucking-to-itiveness are all in fucking question. And, was I either or both of you, I’d consider this a fucking test. When do you suppose he’ll show up? Once we’ve paid a visit to his place, Leon. Oh! (As in “No shit, Sherlock.”) And aftermath, when Merrick’s path crosses ours, he’ll here of the “neutral” and the “prize fight.” (Con looks to Cy, Cy smiles.) In no uncertain terms. And know the import of that fucking parable. All right then. Got any sledgehammers? (chuckling) Always. (They drink)
Leon: Con: Cy: Leon: Cy: --(Back at the Chez Amie, Joanie and Maddie are sitting, waiting nervously.)
Joanie: Maddie: Joanie: Maddie: Joanie:
I’m going in there. No, you aren’t. He ain’t the type to be with two women. I never took his full history. I’m saying he ain’t!
(Inside the room, Carrie looks stricken. She’s crying silently, scared. Wolcott is behind her.) Wolcott: What are we to do here, Carrie? Carrie: Get rid of her. (We see Doris, dead and bloody on the bed.) They’ll let you. Wolcott: I suppose they will, but that won’t dispose of the problem. Carrie: What’s the problem? Wolcott: I don’t know. I can’t say. I don’t want you to have seen me. Carrie: I don’t care you killed her. She must have done something to you. Wolcott: I mean something different. I don’t want to have been seen. Carrie: (long pause, she’s breathing quickly) Then you’re fucking crazy. (pause) And you’re gonna kill me in this fucking shithole. (Wolcott puts his arm out, resting it on a chair behind her, we see the flash of his razor. And judging by the look of the beard, he doesn’t use it for shaving. Carrie, resigned, gazing at the bloody Doris.) Do you know how to make it not hurt? (He pauses, she takes the opportunity and tries to run. He catches her, putting a hand over her mouth and slitting her throat with the other. He guides her down into a chair with him, gazing at her face – frozen in shock – dead.) Wolcott:
Now, I could cut off my arm.
(He lifts her head gently and takes his arm out from under it. He kisses her forehead. Sitting alone, he fingers his razor. Back in the lobby…) Joanie: I’m going in. (She walks to her desk, Maddie pulls out a gun, stands, pointing it at Joanie.) Maddie: Your gun isn’t there! (gasps) I’ve got it. (Joanie silently walks away from the desk, making her way to the front door, looking back at the closed bedroom door, back to Maddie, a pleading look on her face.) Go on, get out! (Joanie leaves. Maddie – trembling & sobbing, lowers the gun. Joanie is hightailing it to the Bella Union, choking back tears. Charlie spots her and tips his hat to her.) Charlie: Joanie:
Miss Stubbs. Mr. Utter.
(She picks up the pace, running past Charlie, he watches her go, concerned.) ---
(Wolcott comes out of the room. He turns to Maddie, she is now sitting.) Maddie: What did you do, Mr. W? Wolcott: (pauses - dazed) Something—very expensive. Maddie: (Stands, pointing the gun at him.) 100,000. For now. (Advancing) And more when I want it for as many years as I live! For all the years of my life. Do you understand!? (He grabs her hand and the gun and swiftly swipes the razor across her neck. She gasps for air as he guides her – still holding her hand – to the floor. He sits, looking at Maddie as the blood puddles under her.) --(Joanie has arrived at the Bella Union and approaches Cy.) Joanie: There’s trouble at my place, Cy. Cy: (He turns to face her – smarmily of course) Where is Sheriff Bullock when he’s needed? Joanie: Her last report to you, did Doris speak of gettin’ beat on? (He stares) That’s the man making the trouble. Cy: (Sets down his drink) Don’t you fuckin’ follow me. (He leaves) Joanie: (Turns to the bartender, Lila comes up behind her.) How much money you got, Jack? Jack: Don’t put me in the fucking middle, Joanie. Joanie: No, I wouldn’t! Jack: 1400. Joanie: (turns to Lila) Can you run to Mr. Utter? Lila – tell him to ready a wagon. Lila: Sure, Joanie. (She leaves.) Joanie: (Turns back to Jack) Go get your fucking money, Jack! (Jack leaves the bar, Joanie is left all by herself, worried, in tears.) --(Mr. Lee now has his turn with Al. Dan drops a sack of gold on the desk in front of him. Mr. Lee looks at it, then Al with a “don’t waste my fuckin’ time” look.) Al:
Again. (Dan grabs another sack from the safe and sets it next to the other. Lee looks amused.) Open the fucking bag for him, verify it’s fucking gold. (Dan reaches for the sack.) MrLee: I know. I don’t want it. Al: (looks vaguely surprised) Anyways, good meetin’ ya. (Mr. Lee turns and leaves without another word. Dan closes the door behind him and nods to the bedroom door, Al nods. Dan pushes in the door.) Dan: Come on out, Wu. MrWu: (Strides over to Al’s desk) Juice? (Rubs his fingers together – “money” – he gets it! He nods to the door that Lee just left through.)
Al:
If 20 don’t get tempt him to converse, you’re fucking-a-right. Maybe you and me should be working for him. MrWu: Wu (one finger) Swedgin (another finger, he crosses them, aww – BFF!) Al: Alright, Wu, it’s been a long fucking day, huh? Wu: No San Francisco cocksucker. Dan: Come on, Wu. Al’s tired. (Mr. Wu leaves, Al pulls out a shot glass and pours himself some whiskey. Dan puts the gold sacks back in the safe.) Al: Hearst. Dan: What about him? Al: San Francisco. Dan: You think Hearst and the chink’s connected? Al: You think he was born--lookin’ down his nose at 20,000? --(Back at the Chez Amie – not so friendly now is it? – Cy is looking upon the carnage, dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief. What I’m sure is feigning disgust at the sight.) Cy: (gags a bit – breathes deep) The chief fact is, no witnesses are extant. Wolcott: The other madam was here – once when I came out. Uh, Joanie Stubbs. Cy: Before you did this? (Waves the handkerchief, motioning to Maddie’s body) Wolcott: Yes. When I came back out, she was gone. Cy: Was she ever in the bedroom? Wolcott: No. (Cy tucks the handkerchief in his coat pocket, pulls up a chair, sitting backwards in it – facing Wolcott.) Cy:
Don’t worry about the other madam. Go to the hotel. Eat, if you can stand the food. (Wolcott looks at Cy.) This will all be took care of. I told you, Mr. Wolcott, all’s I can’t provide is the cliff. (Wolcott looks down.) Go on now, get outta here.
(Cy looks down at Maddie.) --(At the hardware store, hat in hand, Seth stands in front of Sol.) Seth: I apologize for bringing Trixie into it, and calling her what I did. Sol: That wasn’t new information to me. Seth: (Smiles a bit) After you and me talked, I searched that idiot Steve out to rebuke him and smack him in the face for being who he was. (taps his head) The Sheriff. (Sol nods) Tell me about your meetin’ with Mrs. Garret. Sol: She never once mentioned your name. She wants to form the bank to better the camp. Seth: And asked you to be involved? Sol: To serve as Chief Officer.
Seth: You’d be a good one. (Smiles) Sol: I got the impression that she might be with child. (Seth stares at Sol –in overclench. Kinda like overdrive, but with butt cheeks and jaw muscles involved.) --(It’s night time now, Merrick and Mary walk back along the thoroughfare to his print shop.) Merrick: Lot, before God, could make no case for that food. Mary: Lot’s wife may have been in that food. (Lot’s wife was fed to Wu’s pigs? Huh.) Merrick: Over salted as it was. Mary: Mm-hmm. Merrick: (laughs) I took that to be your meaning. (He opens the door, his face falls into shock as he surveys the damage of his printing shop. His press is shattered, Mary holds a handkerchief to her nose and backs out of the shop.) --(At the livery, Hostetler wakes up to see Steve jerking off on Bullock’s horse. He gets up quietly and grabs a shovel, sneaking up on Steve silently.) Steve: Aw, shit. (grunts) Stay still, God damn it…while I come on your fucking leg. You’re lucky I’m not fucking you. (groaning) Ooh! (He sighs, pats the horses’ haunch, a smile on his face.) You tell the Sheriff how that fucking felt, me coming on your fucking leg…or that I saved you from an ass fucking. Hostetler: What else did you learn at that school that teached you that? (Aw shit! Busted!) --(Cy, striding back to the Bella Union, passes in front of Merrick’s) Merrick: Mr. Tolliver! (Cy stops) My office has been torn apart. Cy: Hard luck. Merrick: My press has been damaged, my vowel tray beyond repair. And the newly arrived school teacher, Miss Stokes, has been badly frightened and has retreated to her hotel. (Gestures across the street, Cy turns and looks.) Cy: Do we blame unsavory elements? Merrick: I regard this incident as postscript to the visit by county Commissioner Jarry. Cy: Interesting. Merrick: Retribution for my refusal to associate my newspaper with Yankton’s notice on title to the claims. Cy: For pinning the notice, you mean, on a wall instead of printing it under your masthead?
Merrick: That is my meaning exactly. Disassociating “The Deadwood Pioneer” (Wait, what? I thought it was “The Black Hills Pioneer”? What’s next? “Black Hills-Cougar-Mellencamp- Pioneer?) from what I took to be the opposite of an effort to inform. Cy: Maybe if you had done your part, calmed the fucking waters a little, instead of treeing the county commissioner, the hooples would have gone and got their loads on and been waiting for your next edition. Merrick: No, we-we differ, Mr. Tolliver, on the function of the press. Cy: Ain’t the lesson for you in this, Merrick, that with fucked up machinery, the press cannot function at all? Merrick: And is that the vandalism’s purpose, Sir? And of the dog defecating in my office, with ruffians dispatched by you as the lesson’s author? Cy: I doubt they had a dog with ‘em. (Cy leaves, Merrick gaping.) --(Back at the livery, Hostetler is sitting across from Steve, trussed up on an anvil.) Fields: (entering) Hostetler, what the hell are you doing? (Sits) Hostetler: He was in here fucking a horse. Steve: I did not fuck that horse. Fields: I’m asking you what you’re doing. Hostetler: I’m gonna go get a shoeing tool, and I’m gonna hit this bastard right here, (touching the center of his forehead) and I’m gonna drop him like a piece of beef. Steve: I never fucking harmed you. Fields: Guess he ain’t talking to me. Steve: I didn’t kill you like he’s fucking fixing to kill me. Hostetler: You need to die, Steve. Fields: Hard as you worked, (carries over the chalkboard) as much shit as you had to eat, only way it makes any sense to kill him is if you sign everything you got across to me first. ‘Cause then I could see the logic. Hostetler: I’m gonna kill him, then I’m fucking gonna come back and kill you. And this isn’t my will. (erases the board) Fields: (To Steve) Do you believe that God can act through a nigger? Steve: God does not want you to kill. Fields: Do you believe that God would let me feel mercy toward you that tarred me and fucked his horse? Steve: I do. But I did not fuck the horse. (What would Eric Clapton say? “I fucked the Sheriff, but I did not fuck the horse?”) Fields: Would you go hence in gratitude, if you received mercy (looks at Hostetler) in this stable? Steve: I would. Fields: Write out “I fucked the Sheriff’s horse.” Then we’re gonna have him sign it. Steve: I didn’t fuck the horse. Hostetler: (writing) “I fucked—“ Steve: I jerked off. I came on his leg.
Fields: Would you sign off on that slight exaggeration to keep from getting your fucking head smashed in? Steve: Yes. Fields: Would you bless colored folk and God that’s father to us all? Steve: I would and go hence in gratitude. (Hostetler stands and retrieves his shovel, ready. Fields stands and cuts the ties that bind Steve. Steve walks on his knees over to the chalkboard and signs it.) Fields: Go hence now, Steve, go on. Hostetler: Now go! Fields: And if your gratitude ebbs, remember, we got your signature. Steve: I’ll go, and I’ll remember. (Steve leaves, Fields tosses the chalkboard to the ground, Hostetler the shovel. Fields sits and they both sigh.) Hostetler: I took a drink of liquor and it put me to sleep—how he got in, how I got beside myself. I ain’t took a drink…in 17 years. Fields: (swallows) Yeah, well, you’re over that now. (offers the bottle) Hostetler: I don’t want any. Fields: (puts the bottle away) That tomboy get you that message? Hostetler: I owe you. When they come for you like they did before, you would have did like I did. Fields: Only quicker. Hostetler: I appreciated the message. Fields: So be it henceforth. --(Seth is silent, sitting with William and Martha at the dinner table. He’s staring off into space.) Martha: Was it a difficult day? Seth: No. William: Momma met the new school teacher and very much liked her. Martha: Mr. Merrick brought her to call. Seth: (smiles) Good. Martha: (smiling) I liked her very much. I’m delighted she’s finally arrived. Seth: Good. (The smile falls from Martha’s face as she can’t get more than one word out of her husband at a time. He sits, playing with his fork, not eating…) --(Up in Al’s bedroom, he’s sitting, Johnny next to him, Doc and Dan across…) Al:
I lack my accustomed stamina.
Dan: Bullshit, Doc. They’ve been comin’ at Al in waves, and he stood them all the fuck off. Johnny: (nodding) He’da stopped Sherman shy of the sea. Al: Without the use of a leg, would they have fired me from a fucking cannon? Doc: Well, I find you in excellent fettle. Al: Relative to my former wreckage, hmm? Doc: Relatively speaking, yes. All conditions are fucking relative. Al: So how is this? (moving arm) Hmm? Relatively speaking? Doc: Better than this morning. Al: Alright, thanks. Poke a girl before you go, Doc? Hmm? Well, change off rummaging their twats. Doc: I hope you ain’t connected with them new Chinese prostitutes. Al: I ain’t. But I did try to make friends with their pimp. Doc: Yeah. (turns and leaves) Al: We need to muscle up. Dan: Local? Al: Don’t know who’s been bought. Johnny: Well, send me to Cheyenne. Al: You go. (nodding at Dan, grabs Johnny) I want you close. I think I’ll take a look outside. (Uses his grip on Johnny’s arm to hoist himself to standing. Dan goes to his other side and the three make their way to the balcony.) What about that forest fucking type you used to maraud with before you met me? Dan: Crop ear? Al: Yeah, lacked the used of a fucking horn. (pokes his finger in Johnny’s ear) Dan: He ain’t available. Johnny: Yeah, didn’t I hear lately, Dan, Crop Ear’s been marauding elsewhere’s? Dan: Yep. (He opens the balcony door.) Al: Uh, let’s not appear as fucking triplets, huh? (Johnny takes Al’s arm off his shoulder, Al hops out onto the balcony, leaning against the doorframe…) Go back down, both of you. (They leave, Al situates himself and hops to the balcony railing.) Took some fucking portion of the relative fucking weight. --(Joanie leads the remaining three girls out under a blanket to Charlie’s wagon.) Joanie:
(whispers) Come on, come on.
(They all climb under a tarp covering the bed of the wagon, Charlie holds it up for them. He shoves off a nosy helper, Joanie takes off her hat and gets out the money. Her back to the wagon.) Joanie: Someone put a hand out. (Several hands pop out, Joanie puts the money in one) Who got it? Whore: Enid. Joanie: Split it three ways, Enid. Enid: Thanks, Joanie.
(Joanie walks to the head of the wagon, Charlie lifts himself up to the bench next to his driver.) Joanie: Charlie: Joanie:
Thank you very much. Certainly. It’s $1400. Split it three ways. Never come back!
(From his vantage, Al sees Joanie walking up the street behind the wagon – now moving fast along the thoroughfare, leaving town. She stops, gazes about her, collecting herself. She meets his gaze, he nods to her. She continues walking, Al – watching.)
(in credits order) .... Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane .... Molly Parker .... Brad Dourif .... John Hawkes .... Paula Malcomson .... W. Earl Brown .... Dayton Callie .... Powers Boothe .... .... Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones .... Titus Welliver .... Kim Dickens .... Maddie Alice Isringhausen Con Stapleton Hugo Jarry Carrie Tessie Hostetler Steve Samuel Fields Leon E.B. Farnum Mary Stokes Cast
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Dan Dority Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver / Tolliver Johnny Burns A.W. Merrick Silas Adams Joanie Stubbs Alice Krige Sarah Paulson Peter Jason Stephen Toblowsky Izabella Miko Parisse Boothe Richard Gant Michael Harney Franklyn Ajaye Larry Cedar William Sanderson Carla Bianchi
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her
personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 19 “E.B. Was Left Out” Directed by: Michael Almereyda Written by: Jody Worth
Episode 19: “E.B. Was Left Out” (Early morning at the camp, we see Al open a door…) Al: Did you know this fucking walkway connected us? Merrick: (Sitting below, at his desk at the Pioneer) Several of your patrons, in different stages of undress, have illuminated me. Al: (Closes door) What happened there? (Walks downstairs) Merrick: Not only was my press disabled, but my office was ransacked and feces mounded in the corner. A message of objection to my handling of Yankton’s notice on the claims. Al: Posting rather than publishing, huh? Merrick: The camp’s new school teacher, a lovely woman, was so traumatized by what happened that she left! Al: Cy Tolliver. Merrick: Who didn’t even trouble, when confronted, to deny it. Al: (Sits, lets out a sigh) Why ain’t you up and running again? Merrick: I’m in despair. The physical damage is repairable, but the psychic wound may be permanent. Al: (Leans forward, concern on his face.) You ever been beaten, Merrick? Merrick: (Rolls his eyes) Once, when I thought I had the smallpox, Doc Cochran slapped me in the face. (Al slaps him quickly) Ah! (He stares at Al, touching his cheek – he leans forward) Stop it, Al. Al: Are you dead? Merrick: Well, (touches cheek) I’m in pain, but no, I’m obviously not dead. Al: And obviously you didn’t fucking die when the Doc slapped you. Merrick: No. Al: So including last night, that’s three fucking damage incidents that didn’t kill you. Pain or damage don’t end the world, or despair or fuckin’ beatin’s. The world ends when you’re dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man—and give some back. (Merrick’s eyes meet Al’s – Al gets up, still staring at Merrick as he leaves.) --(Charlie arrives in town on horseback. He ties up his horse. Inside the Bella Union, Mr. Lee is meeting with Cy. We see Lee slapping his hands in a “I wash my hands of this” gesture of satisfaction.) Cy:
Do you use pigs too, Lee, gettin’ rid of bodies, or some other disposal method? (Mr. Lee just stares at him. Cy chuckles) I don’t bandy my secrets either.
(Joanie enters the Bella Union and approaches Jack at the bar, an envelope in her hand. She puts her hand on the bartop, Jack turns…) Jack: Joanie.
Joanie: Thanks for the loan, Jack. Jack: Sure. Joanie: $100 extra is in the wrap you’ll hurt my feelings not to take. (She stalks off to the back room – Cy & Leon eyeballing her. Mr. Lee comes out as she approaches and tips his hat to her. He then leaves and Joanie enters Cy’s office.) Leon: What are you fuckin’ tippin’ your hat at? Con: Like one human bein’ to another. Leon: Glorified fuckin’ monkey. (Cy’s office, Joanie enters) Cy: Joanie Stubbs. How’s things at your place? Joanie: There’s just me left. Cy: Hmm…I see. Joanie: (She sits) Could you tell me what happened to those girls? Cy: All six? Joanie: I’m askin’ after my friend Maddie and Doris that that you sent to work with us, and a outside whore—pretty-looking like a doll—that far as I know, when I left Wolcott there last night to come and get you, was all three still alive. Cy: I’d be curious what happened to the other three. Joanie: They’re sent away, Cy. Never to return or be a problem. As I won’t be either to you or Wolcott. And I ask after Maddie and Doris and the outside girl not making a problem, but if Wolcott killed ‘em and there’s remains, to see ‘em buried. Cy: There’s no remains. Joanie: (pauses) All right. Cy: And you’re there now by yourself—Chez Amie. It’s no picnic, is it, Honey, running pussy? (She gets up and leaves.) --(Wolcott, shave cream on the apples of his cheeks, is looking in the mirror. He brings the razor to his cheek and stops. He brings it to his jugular and pauses—lifts his chin—holds the razor there for a long moment. He puts the razor down in frustration. ) --(In Al’s office, he’s doing some self-guided physical therapy, there’s a knock…) EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
It’s E.B., Al. Yeah, come in. (He opens the door & Al stops stretching) Morning, Al. Request of the Widow Garret, E.B., (he starts pacing, E.B. shadows him) that I may be allowed to pay a call on her. Today? Shall I tell her time is of the essence? When ain’t it? (stops, turns, continues pacing) Ahh! I’ll aim for early afternoon. Stop walking with me, E.B.!
EB: Al: EB: Al:
Yes, of course. (he pauses, Al is still pacing.) And if she pries and pokes and prods me to elicit your intentions? (Stops - standing in front of E.B.) Tell her I wouldn’t say. (Smiles, bemused) And if she asks me why you wouldn’t? (Yelling, holding the door open) Say you’re a pain in my balls that can’t desist from inquiry till told to shut his fucking mouth and act on the task he was asked to fucking do! Yes, sir. Fine. Thank you. (He leaves, Al slams the door behind him.)
EB: --(Joanie, walking the thoroughfare – with no hat! She enters Utter’s lock-up.)
Charlie: (standing) Hello. Joanie: It was bad. There’s three gone. I know it was bad. Charlie: If you mean the three I saw off, I’m certain they’re safe. Joanie: No, they’re dead. Charlie: A different three? Joanie: My partner and two girls. Charlie: Of what, Miss Stubbs? Joanie: They’d been killed. (She steps down the inner stairs to stand in front of Charlie) And she musta—come here for that, ‘cause she woulda shot him and not been scared. She wasn’t scared of any man—the first I ever met. Charlie: I see. Joanie: My momma feared my Daddy and I did and my sisters too. I never met a girl till Maddie that wasn’t afraid of men. Charlie: And Maddie’s dead now? Joanie: (nodding) And Carrie, her girl she brought, and Doris, who Cy made come with us to spy. And the- and the place empty—of any sign that they was ever born or lived or got killed. Charlie: And it was Cy Tolliver killed them? Joanie: No. It was a man named Wolcott killed ‘em…that works for George Hearst. Charlie: Why? Joanie: I don’t know that. I’m not a man. Charlie: I believe I know Wolcott to look at. Joanie: It’s a secret, Charlie. It’s only between us. I told you as a friend. Charlie: And that’s how I heard it. I’m your friend. (Joanie starts to cry) Don’t ever walk past me. (Charlie slowly closes the gap between them, pulling her gently into a comforting hug.) --(At the Bella Union, Con & Leon are talking to Cy.) Con: Them Chinks ain’t pullin’, Mr. T. Leon: Even at a dime a fuck! Cy: Well, what’s been your approach? Con: (Looks at Leon) Cost, primarily. Uh…inexpensiveness.
Leon: The dime. Cy: I‘d go with the strangeness, boys. Take it head on, turn it to your fuckin’ advantage. Ah…”among humans, for grip, the Chinawoman’s snatch has no peer. In all of nature, the python is its only rival, though few have lived to tell the tale.” (He puts his hands up as in “See how easy it is boys?” and then does a shot. Con turns to Leon…) Con: We are dwarfs in the company of a giant. --(Breakfast at the Absurd! What a line we have. Out the door even! Uh-oh, Charlie is standing in line behind Wolcott…) Charlie: Wolcott: Charlie:
Mind where you stomp your fuckin’ feet! (half turns) Are you—are you addressing me? Too late to catch the one who taught you your fuckin’ manners!
(E.B. brings a plate over to Alma and Sophia…) Alma: Mr. Farnum? EB: (sets the plate down in front of Sophia) A selection of choice humbles for the little girl. (Sophia sniffs it and makes a face) How adorably she sniffs at the tang of freshness in the kidneys. Alma: We’ve finished our meal, Mr. Farnum. (Stands) (Charlie exhales deeply through his nose, then wipes it – uh…did he just blow a snot rocket onto Wolcott’s back? He sniffs) EB:
Mrs. Garret! Uh…here. (Hands plate to Richardson) Mr. Swearengen, Ma’am, uh…with whom your deceased husband had acquaintance, though I believe you yourself did not, requests an interview. (Wolcott half turns to Charlie…) Alma: (pauses – she seems surprised) Tell Mr. Swearengen I will receive him at 2:00. (She and Sophia head upstairs) EB: Uh, a penny for your thoughts. Alma: I’m glad to be leaving your company. EB: And as to the purpose of the meeting? Alma: Didn’t Mr. Swearengen confide? (We see Wolcott turn again and look at Charlie) EB: (Pauses) He hasn’t been well. Charlie: That’s twice you’ve fuckin’ stared at me! Wolcott: I feel you breathing on my neck. Charlie: Should I exhale out my ass? Wolcott: And I believe you’re doing it intentionally. Charlie: Why? You think I believe you’re a fuckin’ cunt? Wolcott: If we fight, it won’t be a casual matter. Charlie: Oh, I see you’ve got your big fuckin’ knife there. And hid somewhere on your persons you’ve probably got some pussified shootin’ instrument. But I am good at first impressions, and you are a fucking cunt! And I doubt you’ve fought many men, (Wolcott takes off his hat) maybe even one! (He grabs Wolcott by the
Cy:
lapels and drags him outside, throwing him in the muck.) Take a beatin’! (He kicks Wolcott’s ass – literally) And know how it fuckin’ feels to be helpless…(punch) and have no one fucking stick up for you! (Cy comes out to watch, Charlie kicks Wolcott in the stomach, Cy looks at his henchman and shakes his head.) Come on! I’ll be at Swearengen’s place.
(Con & Leon come out to watch, by Bummer Dan’s standards, this is one country ass kicking! Sol looks out at the fight, Seth notices and strides out to the thoroughfare.) Seth: Charlie! (He grabs Charlie from behind, restraining him) What did he do, Charlie? Charlie: Personal fuckin’ bidness! (Wolcott gets to his knees, blood dripping from his face. Up in Al’s office, Johnny’s been reporting from the balcony, he pokes his head inside to give Al the latest update.) Johnny: Bullock stepped in. Tolliver’s still headed towards us. (There’s a knock at the door) Al: Yeah? (E.B. enters) EB: (Smiling) 2:00, my hotel, the Widow Garret’s suite. Al: What do you know of the fisticuffs? EB: (His face falls) Amongst who? Johnny: Utter! And that fella you was sitting with downstairs the other day. EB: Wolcott? Just now, when I was leaving the hotel, Wolcott had accidentally stepped on Utter’s foot. Johnny: If Utter’s got corns, that might coulda touched it off. Al: (Hears footsteps approach, Dan enters, he looks at Dan) Tolliver wants to see me. Dan: Uh…should I bring him up? Al: Tell him I’ll come down. (He gets up) Charlie Utter drove a wagon out of camp last night, and that whore that used to work for Tolliver was talking to someone hidden in the wagon-bed. EB: You connect that with the beating in the thoroughfare? Al: Sooner than on Utter’s corns, hmm? EB: I will station myself downstairs as an observer. Al: Yeah, and I will urinate before meetin’ Tolliver, and I can avoid your fuckin’ hoverin’, huh? (Johnny gets out of Al’s way and leaves. Al heads for the chamber pot.) --(Seth still has Charlie restrained, now inside the hardware store. Sol is standing at the entrance, looking on.) Charlie: Take your fuckin’ hands off me and I’ll take it fuckin’ easy! Seth: Stay put?
Charlie: Don’t fuckin’ order me around! Seth: I’m taking them off. (He lets go) Please don’t go back outside. (Charlie collects himself, smoothing his hair) What happened? Charlie: (panting) Cocksucker stepped on my toe. (Sol and Seth just stare at him.) --(Al makes his way downstairs) Cy: Movin’ somewhat rheumatic, young man. Jewel: God, he’s always draggin’ that fuckin’ leg. Al: (looking at Jewel) Early morning fuckin’ chill. (He leans on the bar) Cy: In which our Deputy Sheriff Utter just kicked the living crap out of a citizen. Al: How does that impinge on men like us? (We see E.B. casually eavesdropping.) Cy: Man beaten is Chief Geologist in the Hearst operation. Al: Hearst of the Comstock. Cy: Hadn’t you heard at all they were around? Al: Wrong response no matter what the fuckin’ provocation. Cy: (chuckling) Amen, brother. Al: (Eyes E.B.) How do you suggest we proceed? Cy: (leans in close) Maybe convene with Bullock and Utter, discover the details. Let it be known that’s the wrong ox to gore. Al: I’ll put together a sit-down. (Cy nods, turns, and leaves. Dan approaches Al.) --(Wolcott’s room, Doc is checking him out.) Wolcott: What can you tell me, Doctor, of the man with whom I disagreed? Doc: Richardson, who summoned me, said it was Charlie Utter, used to be Wild Bill Hickok’s best friend. Wolcott: Oh, I see. Doc: Several of your ribs are broken. If you wish to occupy yourself in plaster, I can make some up. Wolcott: I’ll occupy myself otherwise. (Doc acknowledges his decision, gets up and moves his chair aside, readies his bag to leave.) Doc: My fee is $3. Wolcott: (Opening his little back of indulgence) Does your path cross Mr. Utter’s, Doctor? Doc: Sometimes. Wolcott: You might tell him—I own a letter said to be his best friend’s last. (Doc looks over) If he would call on me, I would consider giving it to him. Doc: If I do deliver the message…will there be a renewal of the violence? Wolcott: Oh, I hope not, Doctor. I—I didn’t do well in the original. (Wolcott lays down. Hey – did anyone else notice he never handed over the coins?) --(Al, dressed up like Christ crucified, comes out into the thoroughfare. Some oxen cross the path in front of him and he waits for them to pass before continuing to the hotel. E.B. spots him coming.)
EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
Al. A new suit? No. The ruddy health of your complexion may bring the pattern out differently. (Al starts heading upstairs) I’ll see you to the widow’s chambers. Go back. (Throws a halting hand out behind him.) Of course. Room 2 on the left. (Stomps his foot – weirdo) Hearst’s man convalesces just to your right. One thing at a time, huh?
(Al fixes his jacket, dabs the sweat off his brow from the effort of hauling himself up the stairs. He knocks on the door. Alma opens the door, Al’s face is bathed half in the light, half in darkness. How fitting.) Alma: Mr. Swearengen. Al: Mrs. Garret. How do you do? Thanks for seeing me. (She turns and enters the room, Al follows, shutting the door.) Alma: Will you sit down? (We see Sofia on the bed, turn and look at the visitor.) Al: (sitting) Late congratulations on the claim provin’ out. (Sofia looks at Al) I had urged patience on your husband before he had his mishap. Alma: And yet I’ve always assumed after my husband’s death you tried to buy from me through Mr. Farnum. (Sofia approaches Alma) Sofia: May I go downstairs? Alma: Mr. Swearengen’s only come to talk, Sofia. You read in here. (She leads Sofia back to the bedroom, partially closing the doors behind her.) You frighten her. Al: I’ll have that effect. Alma: I think specifically it was your plotting against her life. Al: I’d take tea. Alma: What do you wish to discuss? Al: The child’s tutor you recently sacked. Alma: Miss Isringhausen? Al: She’s a Pinkerton. Alma: I don’t find that credible. Al: That’s the way they like it. Your husband’s family chartered the agency to pin his dying on you, so when you’re jailed or hanged, they can bag your gold. Alma: How do you support this contention? Al: Oh, she’s come to me and wants to give me money to confirm what she says you confessed—that you hired me to kill him. Alma: (pauses, absorbing the news) How much have they offered? Al: 50,000. Alma: And how much do you ask of me as commission to tell the truth? Al: I don’t like the Pinkertons. They’re muscle for the bosses, as if the bosses ain’t got enough edge— Alma: So you’d side with me on principle? Al: Now I’ll finish my fucking sentence. Alma: Excuse me.
Al: Alma: Al: Alma: Al: Alma: Al:
Alma: Al: Alma: Al:
(nods) I don’t like the Pinkertons. Bein’ the Hearst combine and their fucking ilk got their eyes on taking over here, your staying suits my purpose. As much as you can, please minimize you obscenities. (Al narrows his eyes) Before “ilk”. Anyways…those are my prejudices and personal interests for siding with you. Also…if you want to match their 50, that‘d be between you and your god. And what warrant would I have against repetitions of this interview? Oh, I’d have them write their offer out and their terms, and make them sign it. Pinkerton himself, that cocksucker, I hate that bastard. Please. (narrows his eyes then realizes his mistake) I’d make him write out their offer with their terms and sign it, and I’d turn the document over to you to use as evidence against them if they ever came against you. (pauses) Let me consider…(They stand, face to face) You’ll tell that child no hard feelings, hmm? (He turns to leave) What tea do you enjoy? (turns back) I like that fucking black Darjeeling. Oh.
(He puts a finger to his lips, all coy, like he didn’t mean to say that. Cute, Al. Corrupt the one true lady left in Deadwood.) --(Al comes downstairs, E.B. is – sweeping the desk? And I thought my allergies were bad.) EB: Have we a new pope? Al: She’s some fuck, E.B. (E.B. laughs. Al leaves.) --(At Nuttall’s No.10, the shit stirrer – whom Jody Worth says is called Rutherford on the HBO boards – feh, he’s shit stirrer until he’s verbally named otherwise on the show – anyway, the shit stirrer, Tom Nuttall, Leon, Con, Hawkeye and some whitebearded dude are all there talking…) Whitebeard: I won’t fuck Chinese. I got a mother living yet. Hawkeye: She the jealous type? ShitStirrer: You can’t deny it is off-puttin’. How them Chinese girls’ quiffers –uhdon’t run quite plum. (Runs his hand at a slant) Con: That’s a fucking libel and a myth. Whitebeard: They’ll never get my dime. Leon: Another round, Tom, for the board. Tom: You’re past due on three. ShitStirrer: There are them as do fuck squaws. Leon: Pathfinders, I call them. Hawkeye: I call mine “Johnny Roger.” (drinks) Con: Hey, you ever hear, Tom, (stands) the Chinese whore has a ancient way of milking ya of yer sorrow, your loneliness amd that awful feeling of bein’ forsaken? (Leon looks at the Shit Stirrer, who turns and chews his cigar, whitebeard sighs.)
Tom: Seems to me that’d leave you with nothing. (Hawkeye laughs, Con sits.) --(Meeting at the Gem! Johnny, of course, is passing out the beloved peaches. Cy, Al, Bullock, Sol, Charlie, Doc and Tom Nuttall are seated at the table, Dan and Johnny are watching.) Cy:
In the thoroughfare this mornin’, an event transpired which cannot be repeated. As the apostle had it, time’s past for acting like infants. I assume Mr. Utter was provoked, yet for the sake of us all, the man that provoked him, employed by who he is, cannot be fucking beaten. Tom: What was the provocation? Charlie: Hearst’s man stepped on my foot. Cy: Stepped on his foot. Al: Well, maybe, Cy, Mr. Utter would want to tell us about a wagon drive he took last night and who was in concealment at the behest of that whore used to work for you, and how the morning’s shit-kicking resulted. Cy: The background of the beatin’ ain’t the point, no more than the incident’s particulars, or how offensive if I knew them I might find the details personally, the Hearst interest requires special treatment. And we can face up to that like men or get steamrolled by the fuckin’ alternative. Seth: Which is what? Cy: Which is them pissed off they ain’t gettin’ treated special. Replacin’ us that don’t with those who fuckin’ will. Tom: Did he condescend, Deputy, to your yelp of fucking pain? Cy: Jesus Christ (Waving it off, he chuckles and stands) Jesus fuckin’ Christ! I don’t care what brought it on. Say it as murder, or more ‘an one. (Al looks interested) George Hearst’s Chief Geologist don’t get convicted of any crime in any court convened by humans. (Seth looks at Charlie) They’ll buy the judge, and if they can’t, they jury or witnesses. If not, they’ll start into killin’. What the fuck are we talkin’ about? Why would we want to know? Al: Well, Cy…(eats a peach) all that geologist did was step on Utter’s foot. Cy: Are we fuckin’ done here? ‘Cause if you people ain’t, I fuckin’ am! (Takes a bowl of peaches and slams it upside-down on the table. Johnny looks dismayed.) Al: If Hearst’s geologist ain’t pursuing remedies and Utter ain’t, that leaves you speaking for the camp. (He looks to Seth – Seth looks at Charlie, Charlie looks away, Seth looks back to Al and shakes his head “nah.” Al slams his fist on the table.) Adjourned! Doc: (to Charlie) He wants to talk to you. Charlie: Who? Doc: Wolcott. Charlie: We transacted our bidness. Doc: He says he has Hickok’s last letter. If you see him, he’ll give it to you. (Doc heads for the door, Cy by his side.) Cy: Did I hear you say Wolcott wants to see Utter? (Charlie leaves. Seth and Tom enter the thoroughfare.)
EB:
(Turning to Richardson) The bald contempt of it. (Turns back) Why not come out five abreast, cavorting and taunting—“E.B. was left out. E.B. was left out.” Cocksuckers. Cunt-lickers. I’ll make ya filthy gestures. (We see Sol walking.) Public service was never my primary career. (Cy and Seth walk out, Cy sighs.) Two come this way. Cy: I only hope, Sheriff, us having just come to fucking consensus, (E.B. runs behind the desk, kicking Richardson back to the kitchen) You intend no further worrying on this matter. Seth: I don’t. Cy: Or for your own sake that you’re coming her to fuckin’ eat. (He chuckles – they step into the hotel.) EB: Gentlemen. Seth: Farnum. EB: Come from the gathering of the worthies. (Cy stops a moment, Seth continues up the stairs.) Whatever was purposed by your get-together at the Gem I hope came to full fruition. Cy: Thanks. (Seth approaches Alma’s door.) EB: I believe she’s in. (whispers) As is the child…which may confound his intention. (He makes a gesture to intimate fucking, Cy rolls his eyes.) --(Alma closes the bedroom door partially, smoothes her hair and opens the door. Surprised to see Seth standing there.) Alma: Mr. Bullock. Please come in. (He shuts the door behind him.) Seth: I apologize for calling unannounced. Alma: You find us in only mild disarray. (She moves a book and a toy from a chair) Sofia has me for teacher now as well as guardian. (Seth picks up a doll from the other chair, Alma grabs it from him. They sit, she lays the doll across her lap.) Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma:
How are you feeling? Well, thank you, as I hope you are and your family. We’re all very well. (Seth taps his hat and looks away.) I feel…(Seth looks back) better lately in the afternoons than in the morning. Ah. You find the right time of day to surprise me. (pause) Mr. Star, with whom I met yesterday, was not so fortunate. Was that a –morning meeting? I fell ill at its conclusion, or my falling ill was the conclusion’s cause. We discussed formation of a bank. It’s an excellent idea, and Sol would be an excellent Chief Officer. I’m glad of your opinion. And generous on your part, who need not put capital at risk. Thank you.
Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma:
Seth:
And supportive of the camp at a crucial hour of it’s history. Thank you very much. Would it be better for you if I left? We seem to be conversing amiably. I mean the camp. Because I am unwell in the mornings? Would it be easier for you? (she looks away in exasperation) Why would your leaving change in any material way my situation? I mean, as to your seeing me in the camp—more or less daily, would you prefer not to? Mr. Bullock…if you believe the change in my condition and the decent concern for others we claimed as our purpose in separating dictates now your leaving the camp and uprooting your family, I will not judge your decision. But please do not ask me to make it for you. I understand. I do not wish to make things more difficult for you. (He gets up and heads to the door.) Will you stay? (Seth pauses) Will she be certain to know? It becomes you.
Alma: Seth: --(Wolcott is cleaning up, Cy is pacing behind him.) Cy:
I guess my concern is why you’d invite to come a calling the man that nearly beat you to death. Wolcott: To know why he did it. Cy: (laughs) Well, I can save you time with that, Mr. W. Utter was dismayed you killed them whores. Now…instead of information, would your true goal be, uh…further rebuke? Gettin’ cuffed around a little more? Le me hire someone for the job. ‘Cause Utter’s liable to kill you, and I don’t need you dead. Wolcott: Get out! Cy: (chuckles) You are tough to be a friend to. Wolcott: You make a good point. --(E.B. hurries to the stairs…) EB: Cy: EB: Cy: EB:
Only one would think as Mayor that— I don’t know, Farnum! Well---(touches Cy’s arm) I don’t fucking know! (Flings his arm free of E.B.’s touch.) Uh, by all means then let’s just let the matter rest. (Richardson peeks out from the back room) Go back. Go back! (Richardson scuttles back into the room.)
--(Trixie is waiting for Al in his office, smoking a cigarette, he enters.) Trixie:You’re much more fuckin’ mobile. Al: What’s this about?
Trixie:I’m done at that hardware store with their fuckin’ harpin’ and badgerin’. Al: Who’s harpin’? The Jew? Trixie:Are you making a fuckin’ pun? Al: I’m askin’ a fuckin’ question. Trixie: The Jew. And fuckin’ Bullock also. I’m erratic with my decimals and the like. Al: So harping—now is a hardship on the same fucking order of a boot on your fucking neck? (leans forward) Do not fucking fault them, Trixie, for your own fucking fears of tumbling to something new. Trixie: Meaning you want me back there. Secreted and listening in. Al: Attentive in particular to talk of Hearst’s geologist. (Trixie gets up to leave) Mind your fuckin’ decimals! (She smiles, leaves.) --(Sol and Seth are back at work.) Seth: Charlie Utter didn’t happen to look in? Sol: No. Seth: As protective an eye as Charlie has for that Madam Joanie Stubbs, if all her whores didn’t make it to that wagon, and that was on Wolcott’s account, you could see what ensued in the thoroughfare. (Goes to the desk and puts a hand down.) I saw Mrs. Garret. I support your enlisting in her banking venture. Sol: Good. Seth: She is as you thought. Sol: I thought so. (Trixie enters) Seth: I’ll take the air. Trixie:Don’t on my account. I come to apologize—for my work with the decimals and my attitude over my errors. And since I do tend to be prickly when in the wrong, if you on your part was to realize Moses did the heavy lifting already, the fucking tablets and so forth…that might lighten the atmosphere too. Seth: (nods) Sure. Sol: Guidance for me, before you turn to your numbers? Trixie:(nods thoughtfully) Tread lightly, who lives in hope of pussy. (Seth looks up – amused.) --(Nighttime in Celestial’s alley, Con & Leon are on the prowl…) Con: Leon: Con: Leon: Con:
Is that a white male? Where? Issued from that Chinee whore-hut and walking like a man relieved. Well, he is repositionin’ his johnson. Sir! May I and my friend have a moment? (He grabs the focus-group hooplehead by the arm to Leon) Leon: We were wondering if—if you fucked a chink. FocusGroupHoople: What would that be to you? Con: Well, they’re under our care. Leon: We’re their supervisors. (Grabs the guy and leads him to the side) Con: (stammering) Yeah, at a…a decent fuckin’ remove.
FocusGroupHoople: Well, say I did? Con: Well, we’d be eager to know the result. Leon: Was it worth the fuckin’ dime? Con: Do you feel that they were overpriced? FocusGroupHoople: It was well worth the dime. There is a run on from the other side of camp all the way down the creek. Tallest fucking Chinaman I ever seen’s keepin’ the line in fuckin’ order. Con: Really? FocusGroupHoople: Yeah, well, a lot of fellas, you know, outpaced by white pussy’s price. Con: Well, than you for your time, Sir. Leon: Thank you for that information. (Puts his hand on the hooplehead’s shoulder, the guy puts his hat on and leaves.) Jesus Christ! You know that fuckin’ Chinaman he made reference to, don’t you? Con: Better suited than us in every fuckin’ aspect of the task. Fluent in both languages and don’t mind standing in filth. --(Al is in his room, staring at a shot glass, leaning against his bed facing his office.) Al:
A man, as it happens a rival of mine, learning the secret of a great man’s lieutenant, would make that lieutenant his slave. My rival knows that expanding the circle of the informed, dilutin’ his power, will confound his intention, so he takes precaution to be sole sharer of his secret. (chuckles) Then the world being the world…(drinks) along comes a half-assed knight-errant, Utter, Hickok’s expartner, to put all my rival’s plans at risk. I’d seek audience with Utter, verify my thinking. He earns his bread shipping packages. And as the dimwit nobility that made him intercede may now make him reticent, you, Chief, will be my prop and ploy. Whilst I seek to draw him out. (He walks over to the chair in front of his desk, a package on it. He sets his shot glass down on the desk and sits in a neighboring chair.) I congratulate myself on having kept you around. Why make a show of disposing of you was my fucking thinking. (Pours another shot) It’s not like we need the storage space. And if there’s a chance in a thousand you people have been praying right, (looks up) why get your bosses attention? (drinks) Anyways, I’ve no plans of us partin’ company. (He gets up, takes the package by a rope handle) As you will note…I have inscribed – (opens door) no address. (He leaves)
--(Charlie is sitting outside of the freight office. Jane approaches, looking beaten up.) Charlie: Miss Here-she-was, where-has-she-gone. Jane: (chuckles, sits) What’s that to you? Charlie: Only I got packages could be halfway…by now to Cheyenne. Jane: What, is it fucking Tuesday already? Charlie: It’s fuckin’ Thursday, Jane. Jane: So I got 5 days left before I got to leave. Charlie: No.
Jane: Oh, I see. Well, you look your usual piece of shit. Charlie: By you, Jane. You look like dew on fucking roses. Jane: (laughs) I, uh…woke up on the dirt in the fucking graveyard, questioning dusk or dawn. Charlie: It was dusk. Jane: I know it was dusk because it’s fucking night now. Fucking bruises everywhere. Charlie: Dished out by who? Jane: (Shrugs her shoulders, she looks near tears) It’s gettin’ the upper fuckin’ hand on me, Charlie. (teary eyed) Charlie: Go on upstairs and clean up. Jane: All right. Thank—thank—thank you. Charlie: Go on up. Hurry up, Christ’s sakes. Jane: All right, Charlie. Thanks. (Al comes along, carrying his package, he watches Jane climb the stairs as he makes his way over to Charlie. Charlie watches him approach.) Al: Evening. Charlie: I’m fuckin’ closed. Al: Banker’s hours, huh? Charlie: Where’s it going, anyway? Al: Jesus Christ. (He sets it down) She neglected to inscribe the destination. Anyways. As far as this morning in the thoroughfare, I‘d have done the same fucking thing. (sits) Charlie: I’m done fuckin’ talkin’ about it. Al: Don’t care who he works for, thinks he can get away with that. You give that cocksucker what he fuckin’ needed. The sick fuckin’ bastard. I knew when I saw the wagon, for Christ’s sakes. (Charlie looks at Al.) Charlie: Poor fucking girl. Al: Tolliver’s whore? Charlie: Never seen a girl so distraught. Al: Wouldn’t you be? Charlie: Bein’ a man, you believe you’ve seen your equal. Al: No. Not to that. She told me too. Charlie: She told you what? Al: What she saw. Charlie: (skeptical) She didn’t see fuckin’ nothin’. Al: No, I don’t mean “see” in the sense of seeing. Charlie: Get the fuck away from me. Al: Yeah, right. (groans, getting up.) Let me get this address put on. (Grabs the package and heads out.) Evening. (to the package) Every fracas ain’t a victory, Chief. (E.B. spots Al walking along the thoroughfare) EB:
Al! (Runs up to join Al in his walk) Al. Why, Al?
Al:
Why, E.B? Because being present at that meetin’ and made as you are, blackmail would have proved irresistible, and pursuin’ it would have gotten you murdered. Thank you, then. And am I still the Mayor? For all of me, in perpetuity. (E.B. grins)
EB: Al: --(Al enters the Gem)
Johnny: Full fuckin’ day, eh, boss? Al: They all are. Johnny: Still got that package, I see. Al: Ain’t nothing gets by you, Johnny, eh? Dan: I’m going to head up to Cheyenne first thing in the morning. Al: Don’t think that’s the idea anymore, Dan. Dan: Hmm? Al: What happened to Tolliver illustrated till the race is fucking finished, never mark the fuckin’ wager paid. (drinks) Wakes up this mornin’ in bed with the fucking Hearst combine, knowing he’s got us by the balls. Whatever sick fucking business that geologist has transacted, you can bet he had his wrists in it up— Dan: Tolliver? Al: Tolliver, yeah—before, after and in the fucking middle too, think he’s got the fucking edge, which is the right fuckin’ move. Underwriting whatever sick business that fucking geologist was involved in guarantees his fucking position, but what fucking happens, Dan? Dan: Fucks himself up the ass—Tolliver. Al: No mean feat, yet how often we bring it off. (drinks) Who impressed me at that meeting was Bullock, that avoided puttin’ his pet interests—innocence, so forth, guilt, fuckin’ who did what to fuckin’ who—before the needs of the fucking camp. It shows fucking progress. It shows growing maturity to what makes the world’s fucking tail wag. (drinks) Anyway…(picks up package) that’s why Cheyenne is cancelled. Dan: Well I—I figured as much. --(At the Bella Union, Joanie is chatting up Jack at the bar.) Joanie: You want to fuck me, Jack? Jack: When haven’t I? Joanie: Would you pay? Jack: Can I double your mark and call it a gift? That way I keep my illusions? Cy: Let me borrow this beauty, Jack. (Takes her arm and leads her to a table) Jack: All yours, boss. Cy: You seem subdued. Joanie: I’m good and fucked up, Cy. Cy: Not nearly as your friend, Mr. Wolcott. (they sit) His day was busy as his night— got his balls beat by Charlie Utter. (She eyes Cy) Sweetheart, them that’s dead is gone. We give them to God and move on. Hell, you didn’t have to see ‘em…fuckin’ throats cut. You didn’t clean up their gore.
Joanie: Don’t tell me you cleaned up anyone’s gore, Cy. Cy: Your friend Maddie’s problem, young lady, didn’t want to get old. Well, who the fuck does? Joanie: Shut up, Cy. Cy: But them of us with stamina and fortitude don’t go searching out some maniac with a straight razor to put us from our fear. Joanie: Stop talking. Cy: I won’t stop talking, nor show the fucking future my neck…nor permit it in a fucking friend. (leans forward) I propose instead you and me, Miss Stubbs, wrestle the fucking future to the ground. We fix your place up, get all new stuff, open the fuck back up. Knowledge ain’t general what happened there, and those who know ain’t gonna say. (leans back) Grant me at least as your friend, if we don’t partner, while that maniac is loose in camp, you’ll avoid that fucking place. Move back here, Joanie, where I can fucking protect you. Joanie: (shaking her head) No. (She gets up, he grabs her hand.) Cy: What the fuck did you come here for, if not to be protected? Don’t be like your dead fucking friend, afraid to face the truth. Joanie: (takes her hand away) I was just lookin’ to turn a trick. (She leaves.) --(Wolcott opens his door to Charlie.) Wolcott: Mr. Utter. You agree our shaking hands would be incongruous? Charlie: (crossing arms) I come for my partner’s letter, which you told Doc Cochran you would give me. Wolcott: (Turns to his desk) I can’t guarantee it’s genuine but it has the feel of authenticity. And it’s clear he would want her to have it. (sits) Charlie: To his wife then. Wolcott: Agnes Lake. (groans, Charlie steps closer) Prudence dictates my requiring in return your account of what Miss Stubbs told you. Charlie: The prudentest thing you can do is not name that girl again with me in the fuckin’ room. Wolcott: It was she, this nameless she, who set you upon me. “Agnes, darling, if such should be we never meet again, while firing my last shot, (Charlie closes the door) I will gently breathe the name of my wife Agnes. And with wishes even for my enemies, I will make the plunge and try to swim to the other shore. J.B. Hickok, Wild Bill.” Charlie: You keep this shit up, you’re gonna earn a trip out the fucking window. Wolcott: I am simply asking confirmation of what you were told and by whom. Charlie: And I’m promising I’ll sooner blow off your fuckin’ head and take the fuckin’ letter from your corpse than confide any fuckin’ particulars. Wolcott: To me? Charlie: To any fuckin’ one. When I give my word I wouldn’t. Wolcott: (Opens the desk drawer, takes out the letter) Thank you, Mr. Utter. (Sets the letter on the edge of the desk.) That’s what I wanted to know.
(Charlie picks up the letter, smiling, seeing it’s real! He’s so happy to have it! He opens the door to leave…) Charlie: Wolcott: ---
Open or closed? Open, please. (Charlie leaves.)
(Joanie, sits in a chair alone in the middle of the empty Chez Amie…) (in credits order) Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Brad Dourif John Hawkes Paula Malcomson W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Cast
Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones Kim Dickens Peter Jason Larry Cedar William Sanderson Ted Mann Philip Moon Bree Seanna Wall Geri Jewell Pete Richardson
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Dan Dority Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver / Tolliver Johnny Burns A.W. Merrick Joanie Stubbs Con Stapleton Leon E.B. Farnum Shit Stirrer (Rutherford) Mr. Lee Sofia Jewel Ralf Richeson
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 20: “Childish Things” Directed by: Timothy Van Patten Written by: Regina Corrado
Episode 20: “Childish Things” (Morning at the Gem, Al and Seth are seated at a table downstairs. Dan is watching from behind the bar. A random hooplehead is drinking next to him.) Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Seth: Al:
Seth: Al:
Seth: Al:
Seth: Al:
What did you know about me, Bullock, first we met? No concern for my feelings, huh? That you were a killer. Certain facts show in the mug. (Looks over at Dolly, passing by) Look at her. You know she’s fucked for food. What’s the point? In your mug there’s no such history. Are you a cunt-driven near-maniac or stalwart, driven by principle? The many cannot tell, for you yourself are so fuckin’ confused. But you do make a good appearance, so they’re prone to grant you their trust, which we will use as an asset in the comin’ campaign. (Drinks) What’s the campaign? You have friends in Montana in high positions, some type fuckin’ judge? (Dan watches) I’ve cut ties with the judge in Montana. Amiably or owin’ money? Maybe you’re mistrusted less as a killer than showin’ your cards a corner at a time. Our cause is surviving, not bein’ allied with Yankton or cogs in the Hearst machine, to show it don’t fate us as runts, or two-headed calves or pigs with excess legs, to a good fuckin’ grindin’ up. I only mention the judge in Montana toward maybe drummin’ up interest in us there. Annexation to Montana instead of Dakota? Hikin’ our skirts to Helena might put Yankton back on its heels. And as minutes turn to hours over the piss-pot, I wonder, should we ruminate publicly in loud voices over formin’ a new territory with an eye towards future statehood, or even our own republic? No dictatorship? What the fuck do we need a dictatorship for, that silences the public voice, that eases the enemy’s way? Noise made, overtures to outside interests and enlistment of the hooples’ participation is what this situation demands. And a trustworthy mug with a vague motive out there, buglin’ the call. I’m not interested. (Leans forward) Our moment permits interest in one question only: will we, of Deadwood, be more than targets for ass-fucking? To not grab ankle is to declare yourself interested. What’s your posture, Bullock? (He doesn’t move) As you see. (Smiles) Huzzah then.
(Lifts his shotglass, drinks, as Seth raises his glass the random hooplehead drinking at the bar turns and joins in the toast, smiling drunkenly. Seth gives a wry grin at this.)
--(At the Bella Union, Wolcott is composing a letter to his employer, George Hearst. We hear him reading the contents in a voice over. As he reads we see the goings on at the mines he has consolidated. A full detail of the mining operations will follow the reading of the letter.) Wolcott: “The operations of the old Aurora and Keet’s mines and a number of smaller adjoining claims are now entirely consolidated, accessed through the former Hidden Treasure property. Anxious as I know you to be, Mr. Hearst, to move to 24-hour operation, until workers at wage outnumber individual prospectors in the camp, the matter of Chinese labor remains delicate of introduction. And we must therefore rest content with Germans and Cornish unwilling to work at night. We shower them after every shift, and the gold they’ve combed into their hair with grease, we recover from the traps installed beneath the wash-house facility. The Cornish are quicker than the Germans, but ever ready to combine and complain, and deserve their reputation as high-graders, which, if anything, is understated.” Supervisor: Get down! Wolcott: “Through the vigilance of our security fellows, the unremitting larceny of these cunning and clannish men is held somewhat in check. I cite in particular the effectiveness of Captain Turner, invaluable to us since the Comstock.” Supervisor: Watch it! (We hear yelling in German) Wolcott: “With purchase of the claim formerly operated by the Manuel brothers, we will control save one—the Garret property—every considerable deposit now discovered.” Supervisor: Get back in line! Wolcott: “I am told your arrival is imminent, Mr. Hearst. I look forward to showing you every aspect of what I believe soon may be truthfully described as the largest and most forward-looking gold operation in the world. Francis Wolcott.” (While we hear the reading of the letter, we see the goings-on at the newly consolidated mines. We see a line of naked me waiting to show and 3 men at a time showering under 3 large buckets. There is a small village of tents set up in the foreground. Several men in black suits and hats supervise the showering men and the removal and inspection of the clothes of the men waiting. One man draws the attention of the supervisors and he is hit and told to “Get down!” He bends over while a supervisor inspects his ass and painfully pulls out a nugget—of gold. The man runs, the supervisors yell to the other men to “Watch it” and the head honcho—Captain Turner—shoots the runner and he falls dead. The other men who were pushed out of the runners way are told harshly to “Get back in line!”) (As Wolcott finishes his letter, we see Doc Cochran give Cy is report on the state of the whores. Wolcott casually observes the conversation.) Doc:
No one is with child. Tessie may have clap.
Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy:
Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy:
We’ll take her off the firin’ line then. With whatever intervening supervision, I take it these new-arrived Chinese whores to be under your control. Well-evaluated, Doc. Well, I’d be available to see to their care like I do these here. (Puts his hand amiably on Doc’s arm) Declined with thanks. You may not be aware that beyond their afflictions, (angry) these girls are fuckin’ starving to death. I ain’t one, Doc, holds the white man’s as the sole and only path. I strive to tolerate what I may not agree with. But those people’s culture, their women are disposable. They-they ship ‘em unfed, replace ‘em when they expire. They dose ‘em with opium, I know, which I gather eases their pangs. Well…under this arrangement, I’ll withdraw my care for your whites. For Christ’s sake, Doc! No, I need to live too! Raise your rates on these then. Don’t disrupt the other fuckin’ equilibrium. I would see to those others pro bono. I know what that means. Prove to me you do. It won’t cost ya anything. Well, Jesus Christ. (Draws in breath) Here, too, let me tolerate a different point of view.
(Doc leaves, slamming into Wolcott’s chair on his way out.) --(Outside in the thoroughfare, a stagecoach has arrived. Two men lift down a large bicycle into the eager arms of Tom Nuttall. Al, from the balcony, sees the arrival.) Al: Studying on a getaway, Tom? Tom: Ain’t she a beauty, Al? Merrick: Uh, in the French, it’s called a velocipede, meaning “Go Swiftly into the World.” Tom: This is the Gent’s Boneshaker model, and the French can stay the fuck out of it. Johnny: (To Al, from below) How’s that for a contraption, Boss? Al: Summon from Farnum that cunt with the long kraut moniker. Johnny: E.B. ain’t been over for coffee. Al: Should I ask if Farnum’s come for coffee before I get you to summon that cunt? (Johnny goes, Al looks down at “the box” sitting next to him.) Dead and without a body, you still outstrip him for intelligence. (A foreign-looking man with a handlebar moustache calls down, in a Russian accent, to Tom Nuttall and A.W. Merrick from the top of the stagecoach.) Man: Would you please know Mr. A.W. Merrick? (Nuttall points to A.W. Merrick over his bike.) Merrick: Uh—I’m A.W. Merrick.
Man: Good. (He gets down) I’m-uh-Blazanov, agent for Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company. Merrick: Welcome, Mr. Blazanov! Blazanov: Thank you, Can you show me immediately to my apparatus? Merrick: (Shaking his finger, turning to Tom) Our long-anticipated telegraph operator. Your company, having leased space for you in my office, your apparatus, Sir, is next to mine, and I will show it to you with pleasure. This way. (A.W. leads Blazanov toward his office as Tom wheels his bike around, like a kid on Christmas morning, a crowd of hoopleheads are surrounding him, enthralled with the site of the odd-looking bike.) Blazanov: Has my apparatus been-- (A.W. leads him around the quagmire) Thank you—been guarded from interference? Merrick: Uh, in candor, Mr. Blazanov, some nights more successfully than others. Al: (Looking down from the balcony) There’s a fuckin’ pair to draw to. Blazanov: I hope the electrical fluid has not blistered with fierce voltage someone foolish to ground its potential. Merrick: I’m not aware of any blistering, and my hopes in that regard may be different from yours. (He opens the office door.) Tom: (To William as he runs up to see the bike) Did you see my bicycle, young man? William: They call that type boneshaking, Sir. Tom: They do, for a mortal truth. (laughs) (Martha gently pulls William away from the bike as Tom straddles his bike. Al takes his package back inside.) --(We see Ellsworth, at the claim, consulting his dog.) Ellsworth: Look at it this way then. Mightn’t the Lord give second chances? Not on merit, necessarily. I ain’t claimin’ that. Say he does it on whim, on any basis. And here she comes with that little one beside her and another she fixes to produce. And keenness to my shortcomings don’t blind me to seein’ a-right that when a boulder needs haulin’, I will haul a boulder—which is asset to a woman with a child in her care and another she readies to deliver. Now what harm is there in believin’ that not takin’ the chance might be a confoundin’ of his will? Hmm? I’m takin’ that silence for fuckin’ support. --(Martha stands in front of Alma’s door, Alma opens it, a smile on her face.) Alma: Mrs. Bullock. Martha: Thank you so much for seeing us. Alma: Good morning, William. William: Good morning, Mrs. Garret. Alma: Please, come in. (She steps aside, Sofia waiting behind her. William enters, followed by Martha.)
William: It smells awful nice in here. Alma: We had berry tea before Sofia’s lesson. (She closes the door, looks to Martha) Will you have some? Martha: Please, if it’s not a trouble. William: I don’t want any, thank you. I didn’t know the smell was from tea. Alma: (To Sofia) Will you show William your corner in our other room, Sofia? (Sofia starts to walk, Alma stops her) Not your toys. Show him only your books. William: Thank you. (Looks up at his mom, she nods) And thank you for the candy when I first got to camp. (William and Sofia head to the corner, Martha and Alma walk into the bedroom, Alma closing the doors partway behind them.) Martha: Please, forgive the suddenness of my coming. Alma: Not at all, Mrs. Bullock. Martha: I feel an urgency about the matter which brings me. Alma: (Stops just as she starts to prep the tea, they sit) Please tell me what it is. Martha: You know that Miss Stokes, the teacher for whom we had waited so long— Alma: Has fled. Martha: Yes. (They laugh) Alma: A great disappointment to me, as I’m sure it was to you. Martha: Mmm-hmm. I hope I’m…adequate to guiding my son’s studies—I believe I am. But a child in solitude cannot find his gift for society. Alma: What do you propose? Martha: That I teach the camp’s children. (Alma smiles awkwardly, gets up and walks to the stove, trying to light it. She drops all the matches in her frustration to get a spark lit from her flint. She sighs, looks over to Martha and back.) Alma: The water is usually brought from the kitchen, already at a boil. Martha: Please don’t bother with the tea. Alma: It’s no bother. It would hardly be a bother, if I were only properly prepared. (She gives up and shuts the stove) On a second opportunity with adequate notification, we will meet you in order and readiness. Martha: (Stands) I seem always to come upon you with inadequate notice. Alma: As you remarked, simple courtesy would forestall that. Martha: I’m trying to imagine what courtesy of mine would have forestalled the last awkwardness between us. Alma: (Takes a few steps forward) Do you wish then to take Sofia under your care as well? Martha: As well as whom, Mrs. Garret? Alma: Why, Mrs. Bullock, as well as your son. Whom else would I mean? (Martha is given pause at this.)
--(Al opens his office door.) Al: Good morning. Alice: Good morning, Mr. Swearengen. (She enters, brushing up against him in her hurry) Excuse me. Change of light. Al: Pupils slow adjustin’—hope that don’t owe to morphine. Alice: No. Al: Anyhow, thanks for brushin’ against my prick. Alice: May I sit down? (Al walks to his desk, motioning to a chair for her to sit. He takes out a bottle.) Al: Too early for you? Alice: I don’t time my drinking. (She sits) Al: Dan! (He sits, Dan enters, shutting the door.) 50,000, now to me. Mr. Dority signs for the murder of Brom Garret on my orders as commissioned by his faithless wife. (Dan looks confused) Second document, signed by you, detailin’ that during transport to New York for trial along with faithless wife, Dority escapes custody. 50 now to me, 10 now you to Dority, 10 now you to Adams. Alice: Agreed, with these amendments: 25 to you on signatures; on Dority’s safe return following his escape, and by your giving over the document signed by me to an agent designated by Pinkerton, or burning it in the agent’s presence, the second 25. Al: (Tilts his head) Agreed. Alice: Will you draft Dority’s confession? Al: I’ll draft both fucking documents. (Drinks) Now would you find your own way out while I explain myself to the guilty party? (She gets up to leave, Dan follows her to the door.) Dan: You wanna brush agin’ my prick? (She opens the door and leaves. Dan shots the door, looking darkly at Al.) Al:
Got a good fuckin’ head on her shoulders, unlike some other parties in this room (looking over at the package.)
--(Nuttall’s excited, brushing his bike down with a towel, surrounded by hoopleheads in his saloon.) Man: That’s some kind of contraption he’s got there. ShitStirrer: Do you suppose had the inventor moved among us, he’d have made a model more suited to sinkholes? Tom: Oh, guided an pedaled a-right, she’ll roll smooth as a ball on a green. (A hooplehead reaches for the handles) Ah! Yours ain’t the fuckin’ hands or the fuckin’ feet. (The crowd laughs, A.W. & Blazanov enter.) Blazanov: So this is the famous place of death.
Merrick: (pointing) At that very table, Mr. Blazanov. Wild Bill Hickok was shot. Blazanov: I’ve read the account, perhaps from your hand? Tom: My bicycle masters boardwalk and quagmire with aplomb. Those that doubt me suck cock by choice. (Tom crosses his arms, looking at the Shit Stirrer, everyone laughs.) ShitStirrer: Does that signal a willingness to wager? Tom: You’re goddamn right, in specie or fucking currency. ShitStirrer: Surely odds must differ between quagmire and boardwalk. Tom: I don’t speak of the quagmire lengthwise. ShitStirrer: Well, shall quagmire be the Bella Union gap of the main thoroughfare? Tom: Done. ShitStirrer: Eight to one odds on the quagmire. Tom: I shall swoop across it. Uh—eight to one taken to 100. ShitStirrer: Even money on the boardwalk. Tom: Done! Taken to 100. Loose boards to be nailed, (A.W. whispers to a smiling Blazanov) commerce suspended, animals, drunks and sundries cleared from my lane of passage. ShitStirrer: Done. Merrick: May I have time to ready my camera, Tom? Tom: Uh, get going. Merrick: I’ll make fresh plates and new stop-bath. Tom: Whatever the fuck that means. Merrick: Come, Mr. Blazanov. Blazanov: What has just happened? Merrick: Come, come, come. Tom: Those who doubt me suck cock by choice! (The crowd laughs) Man: I’ll bet $6.00 he don’t make it down the boardwalk! (The hoopleheads all rush to bet.) --(Seth arrives at the house that Bullock built for lunch. Martha is puttering around the kitchen.) Martha: I had time only to make cold meat sandwiches after seeing Mrs. Garret. Seth: Fine. Martha: There’s cold cider in the cellar. (Sets a plate down on the table) Seth: I’ll get it. Martha: She thought it wonderful I that should teach the camp’s children. Seth: Good. Martha: Wonderful. (She looks upset, turns to the stove) That poor woman. (turns) Husband killed, left alone. (Looks to Seth) Any person would have found her situation sympathetic, let alone someone of your instincts. (Seth clenches, not able to look at her. She turns back to the stove) Mr. Nuttall has received a bicycle. Seth: Has he? Martha: William was very excited to see it. Seth: Good.
Martha:
Your food is ready. He’s out back waiting. William is.
(She opens the door and leaves, Seth pauses, opens the other door and leaves.) --(Jane is throwing up outside the freight office. Some men take notice and get up from the bench outside the freight building at the same time that Charlie approaches.) Charlie: That’s mighty good for bidness. Jane: Shut up! Charlie: There’s a girl sitting by herself in that whorehouse—Joanie Stubbs. (Jane throws a bucket of water on the puke to wash it, sorta, away.) Jane: Next you see her, (Charlie grabs the bucket, finishing the job for her) give her my congratulations. Charlie: Seeing you know about losin’ friends, you might be a good person to go on and talk to her. Jane: How does standing in my own puke prompt you to volunteer me to give a condolence call? Charlie: Why fuckin’ wouldn’t it, Jane? You like bein’ situated how you are? (Jane eyes Charlie) Jane: What fuckin’ friends did she lose anyway? --(Back at the hardware store, Trixie is working her numbers, Seth just arrived back, hangs us his coat.) Sol: How are Martha and William? Seth: Well. (Trixie eyes Seth as he hangs his hat on the desk in front of her. She takes a deep breath & goes back to her numbers. Seth walks over to the counter, opening a ledger book.) Sol: What would you think of Marcus’s lot, Seth, as location for the bank? Seth: I could see arguments in favor. Sol: He’s going back to Bismarck. Asking 14,000, 10 of which he’d carry at 1% a month, which I find reasonable. (Seth nods) Obviously, the location is its great virtue. Seth: Under all the circumstances, I disagree. (Closes the ledger book, walking away.) Sol: Too central? Seth: Not too central, no. I’m thinking more the chief backer might find unpleasant this building being always in her view. Sol: I see. Seth: Anything further you need explained chapter and verse? Sol: I hadn’t understood the matter continued so tender. Seth: It ain’t tenderness, avoiding provocation. It’s common fuckin’ courtesy. Trixie:Which neither of you’s showin’ fuckin’ much toward me. Sol: It’s over. (Walking behind the counter) It’s finished! ---
(Back at the Bella Union, a large man enters. Wolcott and Cy are seated by the windows, watching him approach the bar.) Cy:
You’ve got the worst brother—Mose—as ugly as he is, that miserable a disposition. (Cy gets up, approaching the bar.) Mr. Manuel, how are you, Sir? Mose: Fuck you, Tolliver, your crooked games and your watered-down liquor. (Drinks) Wolcott: Francis Wolcott, Mr. Manuel. (Extending hand) Thank you for coming. (Mose stands his ground) Mose: State your business. Wolcott: An admirable rigor in manner. Would you join me, please? (Motions up to his table. Mose slaps a couple coins on the bar for his drink, glares at Cy as he goes to join Wolcott.) Ahh…do I guess rightly, Sir, that you and your brother do not deal happily with groups of men? Mose: Nor each other. Wolcott: Yet you have made a rich find and have done very well in beginning it’s development. Mose: State your business. Wolcott: Further development may require organization on a scale and dealings with men to which you and your brother are not suited or not disposed to attempt. Mose: With thieving bastard Cornishmen, you mean. Underground in the shafts, (Wolcott nods) high-graders, every one of ‘em. Wolcott: The interests I represent have learned to deal effectively over the years with high-grading and other forms of theft by employees. Mose: You ain’t learned no effective method when it’s my brother going against you. Wolcott: Against us in what sense? Mose: In all five fucking senses. Wolcott: More reason you and he might sever connections toward taking separate paths. Mose: I’m sittin’ here, ain’t I? Wolcott: We would offer 200,000 for an undivided ownership on your claim. Mose: We’d both have to fucking sell? Wolcott: I’d presume your brother has stays and encumbrances on your right to separate sale. Mose: He’s encumbered every fucking breath I’ve ever fucking taken. 200,000? Wolcott: Would it expedite matters if I made our case to your brother? Mose: (standing) I’ll make the fucking case, once I find the saloon he’s in. (Goes to leave, Cy looks on alarmed) Wolcott: He should understand that our patience is not inexhaustible. Mose: Did I say I thought that? Wolcott: No. Mose: Don’t tell me how to talk to my brother! Wolcott: Certainly not. Mose: Unless you’re trying to fucking irritate me! Wolcott: Opposite of my intention. Mose: (Reapproaches) 200,000? Wolcott: Cash. (Mose leaves.)
--(Alma, gazes out her window into the bright light. She closes the shades in frustration and strides to the door, leaving Sofia sitting on a couch next to a checker board. Alma knocks on door #8, Miss Isringhausen’s. The door opens.) Alice: Mrs. Garret. Alma: Why do you linger? The stages are frequent, and you’re past your stated purpose. Have you another? Alice: Please, Mrs. Garret, do come in. (Alma enters tentatively) Do you believe I do? Alma: My beliefs about you have to do with your soul, which I feel is cold and ungenerous, unless you are a counterfeit. And if you are a counterfeit, the deception comes so naturally, I’d credit its source in such a soul—meaning cold and ungenerous, and as capable of counterfeit—manipulative and treacherous as well. Alice: Who can you think I am, Mrs. Garret? I, a poor working girl? Alma: You are not. Alice: I only hope your high wroth, Ma’am, don’t bespeak some affair gone amiss…(steps closer) I hope to Christ not involving Mr. Bullock. (Alma goes to slap Alice, Alice catches her wrist firmly) Even under such duress, you oughtn’t presume to strike me. (Pulls Alma closer, by the wrist) For who do you take me then? For who do you mistake me? Alma: I mistake you for no one, Miss Isringhausen, and I know you for a fact. Alice: All right then, Mrs. Garret. You’ve had your fit of temper. Get the fuck back to your room. (She releases Alma and opens the door for her, eyeing Alma coldly. Alma stalks out, Alice slams the door behind her.) --(Tom is oiling the wheels on his bike, the town abuzz with giddiness at his impending ride. We see Charlie, Martha, Sol & Trixie all come out to watch. Richardson looks around, excited. He runs inside to the Pants Shitter, behind the desk.) Richardson: How’s his toothache? PantsShitter: I ain’t requirin’ about his toothache, Richardson. And you oughtn’t be requirin’ about his toothache either. You ought to be hoping that his nibs will be sleeping, so we can both sneak away and go watch the ride. (Richardson makes for E.B.’s office) What are you—what are you--? You stupid— Richardson: (Knocks on the office door, E.B. is inside, passed out and gagging.) Mr. Farnum, are you in there? I need your permission, Mr. Farnum. (E.B. gagging) I’m coming in. (He pushes the door in. E.B. is choking now) What’s killing you? (Sticks his fingers down E.B.’s throat, causing E.B. to stir and spit out some gauze.) What’s afflicting you? (Pours water on E.B.’s head) EB: Stop it. For God’s sake, get away from me! (Pushes Richardson away as he stands up) I put clove-soaked cloth to my tooth. I must have gagged on it— (snorts) when I was napping. Richardson: Are you saved, Sir?
EB: Your filthy hand was down my throat! (He pushes Richardson’s hand down.) Richardson: May I go out to watch the bicycle? EB: Watch the earth yielding up it’s dead, so long as it’s not near me. (Pushes Richardson away) And never violate my private office again! (He pushes Richardson out the door and closes it, causing a bunch of antlers to fall on his head.) That cocksucker. --(Dan approaches Al’s door, he hears him talking. He listens at the door.) Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
Dan: Al: Dan:
What do you think of that, Chief? Some kind of fuckin’ division of feelin’ or somethin’? (Dan knocks) Yeah!? (Dan opens the door, looking around.) If I’m overstepping, Boss, I apologize. I’m waitin’. (Dan sits, holding his hat.) …Sometimes I hear you speakin’ in here when I know there’s nobody in here but you. You have not yet reached the age, Dan, have you, where you’re moved to utterance of thoughts properly kept silent? Been known to mutter. Not the odd mutter. Habitual fuckin’ vocalizing of thoughts best kept to yourself. I will confide further. Lately…I talk to this package. (Dan smiles at the package) The severed rotting head I paid bounty on last year of that murdered fuckin’ Indian. (Dan stands, still smiling, but it’s one of those “My boss just ripped a stinky fart and I’m about to puke because it smells so bad, but I’m gonna pretend I don’t smell it” sort of smiles.) Well, anyways, it’s the late shift. (Puts his hat on and approaches the door.) You subscribe one way or anther to Tom Nuttall’s big ride? No. I’m—I don’t see him making it, but I didn’t want to root agin’ him. (Al looks at the package) The Indian got an opinion?
(Al stops chewing his toothpick and glares at Dan. Dan leaves quickly. Al slowly gets up, Dan listens at the door. Al goes out to the balcony, package in hand, setting it down on a stool.) Al:
Don’t the decapitated deserve recreation, Chief? As much, if not more so, than those of us yet not dismembered. (He cuts the strings. We see Tom tending his bike, Doc holding it up – smiling. Al opens the box.) Whew. You, fuckin’ Chief, are uglier than before, when you were also not a treat to the eyes. Oh! (He turns and walks to the other end of the balcony) Suffer the low vantage. (Clears throat) It’s better for my standing in the camp. Tom: That is a lay down you propose! (He smacks a hoopleheads across the face, knocking him to the ground.) Corruption won’t never breath stinky on my bicycle! Al: Sent many of your friends to the happy huntin’ ground. Formidable Tom was, and no more a fool now than time shows us all. Merrick: (showing Blazanov his camera.) Using the smallest possible aperture, Mr. Blazanov, and the fastest shutter speed, our endeavor is to capture Mr. Nuttall’s attempt in all it’s vigor and velocity.
--(Mose, in an empty No. 10, sets down a gun in front of him & his brother.) Mose: We gotta sell this claim, Charlie. Charlie: Why? Mose: ‘Cus if we don’t, we’re gonna fuck it up. Charlie: Speak for yourself. (Tom wheels his bike, with Doc’s help, to his starting place. He climbs aboard and raises his hand in the air. A man with a shotgun looks for his signal to start the big ride. Cy watches.) Mose: Speakin’ for myself, if we don’t sell, you’re gonna fuck it up. Charlie: Speak for yourself. (Pistol cocks) (The shotgun and pistol both fire. One into the air-signaling the start of Tom’s big ride, the other- into Charlie Manuel’s chest – signaling the severing of ties and the sale of the Manuel claim to Hearst. Tom is barreling down the boardwalk, hooples all around cheering him on, running beside him. Al watches from his balcony.) Al:
(whispers) Come on, Tom.
(Richardson watches excitedly, holding his precious antlers in front of him. Almost like he’s brought his favorite girl, Alma, to the big ride. Al follows Tom’s progress walking the length of the balcony. Merrick takes Tom’s picture as he crosses the Bella Union gap across the quagmire of the thoroughfare.) Al:
Go on, my Son!
(Martha and William cheer Tom on. Al, Seth and the Soap Huckster, Charlie – all happy at the sight of Tom’s successful ride. Wolcott even smiles at the commotion.) Al: He made it, Chief. Mose: (approaching Wolcott) My brother had an accident. Wolcott: What’s his condition now? Mose: Fatal. Dead. Fatal gunshot. Wolcott: So an accident…handling his weapon. A self-inflicted wound. Mose: Fucking stupid. Showing off when he’s been fuckin’ drinkin’. Or a stupid fucking trick, more than one fucking time he’d do that. For Christ’s sake. Wolcott: Are there other kin, Mr. Manuel? Mose: There’s just us. Wolcott: Mother and Father dead, no siblings— Mose: What did I just fucking say to you? Wolcott: Do you accept our offer as your brother’s sole heir and agent of your own interests? Mose: 200,000.
Wolcott: Cash upon execution. Mose: We already executed. (Mose walks away, Al returns inside with the box.) --(Joanie is sitting alone, still, at the Chez Amie.) Jane: Jane Cannary! Jane Cannary comin’ in. (Opens the door – Joanie looks to her side) Hello. Joanie: (sighs) We’re closed. Jane: (Closing door) I ain’t here for any funny business. My name’s Jane Cannary. You and me got a pain-in-the-balls mutual acquaintance, Charlie fucking Utter. Joanie: How do you do, Jane? Joanie Stubbs. (Jane shuffles in closer) Would you like a—a drink? Jane: Yes! But my opening position is no. Joanie: (stands) I’m having a drink, Jane. Jane: I’ll probably join you directly. (Joanie pours a drink) Charlie says you lost your friends. Joanie: (drinks) Yes. Jane: Uh…I don’t guess it was plague. Joanie: No. Jane: Fucking violence, probably. (Shakes her head, Joanie sighs and sits.) I worked a plague tent last year. Joanie: People…spoke of the good you did. Jane: Some left the tent upright. (blinking) Maybe I will have a fucking drink, just for sociability’s sake and ‘cause I’m a fucking drunk. Joanie: Well, what’s your preference? Jane: That it ain’t been previously swallowed. (Joanie nods, amused) Bourbon if you got it. (licks her lips.) Joanie: Bourbon from Kentucky. (Lifts up the bottle of Basil Hayden) Jane: I should certainly fuckin’ hope so. (Joanie hands her a drink.) Thank you. (She holds the glass, contemplating the contents.) Murdered? Your friends? Joanie: It’s best probably not to talk about it. Jane: If we held to that rule, we’d be mute like monks months at a fuckin’ time. Joanie: (Gazing off) Three of ‘em were murdered. The others shooed from camp so they wouldn’t be. Jane: I heard of a beating Charlie Utter dispensed to some cocksucker yesterday. I wonder if that’s connected. Joanie: I wouldn’t be surprised. (Looks at the bottle, then up to Jane) Yes. (She slams the bottle down and sits.) Jane: Does he pose a further danger to you, the cocksucker? That’s—that’s what got you sitting in the dark. Joanie: Sitting countin’ as waiting? Jane: (Stammering) Oh—I—I will say that’s a attitude fit for darkness…not knowin’ what else to say, or pretendin’ that it ain’t familiar. (Joanie nods) Anyways, I’m—fuck. I’m pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you.
Joanie: Pleased to meet you, Jane. Jane: All right. Joanie: Thank you for comin’ by. Jane: Mmm-hmm. Joanie: Don’t you want your drink? Jane: I guess I’ll leave it. (snickers) Refined spirits will sometimes convulse me. (She chuckles and leaves.) --(Alma opens the door to her room, finding Ellsworth there.) Alma: Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: I was hopin’ for a word. Alma: As many as you like. (She waves him in) Is your purpose clandestine? (She smiles) Ellsworth: Private, as far as that goes. Alma: Sofia’s taking her nap. (She pulls the doors to the bedroom closed a bit. Ellsworth sits.) Let me get you a better chair. Ellsworth: (Standing, removing his hat) Oh, uh, would it speak ill of me that I’m— comfortable here? (Alma laughs and waves him to sit, she does as well.) The other morning, you was indisposed. Alma: I regret having imposed that on your attention. Ellsworth: I had a wife…took by Typhus and our baby girl. Alma: I’m so sorry, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: Oh, thank you. Anyways, I’m acquainted with certain…experiences. Th’owin’ up mornin’s, as an example. Alma: (nods) I see. Ellsworth: And I’d say—not claimin’ credentials for raisin’ a family, as my time with ‘em was brief—but I’d hope it’d testify to willingness as a candidate for marriage and so forth…offerin’ myself. (Alma is shocked & speechless. Ellsworth takes a knee in front of her.) Completin’ the sorry presentation. (He tentatively looks up at her, Alma stammers.) Alma: I’m deeply grateful for your proposal. (stammering) May I ask a brief interval before giving you my answer? Ellsworth: Long as you like. (standing) It will give me time to get up. Alma: (standing) I’ll ask a little longer than that. And some solitude. Ellsworth: Mmm…of course. (He turns to leave, she grabs his arm.) Alma: Thank you very much, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: Yes, Ma’am. (He leaves, she sits, stunned.) --(Seth is stoking the fire at the house that Bullock built.) Seth: Is the boy warm enough? Martha: Yes, thank you. (Approaches closer, pausing) This roof over our heads, Mr. Bullock, testifies to your care for William and me. The fostering affection
and guidance you show my son to shape him into a man will only deepen my gratitude to you. As for myself…no further demonstrations are necessary as…other duties claim your attentions. (She heads for the stairs.) Seth: None such as you conceive since your arrival, nor will they again, whatever the state of our relations. Martha: Do not sacrifice further on my account, Mr. Bullock. (She starts to go upstairs, abruptly turns.) I reject the offering. I repudiate it. I find it poisonous. (Seth clenches back tears, shutting the furnace and throwing the poker to the ground.) --(Al enters the secret passageway into Merrick’s office. He’s holding a note.) Al: Aha, not the eyesore of my previous visit, huh? Merrick: Ah, Al, welcome. Yes, yes. Tidied and reconstituted, prompted in no small measure, I might add, by your very much appreciated exhortation. Al: I just jotted a few fucking thoughts down for your perusal. Merrick: In what regard? Al: Well, peruse it and you’ll fucking find out. (He turns – facing Blazanov’s apparatus.) What the fuck is this? Merrick: Uh, that is a telegraph apparatus, whose operator, Mr. Blazanov, presently is, uh, taking the air. (reading) “Sheriff Bullock would not confirm having met with representatives from the Montana territory to discuss their offer of annexation.” Is this true, Al? Al: (Still gazing at the telegraph equipment) Did he fucking confirm it to you? Merrick: I haven’t spoken to Bullock. Al: So, then I guess it ain’t confirmed. Answer me this fucking question. Why in fuck do I find out about this telegraph operator arriving tardily and by accident? Merrick: I wasn’t aware that you were owed official notification. Al: Merrick, you and me are allies, marching into battle together, and aren’t smartassed replies amongst allies a waste of fuckin’ time? Merrick: Uh…allies? Marching? Al: Allies marching is exactly fucking right. And this operator hitting camp is big. The main dereliction is Farnum’s whose bailiwick specifically is new arrivals, but you have also been fucking remiss. (Shaking finger at Merrick.) Merrick: What battle are we marching toward in formation of some sort, Al? (Door opens) Blazanov: I, uh, purchased the sleeping equipment. Merrick: Mr. Blazanov, Mr. Swearengen. Blazanov: (bowing) How do you do, Mr. Swearengen? Al: All right, Blazanov. That’s some pronounced fuckin’ accent you’ve got, huh? Blazanov: I am Russian. Al: Now you could have waited saying that before I was fuckin’ seated, huh? (They all laugh) Merrick: Mr. Swearengen was keenly interested to hear that you’re the camp’s telegraph operator. Blazanov: How do you do?
Al:
Oh, no no no. How do you do? (Stepping in close) You are the master of the fuckin’ secret code and all the other fuckin’ secret things, isn’t that right, huh? Blazanov: Not so secret. Al: No, that’s some fucking skill. I’m sure people are trying to bribe you right and left, huh? Blazanov: No, no, I’m not allowed. Al: Oh, nor am I, no. None of us are. We are, every one, strictly forbade. That’s the fucking beauty of it all, huh? Blazanov: I think I haven’t enough English for you, Mr. Swearengen. Al: Bullshit. You have the perfect exact fucking amount. My only question for you, young man, is your feelings on (grabs the sleeping equipment away from Blazanov’s “package” pointing to it and motioning a blow job.) your prick being sucked constantly and without charge, yeah? (They all laugh) Merrick: Whoa! And thus you encounter one of our wonderful meaningless American traditions, Mr. Blazanov, the tall-tale conversation, and-and tales and good nature. Blazanov: Hmm. Al: (Heading upstairs) The Gem, Blazanov, my saloon. Very convenient to your place of business, huh? Via private walkway, which I will employ as we speak, or by the public thoroughfare. Visit and you will experience a tradition…only used in this camp or my place by newly-arrived telegraph operators fucking free, be their preference of tale tall or fuckin’ otherwise. And by all means— (mimicking Russian accent) Welcome to America. (Bowing, he leaves.) --(At the graveyard, Charlie approaches, taking off his hat.) Charlie: Evenin’, Bill. Jane ain’t with me, ‘cause she’s a drunken fuckin’ mess, and I don’t know what to do about it. I know you want her looked out for, and I’m doin’ my fuckin’ best. But I won’t stand before you claimin’ optimism. Other news. That letter you wrote your wife just before that cocksucker murdered you, it come to my hand. (Cleaning dirt & pebbles from the grave) I won’t even try explainin’ fuckin’ how. And knowin’ what we know about our fucked up postal system, I ain’t committin’ it to the fuckin’ mails. You know I will try to get it to her, which I pray’d be a portion off your mind. When I’ve found where she’s at, on my way settin’ off I’ll tell you. All right. God bless you, Bill. (Starts to leave—turns back.) And as far as Jane, as drunk as you’ve seen her, you’ve never seen her this worse. Between us, maybe havin’ lost wantin’ to keep on. So I-I don’t know what the fuck to do! But you know I’ll—I’ll keep tryin’. (He leaves.) --(Seth approaches a drunken hooplehead, it looks like the soap guy, in the night air. He’s passed out on a table out in the thoroughfare. Seth kicks the guy, putting his hands out by his side in a “Well?” fashion. The hooplehead looks up at him, then puts his head back down on the table. Alma watches from her window.)
(We next see a dead Chinese slavewhore lying at the bottom of her cage with a loaf of bread near her head. Doc is looking down on her in despair. We see Wolcott talking to Mose outside of Mr. Lee’s death hut.) Wolcott: Is this adequate, Mr. Manuel? Your brothers mortal remains are housed inside under the care of Mr. Lee. (Mr. Lee comes out – staring at them. Doc approaches Wolcott.) Doc: Do you speak Chinese? Wolcott: I do not, Sir. Doc: Well, however you accomplish communication with that son of a bitch (pointing to Lee.) then the more the disgrace to your soul! (Doc storms off) Wolcott: Are we through here? Can we finally complete our transaction? Mose: It fucking happens the fucking gun he was cleaning when he shot himself was mine. Wolcott: Is that so? Mose: And I’m asking to know if a person of the mind to blame me will have a way to recover the fucking bullet? Wolcott: I expect not, Mr. Manuel, or that other than yours, any such mind is in the camp. I suggest you think of other things, like the money that Mr. Tolliver’s waiting to present to you at the Bella Union. Mose: That easy…(walking off) to forget a fucking brother?! Wolcott: Money has properties in this regard! Though no remedy is discovered yet sovereign against sentimental remorse. (Shouts at a Chinese slavewhore that is looking at him, leaning against the bars of her cage.) Close your eyes! (He stumbles off, passing the dead whore on the way.) --(Joanie is still waiting. So tired, tired of waiting, tired of waiting for W! There’s a knock at the door.) Joanie: It’s open. (Wolcott enters, shuts the door, hands behind his back.) Do what you came to. Wolcott: (Approaching) I don’t know what I came to do. Joanie: Is it easier sayin’ that? Wolcott: The other nights I’ve known. (Jane stumbles down the stairs from the lock-up, clutching a shot gun.) Jane: You’re supposed to look out for that madam, fucking asleep at the switch. (Joanie stands, facing Wolcott, she tilts her head back, exposing her throat.) Jane: Where’s fucking Charlie to piss in my ear when he’s fuckin’ needed?
(Joanie breaths, no longer giving up her neck. Wolcott eyes the bourbon, turning it to read the label.) Wolcott: Joanie:
Basil Hayden Bourbon, you were waiting for me. No, my friend Jane left that.
(She grabs the bottle, channels Jane and whacks him upside the head with the bottle – shattering it. He stumbles, bleeding from his temple. Joanie runs to the back room.) Joanie: And you leave me alone! (She slams the door behind her.) And I got a fucking gun in here too! (She opens a drawer and pulls out a pistol.) And get the fuck out! And lock the front fucking door! (She sits on the bed, Wolcott stumbles over to the chair, retrieving his hat from the floor beside it, he stumbles out the door and into the thoroughfare. Jane sees him, she’s got her shot gun trained on him) Jane: Are you the fucking cocksucker? Wolcott: I may well be. Jane: Did you just kill that girl in the Chez Amie? Wolcott: I did not. That girl in the Chez Amie is well. Jane: So whose blood’s on your fucking mug? Wolcott: My own. (Reaching to hand her his card) My name is Francis Wolcott. (She takes it, he keeps walking) If you find me untrue in any particular, I stay at the Grand Central Hotel. Jane: Who runs that joint? Wolcott: A grotesque named Farnum. Jane: You ain’t lied so far. (She stumbles off toward the Chez Amie. Wolcott stumbles off to the hotel.)
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Ian McShane .... Molly Parker .... Brad Dourif .... John Hawkes .... Paula Malcomson .... W. Earl Brown .... Dayton Callie .... Powers Boothe .... Sean Bridgers .... Jeffrey Jones .... Cast
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Doc Cochran Sol Star Trixie Dan Dority Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver / Johnny Burns A.W. Merrick
Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs E.B. Farnum William Sanderson Ted Mann Shit Stirrer (Rutherford) Philip Moon Mr. Lee Bree Seanna Wall Sofia Ralf Richeson Pete Richardson Pavel Lychnikoff Blazanov Pruitt Taylor Vince Mose Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall Ashleigh Kizer Dolly Sarah Paulson Alice Isringhausen Charlie Manuel Captain Taylor Zack Ward Pants Shitter Gill Gayle Soap Huskster Mei Melancon Chinese Slavewhore Kirk Fox Dead Claim Hooplehead Allan Graf Allen Keller Ted Mann Shit Stirrer Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 21: “Amalgamation and Capital” Directed by: Ed Bianchi Written by: Elizabeth Sarnoff
Episode 21: “Amalgamation and Capital” (Morning at the house that Bullock built. William is coming down the stairs, buttoning up his shirt. Seth is in the kitchen, sipping his coffee.) Seth: Good morning, William. William: Good morning, Mr. Bullock. Seth: Are you sometimes permitted coffee? William: Yes, sir. Seth: About a third of a cup? William: Completed with cow’s milk. Seth: As to sugar, three spoons? (William nods) Is this the morning, William, do you suppose, the tip of this lamp, like a Indian spear, goes into the top of my head? William: (chuckles) I don’t know, Sir. (Seth hands him his coffee, he tastes it.) Seth: Does it stand comparison with your mother’s? William: No, Sir. (Sets it down) Seth: Stiffened with a further lace of sugar? William: I mean that he would make it, Sir—my father would. Seth: Do you have time to sit a bit? William: I suppose I might do, having chopped the kindling last evening. (Seth motions to a chair, William and he sit as Martha comes quietly down the stairs, pausing as she hears them talking.) Seth: Why don’t you tell me about your father, William? I didn’t know my brother so well as you had a chance to. I was nine when Robert left our home. I think you knew him longer. You were 11. William: I knew him pretty well. Seth: What did he like doin’ best? (William pauses, Martha sits quietly on the stairs, listening.) William: Sometimes he’d sing. Not army songs, but other kinds. He would make mother laugh. He made the best duck calls of anyone. He would send away through the wood, and he taught me comebacks, and feeder calls and hails. (There’s a knock at the door, it opens. It’s Charlie Utter, he nods to Seth, Seth nods back and turns back to William, looks at the boy for a moment, and stands up.) Seth: Mr. Utter and I have some camp bidness to see to. (He walks to the mudroom to put on his coat.) William, are you a good duck caller? William: I suppose I’m pretty good. I could show you, Sir. (Martha comes down the stairs a bit.) Seth: I know of some potholes over Belle Fourche way that are pretty good for ducks. William: All right, Sir. (Seth nods at William, Martha continues quickly down the stairs.) Martha: Goodbye, Mr. Bullock.
(Seth just looks at her, puts on his hat and leaves with Charlie.) --(Al’s office, he’s getting dressed. There’s a knock at the door…) EB: Al: EB:
E.B. Farnum, Al. Come in, E.B.! (Opens the door, hissing in pain, touching his jaw) I’ve been prostrated by the agonies of the damned. Al: Judgment is upon us then. EB: A molar rotted through. Al: Distressing me also, that you are my eyes and ears and a day as eventful as yesterday should find you indisposed. (Sits) EB: (sniffs-still holding his jaw) Some solace in knowing I’m missed. (Sitting, he takes his hat off) Al: You missed the advent of the fucking telegraph operator that had you steered into one of your rooms, you could have kept tabs on henceforth. EB: The pain nearly killed me. Al: As you still breathe amongst us, I shall ask you to befriend this fuckin’ Russian. EB: Russian? Al: The fucking telegraph operator, E.B., is a fuckin’ Russian. EB: Of course I’ll befriend him. I’m very fond of Russians. Al: And as the trust between you deepens, we’ll be particularly interested in messages to and from Yankton. (knocks at door) Yeah? (Door opens) Dan: Sorry, E.B. (Holding a newspaper) Al, you might wanna take a gander at that. (Sets the paper down in front of Al.) Al: E.B. is leaving. You won’t miss him. (Takes something out of his drawer, E.B. stands) He’s livin’ at Merrick’s and looks like the prize at a carnival. EB: What a delightful image to carry away with me! (E.B. throws his arms up in delight as he leaves. Al, puts on a pair of reading glasses, looking up at Dan “Yes, it has come to this, now go away.” Dan leaves, Al reads.) --(At the Bella Union, Cy is reading the paper at the bar, Jack looking on. Tessie is coming down the stairs.) Cy: Swearengen’s put the paper man’s boat to sea with a hold full of fuckin’ bullshit. Tessie:He wants 5,000 more upstairs. Cy: Jesus Christ! (Throws the paper down and pounds the bar with his fist.) Tell that fat bastard he can come down and get it hisself! Tessie:He says it’s 100 if I bring it up. Cy: Is the 5 you already brought him in any kinda action, Tess? (She looks down) It’s just for him to look at while he fucks ya! So, do I want my $8.00, Tess, of the $9.00 he pays for the fuck, and my 90 of the 100 he gives you to bring it up to him, or do I want to give fat boy the opportunity, if he has to come down to get the other five, to test his luck on the floor here amongst the games of chance? (Charlie and Seth enter.)
Tessie:I see. Cy: And don’t mistake me, Honey, I want to take the time to explain myself to you. Seth: We’ve come to see Mose Manuel about his brother gettin’ shot. Cy: (Snorts, turns to Tessie) Fetch Mose Manual, Tess. Tell him Sheriff Bullock wants to pay his condolences here amongst the games of chance. (Tessie turns and goes back upstairs. Cy snaps the up the paper and taps the front article.) All these rumors, Sheriff, swirling around you. How do you keep your hat on? --(Alma’s room, she and Ellsworth are going over paperwork. Sofia is in the bedroom, kneeling at the end of the bed, writing.) Ellsworth: If you’ll sign right here, Ma’am. And give us a “A.G.” in the corner. Alma: (Dipping her quill) Is that abbreviation a term of art in financial transactions? Ought I acquaint myself with its meaning? Ellsworth: That abbreviation, Ma’am, is your initials. Alma: (Nods and signs the paperwork.) And by asking the whereabouts of the currency I signed for receiving, do I reveal an even deeper stupidity? Ellsworth: The coach from Denver should get in today. Alma: And the safe we’ve purchased? To be housed in the bank we’re to build? Ellsworth: It’s inside the coach; as well. Safe’s inside the coach and the currency is inside the safe is the full picture. Alma: There, I did manage to be stupid. Ellsworth: No, Ma’am. Alma: And you will see to the safe’s temporary situation at the Star & Bullock hardware store? Ellsworth: Yes, Ma’am. Alma: Gaze averted from the awkwardness such a situation generates. Ellsworth: Fixin’ my eyes instead on its pluses securing your money. Alma: (nodding) Excellent then, Mr. Ellsworth. (sniffs) May I further impose on you to convey this letter? (Hands him a letter) Ellsworth: Of course. (He reads the envelope) Mr. Swearengen? Alma: Please. (She gets up quickly, holding her stomach.) Ellsworth: All right. Is there anything else for us to discuss? Alma: Not at this time. (She runs to the bedroom, coughing and retching ensue.) Ellsworth: (Gathers up the papers) I’ll be goin’ then. (He leaves, Alma is groaning.) --(Joanie opens the curtains at the Chez Amie. We see Jane passed out, her face pressed to the glass of the front door. Joanie opens the door and Jane jumps.) Jane: Who’s that? Joanie: It’s Joanie Stubbs. You’re outside my place. Jane: (Situates her gun, groaning) Keepin’ half-assed vigil after the fact. Joanie: Well, come in and tell me what you mean.
Jane: (Hawks and spits, Joanie turns her head away) Nah, that’s all right. (Starts to get up) Uh, that cocksucker you spoke to me of come from here last night with a bloody fucking mug. Joanie: I gave it to him. Jane: Good! (Groans, pulling herself to her feet) Ahhh…anyways, he told me…at rifle point you was okay. Joanie: I am. Jane: I knew – if he was lying you was dead and feared finding you so in the darkness. Uh…(clears throat) Scared that way since I was small. Joanie: Well, come on in, Jane. Jane: If you was alive—(laughs) why fuckin’ knock was my thinkin’. Interfere with you gettin’ to sleep or—bein’ asleep already— Joanie: Jane, it’s nippy on my twat. Jane: Alright, then, see you later! (Turns quickly to leave, Joanie steps onto the porch.) Joanie: Do you remember you were in here yesterday? Jane: Yes, I fuckin’ remember. Joanie: Well, why not come in again? Jane: Maybe I just fuckin’ might. (Horse whinnies) Fields: Hey hey hey (He has a horse by a rope, pulling him) Jane: Ah…Nigger General’s got a wild horse on his hands. (She clears her throat and enters the Chez Amie.) --(The livery, Hostetler is trying to help Fields.) Hostetler: Whoa, boy, whoa whoa. Fields: I pity the brute beast who pits his cunning against the Nigger Generals! Whoa,-oh shit! Come here, boy! We can catch the cavalry before they head south and sell him for $100! But they want their horses cut! Hostetler: Where’d you catch him? Fields: I sprung a rope fence behind him in a box canyon. (Horse neighs) He’d escaped the Sioux—but his path crossed an in-season mare’s. Hostetler: Whoa boy, whoa boy. Now, now I can nut him, but the moon is wrong, and he’s gonna take it badly. Fields: Fuck, I ain’t losing my chance at 100 waiting on no fucking moon! Okay. Don’t put your ass on me. Hey! Hey! Hostetler: Come on, come on, come on. Wash him so he won’t fester. Fields: Hey, I got him. All right. Come here, boy. Come here. Now, if you want to take it out on someone, remember it was very dark-skinned white folks that cut on you. They just sounded like niggers to throw you off. --(At the Gem, Johnny is sitting with a blonde whore on the stairs, reading the paper.) Johnny: Whore:
This one’s a “D.” And this one’s a “G.” And what’s the first one? “D”? (Dan sits at a table and pours coffee.)
Al:
(Coming down the stairs, reading) “Sheriff Bullock declines comment on the swirls of rumors that parties in Helena with whom he has had long association are keenly interested in annexing our camp to the Montana territories. ‘The Pioneer’ (sits) also learns of interest more developed and advanced on the part of Wyoming.” Johnny: You knew Cheyenne would be heard from. Al: Get the fuck up off them steps! (Johnny and the whore jump up) Here’s where it gets really fuckin’ busy. “And of an offer secretly proffered by certain elements in Washington D.C. to annex to America these our beloved hills as a separate freestanding territory, with an eye towards eventual statehood.” Johnny: Makin’ Deadwood fuckin’ headquarters! Al: (Takes off his glasses) Don’t spread your legs for them just yet, Johnny. Not with Mexico to be heard from and fucking France. --(Merrick’s print shop, he presses out a copy of the paper, removes it from the tray. Blazanov is unpacking books. E.B. is snooping around him, looking interested.) Merrick: There. 100 extra copies, Gentlemen, to satisfy the widened interest I expect today’s edition may generate. EB: (Claps) Wonderful, eh, Mr. Blazanov? 100 copies extra. Blazanov: Okay. Merrick: Shall we walk a bit, my American and Russian friends? EB: (To Blazanov) Shall we? (Lets his fingers do the walking) Blazanov: I can’t leave my apparatus. Merrick: Are not all of us, Mr. Blazanov, tethered in some sense to our labors? And at some point in our lives, is not acceptance of that tethering discovery of a path to joy? Blazanov: Don’t know, Mr. Merrick. Merrick: And does not the very knowing we are tethered allow us in conscience upon occasion, the rejuvenating pleasures of respite? EB: Take your walk alone, A.W., for I confess I’m mesmerized by Mr. Blazanov’s machine and hope he may explain its workings. Merrick: Has Al seen “The Pioneer”? EB: I don’t know. A mystery you should seek to solve. (The door opens, Alice Isringhausen enters…) Alice: Good day. Merrick: Ah, good day, Miss. Uh, A.W. Merrick of “The Deadwood Pioneer.” Alice: I wish to send a telegram. Merrick: A telegram, yes, of course. Then that’s Mr. Blazanov there you seek. (Alice walks over to Blazanov’s corner. It has a tent-flap opening to the thoroughfare.) Blazanov: How do you do? Blazanov, Cheyenne and Black Hills telegraph company.
Alice: How do you do? EB: Miss Isringhausen. Alice: Mr. Farnum. I wish this message sent. Blazanov: Oh, of course. I have a form for you to write on. Please. (He holds a chair out for her, she goes to the desk, E.B. trying to peek at her message. She looks at him, he turns, kicks something and moans in pain.) EB: Hmm. Mmm. (He turns to peek again) You seem uncowed by Mr. Blazanov’s apparatus. Are you initiate in its mysteries? Alice: Fuck off. (EB looks down, backing off. Blazanov motions to the desk.) Blazanov: Please. --(Merrick enters the Gem from upstairs.) Merrick: Ah, Gentlemen! Ah! (Running downstairs, laughing) Oh, Jeez! (Laughs) Ah, what news? (chuckles) This ink-stained wretch has just produced an overrun of 100 copies! Al: (Kicks Dan under the table – Dan stirs from reading the paper.) Dan, don’t you agree that the truth, if only a pinch, must season every falsehood, or the palate fuckin’ rebels? (The smile starts to fall from A.W.’s face) And mustn’t the novice chef be mindful not to ladle out his concoction by the unseasoned fucking ton, lest before he perfect his art, he lose his clientele? (Al starts to walk upstairs, Johnny and the whore watching. Johnny looks confused. A.W. is stunned.) Dan: I’d like the ball scores a little more fuckin’ prompt. Merrick: Excuse me. (Runs upstairs) Al Swearengen, I would not go into that office if I were you. Al: Were you fuckin’ born yesterday? (Ellsworth enters downstairs) Merrick: No, Sir, I was not. I was not born yesterday! Al: Then may we please have a conversation as fuckin’ adults? Merrick: I think we’d better! (Al pops the arm of his glasses in his mouth and opens the office door, looking at Merrick. Merrick looks at Ellsworth & Dan below, they enter the office, Al shuts the door.) Ellsworth : I ain’t waitin’. (Takes the letter out) Give this to him. Tell him whatever its import, he’d best not serve the sender ill. (He tosses the letter on the table in front of Dan, Dan takes it and Ellsworth leaves. E.B. enters from above, looking down on Dan & Johnny.) Dan: He’s in with Merrick, E.B. EB: I bear news that don’t wanna wait. (He turns, facing the wall.) Al: Every rumor you floated in your article, Merrick, I believe is a living possibility for this camp, and I want you to fuckin’ hear that as a compliment. (Pours shots) Merrick: If so, it’s the first from your lips.
Al:
Because all them possibilities called next to accomplished fact in one fuckin’ outgush makes people smell a rat. (Drinks) Merrick: Yes, I suppose so. Al: These interests comin’ after us, Merrick, they’re fuckin’ rough. They’re going after our nuts. They’re hypocrite cocksuckers, and the fuckin’ lyin’ tactics and instruments they use to fuck people up the ass can be turned against them. Merrick: My newspaper being such an instrument. (Al pours another shot) Al: But scale, amount, proportion, seasonin’. Drink that fuckin’ second shot, Merrick! Merrick: I like my fuckin’ liquor. Al: A trait in you that gave me early hope. Merrick: (Sniffs his hand) I like stinkin’ of fuckin’ ink too. Give it a fuckin’ smell, Al. (E.B. sits and waits.) Al: No. So you enjoyed writin’ your fuckin’ article, huh? (They drink) Worse ways to spend a night, puttin’ shoulder to a fuckin’ idea. Merrick: Evidently, I put mine to overmany. Al: (Pours again) Pursued down overmany avenues. The camp’s welfare was the main idea. (E.B. approaches Al’s door and knocks.) EB: Al! Something strange has transpired I need you to construe. Al: What?! EB: As I was befriending— Al: Come in! EB: (Enters) As I was befriending the Russian operator, that woman tutor came to send a telegram. We jockeyed a bit as I sought a glance at its contents, (Al leans forward) and finally, she shouted in so many words—and here is the strangeness in a tutor, to get the fuck away from her— Dan: (enters) Since the private part of this meetin’s over, (hands Al the letter – whispers) Ellsworth brung it. EB: --In so many words. (Al opens the letter) Al: Where’s the tutor now? (Reads) EB: Still with the operator, apparently waiting for an answer to her message. Al: (To Merrick) Leave by the front entrance, huh? Walk around for a few minutes before you go back to your place. (A.W. walks to the door, pausing. Al looks at him and raises his eyebrows “What the fuck are you waiting for?” – Merrick leaves. Al addresses Dan, stuffing the letter in his pocket.) Bring that tutor up here. The Russian too. EB: It felt like something you’d want to construe. Al: Go away, E.B. EB: All right. Certainly. (Al puts away the bottle and wipes the spillage from his desk.) --(William’s garden—he’s unwrapping a few seeds. He shoves the burlap they were in into his pocket and kneels down to plant them. Martha sees him from the window and goes outside to join him.)
William: It’s the seeds from the sunflower we had in Fort Quitman, which I had in a jar which broke and mice ate most of. So now I only have these three. Martha: I didn’t know you brought them. William: Mr. Bullock’s been missing father. I talked to him about it this morning. As Papa like the sunflower, I thought Mr. Bullock might as well. Martha: Then shall we plant those together? William: Press the soil firmly on them, while I get the watering can. (William gets up, Martha takes his place and presses the soil. William comes back with the watering can and Martha stands back. He waters the seeds.) Maybe we should take Mr. Bullock lunch at his store. --(Bella Union, Mose is eating breakfast. Seth and Charlie are seated across from him.) Mose: An accident befell my brother is the sum of what I know, and be glad I choose to say it. (eats) Seth: Gutshot, at Nuttall’s No. 10 by his own hand? Mose: Correct. Seth: The day you sell out the claim you two were partnered on? Mose: Correct, and fuck yourself, and don’t act entitled to answers. Charlie: Why was Charlie handlin’ the gun? Mose: Fuck yourself, and don’t act entitled. Charlie: Why weren’t you two watchin’ Nuttall’s bike ride? Mose: (Wipes his mouth, grabs his drink) Fuck yourself. Seth: I want to see his gun and his remains. Where is Charlie buried? Mose: My brother is buried in a secret burial place by his own private instructions! Cy: Jesus Christ, Bullock! Put together a court or don’t! (Wolcott enters) Charlie: Quiet, you! Cy: Don’t hush me in my own fucking joint. And if we take it outside, old man, expect a different outcome from the other fuckin’ day. Charlie: You best have 5 of your fuckin’ cappers then with, uh, rifles at the ready. Cy: I got 5 and 5 behind them, indoors or out. Wolcott: I too must report to the Sheriff a death, a Cornishman at theft has been shot in Mr. Hearst’s claim. Seth: Killed? Wolcott: Yes, in flight. Charlie: It’s all fuckin’ amalgamation and capital, ain’t it, Wolcott? Wolcott: Mr. Utter, are you a student of Hume? Smith? A disciple of Karl Marx? Seth: (Stands) Come on, Charlie. (They head for the door) Wolcott: My employer, Mr. Hearst, has interests and connections in Montana, Sheriff, as are imputed to you in this mornings “Pioneer.” Charlie: (He turns and charges Wolcott, stepping up on a couch) You shut your fucking mouth! Cy: Get him out of here! Seth: Down, Charlie! (Grabs him) Charlie: Sure got to you, didn’t he, Mose? Now he’s got to get you to die! Seth: Come one, Charlie.
(Seth grabs Charlie and drags him outside. Tessie sidles up to Mose, putting her hand on his shoulder. He puts his arm around her.) Mose: Mm-hm. Let me, uh…(Puts his hand through her thighs) get my arm through here so I can secure my toast. (She pets his head as he takes a bite of toast.) --(Out in the thoroughfare…) Charlie: You’re gonna lift me one time too fuckin’ many! (Grabbing onto a post) Seth: You don’t go back in there if I let you go. Charlie: Uh-huh. (Seth lets go, Charlie springs away) I’m leavin’ the whole fuckin’ camp! Seth: Going where? Charlie: A letter come to hand I need to take to Bill’s missus. Excuse me. (Steps behind a bean & corn stand, pushing the owner aside) Excuse me. Camp bidness. He wrote just before he got killed. Seth: I see. Charlie: And you know who fuckin’ give it to me? How crazy life got? And money must buy these bastards any-fuckin’g-thing they want! That cocksucker inside, Mr. Amalgamation and fuckin’ capital! Seth: Hearst’s geologist gave you the letter? Charlie: And God knows who he fuckin’ bought it offa…(grabs some produce) or how many hands it passed through. It fucks me up thinking Bill’s missus got to handle something that cocksucker touched. Seth: Was it over the letter you beat him the other day? Charlie: No no. (To shopkeeper) Excuse me. (Puts coins down) No, I give my word not—not to say what that was over. I’d best go, lest Mr. Amalgamation and capital takes one through the fucking head. (He walks off – Seth calls after him) Seth: What’s the import of that expression? Charlie: (Stops) Do I look like I fuckin’ know? (Seth approaches) Some big-shot eastern magazine reporter interviewin’ Bill said that was what’s changing things around. (He looks away) Jane. I don’t know what’s gonna come of fuckin’ Jane. Seth: I’ll keep an eye on her. Charlie: You should lock her in that cell and don’t let her fuckin’ drink! And don’t fuck yourself up over Mose Manuel. He’ll get hisself fleeced of what is rightfully his and what he got by fuckin’ murder. He’ll be judge on hisself and jury too. Just like the fuckin’ most of us. (We see a coach coming down the thoroughfare.) Seth: Coach from Denver. Charlie: (Turns) Here’s yours. Seth: (Turns and sees William and Martha approaching – he turns back to Charlie) Good luck, Charlie! (Charlie waves him off as he leaves. Seth approaches his family.) Martha: We’ve brought you and Mr. Star lunch. Seth: Thank you.
(She taps William on the shoulder and they turn to go to the hardware store. Alma watches the scene from her window and sees the coach arrive.) --(Jane is passed out on a chair at the Chez Amie. Joanie comes out of her room, changed and fixing her hair. She bends down to pick up the broken bottle.) Jane: I’m up! Joanie: You want the bath? Jane: I may well get to that. (Joanie picks up the bottle fragments and walks across the room to throw them out.) Ample here, ain’t it? Joanie: Yeah. Jane: Uh, formerly a cooperage. Joanie: My friend Eddie that bought him out said the man had been a season ahead of himself. Jane: Well, lovely as it’s fixed as a brothel, I expect you will reopen soon enough, uh…(chuckles) restock and reopen. Joanie: You’d think so, wouldn’t ya? (Sits, looks at Jane, Jane eyes her back.) Stay awhile, Jane. Be my guest. Or favor me and stay. Jane: (Stumbles through her thoughts, considering the offer. She points at Joanie) I get top fuckin’ dollar. (chuckles.) --(We see Jane climbing the stairs of the freight office up to the lock-up. She enters and Charlie puts the letter away. He stands and packs as they talk.) Charlie: New saloon in the camp, Jane? Jane: I know that’s some clever opening gambit to culminate in breaking my balls. Charlie: Just sayin’ I checked the usual spots ‘cause I wanted to say goodbye before I left camp, so incase you go ahead and fucking die— Jane: Goodbye, Charlie, goodbye. Have a good fuckin’ trip. Shut the fuck up. ‘Cause it so happens when you return—if no trees or animals killed you that you were fucking driving crazy with criticism—you will find I’ve moved out of this shitbox so I don’t have to fucking embarrass you or fucking have you hovering over me like the ugliest fucking nurse in the fucking universe. (She enters the lock-up, pushing Charlie aside. He slams the cell door behind her.) Charlie: Into where? Jane: Into where what? Charlie: Into where are you fuckin’ movin’ when you fuckin’ move out of here? Jane: Into the fucking whorehouse down the way, which you fucking sent me to see that woman at, if needin’ to piss in my ear didn’t crowd out every other thought or recollection in your head! Charlie: How did the two of you get along? Jane: Did I just fucking say I was movin’ in there? Charlie: Which being it’s a fuckin’ whorehouse could indicate some fuckin’ business arrangement or some other fuckin’ thing.
Jane: (Comes out of the cell) Yeah, I’m gonna be Queen Hooker. You’re a keen fuckin’ student of the human scene, Charlie! (She heads for the door) Charlie: Well, good! Good. Jane: Where are you going anyway? Charlie: (Tying a bandanna around his neck) I’ve made a decision not to tell you. Jane: If you made a decision not to tell me, what did you just fuckin’ tell me for? Charlie: My decision is not to tell you my specific destination…’cause…I don’t think I should. And that’s that. Jane: Well, have a safe journey to your unannounced destination and a safe fucking return. Charlie: And good luck to you with your new livin’ arrangement. (Jane opens the door – Charlie puts on his hat) And, uh…my best, please, to, uh, Miss Stubbs. Jane: And you not only a fucking pain in the balls, Charlie, but also the strangest fucking person I ever met. Charlie: You’ll get no argument here. Jane: Good! (She leaves, slamming the door. Charlie puts his bag over his shoulder.) --(William is watching Trixie do her numbers in the hardware store.) William: 3 plus 3 would equal 6. Trixie:Well, I sometimes put 9 to amuse myself. Sol: Alright, take it up. Trixie:(To Martha) Vigilant to detail like his Pa. (Martha smiles at Trixie, Ellsworth and Seth pull on a rope, hauling the safe up while Sol guides it into place.) Martha: I’d think Mrs. Garret as the bank’s chief backer might wish to be present for its opening. (Seth, Sol, Trixie and Ellsworth all look at her.) Ellsworth: Well, as far as that, I got her proxy. Martha: Yes, but wouldn’t she wish to be? (They all pause) Seth: Perhaps she would. Ellsworth: I can ask. (He lets go of the rope, it zings – pulling Seth toward the safe as it thuds to the floor as he leaves. Guess we know who was hauling that boulder.) Trixie:Excuse me. (She runs outside after Ellsworth, giving a piercing whistle to get his attention. He stops.) What the fuck’s going on? Ellsworth: You as the wrong fella. Trixie:The water comes to a boil between them two fuckin’ women, I will fuckin’ guarantee you that much. Have you proposed to Mrs. Garret as you fuckin’ swore you would? Ellsworth: Leavin’ aside what I did swear or didn’t, let’s say I fuckin’ have. Trixie:And? Ellsworth: That’s where the matter stands. She ain’t said yes or no. Trixie: How did the lady incline, fuckin’ Ellsworth?
Ellsworth: I wouldn’t guess, fuckin’ Trixie. Trixie:Did you present yourself enthusiastic? Ellsworth: Well, I didn’t dance a jig if that’s what you’re asking. Trixie: Or more fuckin’ glum-like, next to invitin’ refusal. Ellsworth: Not glum, not…invitin’ refusal. Straightforward, I’d call it. Trixie: Sincere? Ellsworth: Yeah. Trixie: Well, what the fuck is her fuckin’ problem then? You’re a worthy enough fuckin’ candidate, given all her fuckin’ givens. Ellsworth: Warm endorsement. She’d have to state her reservations. --(Alice is standing in front of Al’s desk. He stands behind it, producing the letter from his pocket.) Al:
Mrs. Garret writ me a letter saying how yesterday she lost her temper with you somewhat, and judgment, she tipped she was on to you bein’ a Pinkerton. (He holds the letter out. She doesn’t move. He sets it down.) Oh, bein’ bright, I expect you concluded it was me must have told her, meanin’ maybe I had sold over to her, and with my allegiance now in question, I expect you wired the Pinkerton big-shots, arguing you oughtn’t sign any documents that might be able to prove that you, the agency and Mrs. Garret’s fuckin’ in-laws hired me to lay at Mrs. Garret’s doorstep the murder of her husband. Alice: And further, Mr. Swearengen, that as to purchase of your allegiance—now in question—they might wish to keep the bidding open. Al: Biddin’s open always on everyone, Miss Isringhausen. (He sips his tea.) But I expect you understand, knowin’ as I do, should Mrs. Garret lose her claim, rather than operate it themselves, her cunt in-laws will sell to third-party cocksuckers inimical to the whole of my interests in this camp! To buy my allegiance against myself, in-law cunts and shit-heel operators would have to bid very high indeed. No, more likely Miss Isringhausen, I think you’d contemplate changing your allegiance before I would mine. Alice: What benefit would I consider might accrue to me? Al: I intercepted your shit-heel boss’s message back to you, through the miracle of telegraph, and it answers that very question. As I have it here before me, I will read it to you verbatim. “Miss Isringhausen, as this will save you great pain and keep you from being killed, sign all documents Mr. Swearengen has drawn. Take the $5,000 and disappear. Yours sincerely, your boss, Pinkerton shit-heel.” Alice: The $5,000 alluded to in the invisible telegram, can the money be produced? (Al takes the cash out of the cashbox on his desk) Without, of course, exposing him to the contents of the document, I would want the sheriff present at my signature, and as my escort from the camp. Al: (Sets the cash down) I bet that can be arranged. (She nods) --(Dan is with Blazanov in another room. He is standing, staring at Blazanov while Blazanov is sitting on a bed.)
Blazanov: I can’t betray the confidence of messages. Dan: Don’t guarantee what you’ll never do, Blazanov, not without imaginin’ your feet stuck to the fire. Blazanov: (sighs) Sir—(Dan clears his throat) I am a person whose parents have been murdered, and no other family connection and feeling, and believe in confidence of messages. Dan: What the fuck’s all that supposed to mean? Blazanov: I hope…feet in the fire would not change me. --(Back at the hardware store) William: Congratulations, Mr. Nuttall. Tom: Thank you, young man. William: How’s the boneshaker? Tom: Unshook. Which would be a fib to say about me. (He laughs, walks to Seth) I’ve come, Sheriff, to ask what you’ve learned of the shootin’ yesterday in my place. Seth: Mose Manuel said his brother killed himself by accident. Tom: Uh, by accident? Two hours before Mose sells their claim that Charlie said they’d worked theirselves—lock, stock and barrel to the Hearst interests? Seth: There’s no witnesses, Tom. Tom: Hurtful, brother against brother, in a joint that bears my name—the most recent hurtful event. (Brightens) But might I ask William to assist me in calibrating the boneshaker’s handlebars? Martha: (Nods to William, smiling) Go ahead, William. (William grins and Tom walks to him.) William: I don’t know how to calibrate handlebars, sir. Tom: Oh, knowledge is overrated, William. (Martha looks to Seth) Uh-diligence is what’s required in the service of a willing spirit. (He holds his hand out to William, the boy grabs it and hops off his chair, puts his hat on and they head out. Tom laughs) Oh oh oh oh easy! Easy, easy, boy. I use my right hand to pour. (Tom-laughing, waves goodbye, leading William across the thoroughfare.) --(Alma is knitting, Sophia, with the yarn ball on her lap, is playing with her dolls.) Ellsworth: And then Miz Bullock said as it’s yours, (Alma looks up) you might want to see the safe installed. Alma: Did she? Ellsworth: Yes, Ma’am. Havin’ brought the midday meal as the safe arrived with the money inside. Alma: (knitting) And what did Mr. Bullock say to Mrs. Bullock? Ellsworth: (Flatly) He said that might be a good idea. Alma: With enthusiasm equaling yours as you describe the moment? Ellsworth: I’d say on Mr. Bullock’s part, about equal enthusiasm, Mrs. Garret, yes. Alma: Despite which Mrs. Bullock persisted? Ellsworth: Yes. Alma: Well, perhaps I oughtn’t to disappoint her.
Ellsworth: (Pauses, takes a deep breath) Earlier when I asked what else we might have to discuss, I referred to my proposal. Alma: I took that to be your meaning at the time. Ellsworth: Chose not to respond. Alma: Not to, yes, as I hadn’t yet made up my mind. Ellsworth: Have you now? Alma: Nor have I now. (Ellsworth waits) Would you have me decide now, before I act on Mrs. Bullock’s invitation? Do you put me to those terms? Ellsworth: I guess there’s no burning rush. Alma: (clears throat) Shall we go for a walk, Sofia? (She puts down her knitting and stands.) --(Back at the hardware store, Martha, Seth and Sol are seated for lunch. Trixie is working her numbers.) Martha: Are you sure you won’t join us? Trixie: (Shaking her head, smiling) Thank you. I tend to forego the midday meal. Martha: It occurred to me, Mrs. Garret having reason to be present in any case, that we might discuss in more formed a fashion, our plans for the children’s schooling, more constructively than in some previous conversation. Seth: I’m delighted. Sol: Wonderful. (Motioning to the food as he says this. Johnny enters, clearing his throat. Seth turns.) Johnny: Mr. Swearengen asked to see you, Sheriff. Seth: Not just now. (Johnny nods and backs out, nodding to Trixie and Sol as he does. Sol nods back, Trixie watches him go to the porch, where he stands, waiting.) --(On their way to the No. 10, Tom & William walk and talk jovially.) Tom: A man tying the right rope to the frame and the other end to a thunderhead, could use the machine to tow clouds. (They arrive at the bike, William touching the handlebar.) William: I wish I was taller. Tom: Well, when your legs lengthen, I calculate you’ll be among the great cloud haulers of the world. William: Just to ride like you did yesterday, Mr. Nuttall. You should have seen your face. Tom: (Crouching dramatically) The Bella Union gap was my crucible, William—the fabled mud slick. I shifted shoulders forward—uh, not too much, and at a sledgetrench, Ho! (Steve steps outside) Swung my buttocks left, by God, turned the bars just so, thump! The buried plank, bom! And did I not come through a treat? (Steve looks on, smiling, chuckling. William laughs, looking up at Tom.)
--(Alma, in all her finery, enters the hardware store with Sofia and Ellsworth.) Alma: Good afternoon. (Sol & Martha stand) Sol: Good afternoon. Seth: Good afternoon. (Stands) Martha: (Walking over to Alma) Good afternoon, Mrs. Garret. Alma: Good afternoon, Mrs. Bullock. Martha: (Holding out her hand) Very good wishes on a venture offering opportunity to so many in the camp. (Sol, Seth, Ellsworth and Trixie all wait with baited breath.) Alma: Thank you. Martha: Hope. Alma: For taking up the education of the camp’s children, (We see they are clasping hands as Sofia looks on) my Sofia included, thank you. As I feel I expressed inadequately when last we spoke. Trixie:Bite of meat, Mrs. Garret? Alma: No, Thank you. (No foot or tongue in the picnic basket I guess.) That appears to be the safe. --(Back at the boneshaker…) Tom: William, do we dare ride double? William: I do if you do. Tom: I do! Dauntless then! Courage high to the sticking place, and honor bright as I mount and circle and consider the best way to swoop you up. (He laughs, Steve, still looking on happily.) William: Awaiting you here, Sir. (Tom mounts the bike, pushing off.) Steve: Great. Beautiful. (Smiling big.) (Tom rides off, laughing.) --(Alma, crouched in front of the safe, she looks up from the stacks of cash.) Alma: This all seems very much in order. Trixie:(Takes a gold nugget from her cleavage.) First depositor. (She sets it on the scales, Johnny looks in, impatient, he steps back inside.) Johnny: Uh, it-it’s to witness some – uh- wrist business, Sheriff. Al said brief but of crucial importance. (Martha looks up, Sofia sitting next to her, she has cut up a sausage on the plate in front of her. Alma looks over.)
Seth: How long will we be? Johnny: Brief, very. And you’d save me a beatin’. (chuckles) (Martha looks back to Sofia and continues cutting.) Seth: Excuse me. (He leaves.) --(At the Bella Union, Tessie is on her hands and knees under Mose Manuel’s table as he plays cards.) Mose: Get your head on it. Tessie:(muffled) My head is on it. Cy: Get your head on it, Tess! Tessie:(muffled) It’s on it, Mr. Tolliver. Cy: It does sound like a girl with a mouthful, Mr. Manuel. Wolcott: Jesus Christ! Mose: Her tongue in her cheek can achieve the same fuckin’ effect. Wolcott: I require a conversation with the Sheriff. Cy: Confess a crime. Mose: (Slams his hand down) You’re fuckin’ cheatin’ me! (Grabs Tessie and pushes her away.) Get the fuck out from under there! Leon: I ain’t cheatin’ you, Sir. (We see a goon cock his gun.) Cy: Will you have another dealer, Mr. Manuel? Mose: Another fuckin’ cheat? Cy: Hot and cold’s the way the cards run, Sir, time immemorial. Mose: (Stands, drawing his gun, another shotgun is trained on him) I want it back. Give it back to me! Cy: Give him his last wager, Leon. We’ll call that one no bet. Leon: Yes, sir, Mr. Tolliver. (Pushes chips back) Mose: All of it. Everything. Cy: Now, I can’t do that Mr. Manuel, as I believe you know. And those rifles are aimed at your head. Mose: Everything! Wolcott: (Taking off his hat, he steps forward) Including youth, Mr. Manuel? And why not beauty? Not credibly restored, perhaps, but as a new non-negotiable term? Would you not have, too, your brother Charlie resurrected? Would you stipulate your envy of him be purged surely, you’ll insist that Charlie retain certain defects—his ineffable self-deceptions, for example, which were your joy in life to rebuke, and purpose, so far as you had one. I suppose you would see removed those qualities which caused you to love him, and the obliviousness to danger which allowed you to shed his blood. (Mose raises his pistol. The goons shoot, Wolcott turns his head from the blast. Mose falls back into his chair, barely alive. Wolcott turns and puts his hat on.)
Wolcott: I want to talk to Bullock! Cy: Get the fucking Doc! I coulda cooled that out. Wolcott: On my order, Mr. Tolliver, Lee will burn this building, mutilating you before, during or after as I specify, or when he chooses unless I forbid. Cy: Oh, my full attention is at your disposal. Wolcott: Tell Sheriff Bullock what transpired here before getting the Doc. (Jack leaves, Mose is wheezing, half choking on his tongue.) --(Martha and Sofia are studying with sausage.) Martha: And now how many? Sofia: Eight. (Martha splits it in half) Two portions of four. Alma: Very good, Sofia. Sofia: May I have candy? Alma: You ask a reward, Sofia, for doing your numbers? Where would you get such an idea? (Looks down coyly) Sol: (Writing out Trixie’s deposit slip) “Received from Trixie…” Trixie:The whore. (She gasps and puts her hand to her mouth.) Alma: May I sign the first receipt? Sol: Yes, please do. (He puts the receipt down in front of Alma and hands her the quill. Alma signs it, Jack enters. Alma hands Trixie her receipt.) Trixie:Huzzah. Jack: I’m to fetch Sheriff Bullock. Sol: He’ll be back momentarily. --(Tom is riding his bike…) Steve: Tom: Steve: Tom:
All right, let’s go. Ready, ready, ready! Ready, here we go! Up! Up! (William groans as Steve lifts him up and tries to help him onto the bike. They miss. Aww shucks. They laugh.) William: We missed. Steve: Trial run. No harm done at all. Hey, swing around, Tom! Tom: On my way! --(At the livery…) Hostetler: Tie off that leg rope. Fields: Don’t you want to serve your country as good as they been to you? I bet you don’t even vote. Hostetler: Hold that leg rope! (Pulls a knife out – the horse whinnies) Fields: Whoa, hey, whoa! (The horse bucks and kicks.) ---
(Seth watches as Alice considers signing. Al looks at Seth, shrugging. Alice turns back to the document, reading…) --(Jack steps out of the hardware store, searching the thoroughfare. Steve kneels down in front of William.) Steve: That’s between us. Tell no one I give you that. (He tries to put a coin in William’s pocket, William stops him, pushing his hand away.) William: I best now, but thank you. Steve: You keep it a secret, and you won’t get into any trouble. (Puts it in William’s pocket) And if you told I helped you on the bike, that’s between you and your father. (Tom swings back around on his bicycle, the horse bucks in the livery—knocking Hostetler neck first into a post.) Fields: Oh shit! (The horse whinnies and get up, it runs for it. Fields runs after it.) Hey! (In Al’s office, we hear the horse neigh and a woman scream. Seth steps to the window. Tom, riding his bike, sees the wild horse and fear comes over him. Steve, pinching William’s cheek – looks over and sees the horse coming. He grabs William’s shoulders and tries to get in front of the horse, turning to his left – his back to the horse, William in front of him. The horse comes crashing through, knocking Steve down and pinwheeling William around, landing in a pile of crates. Tom jumps off his bike over to the injured pair. Seth marches out of Al’s office. Alice and Al watch him curiously as he leaves. Jack looks on—stunned. Martha looks over. Sol, Trixie, Alma & Ellsworth look over. We see William splayed out in the alley. Steve scrambles to his knees. Tom rushes over, hovering over William.) Steve: I think my back’s broke. Cast
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker John Hawkes Paula Malcomson W. Earl Brown Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones Kim Dickens William Sanderson
.... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... ....
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Sol Star Trixie Dan Dority Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Johnny Burns A.W. Merrick Joanie Stubbs E.B. Farnum
Bree Seanna Wall Pavel Lychnikoff Pruitt Taylor Vince Leon Rippy .... Sarah Paulson Nick Amandos Jennifer Lutheran Robin Weigert Josh Eriksson
Sofia Blazanov Mose Tom Nuttall Alice Isringhausen Jenn Calamity Jane William
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 22: “Advances, None Miraculous” Directed by: Dan Minahan Written by: Sara Hess
Episode 22: “Advances, None Miraculous” (At the livery immediately after the accident, Fields peeks out onto the thoroughfare.) Hostetler: Horse run trash like that over by accident, still ain’t a white man on earth gonna stand up against roping us up, now is there? Fields: John Brown would’ve. Hostetler: Psst! Come the fuck from over there now. Fields: Sheriff got a kid? Hostetler: And a wife. (We see Bullock carrying William) I sold him the plot they built they house on. (Hostetler walks over next to Fields and sees Bullock) Jesus. (In the thoroughfare…) Seth: Mrs. Bullock! (Martha picks up her skirts and starts running. Sol is right behind her. Alma holds Sofia. Cy, Con, Leon, Wolcott and Jack watch from the Bella Union porch. Trixie runs out of the hardware store, stricken. Martha, Seth and Sol rush to the Doc’s cabin. Cy turns to Con and Leon.) Cy:
Put that tub of guts on the sled. (Mose, bloody, lays on the floor.) Take him to Joanie Stubbs.
(Seth and Martha enter Doc’s cabin. Hostetler bars the doors to the livery.) Hostetler: Everyday since I’ve been in this camp, white folks shot and stabbin’ on each other still walkin’ around to do their bidness. Fields: Maybe we could too. Hostetler: Now the onliest violence we meant was to that stallion’s prick, and then to turn an honest dollar. (Jane walks up to the livery and pulls on the door to find it locked. She knocks.) Closed! Jane: Well, when you re-the-fuck-open, note Jane Cannary extending stay in camp, asking you to turn out her horse. Hostetler: I’ll note it down. Jane: Short Nigger General in there? Hostetler: No! Jane: How about that stud he brought into camp with his cock hanging past his hocks? Hostetler: He ain’t here. Jane: Congratulations being closed! (She walks off.) Fields: There goes no one associatin’ me with that horse. Hostetler: I ain’t begging them for mercy. I hadn’t ought to have to do dat. (He rushes Fields and tries to wrestle the shotgun from him) Fields: Jesus Christ, Hostetler. Hostetler: It’s my fuckin’ choice. I ain’t begged and I ain’t startin’. I’m gonna break your fucking arm if you don’t let go of that gun!
Fields: Let’s ride for six hours, Hostetler! Ain’t no harm in that. You won’t have to beg me once. Hell, if you still want to do it, I’ll shoot you. Hostetler: (Still struggling) If it come to that, I’ll do it myself. --(Al’s office.) Johnny: He’s definitely alive, ‘cause bein’ lifted into the cabin, he give a moan out and blood come from his mouth. Trixie:(Pacing & crying) I told you the state of affairs. Al: As of 15 minutes ago. Trixie:Run back to the Doc’s cabin, Johnny! See the boy again! Al: Shut up. Trixie:Maybe since you saw him, he’s changed, or the half his chest stove-in may have healed, or his poor broken head. (Alice sits calmly, unmoved.) Al: Shut up or I’ll throw you out. (Trixie stops, holding her head, crying) Sign these documents and leave unharmed. Alice: I can’t trust that, Mr. Swearengen, being that it’s not to your interests. Al: That applies to you most, fuckin’ sittin’ in that chair distracting my fuckin’ thinking. If I have to come over there, I’ll cut your fuckin’ throat for you, pen yet put to paper or not. (Johnny raises his eyebrows, Trixie’s calmed down. Al angrily opens up his desk drawer and pulls out a bottle. He gets up…walking out of his office.) Half-smart fuckin’ cunt. (To Dan, waiting outside the door) Bring me Adams’ fuckin’ shadow. Dan: Fuckin’ Hawkeye. (Dan leaves, passing Merrick.) Merrick: Ah, that poor boy. Al: What do you want? Merrick: (sighs) The Sheriff’s tragic preoccupation is also inopportune. Commissioner Jarry returns to Deadwood. Al: How do you know? Merrick: (Exasperated, rolls his eyes) Believing that Blazanov had borrowed my Acacia gum, and as Blazanov was no longer present, as I canvassed his desk for the missing gum, I came across the information by accident. Al: Telegram from Jarry. Merrick: From Crook City. Al: To whose attention? Merrick: To the separate attentions of Messers Wolcott and Tolliver. (Al motions for Dan to wait.) Ironic, Al, isn’t it, that having turned my newspaper to partisan purpose, and in the name of the camp’s welfare, within the day, in the name of that good, I progress to betraying without regret the sanctity of private communications? Al: Ah, well. Merrick: We come to know the truth of our actions only in the protractions of time. Al: When’s the cocksucker arrive? Merrick: Next coach, his message said. Al: (Turns to Dan, below) Unless he’s being of aid to Bullock, bring the Jew up here too. (Dan leaves)
Merrick: Do you think the rumors we floated in “The Pioneer” are what prompted the Commissioner’s return? Al: Yes. Merrick: And that wishing to preempt Montana and Wyoming, he means to secure us for Yankton and Dakota. Al: And to sweeten the deal we’ll strike, these interests we’ve fabricated must be given face. (Turns back to his office.) Merrick: And thus the uncharted journey continues. Al: (Turning back, approaching Merrick) Merrick, please. As we’ll be more often in each other’s company, when give to utterance of that type… Merrick: Mmm-hmm. Al: Consider drinking, hmm? (Gives Merrick his bottle and walks back into his office, slamming the door.) --(E.B. is watching the goings on in the thoroughfare from the door of his hotel.) EB:
Dan: EB: Dan: EB: Dan: EB: Dan: EB:
They congregate outside Cochran’s cabin. They’ve taken the child there. (He wipes down the door as he snoops.) Well, I wish him well. (We see Dan running across the thoroughfare, heading straight for the hotel.) Shit. (Striding inside) Where’s Hawkeye? I see, Dan, with the world off its axis, I’m no more to you than a room clerk. Hawkeye, E.B., is he here or fuckin’ not? Not. For three days. (pauses) Will you have a shine? Leave your shoes while you eat. You see Hawkeye, you grab him and bring him to me. (Turns to leave) If you leave your dirty clothes, I’ll see to them. (Turns back and grabs E.B. angrily.) Did you fuckin’ hear me?! Hawkeye! (Choking) Yes. (Dan sets him down and leaves) A broken heart does not impair hearing!
--(At the Bella Union, Cy is behind the bar pouring a drink for he and Wolcott. Jack returns behind the bar.) Cy: Jack: Cy: Jack: Cy:
Did they get that fat bastard to Joanie’s? Did her ladyship take him in? Ain’t towed him halfway yet, Boss, Leon and Con. (Rubbing his neck) We got to get a better sled. Less the sled’s holdup than Con’s. Says he threw a rupture. (snorts) You go back to that fuckin’ circus act, and tell him to get Mose Manuel to Joanie’s or a rupture won’t be a tickle to the pain I’ll throw at him later! (Hugo Jarry approaches Cy & Wolcott at the bar as Jack leaves. Cy sees him and hisses out a greeting.) Commissioner. Hugo: Where will I find Sheriff Bullock? Cy: His boy had an accident. He’s with him at the Doc’s. Hugo: Where is the Doc’s? Wolcott: Oh, don’t be a fool.
Hugo: Yankton’s interests force imposition on Bullock’s privacy, as I think, Mr. Wolcott, do your employer’s. Cy: You’ll get a pistol-whippin’ and not learn a fuckin’ thing. Hugo: These injuries mortal to earn such commendable deference? Cy: Mortal’s how I’d be bettin’. Hugo: Of course that casts a different light. Very sad for the Sheriff and his son. Can that paper man be made sensible? Cy: The article’s a plant from Swearengen, if that’s what you’d want to ask Merrick. Hugo: That’s the beginning of what I want to ask. Cy: Don’t take much, does it, Commissioner, to get your balls tucked up. Hugo: They are very sensitive to changes in weather. You feel one comin’ on? (He leaves, Wolcott watches him go, amused, and turns back to Cy.) Wolcott: I am a sinner who does not expect forgiveness. But I am not a government official. --(Dan, determined, makes his way down the thoroughfare. He stops and looks down Doc’s alley. He sees Sol standing outside. Dan takes his hat off and runs down the alley to Sol, putting his hat on as he reaches him.) Dan: Sol: Dan: Sol: Dan: Sol: Dan:
Silas: Dan: Silas: Dan: Silas:
Al wants to see you at the Gem. (Nods) When I can. No, he didn’t say nuthin’ about— I’m saying. You’re saying what? (Slowly, loudly) When I can. Are you gettin’ fuckin’ smart with me? ‘Cause I’ll lift you up in the air and carry you before the whole goddamn camp like a fuckin’ turtle with its legs wigglin’. (Sol glares over at Doc’s cabin, sees no sign of activity, turns back, glaring at Dan and walks to the Gem. Dan follows him, spotting someone up ahead.) Oh, Hey! Hey! (To Sol) You go on and wait. Hey! Hey, Adams. Where’s Hawkeye? I don’t know. What’d he do? Al’s lookin’ for him. For what? You’re about to take a goddamn beatin’ for every fuckin’ time I’ve been asked “What for?” Already today. (Dismounts) Any chance Al wanted Hawkeye to ask him where I was? I gotta take a shit. Put it off. Won’t be put off. Besides, it ain’t the kind that takes that long. I’m waitin’. I ain’t goin’ back empty-handed. Fine, fuck it. Just keep your distance.
Dan: Silas: Dan: Silas: --(Jane, wandering around nonchalantly passing in front of the Freight business.)
Jane: Just ‘cause I’m lookin’ for a bottle I might have misplaced during my drinking days -- does not mean if I find a bottle…That I’m going to fuckin’ drink it. (She
wanders down the alley by the stairs leading to the hold-up. She gasps in surprise seeing Tom Nuttall hunched over crying under the stairs.) Jesus Christ! Tom: (Wipes the snot hanging from his nose and sniffs.) You, uh…You know whose horse it was? Jane: (Steps closer) “Whose horse it was” what? (Tom sobs, sick with grief over the accident. He tries to get the words out of his mouth, but can’t.) --(William, bruised and bloody, lays in the Doc’s cabin. His mother is watching over him. Seth is watching from the back of the room, consulting Doc.) Seth: You don’t bandage him. Doc: Mr. Bullock, your frame or mine couldn’t withstand a stampeding like that, never mind the unstable one of a boy of William’s years. Further, his brain has been hurt to an extent indicated by the loss of control of his eyes. His eye movements are no longer coordinated. Seth: Might it be of some comfort, his mother talkin’ to him, for him to hear her voice? Doc: (nodding) It might well. His father’s too. (Seth looks at Doc, surprised. Martha wrings out a cloth, holds it, looking at William.) Tell your wife, that it won’t hurt him to put a cloth to his brow. (Seth looks at Doc, nervous. He swallows hard.) --(Trixie is smoking a cigarette at the Gem bar.) Jewel: Just stand there? Trixie:No, build yourself a fuckin’ shrine! Jewel: No, I mean, should I knock and let Doc know I’m there and then stand the fuck outside? Trixie:Yeah, do that. Jewel: Thanks, Trixie. (She heads for the back door as Sol enters from the front.) Sol: The cocksucker upstairs sends his retriever out to collect me with instructions I’m to wait till summoned. Trixie:I suppose then you should sit the fuck down. Sol: And I come, too, and find you like you never left this place to learn your numbers. Trixie:Did you teachin’ me make me accountable for my whereabouts the rest of my fuckin’ days? Sol: If he wants me, he can fuckin’ come find me. Trixie:Why not wait and find out what he wants? Sol: Why don’t you tell me yourself? Trixie:Because I don’t know that, Mr. Star. Sol: Other events have a claim to attention. Trixie:He knows about other events. Sol: And ain’t you his fuckin’ lapdog, Trixie? Trixie:I ain’t nobody’s fuckin’ lapdog.
Sol: Hard to think of you coming to learn numbers without its being to his purpose. Trixie:Any more to that fuckin’ thought? Sol: (Pauses, putting on his hat) I’ll have a fuckin’ drink. Trixie:(pours a drink) Have the horse’s piss. It’s on fuckin’ special. (Hands a drink to him) If ya couldn’t be a use, he wouldn’ta sent for ya. --(Leon is slowly pulling the sled down the thoroughfare, panting. Con is limping along beside him holding his groin.) Con: I wish I could help you more. Leon: I’ve been walking for two hours. I’m starting to think that place is a fuckin’ mirage. (He pulls a bit more and stumbles.) Con: Let me take a turn. (Leon offers him the rope.) Ahh…maybe I better not. (Leon tries tugging some more, making slow progress.) --(Dan enters the Gem with Silas.) Dan: He asked to see Hawkeye first. Sol: This is Adams! Dan: I know who the fuck it is! (Silas goes upstairs) So just shut the fuck up and sit down. (Sol looks at Trixie, impatiently, and sits.) --(Al’s office.) Al:
How do you lay claim to a passable mind while ignoring if I’d wanted to do you in, my invitin’ the Sheriff up here to witness? Alice: (Sitting calmly) By not putting it beyond your own mind’s quality, Mr. Swearengen. To have enacted the incident in the thoroughfare, which then drew the Sheriff away. (There’s a knock at the door. Silas enters, Alice turns to see him and quickly faces forward again. Silas closes the door and walks to stand to Al’s left behind the desk.) Alice: Have you come to murder me, Silas? Silas: I wouldn’t turn down the chance. (Alice swallows, looks to Silas, he and Al look back at her, stonefaced. She swallows again, grabs the pen and dips it in ink. She pretends to sign the document. Al hands Silas another document. Silas leans forward and looks at Alice’s “signature.” He sighs, shaking his head.) Al: Even swayed at last by my manly composure, you sign in a false hand. Alice: Mightn’t this be my true hand, and my hand to the hotel register false?
(Al shakes his head “no”, Alice looks to Silas, still stone-faced, she dips the pen again and this time signs. Al reaches into his pocket, Alice twitches, Al pulls out the cash and drops it in the middle of the desk.) Al:
Wish I had 5 like you.
(Alice looks at Silas again, takes the money and her gloves, gets up, looking at Silas once more and walks to the door. Yet again, she looks at Silas, one last time, before opening the door and leaving. Trixie and Sol watch her as she leaves.) Dan: I’d expect that puts you up. (Sol, standing, curiously watches Alice as she comes down the stairs. He proceeds up the stairs past her, watching as she exits the Gem.) --(At the Chez Amie, Joanie and Jane are sitting.) Jane: Last thing required at a child’s sickbed, unlubricated drunk sweatin’ and fuckin’ vomitin’. Joanie: Well, I ain’t one for blood, is my worry. (There’s a knock at the door. Joanie gets up to open the door. Con & Leon have finally arrived, panting. Con is doubled over in pain at the entrance.) Con: Aw…I may be worse hurt than him. Aw! Aw! (Jane gets up, eyeing the sled.) --(At the No.10 Saloon, Steve is sitting at a table, drinking.) Steve: (Slurring) In whose keeping would the horse have been? Whose oversight would have let him loose and not have seen him pursued? Every answer lay at the livery. ShitStirrer: I propose we put in towards a white satin comforter to be presented to the injured boy’s mother. Steve: “Back in three hours,” scrawled in nigger on a sign pinned to the door. Oh…I wish I’d have caught ‘em leavin’. Torn up fucking back and all, wish I’d have seen ‘em run, the pure fucking niggerness of it. (Tom slowly approaches.) ShitStirrer: Here’s Tom. (Tom enters slowly, he looks over and sees his precious bicycle leaning against the wall, the mud still caked to it’s front wheel.) Tom: Take that fuckin’ thing outside. Harry:(To lackey) Outside with it, leaned somewhere out of sight.
(Tom grabs a bottle, tosses his hat on a table and sits down alone to drink. The Shit Stirrer approaches him.) ShitStirrer: Uh, on behalf of all of us, uh, just to say we’re—we’re sorry. Tom: Thank you. Steve: Tom Nuttall bears no more responsibility in any fucking way…to the hurt to the Sheriff’s boy than I do as an innocent fucking helpful bystander! Jungle fucking niggers! (Tom has his head down on the table.) --(Al’s office with Sol & Silas.) Al: Sol: Al: Sol: Al: Sol: Al:
Sol:
Before his present troubles and whilst you pursued your preferred activities, your partner Bullock joined in a campaign to which I hope you will now subscribe. What do you mean my “preferred activities”? Oh, a reference to your people’s penchant for money-gettin’. A poor attempt at wit. I don’t find those funny. I apologize. If you want my help, don’t insult me. Oh, Jesus Christ, show me the secret grip that proves my regret and let’s be about our fucking business. Will you salt Adams with expertise about Helena’s politics and Butte’s, to be taken by this cunt Commissioner as samplings of a vein of familiarity so rich, wide and deep as to leave this Commissioner in no doubt that Montana, stiff-pricked, courted Adams as Deadwood’s representative (Silas nods) so strenuously towards annexation it forced him to flee, lest he say, “Yes, yes, take us now.” And yield the virtue of the camp on the spot? (stands, turns and looks at Als bed, looks back at Al.) Yeah, I’ll school him.
(Looks to Adams and back, confident. Al sits back in his chair and nods.) --(Trixie enters Alma’s suite. She approaches Sofia and pets on her a moment. Sofia looks up and smiles at Trixie. Trixie turns and walks back to Alma.) Alma: Does William Bullock continue unchanged? Trixie:As to Ellsworth’s proposal of marriage, which way do you incline? Alma: Do you take us in from on high then, Trixie, and are you privy to all our secrets? Trixie:Which way? Alma: (pauses) The prospect of Ellsworth in the role of father delights me. Trixie:If it’s fuckin’ him gives you pause, he’d never make you. Alma: What gives me pause, having had the experience, is the prospect of marriage without love.
Trixie:Yeah, but when it came to cases, you took that fucking leap. Ellsworth waits on your answer…whatever you await before giving it. (She walks back over to Sofia and leans in close to her, whispering) Bye-bye. (Sofia smiles, Trixie turns & strides out the door, leaving a flustered Alma in her wake.) --(Al’s office) Al: Sol:
Names and places, Star, as instructed, leaving it to us as to their deployment. (pacing) Butte’s got Montana’s gold. Being territorial seat, Helena might well romance us, for balance against Butte. Clark and Daly are the two strongest men in the territory. Silas: Both from Butte? (Sol nods) Al: Both from gold exclusive? Sol: Mm…Clark started in mercantile, but he’s strong in gold now. Al: Any chance they might combine? Sol: (Shaking head) Hah! They fucking hate each other! Silas: Who’s the later arrival? Sol: Daly, from Salt Lake, with Comstock money behind him. Silas: Backed with Comstock money, you’d consider his connection to Hearst? (Silas nods – agreeing with himself.) Al: What do we know of Clark’s ways? Sol: Clark or Daly? Al: Clark, Star! We can’t chance Daly. Sol: I don’t know Clark’s ways or Daly’s either. I’m not from fucking Butte, remember? Al: I wonder if Clark’s ever been to Helena. Sol: Yeah, he’s been to Helena. I fucking ate with him once, all right? Al: (Leaning forward) Don’t tell me you might recall what type appetite he exhibited or his preference as to food. Don’t tell me we might be fuckin’ gettin’ somewhere. --(Doc is at the Chez Amie, concentrating. He grabs hold and Con screams. Seems Doc is fixing him up. Joanie turns away from the scene.) Con: Oh, murder me someone! Doc: Quiet. (Doc finishes with Con and stands, turning to check out Mose.) Con: Uh… (Doc puts his head to Mose’s chest. He stands, looking at Joanie, then goes to his bag. Jane enters with some pitchforks. She hands one to Joanie.) Jane: We slide these under the sled, lever the cocksucker vertical, tilt him further forward and drop him on the sofa. Doc: Why not just run at him from across the room and stab him with all three pitchforks? (He makes to leave, Jane looks at him like “the hell?”)
Jane: Ain’t you gonna cut? Doc: I have other patients. I choose not to undertake a futile and exhaustive procedure. Guessin’ through the fat where his heart is, the bullet’s lodged too close. Con: I’m still in fuckin’ discomfort, Doc. Doc: Nurse him, he’s herniated. (Doc leaves) Jane: He’s the cardsharp told be about Bill. I’d punch that cocksucker in the balls before I’d cup ‘em for comfort. (She puts the pitchforks aside and approaches Mose.) Alright, Slim. (Mose wheezes, Jane wrings out a cloth. Leon approaches Joanie and leans over to her.) Leon: Hey, Joanie? Joanie: No chance, Leon. (Mose gasps as Jane tends to him. Cleaning him up.) --(William is coughing as Martha watches over him. Seth is behind her.) Seth: The doctor says that the cloth to his brow may comfort William, and being spoken to. Martha: (Whispers, hands to face) If I had kept him in Michigan… Seth: (After a long pause…) Yes. Martha: (Whispers) I want to take him home. Seth: Doc says better he’s not moved. Martha: There’s no better about it. (pause) Is there? (William coughs, Martha winces with each sound he makes.) What does the doctor tell us to say? --(Hugo Jarry approaches “The Pioneer” and looks in, he tries the knob, it’s locked. He knocks. Blazanov and Sol watch.) Hugo: Mr. Merrick, might we have a word? Merrick: (Closes the shade on the door) You and I, Commissioner Jarry, have nothing whatever to discuss! Seek your conversations elsewhere! (Sol and Blazanov watch, Jarry starts to leave and pauses in front of the window, peering in. Merrick closes it’s shade as well. Jarry leaves.) Merrick: I hope that will achieve what the party adjoining us intends. (He nods up to the Gem door.) Blazanov: (To Sol) Thank you. (He nods to Sol, Sol nods back.) --(Al’s office, Silas, Al & Jarry meet.) Silas: So what the fuck do you want with us? Al: Shut up. Hugo: I hope that even in the gravest of outcomes, the Sheriff’s crisis could produce the blessing of our reconciliation. Al: I’m listenin’.
Silas: Well, then shame the fuck on you! Hugo: Gentlemen, we are men of experience. Self-interest is immutable, but its dictates vary daily. Silas: You talk like you take it up the ass. Hugo: I do not, my friend Adams, take it up the ass. Silas: Don’t call me your fuckin’ friend! Hugo: But I suspect those that do consider that they advance their own interests. Like them, shall we not pursue that which gratifies us mutually? Al: If you’d calm the fuck down. Silas: I’m the one he insulted. I’ve got pride if you fuckin’ don’t. Al: I’ve got pride, I just know when to fuckin’ swallow it. Silas: Maybe you take it up the ass. Al: Jesus fuckin’ Christ, must I make you leave the room? Hugo: Gentlemen. Al: Tell him what Bullock had you doing. (Silas looks at Al) Tell him…(reaches into his desk drawer and puts 3 shot glasses on the desk) what you were doin’ in Montana. (Silas, resigned, leans forward, hands on knees and sighs.) --(Doc walks down the alley to his cabin. He peers inside the window and sees Martha wiping William’s brow, Seth standing vigil behind. He looks down, turns around and looks down the alley for a moment. Walking back the way he came, he stops to talk to Jewel.) Doc: Any turn here, come and get me at the Chez Amie. Jewel: Sure, Doc. Doc: I’m ‘onna be operatin’ on a whale. (He turns from Jewel and continues down the alley, tipping his hat to Mr. Wu.) --(Back at Al’s office, Jarry holds his shot…) Hugo: It strains credulity. The imagination balks. Silas: I sit here, right, and he calls me a fuckin’ liar?! Hugo: No one is calling you a liar, Mr. Adams. In fact, I’m sure even you would agree, the idea of a man conducting the business of his territory from the backroom of a restaurant-- (Pardon the interruption, but was he not conducting the business of his territory in the back room of a BROTHEL?) Silas: The Stonehouse! Hugo: --The Stonehouse—offering a bounty for the allegiance of others while wearing a bag over his head. Al: I won’t pretend it didn’t strike me strange. Hugo: Maintaining anonymity, clearly, while forming an impression of Adams. The mind imagines other paths to the purpose. Silas: I’m giving less and less a fuck for what you strain and balk at too.
Hugo: Apart from what the bag bespeaks of the wearer, what concerns me is their offer for your support. Silas: Ask me what ought to concern us—is the offer fuckin’ real? Al: We turn the camp toward Montana, $50,000 ain’t unreasonable. (Looks at Hugo) Though anyone can bandy numbers. Silas: What’s unreasonable is fucking Bullock’s quote on his cut. Al: Clark would have the 50, but was the man really speakin’ for Clark? Hugo: (Leaning forward) Consider another alternative. What if it was Clark who was speaking? Why would a representative of Clark unknown to Adams, therefore unrecognizable, never to meet him again, conceal his identity beneath a bag? Silas: Maybe he had open sores. Hugo: Clark knew you would be able to recognize him from photographs, or at least it was a risk he might not want to take. Al: Anyways. Hugo: If Deadwood could grant an interval before answering Montana’s offer, I will convey my impressions to Yankton and learn whether they wish to counter. Al: I have no objection. Though I speak only for myself. Hugo: Mr. Swearengen, you are far too modest. Gentlemen. (Hugo gets up and grabs his things and leaves. Silas watches him go, once the door is shut he leans forward to Al.) Silas: What just happened? Al: (Smiling) We knocked the cocksucker up. And soon he will find himself deliverin’. Silas: The 50? Al: Elections. (They drink) Silas: I wonder how that boy’s doing. Al: Ain’t my department. --(Fields and Hostetler are camping out. Fields is pissing close by, Hostetler is laying down by the fire.) Hostetler: You could put yourself to more distance. Fields: I’m scared to go off in the dark. I can’t piss when I’m scared. (He shakes it off and turns around.) What about Oregon, Hostetler? You could be my apprentice. (Lays down) Carry love notes from pot-gut shitheads to those fat-ass women that they keep on the side. (A horse neighs in the distance) Hostetler: I’m gonna catch that son of a bitch and take him back to camp. (neigh) Fields: That could bring about some killing. Hostetler: Kill the horse, that’s on them. I guess it’s their right. But they ain’t gonna get to kill me. Fields: ‘Cause when it comes to them cases, you’ll blow your own fucking head off. And once you’ve cheated those white cocksuckers, won’t they just roll around and gnash their teeth? Hostetler: What do you mean “cheat”?
Fields: “God damn, Hostetler beat us. He done come out victorious with his fucking head blowed off.” Hostetler: I ain’t never cheated no white cocksucker in my life. (Fields leans up on his elbow) For that matter, no nigger either. Fields: They ain’t hung you yet, Hostetler. And maybe they won’t even get the chance. But they sure have made you crazy with pride. Hostetler: (Stokes the fire) A man that did go back to tell his part…and brought the horse that he set loose…to them that he caused to suffer, paid respect for the pain that he couldn’t fix…now if’n—if’n it-it happened…that they forgive him, so he didn’t have to do to hisself what he wouldn’t let be done to him…well then, I guard, that man might think, settin’ forth afterwards with whatever fuckin’ loudmouth went along with him…that if he made it to Oregon alive…(chuckles, lays back down) The two of ‘em might open a livery. (Turns his back, readying to sleep.) Fields: Then let’s find that fucking horse. --(At the Bella Union, Cy is puffing on a cigar, sitting with Wolcott. Jarry approaches the table and drops his notebook on it, leaning on a chair and over the table.) Hugo: Back among friends. (Pulls out a chair.) Cy: With what increase in knowledge? Hugo: (Sitting) Mr. Merrick proved reticent, so I made a call to the Gem Saloon, where Swearengen and that young cutthroat Adams— Cy: Yankton’s young cutthroat times past, if memory don’t deceive. Hugo: Adams, as it happens, had just returned from Helena. He was sent there by Swearengen in order to hear from Montana an offer to annex this camp. It emerges further that, pretensions to holiness notwithstanding, your Sheriff Bullock is the courtship’s go-between. Cy: (Chuckles) There’s all kind of sense in that—Bullock beddin’ down with Swearengen bein’ as they nearly killed each other. Hugo: Might not greed and enmity in Bullock be served by passing on to Swearengen an overture beneficial to Bullock’s pocket, requiring of Swearengen the demeaning business of filling it? Wolcott: What did the Helena conversations produce? Hugo: An offer of 50,000 for Swearengen to back Montana. Cy: He’s losin’ his belly for the grift. I’d have said they offered 100. Hugo: Impossible, certainly, to know what offer was made, and if made, would be honored by Montana in the act. Wolcott: Will they entertain other offers? Hugo: That Swearengen traffics in bribes, I testify to firsthand. (Cy laughs and takes a drink.) That your employer is a man of means, you have amply demonstrated. Swearengen putting himself up for auction, and as he has not hitherto without the stipulation of local appointments, is the development of consequence. Let the Montana offer be real or a fraud of his concoction, Swearengen is certainly real. Your employer will have to decide whether he wants to pay Swearengen and not
quibble over his pumping the price. And let those who are dismayed over the enlistment of Swearengen recall that combat makes comrades, and be resigned. Cy: Biggest fish I ever seen landed, Commissioner. Did I say that resigned enough? Wolcott: Had Swearengen word of Bullock’s boy? Cy: It’s surprising which comrades will show up sentimental. --(Al steps out onto his balcony, looking around. Back in Doc’s cabin, William is wheezing, Seth is tearful and Martha is sad and hurt to have to watch her boy suffer. They sit by his side.) Seth: Trixie asked me to thank you for finding her error in numbers this afternoon…ducks have landed on the spearfish pond. Martha: Father’s eager to hear you sound your calls. Seth: Hear you calling them in…I’m proud of the calls you’ve made. I’ve much enjoyed showing you how to make them. Now you make them better than I do. Thank you for caring for your mother…at times when I’m away. It’s a comfort to know you are with her. I am much pleased now that we all can be together. Martha: I am so much pleased, William. As is your father. Seth: Calling ducks…and your garden…helping your mother, and that we love you. Martha: Rest now, William. We’ll rest and rise together. (They look over him, crying.) --(E.B. looks up the staircase of the hotel…) EB:
Account for yourself Richardson.
(Richardson was holding up “the antlers” to the rack of moose antlers on the wall. He quickly stops, turning and holding “the antlers” behind his back.) Richardson: (displaying “the antlers”) I’m praying for the Sheriff’s boy. EB: To the god of antlers and hooves? Richardson: It protected Mrs. Garret when she walked alone at night. (He turns and holds “the antlers” up to the moose rack again) I’m asking it to bless his journey. EB: Pray away then, moron, for all the harm you will do. But leave off when the guests ascend. --(Sol sits in the paper office, watching Ellsworth work the hardware store/bank. Merrick approaches with a tray of tea and cups for him, Sol and Blazanov. Sol stands and Merrick pours. They each take a cup, and sip. Merrick sighs. Al stands vigil on the balcony. He turns and walks inside. Sol leaves, tipping his hat. Al comes downstairs, Trixie is sitting at a table.) Al:
Why ain’t you among the circumcised? (They look at each other.) The day saw advances, Trixie. None miraculous. (He walks to the bar) Where’s the gimp? Trixie:On watch outside Cochran’s.
Al:
Why not stand with her?
(Trixie nods, drinks, gets up and leaves.) --(Mr. Wu walks down the alley, teacup in hand. He approaches a shivering Jewel, still standing vigil outside Doc’s cabin. He takes the cover off the teacup and holds it out to Jewel.) Jewel: Oh no—gimp. (Sol approaches) Can’t hold the cup. (She smiles at Mr. Wu, thankful. Sol stands next to Jewel and Mr. Wu replaces the lid on the tea cup. Sol tips his hat to Mr. Wu, who leaves. Trixie walks down the alley, Mr. Wu and she exchange glances. She stands next to Sol. Inside the cabin, William takes a breath, wheezing. Martha touches his brow. William takes one more deep wheezing breath and lets it out in a long, deep exhale. Seth and Martha, realizing that was his last, look on, stricken.) --(Back at the Chez Amie, Joanie is helping Doc prepare his instruments for surgery.) Doc:
The hoof hits just one inch to the right, the boy’s pain is gone, they don’t have to watch him suffer. I doubt he’s omniscient. I know he’s myopic. Jane: Why don’t you concentrate on the fuckin’ task at hand? (Sitting) Go on! Doc: (Hands Joanie the scalpel, whispers) Hold this. (normal voice) Now…we may not be able to find the bullet in and amongst the adipose tissue. Or, finding it, we may not be able to remove it…or removing it, to avoid killing him. I guess we could give it a fucking whirl. (Con & Leon look on squeamishly as Doc prospects Mose’s chest for the bullet.) --(Andy Cramed enters the hotel. E.B. is back in the Absurd, chopping onions.) Andy: EB: Andy: EB: Andy:
My name is Cramed. I heard a boy was trampled and like to die. You look familiar. I came last year to hustle dice, took sick with plague. I—I minister now in Lead. How’s the new racket pay? (He says this jokingly, Andy is not amused.) Knowing this camp’s without a minister, I come to be on call to the family. Shall I ask elsewhere or will you tell me their name? EB: Bullock. Their boy is at Cochran’s cabin. Andy: Thank you. EB: $2 a room if you’re stayin’ over. Andy: I may. EB: 50¢ off for clergy. $6 extra if they set up for dice in the room. (Andy glares at E.B. and turns to leave.) Avoid looking left as you exit, if idolatry offend you. (We see Richardson still praying to the god of antlers and hooves as Andy leaves. Andy pauses on the porch, puts his hat on and strides towards Doc’s cabin. Alma watches
from her window. Ellsworth closes up the hardware store, stepping onto the thoroughfare. He watches Andy, bible in hand, making his way down the thoroughfare. Sofia is sleeping soundly, Alma leaves the room. When Richardson hears the door open, he quickly puts “the antlers” behind his back and waits. E.B. walks out from the Absurd Restaurant and pauses at the sound of Alma’s voice.) Alma: Good evening, Richardson. (She comes down the stairs and stands in front of him.) I will take the air very briefly. I’ve left my door ajar, indicating my trust for you, which you’ve well earned in days past, escorting me so reliably. Will you stand in the hallway above so that you may answer if Sofia wakes and calls out? (Richardson shuffles past her, careful to stay facing her so “the antlers” stay hidden.) Um, “your mother is just away, Sofia, very, very soon to return, and— and all is well.” Richardson: (Backing up the stairs) Yes, Ma’am. Alma: Perhaps without going inside, as this might frighten her. Richardson: Yes. (Alma leaves, E.B. sits backwards in a chair – sullen. Andy is still on his way to the cabin, now passing by Sol, Trixie and Jewel. They watch him approach the cabin. Ellsworth joins Alma on the porch of the hotel. Martha touches her sons head gently, Seth by her side. Silas and Dan sit. Al returns to his office. Dan slowly removes his hat and sets it on the table. Andy approaches Seth as he steps outside. He removes his hat and speaks to Seth. Seth looks lost and stunned. Sol, seeing his partner’s face, turns and walks away. Trixie and Jewel watch Sol leave. Alma and Ellsworth look at Sol questioningly. Al, now out on his balcony, sees Sol – and knows. He sighs, looking up to the heavens, he backs away from the railing. Sol walks along the thoroughfare, tears in his eyes.) Cast
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker John Hawkes Paula Malcomson W. Earl Brown Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones Kim Dickens William Sanderson Bree Seanna Wall Pavel Lychnikoff Pruitt Taylor Vince Leon Rippy
.... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen .... Alma Garret .... Sol Star .... Trixie .... Dan Dority .... Cy Tolliver .... Johnny Burns .... A.W. Merrick .... Joanie Stubbs E.B. Farnum Sofia Blazanov Mose .... Tom Nuttall
Sarah Paulson Nick Amandos Geri Jewel Robin Weigert Josh Eriksson Garret Dillahunt Zach Grenier Stephen Toblowsky Franklin Ajaye Richard Gant Michael Harney Ted Mann Brent Sexton
Alice Isringhausen Jewel Calamity Jane William Francis Wolcott Andy Cramed Commissioner Hugo Jarry Samuel Fields Hostetler Steve Shit Stirrer
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 23: “The Whores Can Come” Directed by: Gregg Fienberg Written by: Bryan McDonald
Episode 23: “The Whores Can Come” (The morning after William’s death, Al is walking the thoroughfare, drinking his coffee. He sniffs something obviously unpleasant, turns and sees black smoke rising from Celestial’s Alley behind the Gem. We then see Mr. Lee nod to his henchmen, who begin tossing corpses of dead Chinese sex-slaves into a bonfire. Mr. Wu sees what is going on and he’s extremely upset, he runs over to the scene…) MrWu: (Phonically) Wei! Ne chum on goya! (He stops in front of the flames, next to Mr. Lee, realizes what is going on and looks dismayed and angry at Lee.) Kahn Dei. Dun gaya! Dein gai! Henchman: Uh-ah! (Grabs Mr. Wu and tosses him to the ground, knocking his hat off) MrWu: (Getting up) De kai dai! Wu le sa bei! Tsok Tsung. (Spits) Wei! Ne tou la! Ne fei ne fei ne ton la! (He and his men leave, putting on his hat.) Wu ye tai. --(Al arrives outside the hardware store as Seth completes the casket for William. Seth sets the lid on it…) Al:
Sorry, Bullock.
(He approaches Seth and takes a cloth out of his pocket, offering it to Seth. Seth is confused. Al motions to Seth’s hand, it’s bleeding. Seth looks at his hand, he doesn’t seem to care that he’s injured. He hoists the casket to his shoulder and starts to head for the house.) Al:
Can you abide me beside you— (Seth stops)—20 paces or so? (Seth nods and continues) Yankton’s man is among us. Even under the circumstances, he may try you to confirm we’re allied. If he does…your nod’d advance the cause. Seth: All right. (Al stops and watches Seth carry the casket to his home. He looks down, turns and heads back to the Gem.) --(Mose Manuel coughs, swaddled in bandages. Jane and Joanie look on.) Jane: Yeah, you fat fuck, you’re alive. Mose: (Coughs) Let me die. Jane: What, is that “Thank you” in whale talk? (He coughs as Jane smiles at Joanie. She kneels down next to Mose) Drink this. (She offers him water.) Mose: No. Jane: (growling) Drink it! (He lifts his head a bit and Jane pours some water in his mouth. We hear a faint snore and see Leon and Con sleeping. Jane walks over, Joanie kneels next to Mose, taking his hand. Jane kicks Leon’s foot.)
Jane: Get up, get the Doc, and tell him he’s got a live one! Tell him, too, his rupture patient left here to convalesce at his own fuckin’ place, you give him a shoulder to lean on as he was gettin’ the fuck out. (Leon gets up and grabs Con. Jane walks over to Mose, smiling at Joanie.) Next time he opens his eyes, he’s gonna think he died and went to heaven. (Con and Leon leave, Mose is resting.) --(Martha is carefully washing William’s body. Seth knocks on the front door (?-the fuck?) and opens the door. He hesitantly grabs the casket and carries it inside, setting it on saw horses in the next room. Martha brushes William’s hair. Seth walks into the bedroom. He sees Martha’s things tossed into her trunks. He walks over to the washbasin and cleans his bloodied hand.) --(Al’s office. Mr. Wu has his drawings! Happy little trees? Nope.) MrWu: Cocksucka! Al: Yeah, San Francisco cocksucker, Wu. Your mortal fuckin’ enemy, huh? MrWu: Swedgin. Al: Wu. MrWu: Swedgin. (Changes pages.) Al: Yeah, I make these as burned-up whores that I smelled on the char this mornin’ with your San Francisco rival turnin’ the fuckin’ spit. Swedgin fuckin’ knows. MrWu: Swedgin know. Al: I know about the burned-up whores, I know about the San Francisco cocksucker settin’ a match to ‘em. Now, here’s the part you gotta listen to, Wu. (Mr. Wu pulls out a square bone-china plate with the map of China on it.) MrWu: Chung Kwo. Al: It’s China. MrWu: Chung Kwo. China. Al: Yeah, Chung Kwo, China. (Sets the plate down.) Celestial whores in the fire. What? They-they-their spirits are fuckin’ nothin’ if their bones don’t get back home? Is that it? And do you come to me to back your move against your San Francisco cocksucker rival? Am I gettin’ the fuckin’ drift here, Wu? MrWu: Swedgin! Al: Swedgin fuckin’ gets it. Swedgin doesn’t give a fuck! Back to Chink’s Alley, Wu. Fall to your fuckin’ prayers. (Mr. Wu gets up, looking at Al in shock and disappointment at his abandonment. Al walks behind his desk.) I can use the plate if you want to leave that. (Mr. Wu looks another moment—resigned, he takes his drawings and storms out of Al’s office. Al pulls shotglasses out for him, Dan, Johnny and Silas –who have been in the room this whole time—they gather in front of Al’s desk once he waves them over.)
Al: Why don’t I back him? Dan: ‘Cause Hearst is in the other chink’s corner. Johnny: Meanin’ Wu has to lose. Al: (Grabs a glass and stands) It wouldn’t be the worst thing…backing a loser to Hearst. Let him pick me up from the canvas after, dust me the fuck off. I raise the great man’s hand, murmur best as I can through split lips, “Your man beat my man’s balls off, Mr. Hearst.” (drinks) But Hearst’s chink bossin’ that alley ain’t to my fuckin’ taste. (He pours another) So what if something delays the battle of the chinks? Say durin’ that interval I get to show my ass a few times to Mr. Hearst. Meanwhile, that pain in the balls Wu is sketching up a storm, drawin’ fuckin’ little pictures of himself brandishin’ the lash, drivin’ from a delivery ship a quota of chinks to be blown to pieces by dynamite working in the mines for Hearst, at half the fee per chink that Hearst is paying the San Francisco cocksucker. Now, by this time Hearst has seen my ass so many times, he knows I’m no long-term threat, so some brief opposition of our interests ain’t gonna make him feel like he needs to engage me in a death struggle, say, by opposin’ local elections. Those circumstances, we can risk backing Wu, and the great man figures, “I am damaged by neither outcome. Why not retire to a neutral corner, and test my import against the locals?” Silas: What delays Wu going after the other chink? Al: Or the other chink goin’ after Wu? Silas: That too. Al: Well, if the other chink can be dissuaded, Wu we can put on ice. Johnny: Well, how do we dissuade the other chink? Al: I suppose layin’ eyes on him would be the first step. (Dan taps his fist on the table “gotcha” and gets up, Johnny does the same.) My only question is push come to shove, wearing them Chinese dresses, how well can you ladies fight? (Dan smiles at Al – “heh heh – funny”—and they all head for the door.) You’re stayin’, Adams. (Silas sits and grabs the whiskey bottle.) --(Grand Central Hotel, Blazanov stands in the entryway.) Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company. Telegrams for delivery. EB: Mr. Blazanov. (Holding a wreath) On our day of grief. (Sets it aside and motions for Blazanov to come over to him.) Our acquaintance is established, Blazanov, and for my part, our friendship. Blazanov: Thank you. EB: You needn’t announce yourself every mornin’ and your purpose. May I suggest as well that rather than you deliverin’ your telegrams upstairs, interrupting the rest or secret depravities of well-armed guests, I could distribute them in these pigeonholes to be collected by the guests at their leisure? Blazanov: I am not permitted.
EB:
A man must put bread on his table, Mr. Blazanov, I well understand. Suppose, to compensate you for lost gratuities, I were to pay you $5 a day? (He straightens up as Trixie enters, heading upstairs.) Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company requires personal delivery by Blazanov. I am not permitted. (He bows his head to E.B. and goes upstairs.) EB: Yet avarice is numbered among the sins, and stupidity omitted. --(Trixie is looking out Alma’s window. Idly brushing her hair.) Trixie:No Gem whores at the railings today. Alma: Why not? Trixie:Al won’t permit ‘em on the balcony. He lets them on, they’ll be leapin’ off. Very dramatic we get at the passin’ of the fuckin’ young. Alma: Yesterday was a terrible day. Trixie:Do not even fuckin’ ask me to account for my comin’ here advising you how to answer Ellsworth. Alma: You haven’t changed your opinion, have you, Trixie, as to my accepting Ellsworth’s marriage proposal? Trixie:My new opinion is, few choices as are ours to make, others should stay the fuck out of the process. (She looks over at Sofia) Quiet like that since the boys accident? (Alma nods, Trixie, leaning over Alma, takes the glass out of Alma’s hand and sniffs it. She puts it back in Alma’s hand and smiles, touching Alma’s free hand. She walks over to Sofia and kisses the top of her head. She pets Sofia’s head a bit and leaves. Alma gets up and joins Sofia on her little couch, sitting across from her at the checkerboard.) --(Wolcott opens his door.) Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph. Telegram for Mr. Wolcott. (Wolcott takes the telegram and gives Blazanov a tip.) Wolcott: How are you today, Mr. Blazanov? Blazanov: Thank you. (Wolcott shuts the door in Blazanov’s face and turns to read the telegram with interest. He looks up, contemplative. Blazanov knocks on door #9, Jarry opens it.) Blazanov: Telegram for Mr. Jarry. Hugo: Yes, I am he. (Takes the telegram and slams the door.) Blazanov: Thank you. (Blazanov throws his hand up and leaves.) --(Seth looks through the window of his home, seeing Sol. He turns and approaches Martha in the kitchen.)
Seth: You’ve packed your things. Thrown them, it looks like. Martha: (Turns) What is it you wish to say? Seth: That I’d hope in the throes of this day you’d not make any final decision. Martha: I can’t bear to stay. (There’s a knock at the door, Sol opens the door, Andy Cramed standing behind him. He takes off his hat.) Sol:
The minister’s here to discuss the service. (They all gather in the middle of the room.) Seth: Reverend. Andy: Mrs. Bullock, my deep sympathies which I conveyed to your husband last evening. Martha: Thank you. You wish to discuss William’s service. Andy: I suggested to Mr. Bullock that we hold service in front of the house. Martha: That would be fine. (Seth looks to Sol, Sol makes a movement with is eyes indicating the door – “should I go?” and Seth nods. Sol leaves.) Andy: As to the substance of the service, do you wish psalms, a-a reading, my words, uh—hymns chosen, speakers in memoriam, (Martha flusters, turning to Seth) a second reading? Seth: Let the service be brief. Martha: Yes. Andy: Certainly. Uh, do you wish to provide me a detail or two of William? Martha: I don’t want that. Andy: Do you have a favorite reading? Did he? (Martha flusters) Seth: You choose somethin’. Andy: Certainly… Seth: And you’ll announce that the burial is private. Andy: I will. Um…oh…(turning to the casket) will there then be a passing-by of the casket after the service? Martha: (sobs) No! Andy: Certainly. Seth: Thank you, Reverend. (Andy leaves, Martha walks back to the kitchen window. Seth watches Andy leave through another. He sees Jarry coming and goes outside to meet him, careful not to disturb Martha. As Jarry heads up the steps, Seth comes down them, forcing him backwards with each step.) Hugo: Seth: Hugo: Seth:
My condolences, Sheriff. My deepest sympathies. The answer is yes, Commissioner—what you want to know. Having to do with Mr. Swearengen speaking with your voice? Yes. That’s all now.
Hugo: My reluctance to intrude nearly kept me from coming at all. (He leaves) (Seth nods to Sol—standing on the hardware store porch.) --(Leon enters the Bella Union. Cy is sitting alone at a table. Leon, obviously jonesing for dope, approaches him.) Leon: Cy: Leon: Cy: Leon: Hugo: Cy: Hugo: Cy: Hugo: Cy: Hugo:
Mose Manuel made it through. Thank heavens. (Jarry enters) Doc fixed Con’s rupture too. (He crosses his arms, trying not to tweak.) Go shoot some dope. Thank you, sir. It’s been a hell of a trying evenin’. (He gets the heck out of there as Jarry approaches Cy.) I have a check for $50,000 (sets it down) I’d like to cash with you. I show that courtesy to people who gamble in my joint. (Pushes it back.) I wish to afford you, Mr. Tolliver, a chance to show my colleagues in Yankton that you are not blinded by parochial rivalry as to what the greater good requires. You’d deliver the 50 to Swearengen? (Holds the check book.) Who’d no doubt prefer the check, to have the bribe on record. So this ain’t you just bein’ a twitch who likes rubbing people’s noses in their losses. Shall we transact our business in the cage, Mr. Tolliver, where I was attacked the other day and you failed to come to my aid?
(Cy cocks his head at Jarry, slaps the checkbook on the table and gets up.) --(Trixie enters the Gem. Al is alone at the bar. We hear the whores sobbing.) Al: I see you made it through the fuckin’ night. (Whores cry) Trixie:Oh, Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Al: Oh, this is gonna be a pleasant fucking day, them wailin’ and gnashin’ their teeth. Trixie:Will they be allowed to pay their respects? Al: By who? Trixie:By you, most importantly, as always. And should you in your greatness consent, will he let them in his fuckin’ house? Al: I won’t object, but it’s yours to keep them she-apes from disgracing me. As to Bullock’s feelings, get “the Jew” to find them out. (“” he pantomimes a larger nose than his own with a pen.) Trixie:Should I, um, ask about you also? Al: (Looks at Trixie incredulously) What the fuck would I want to go there for? (He picks up his coffee and drinks it. Staring Trixie down. Whores cry…he yells.) Shut the fuck up! --(Jane is in her longjohns, preparing a bath! She lifts a pot of hot water over to the tub. She sets it down and tests the water first – flinching.)
Jane: Hot! (Shouts) Hot! (Joanie enters) I mean, I know it’s supposed to be, but I ain’t fuckin’ used to it. Joanie: Well, maybe wait a little. Jane: Yeah, I’ll wait a little bit before I fuckin’ get in. (Contemplates the tub) Did it ever occur to you strange, bathin’ in a tub you’ve dirtied comin’ out thinkin’ you’re clean? Joanie: (sighs) You need a bath, Jane. Jane: And I’m gonna fucking take it! I’m raising the general fuckin’ question. Joanie: (Takes a pair of boots from the hallway and sets them inside) If you want boots different from your regular—(Sets them down) Jane: No, I do not. I will clean my fuckin’ regular boots. Joanie: Should you do that before you bath? Jane: No! Turn around! (Joanie turns) Don’t go! (Joanie sets the boots outside the door and closes it. Jane glowers at Joanie’s back as she unbuttons her long johns and steps out of them.) Jane: Dumb fucking luck it must have been me living this long without your fuckin’ guidance. Joanie: I don’t like new boots either. Jane: I ain’t afraida newness…(She tentatively steps into the bath) It’s the blisters give me pause. (She slowly lowers herself into the water-jumping up) Ow! I burned my fuckin’ snatch! (She stands, holding herself) Joanie: Or funerals. Jane: Or funerals what? Joanie: Any more ‘an I like new boots. I don’t like funerals. Jane: I do! I do! I can’t get to enough of ‘em! (She lowers herself slowly into the tub, glowering the whole way in. Once she’s in, she slumps down into the bathwater to her neck.) --(Trixie waits for Sol to unlock the door of the hardware store for her. He opens the door and she steps inside...) Sol: Trixie. Trixie:He’d have me ask might the whores…pay the dead boy their respects? Sol: The service is outside the home. All in the camp are welcome. Trixie:They’d be sure to keep to their place. Sol: Why did you go to him? Trixie:(She pauses, takes his hand and sets it on the counter, holding it.) Now, hold to this counter as I reveal this, Mr. Star. I’ve lived most of my life a whore, and as much as he’s her misery, the pimp’s a whore’s familiar, so the sudden strange or violent draws her to him. Not that I wouldn’t learn another way. --(Commissioner Jarry enters the Gem. Al and Silas are at the bar.)
Al: Silas: Hugo: Al: Hugo: Al: Hugo: Al: Hugo: Al: Hugo:
Al: Hugo: Al: Hugo: Al: Silas: Hugo:
(To Silas) Look fucking mournful. (Lowering his head) Even more? Sad day, gentlemen, on which commerce must intrude. Says who that it must? Because of the death of the Sheriff’s son. You need to ask, you don’t deserve an answer. I should say that even in his hour of grief, Sheriff Bullock conveyed to me his reliance on you as his proxy. And as his proxy, I don’t do business on the day (turns back) of my godson’s passing. I’m compelled to wonder, Mr. Swearengen, if this show of grief is a pretext to some other purpose. (Silas straightens up, Al turns.) What a type you must consort with, that you not fear beating for such an insult. If Montana, for example, had sweetened the terms in annexing this camp, and you’d delay the closing of our business not for piety, but to pursue your other negotiations— Leave here with your sick fucking ghoulish thinking! (Grabbing his bag) I’ll have further instructions within the day. If not honor, practicality dictates granting Yankton further counter. You come back here offering one more dollar than that 50, you’ll find yourself face down in the horseshit. But you would entertain enhancement of the offer other than cash? I do not discuss business on this day. (turns) Silas. (Stands, advancing on Jarry, pushing him back) You’re buyin’ yourself a fuckin’ bum’s rush, Commissioner. When Mr. Swearengen says go, he means it. All right. All right. I’m not without imagination. A counter without currency is in the offing.
(Al lifts his eyebrows, his back still to the Commissioner.) --(Andy enters the Bella Union, followed by two of Cy’s goons. Cy whispers to Tessie and sends her away with a pat on the butt.) Cy:
You do remember me, Andy? (Puts his hand on Andy’s shoulder) Three times we’ve worked together—Memphis, and on the river and in Kansas City. (Chuckles) And we were meant to here, but you fell ill. Andy: I’ve changed. You’re bound to resent my presence in the camp. Cy: Well, see, I haven’t changed, or changed the rules, which against your havin’ gone soft-headed, are fuckin’ inviolate against you running a game in my territory without prior arrangement, and on my fuckin’ terms set and agreed in advance. Andy: I’m not runnin’ a game, Cy. Cy: (Snickers) I fuckin’ schooled you, Andy Cramed, to the variety that can be played. Andy: I don’t practice deception anymore. Cy: (Chuckles, puts his hands on Andy’s shoulders) The opening pronouncement of a dozen we both can name.
Andy: I was nursed last fall in the plague tent and saved to be born anew and preach the risen Lord. Cy: (Knocks Andy on the head) The Lord risen, or the wheel or the shell and pea—in this camp, (knock!) for you, it’s by my leave. Andy: I will suffer any indignity— Cy: Which I still have not heard you solicit. (Knock!) Andy: Interference with God’s work, I will not suffer. Cy: Then you had best be movin’ along, Andy, (Frontal wedgie!) ‘cause absent tribute, even as his employee…(drags Andy to the door) you don’t get to fuckin’ operate. Don’t let me find you tryin’, Andy…(drags him onto the porch) or it’s into the woods once more, only this time, left nailed to a tree. (Cy grabs Andy with both hands and tosses him onto the street. Andy staggers a moment, but remains upright.) --(Mr. Lee is in Al’s office.) Al:
I don’t know what you will understand of my speech and I don’t give a fuck, or what terrorizin’ them human bonfires this morning intend towards the chinks still under your thumb. A white man’s son is dead that you will be doing business with. On the day of his son’s burial, the smell of burnin’ flesh ought not offend his nose. The only showin’ you need make that you’ve understood our chat is a stop to them fuckin’ fires. And you might want to put off other violence while you’re at it, as a decency to the day, you heathen fucking cocksucker. Jesus fucking Christ! There will be no violence between you and Wu while the grievin’ goes on. My God, act civilized even if you ain’t. Lee: I am a civirized person. Al: Then take your civilization and get the fuck outta here! (Mr. Lee nods and leaves. Dan shuts the door behind him. Johnny nods, pleased.) He got the fucking message. (sits) Wait on Wu if you want. Johnny: Wait until what? Al: You want to go to the fucking service or fucking not? Johnny: Don’t have to ask us twice. (Dan and Johnny leave, Al pours a drink.) Al: What the fuck I want to go for? (drinks) --(Wolcott comes down the hotel stairs and approaches E.B. at the front desk.) Wolcott: What price will you take for your hotel, Mr. Farnum? EB: Why do you ask? Wolcott: Because I want to buy it. EB: Do you, Sir? I presume as agent for other parties? Wolcott: Presume away. EB: (Twitches) Is it warm in here? (Fans himself) Wolcott: To me it seems chilly. EB: Chilly is it? Richardson, Mr. Wolcott finds it chilly! (Wolcott is impatient) Not around. I’ll see to it, Sir. If you are chilly in 10 minutes time, pray for my
immortal soul, because some fatal mishap will have befallen me. (Opens his office door.) Short of which, I will not fail to dispel the chill now afflicting you. (He goes inside his office and shuts the door—panting in panic) Cocksuckers. Think they can take away everything. Oh, cocksucker. --(Dan is brushing his boots. Johnny holds up his palm—holding a dead bird.) Johnny: Found it outside dead under the winda. Dan: Well, why’d you bring it inside? Johnny: Poor little finch. (Petting it) Dan: Throw it out and wipe your hands. Johnny: (Walking to the door) If a bird taps on a winda or crashes inta one, that means that there has been a death! (Tosses the bird out) Dan: We know there’s been a death. Johnny: We know now, but that bird crashed into the window and died a while ago, before we knew…for all we know. Dan: I’ve shined me and Al’s, but I ain’t doin’ yours. Johnny: Oh, well, I-I got me some new boots. They pinch bad, but –uh- they got that factory shine still. Dan: Johnny, you-you can’t wear nothin’ new to a funeral, especially not new footwear. Johnny: Oh—I ain’t never heard that. Dan: Maybe ‘cause when they was tellin’ it to you, you was too busy listenin’ to that bullshit about birds flyin’ into windas. (Trixie carries a wooden box up to the bar as Dan picks up the boots he’s shined from the floor and sets them aside on top of the bar.) Trixie:To be kept till after the after-funeral fuck rush is over—(lifts the lid) fucking confiscated paraphernalia. (Shuts the lid, Dan puts it away) Boots on a bar? What is the fucking matter with you, Dan? Give me a fucking whiskey bottle. (Dan moves the boots and gives Trixie a bottle.) I’m sprinklin’ it…at the fucking doorways. (Sprinkles the front doorway) Or would you rather evil traipse past this fuckin’ threshold? (Dan shakes his head) Johnny: Must have brought that from the other side. --(Alma and Sofia are still sitting on the couch.) Alma: I’ve wished sometimes only to play checkers or to occupy myself some other way than having to see and feel so much sadness…or feel every moment how difficult things are to understand…or to live with. I’ve sometimes felt I couldn’t live with them, but I find I can, Sofia. I’ve found I am…even when I think I’m not or that I can’t. (She reaches out and holds Sofia’s hand) Can you look to me now, Sofia? Can you try? (Sofia looks up) I will be so grateful if you will trust me with your sadness, and I will trust you with mine, so that even when we are sad…we will be grateful for how much we love each other, and know that we are in the world as
much in our pain as in our happiness. (Sofia crawls to Alma and kisses her cheek, hugging her. A tear falls down her face.) Thank you, honey. Shall we dress now and say goodbye to William Bullock? --(Trixie has the 10 Gem whores lined up, along with Jewel beside her, in the hallways upstairs. Dolly is in the middle, Jenn on the end, and Tess next to her.) Trixie:Let no one that’s turned in a needle try eatin’ the dope or shovin’ it up theirselves, as I will be checkin’ eyes for signs before we fuckin’ leave. And no bein’ drunk either, Jenn. (She grabs Jenn’s cheeks and sniffs her breath) Go wash your fuckin’ mouth. You got seven kinds of cock breath. (Jenn breathes into her hand, sniffing her breath. The whore file off into their rooms. Trixie knocks on Al’s door.) Al: Yeah. (door opens) Under arms clean, cunts braided? Trixie:They’re ready. Al: You are accountable. Trixie:Why not come, make them accountable to you? Al: Shut the fuckin’ door behind you. (Trixie leaves, Al looks up at the door.) --(The camp gathers in front of Seth & Martha’s house for the funeral service. If I had a Romper Room mirror, I’d be saying “And I see Joanie and Jane. Seth and Martha. Dan and Johnny and all the Gem whores! I see Silas, E.B., Alma, Sofia, Ellsworth and Sol. I see Jewel and Blazanov and Merrick too!) Andy: William Bullock…beloved son of Martha and Seth, called to God age 11 years, as we are called by his passing. Let us bow our heads. From psalm number 23, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” (Al steps onto the balcony and casually walks to the end to watch.) “O, that my words were now written that they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever. For I know that my redeemer liveth, and he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my skin, worms destroy this body, (Martha tweaks) Yet in my flesh I shall see God: Whom I shall see for myself, (Martha runs for the house) And my eyes shall behold…(She trips, Tom is saddened, looking down. She runs inside.) And not another.” (She runs, keening, to William’s casket. Crying, the camp pauses while Martha sobs. Taking gasping breaths of pain while laying eyes on Williams dead body.) From psalm 121. “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. (Martha comes back out.) My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth…(Seth walks up to meet Martha…) The Lord is they keeper…(Seth reaches his hand out to her…) The Lord is thy shade upon the right hand. (Seth & Martha, their right hands joined, walk back to the crowd, Seth’s left
hand at her back.) The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: He shall preserve thy soul.” Martha: Let the people come and say goodbye to William. Andy: “The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even forevermore.” (Seth approaches) At the request of the family, the burial is private. On their behalf, at their request, I thank you all for coming. Seth: (Whispers) Let them see him. (Steps back) Andy: Those who wish to pay final respects to the corpse of William Bullock are invited now into the Bullock home. (Silas approaches Dan, Dan nods and leaves, Silas cocks his head for Johnny to join them. Andy smiles as Martha & Seth head up the steps. He steps back to get out of their way and steps off the bridge into the creek. Seth shakes his hand. Alma takes Sofia’s flowers and hands them to Jane. Jane-clean, looks down to Sofia. The miners start to enter the house, snaking around the casket as they pay their respects. Doc is tending to Mose Manuel, checking his wounds. Tom gets in line behind the Gem girls, with a memorial to William from the No. 10. Al sees Silas and the boys coming and beats a hasty retreat back inside. He then steps back outside as if for the first time and nods to the boys.) Dan: (shouts) The girls are gonna be a while! Johnny: They’re viewing the corpse. Silas: Get Wu now? Al: Please. Johnny: At the ice house how should we set up the shifts? Al: What does he mean? Johnny: You know, guardin’ Wu. Al: Bring Wu here. Put him in one of the whore’s rooms, huh? (Al goes in, the boys turn around.) Johnny: Didn’t make sense when he said it. That’s the first place Wu’s people would look. Dan: “Put him on ice,” it’s a figure of speech, Johnny. Silas: Like “Got you by the balls.” --(Alma, Sofia and Ellsworth enter the hotel.) Ellsworth: Up you go, little lady. (He picks Sofia up, they go upstairs.) Sofia: We picked flowers in William’s graveyard. Ellsworth: Mmm? Sofia: Me and Trixie. Ellsworth: “Trixie and I” is how that’s supposed to go, I think. Alma: Yes, Ellsworth. (They stop at the top of the stairs.) Yes to the question you’ve asked me.
(Ellsworth looks a bit flustered. Jane smiles and sets Sofia’s flowers down by the casket. Alma touches Ellsworth’s hand and they smile. Alma proceeds to the room, Ellsworth and Sofia stick their tongues out at each other.) --(Mr. Wu is raking out the pig sty. One of his boys approaches him.) MrWu: (phonically) Mea. Vie e chowla! Chow la! (The boy retreats and Dan and the boys gather round. Wu turns his head) Dea. Dan: Swedgin. (Pointing his thumb towards the Gem) MrWu: Swedgin! (Points to the ground and continues raking.) Silas: No, Wu. Swedgin. (Points) MrWu: Ha ha ha! Swedgin. (Points to the ground) Johnny: Uh, Mr. Wu, why don’t you just come with us like a gentleman? MrWu: Wa? Eh Bok Gwai Lo nei mo yung uh ne jo mon gwai-a! (Dan and Silas lift Wu by the arms, Johnny gets his feet and they start walking.) Mo-lei! Mo-lei, mo-lei. --(Trixie lights cigarette from her last – chain smoke much? She stands outside the hardware store. Wolcott stands at the Bella Union bar, Cy approaches.) Cy:
Seems to me, Wolcott, last your eyes had that unsettled look, matters got grave for some young girls. What does it? Do you know? Or does the water just come on you quick? Andy: (At the entrance) “Be ye afraid of the sword!” Cy: Jesus fuckin’ Christ! Andy: “For wrath bringeth the punishments of the sword!” Cy: Get him the fuck outta here! (Two goons grab Andy and haul him outside, kicking him. Trixie looks on.) Wolcott: You’re a desperate man, aren’t you, Tolliver? Desperate. You feel your position weakening. Cy: And what I do, situation like that insteada murderin’ helpless women, I get on my hind legs and fight. Hugo: Mr. Wolcott. (approaches) I have nourished a suspicion that we might pass each other in the telegraph office. I, of course, would be communicating with Yankton. I wonder, would your messages be sent to Helena? Wolcott: Mr. Hearst is not a partisan in territorial rivalries, Commissioner. Hugo: Oh God, I want to believe that. Wolcott: The great man himself will allay your doubts. (Cy looks over) He joins us within the week. Cy: Does he for a fact? Hugo: I would hope, Sir, that by that time, Yankton’s answer to my telegram would authorize me to offer, and I would have heard accepted, terms of annexation of this camp such that a huge banner would be hung across the thoroughfare— “Welcome, George Hearst, to Deadwood of Dakota Territory.” Cy: I don’t envy you the interval, Commissioner. (Looking at Wolcott) Ain’t it the idle hours that try us? Ain’t they what lead us sometimes to the cliff, sometimes
fuckin’ over? I may have to ask Mr. Hearst if that’s his experience too, or of any of those that he may know. (He wanders away, glaring at Wolcott’s back.) --(Trixie, still outside, watches as Sol passes by in the wagon with Seth and Martha. They’re eyes meet. She goes back inside the hardware store.) --(Al’s getting a blow job from Dolly. He lifts her head up.) Al:
Let me ask you somethin’. You think you’re givin’ me a treat—droolin’ on my fuckin’ nuts? Because I happen not to enjoy it. Dolly: Sorry. Al: It’s a strange fuckin’ sensation. Distracts me from my hard-on. (He puts her head back down to work, drinks.) Fuckin’ caskets…bring out the dunce in the entire fuckin’ community. I took some fuckin’ beatin’ after my brother’s fuckin’ funeral. (sighs) Smacks comin’ from every fuckin’ angle. Still dizzy from the smack from the left, here comes a smack from the right. Brain can’t bounce around fast enough. Headache I fuckin’ had for three fuckin’ weeks. (drinks) The fuck fault is it of mine if my fuckin’ brother croaks? Ain’t even my fuckin’ brother. Fuckin’ people take me in, I didn’t ask ‘em to fuckin’ take me in. Huh. (drinks) Fuckin’ floppin’ like a fish on the dock, my brother the perch. Huh. Fuckin’ fallin’ sickness. Let the old man beat you because he’s sad and he has hid load on. I did better in the orphanage, if that fat-ass Mrs. Anderson hadn’t turned out a fuckin’ pimp. Anyways…(lifting Dolly’s head up) How was the funeral? Did you carry on, disgrace yourself? Dolly: No. Al: Everyone was sad, I expect. Dolly: But it was pretty too. Al: Shut up. (He puts her head back to work, petting her hair.) Do you dye your hair? (She nods – more so than she already is.) --(Martha is straightening the clothes she threw in her trunk earlier. Seth watches, steps forward. Martha clutches some clothes to her chest and stands.) Seth: Whatever will let us live… (She looks at Seth, walks to the bed and sits. He stands in front of her and takes her hands in his.) Seth: As we are now. (She looks up at him—he pulls her hands to his chest and holds them.)
Cast
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker John Hawkes Paula Malcomson W. Earl Brown Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones Kim Dickens William Sanderson Bree Seanna Wall Pavel Lychnikoff Pruitt Taylor Vince Leon Rippy Geri Jewel Robin Weigert Josh Eriksson Garret Dillahunt Zach Grenier Stephen Toblowsky Larry Cedar Peter Jason Will Leong Ashleigh Kizer Leah Ann Cevoli Jennifer Lutheran Keone Young
.... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen .... Alma Garret .... Sol Star .... Trixie .... Dan Dority .... Cy Tolliver .... Johnny Burns .... A.W. Merrick .... Joanie Stubbs E.B. Farnum Sofia Blazanov Mose .... Tom Nuttall Jewel Calamity Jane William Francis Wolcott Andy Cramed Commissioner Hugo Jarry Leon Con Stapleton Mr. Lee’s Henchman Dolly Tess Jenn Mr. Wu
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 24: “Boy the Earth Talks To” Directed by: Ed Bianchi Written by: Ted Mann
Episode 24: “Boy the Earth Talks To” (In the hallway of the whores quarters, Davey is sound asleep on a chair, a shotgun propped up by his side. Mr. Wu quietly peeks out of the room he’s been kept in, and carefully tiptoes out, carrying his moccasins. He sneaks past Davey and leaves the protection of the Gem. Outside, Al is sipping his coffee on the balcony. A stagecoach has arrived. Al watches as George Hearst steps down from the coach and stretches. Hearst looks around and upon lookin up, he catches Al’s eyes watching him. Al sips his coffee as Hearst walks toward the entrance of the hotel. Mr. Wu walks down Celestial’s Alley, turning to one of his men, busy cutting meat, he motions him to follow.) MrWu: AhSook:
Ah Sook! Wei.
(A young Chinaman runs to catch up with Mr. Wu and Ah Sook and follows them to a small shack, Wu gestures for them to follow him inside.) --(Commissioner Hugo Jarry is asleep in a chair inside the telegraph office. Blazanov sits patiently in front of his apparatus. It chirps to life and starts sending out a signal, waking Jarry. Blazanov taps back a reply and begins to write out the message being sent back.) --(Mr. Wu’s men head out down the alley, Mr. Wu replaces his hat, preparing for battle. The men approach a tall, formidable looking Chinaman. One man, Asok, steps around the men, bowing as he passes, the other stops in front of him and bows.) TallGuy:
Koh be en.
(The man, Ah Sook, behind him attacks the tall guy with an ax to his back. They both run away. Mr. Lee steps out to see what is going on, and stoically raises his pistol and fires a shot into Ah Sook’s back. Mr. Wu steps out into the alley.) MrWu:
Ah Sook!
(The young Chinaman ducks down a side alley, overturning a crate to block the path behind him. Mr. Lee, pistol raised, marches down the alley. Mr. Wu, growling, walks with purpose down the alley, approaching Lee. Johnny, a pig draped over his shoulders, passes the alley and sees the commotion as Mr. Wu runs toward Mr. Lee, grabbing a meat cleaver on his way.) MrWu: Lei! Lei! Lei! Ahh! (He throws the cleaver down, tears his hat off and rips the tie out of his hair as Johnny runs up.) Johnny: Jesus Christ! MrWu: Saht ngo! (Taps chest) Saht ngo! (He displays his long hair.) Johnny: All Chinese but Wu stay put! MrWu: (Spits on the ground and bellows in rage.) Saht ngo!
Johnny: Wu! Wu! Wait a minute, Wu! I will fucking drop you! (Johnny grabs Mr. Wu, restraining him, his pistol in his hand.) Wu, get with me here! MrWu: Saht ngo kai! Saht ngo kai dai! (Johnny pulls Mr. Wu up to the back door of the Gem.) MrLee: Nei tong bok gwai! Johnny: --Exactly because of this bullshit. MrLee: Nei tong bok gwai! Johnny: --Or I’ll blow your tall Chinese head off! Hey, Davey, open the door. --(Martha walks into a sitting room where Seth, perfect posture, is seated, hands on his knees, staring straight forward at the windows. The shades are pulled nearly all the way down. She hands him a coffee cup.) Seth: Thank you. (Martha sits, he takes a sip.) Mmm. (He raises the cup in a half-toast, it’s mmm-mmm good!) --(Con sits in the Bella Union, staring up at the wall. Tessie sits idly at a table behind him, reading. Leon walks up next to Cy, who is about to eat to breakfast.) Leon: Wu’s reappeared, Mr. Tolliver. His and Lee’s chinks went at it. Looks like one dead apiece. Cy: Whence the fuck did Wu reappear? (Con stares at the bison head on the wall.) Leon: (Laughs) It seems to me like he just fuckin’ materialized. Cy: From the clouds or in some type conveyance? Leon: Make me choose, I’ll pick the clouds. One minute he ain’t by his sty. The next glance, there he is. Then one man’s dead by ax—Lee’s man. One by bullet. Cy: Wu’s. Leon: From Lee’s pistol. Then Wu and Lee are comin’ after each other like stags until Burns drags Wu into the Gem. Cy: Drags Wu into the Gem? Leon: Burns does, yes Sir, pointing his pistol at Lee. Cy: Could Wu have issued from the Gem, as well? Leon: I wouldn’t say he didn’t. Jack: (Entering from the thoroughfare, approaches Cy.) Larson—that I got the dollar in with—says he just brought George Hearst to camp, Sir. (Cy stops eating and looks at Tessie.) Cy: Some of us don’t know better might mistake me for bein’ on the outside lookin’ in. Then you got your idle snatch readin’ scripture and know there’s still hope. Con Stapleton! Con: (Jumping up) Yes, sir? Cy: Situate yourself at the Grand Central and tell me what fuckin’ Wolcott’s doin’ and who he’s doing it with. Con: (gasps for breath) Yes, Sir, Mr. T. (He gasps again, looking up at the bison.) Cy: Can the bison spare you? Con: (sighs) Somethin’ strikes me fuckin’ melancholy about that creature.
--(Dan, E.B, Mr. Wu, Johnny and Silas are all in Al’s office. Al slides his chair harshly into his desk, standing behind it.) Al:
One more fuckin’ day! (Kicks Dan’s foot, E.B. tucks his legs up into his chest as Al passes by.) That’s all he had to control himself and I could have put him in fuckin’ business! Wu: Swedgin— Al: Shut the fuck up, Wu! (Leans against his desk, looking at Johnny) At least he has an excuse. He’s a chink. Who knows what the tribal requirements are? (Looking around at the others.) Maybe you don’t act for a week, maybe they exclude you from fuckin’ dominoes or the like. But you! (He punches Johnny in the jaw. Johnny falls to the ground.) Tippin’ our fuckin’ business! Johnny: I’m sorry, Al. Al: You hold one chink off at gunpoint, bring him the fuck up here! Johnny: I’m sorry. Al: I’m so fuckin’ pleased I trusted you, Johnny, to go out and buy meat! (He gets up from the chair he usurped from Johnny, kicking Silas’s legs as he walks to his desk.) Get out of my fucking way. Tell Hearst I want to see him. (Looks at E.B.) EB: My only reluctance, Al, I have had such an onset of diarrhea. (Adams snickers, Al looks sidelong at him and turns back to E.B.) Al: E.B…. EB: If the conversation’s brief I’m absolutely equal to the task. What shall I invoke as your reason? Al: How about the fuckin’ truth? The chink that attacked his chink has been captured by my employee. If it would please Mr. Hearst, I’d like a word with him before I decide what to do with the chink in my custody. EB: But you’d like it here? Al: Don’t you be settin’ fuckin’ terms, E.B.. He’s got reason enough to want the look-around. EB: Fine then! (He gets up and leaves.) Al: (sighs) Go lock him up somewhere in the whore’s quarters. You might think to put a fucking guard on him—that ain’t asleep you incompetent fucks! (The all get up to go, Johnny lingers.) Johnny: It wasn’t my watch he escaped on, Al. Al: Go away, Johnny. Johnny: I was 10 to 4. Al: Shut the fucking door! (Johnny leaves.) --(Martha and Seth are still sitting, staring at the windows.) Martha: Would you still be willing, Mr. Bullock, to see me take up the teaching of the camp’s children? Seth: I would, yes. I’d be delighted. (Martha smiles) Delighted.
Martha: I don’t want to lose him but I wouldn’t upset them either. Seth: I see. Martha: They’re daunted enough by schooling itself. Seth: Oh, yes. Martha: I am speaking of wearing mourning until the year has passed. (Seth nods) But I…believe if I teach them with…love and joy, then I won’t make them afraid. And I don’t want to lose him. Seth: (Turns his head to her) You’ll never lose him. (He looks back ahead, reaches out his hand and grabs hers.) --(Hearst and Wolcott sit down to breakfast in the Absurd Restaurant.) Hearst: Are we done with our buying, Francis? Wolcott: All but one of the important finds. Hearst: Ah, I have 40 stamps and a millwright coming in from the Ophir. (Con scoops and sniffs some oatmeal.) Wolcott: I have the mill sited, the ground tiled and leveled. (E.B. snoops from behind the stairs.) The Garret find we don’t yet own is not placed to obstruct operations. Hearst: I want it bought. Wolcott: I believe its title will be contested in coming months. To act now would buy the contest and not the find. Hearst: All this fiddle fuckin’ around is tactical back-and-forth. (chuckles) Wolcott: We’re up and running, Mr. Hearst. With the millwright and double shifts we should be full bore inside the week. Hearst: Gettin’ it out of the ground, that’s what I love. Thank you for handling the acquisitions, Francis. EB: (Muttering to himself) “Excuse me, Mr. Hearst. Might I…escort you…across the thoroughfare to meet a local luminary?” Wolcott: Will you be joining me at the operation this morning? Hearst: I may this afternoon. This morning I’m conceding to my back. (E.B. approaches.) This fellow looks like he stepped out of a specimen box. EB: Excuse me, gentlemen. (Con casually leans on the wall nearby) Um, forgive me for interrupting your repast. I’m E.B. Farnum, Mayor and Hotelier. And I know you are George Hearst. (Wolcott makes a “get on with it already” gesture.) Hearst: Yes? EB: (Leans forward, hands on the table) Allow me a moment’s silence, Mr. Hearst. Sir, I am having a digestive crisis. And must focus on suppressing it’s expression. (Wolcott conceals a chuckle.) --(Ellsworth mutters to himself as he approaches the hardware store.) Ellsworth: What’s next—pink fucking panties or something? Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. I can’t fucking do it. Customer: And I’ll have a look at one of those pans.
Sol:
Not now. Tomorrow I’ll make you a price. This is the prospective groom for today’s prospective wedding and I’m going to wait on him now in privacy. (The customer nods and leaves.) Ellsworth: Oh, I’m surprised you have any trade left, often as I clear the joint. (pants) Sol: What can’t you do? Ellsworth: Any of it! It feels like. Sol: Oh— Ellsworth: (Walks to the counter) These fuckin’ mittens in particular. “Traditional” the fuckin’ tailor says. Well, not in my experience they ain’t. And if I was to imagine where they might be, amongst males about to marry ain’t what comes to my mind. Look at these cocksuckers! (He holds them up) Lavender. “The rigor in New York City,” whatever the fuck that means. Sol: Have you brought up not wearing them? Ellsworth: What if they’re her idea? That’s liable to bring the dromedary to its knees. (He puts the gloves back in a silver case, shuts it and picks it up.) Christ. I’m in mortal misery. Sol: Anyways. (He sighs, Ellsworth turns to leave, Sol chirps) Today’s the day! (Sol smiles as Ellsworth walks out, shaking his head.) --(Al walks downstairs, chewing a toothpick. Davey is wiping off a table. Al: Going to the weddin’, Davey? Davey: Not hardly, Mr. Swearengen. I wasn’t invited. Al: I was, not that I’m goin’. Vicious rumors I was responsible for her first husband’s death. Fuckin’ woman invites me to her weddin’. Davey: Guess it’s no accountin’ for why people do things. Al: The congregation…(walks over, grabs the rag from Davey’s hand and slaps it down on the table. He puts his hand on Davey’s shoulder) says Amen, Davey. (Slaps his shoulder, they start walking around the room, Al guiding the way.) Consider the Chinaman. Davey: Wu? Al: Hmm. Forsakes safety and even odds in a future fight for immediate fuckin’ dubious combat. Here again, what gets into people’s heads? Davey: Uhh…the congregation says Amen. (They stop) Al: What? Davey: Nothin’. I-I was bein’ funny. Al: No no no. Don’t be fuckin’ funny with me, Davey. (He chuckles, they walk again.) Davey: I didn’t mean to interrupt your train of thought. (They stop) Al: What? Davey: Nothin’, Sir. (Al swings around and grabs Davey by the cheeks.) Al: Did you loose that Chinaman to fuck up my fuckin’ plans? (Davey shakes his head.) Don’t lie to me, Davey, or that breath you’re holdin’ is the last you draw. Davey: (choking) Can I speak? Al: Go ahead.
Davey: I need to breath. (Al lets go) Al: Go, take a breath. Davey: (gasps) I fuckin’ fell asleep, Sir, on my fuckin’ watch over the Chinaman. Al: He didn’t pay you to let him go? Davey: No, I fell off to sleep from the holding of three jobs. Al: He told me he paid you. Davey: Then he’s a lying fuckin’ bastard! (Hearst and E.B. enter. Al looks back at Davey and grins, softly slapping Davey’s cheek. He escorts Davey back to the table he was wiping.) Al: Don’t fall asleep, Davey, hmm? Davey: No, Sir. Al: Quit a job before you fall asleep on it. (Hands him the rag back.) Davey: Yes, Sir. EB: There he is. That’s Mr. Swearengen. (Al walks over) Hearst: Yes, I see. Al: Now I call this an impressive contingent. Would you be Mr. Hearst? Hearst: Yes, Sir. Al: Al Swearengen. How do you do? (They shake hands) Hearst: Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Swearengen. (Dan & Johnny head back down the hall of the whores quarters, having locked up Wu.) Al: I’ll suggest we adjourn to my quarters. (He starts for the stairs) Hearst: Your kill, Sir? (Al turns around) Al: Who? Hearst: The animal. (Dan looks up at the buck on the wall.) Al: Oh no. Fuck no. I’m a fucking terrible shot. I work better closer in. EB: I’ll stay below, gentlemen. Unless you wish me up above? (Al just looks at him. Hearst heads upstairs.) Al: Hurt back? Hearst: (groans) Just a little achy today. Al: Declinin’ years spare us no fuckin’ indignities. My latest blessing’s a horse apple up my fuckin’ asshole. Half my wakin’ hours are spent tryin’ to pass water. Dan, bring that Celestial to my office! I want to show him to Mr. Hearst. (Dan walks back down the hallway as Al & Hearst enter his office.) EB: Very auspicious beginning! (He nods and smiles at Silas.) --(Up in Al’s office, Al pours two shots while Hearst looks around.) Hearst: I’d think with these balcony doors open, you’d get a-a little cross draft in the summer. Al: I do indeed. Hearst: I’ve spent the last summers in Mexico. Al: Oh, that fuckin’ heat must be oppressive.
Hearst: Ho ho. Al: Nevada’s was drier I expect. Hearst: Have you been there? Al: My inferno was Australia. Wasted two years that was. (There’s a knock at the door.) Yeah, come in. (Al nods at Hearst. Dan enters, restraining Wu by the hair.) Here we are. This yellow monkey’s Wu. Hearst: Older fella. Not often you can tell how old they are. Al: Done a turn or two for me, Wu has. And well-liked enough among his own. His display against your chink (He grabs Wu’s braid, Wu grunts) was my first fuckin’ inkling that he’s irrational. Hearst: Mr. Lee, the man he tried to kill, has worked well for me in several camps. Al: Then God bless Lee and off with fuckin’ Wu’s head! You’ve got your finger on the cause of it too—your chink bein’ forward-looking. “Set the bodies ablaze, on with the day’s trade!” This one bein’ longer in the tooth— Hearst: Set what bodies ablaze? Al: Custom holds stronger to what passes for his mind. Hearst: What bodies, Mr. Swearengen? Al: The whores for your workers. Not only does burnin’ the corpses save cargo space far as the transporting of their bones back to the homeland—which, as I gather, they hold as their big fuckin’ chance at the afterlife—what a tremendous tactic, terrifyin’ the unburned here. Hearst: Do you know prospecting, Mr. Swearengen? Al: Fuckin’ nothin’ of it. Hearst: And the securing of the color once found? Al: (shaking his head) Not a fuckin’ thing. Hearst: All I really care about. Al: I fuckin’ hope so. I’d hate to think you’re this good at somethin’ that’s only a fuckin’ hobby. Hearst: Most often my finds are in wild places, which I prefer. When that is not so, I want friendly relations with my predecessors so that I can secure the color…undistracted. Al: (tapping his temple, smiling) Concentration, see. I suspect that’s a key with you hugely successful types. Hearst: If others can provide here, with less disruption to the camp, services Lee provided me elsewhere, I’d have no objection to using them. (Al stands across from Hearst, Mr. Wu between them, darting his eyes from one to the other, trying to figure out what’s going on.) Al: Labor bein’ the fuckin’ essential? Hearst: Towards securing the color. Al: (Pointing his thumb at Wu) This is the camp’s original chink. All subsequent chinks were his imports. Wu will staff your mines. (Hearst looks curiously at M. Wu) And those that survive the explosions, he can place in laundries or kitchens. Hearst: Can he understand us?
Al:
Oh, very little English. Naw, no words we’ve employed so far. Say “cocksucker,” Wu. MrWu: Cocksucka. (Hearst chuckles.) Al: That, San Francisco and Swedgin, that’s all I’ve heard him use. MrWu: Swedgin— Al: Shut up. Hearst: Now—as to your man and mine, I would need some demonstration before making my final choice. Uh…your man would have to prove out. Al: That’s a fuckin’ mining term. Now that’s a fuckin’ expression I’ve heard. Hearst: And you understand it’s import and context. Al: (nodding) Yes, Sir. Hearst: It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Swearengen. (Holding out his hand) Al: Honor and a pleasure meetin’ you, Mr. Hearst. (Mr. Wu steps back, wide-eyed and confused, letting Mr. Hearst by him. Hearst leaves, Al strokes his goatee, Dan shuts the door behind Hearst. Al walks over to Mr. Wu.) Al:
Kill a rooster, Wu, and offer him up in sacrifice. Then start honing your weapons for tonight’s demonstration.
(He picks up both shots and drinks one, a grin on his face.) --(Two whores lounge in the hallway of the whore’s quarters, Trixie, in one of the rooms, yells.) Trixie:Stick me one more fuckin’ time, Jewel, I’ll drop you in a pool of fuckin’ blood! Jewel: Well, you just can’t stand still. Trixie:I’m movin’ tryin’ to defend my-fuckin’-self! (She looks in the mirror, brushing off her pretty pink dress with one hand, holding a cigarette in the other.) He’s gettin’ what he asked for anyway. (Jewel takes something out of her pocket.) Looney fuckin’ Jew! Jewel: (Hands Trixie her old brooch) Wear this. (She smiles as Trixie takes it.) Trixie:Devious fuckin’ cripple, you are. (Jewel grins) How’d you pay that time then for the gun I sent you to buy? Jewel: (shrugs) Sold a piece of pussy. (She smiles as Trixie puts on the brooch.) --(E.B. & Hearst step out of the Gem, walking along the thoroughfare.) EB: How may I serve you further, Mr. Hearst, be the fashion great or mean? Hearst: Make a price on your hotel. Mr. Wolcott says you avoid it. EB: May I quibble with “avoid,” Sir, as inexactly fitting the case? (shoos a rider aside) Not all—get over! (shoos another rider away) Not all not-makings-of-aprice are avoidances necessarily, would you say? Hearst: What will you take? (He steps in closer to E.B.)
EB:
(Throwing up his hands) Get away from me, God damn you! (He backs away, hand to his mouth in self-shock.) Forgive me. (Sits on a stump, falls backward and yelps) Excuse me. I-I am mad. My hotel is also my hospital. I am my own warden. I mustn’t sell, lest I then wander the thoroughfare gibbering like a simian…brandishing my privates in my fist. (Hearst crouches down in front of E.B., who is gasping for breath.) Hearst: Will you take 100,000 if I let you stay on as manager? EB: Yes, Sir. I must, of course. Hearst: I’ll have it sent over later. (Hearst gets up and turns.) EB: Well, where am I? (Hearst turns back, E.B. laughs.) Why—why am I on my ass? (chuckles) (Hearst spits and walks away.) --(Jarry is in Al’s office now, telegram in hand.) Hugo: May I say to you that the week since our meeting has seen me conduct with Yankton an active telegraphic correspondence which on every count has ameliorated the terms of the proposal before you (sets it down) in favor of the Deadwood camp? Al: You smell like cat piss. Hugo: I have worked so hard and diligently for you, Mr. Swearengen, that well may be the case. (Al holds up a magnifying glass to the paper) Regardless of the outcome, I am proud of that advocacy. Al: Having said that, are you liable to say more? Hugo: Let the document now speak for itself! (Al resumes reading through the magnifying glass) The letters may get larger, (tilts his head) the numbers will not. (snickers – Al frowns) Forgive me. Long hours, giddy at the smell of the barn. (Al glares) Stoic composure. (He puts his hands together in prayer-style, holding them to his mouth. He quickly folds them under his chin.) The next sound you hear will be that of your own voice. Al: Get the fuck outta here! You’ll know when I’ve come to an answer. Hugo: I must tell you I require a response within the hour. (Al slides the paper back) Or as soon as humanly possible. (Jarry slides it back to Al.) (Jarry gets up and leaves, nodding at Al on his way out.) --(Jane is in Joanie’s ruffled robe! Looking in a mirror!) Jane: Clam-on-a-half-shell-looking-goddamned fool! (yells) I’m embarrassed to say I know you! (normal) Supposed intelligent woman holding with rank superstition. (Mose coughs, Joanie enters the room, holding some clothes.) Joanie: The same clothes worn to nuptials the week of a memorial curse bride and groom forever. (Mose coughs) Jane: Shut up, Mose! Joanie: He asked for work here. Jane: As what?
Joanie: Watchman is what he suggested. Jane: We’re a vacant structure, in case he ain’t fucking noticed. Joanie: I think he shrinks from leavin’. Jane: And the word for that is malingering. Joanie: (Holds up bloomers for Jane) Here. Jane: I will not. Joanie: You will. Jane: Is that part of the superstition? Joanie: Undergarments, Yes! Over privates in layers or bride and groom are doomed. (Jane holds the bloomers up to her skeptically.) --(Con enters the Bella Union to report to Cy.) Con: Hearst is at that claim, mid-thoroughfare—the one you bought form Marvin Somes. Cy: Still in the company of Farnum? Con: No, Sir. Ahh…they left the Gem, conversed a bit, Farnum fell over backwards. Hearst then helped him back to his feet, then uh, then the two parted company. Cy: That makes a lot of fuckin’ sense, Con. Well done. (He gets up and goes to leave.) Con: Uh, Farnum then, uh, returned to his hotel. They’re readying for them nuptials. You know, Ellsworth and the widow Garret’s! (Cy’s gone) Guess that’s the last Ellsworth will be seeing of a placer cradle. (Tessie looks at him briefly, then back to her bible. Con looks up to the bison head.) Set for life! (He gasps for air, clutching his crotch, looking up at the bison.) --(Al, glasses on, is reading the proposal from Yankton. There’s a knock at the door.) Al: Yeah? (Silas pokes his head in.) Silas: Davey said you wanted to see me. Al: Get in here. (Silas closes the door) And help me parse Yankton’s proposal. (Silas reads over his shoulder.) We study…(Silas read over Al’s shoulder) for our fuckin’ lives. --(Hearst is down inside the former Marvin Somes claim. Men are working the pump and cradle while Hearst taps at a rock with a pick. Cy approaches. Hearst throws the rock down and climbs out of the hole.) Cy:
Three hours in camp, goin’ straight to explorin’ her vitals. Cy Tolliver, Mr. Hearst, that’s acted for your interests at one or several removes these last couple months. Hearst: How do you do? (They shake) Did you buy me this hole? Cy: Off Marvin Somes, Sir, yes, I did.
Hearst: She’s outta color, boys. Let’s fill her in. (He passes Cy and heads down the boardwalk, Cy follows.) Cy: I was told to act on all offers. Hearst: You did well, Mr. Tolliver. We want to be comprehensive. Cy: I, uh, have been in the mud a bit for you myself, Mr. Hearst. I had my shovel out covering work of your Mr. Wolcott. Hearst: Thank you for that. Cy: Scooped and scrubbed and cleaned up the guts and gore ‘cause I do what the business requires. Hearst: Ah, there’s my hotel. Cy: The camp elders called a meetin’ in the aftermath. Barely time to wash my hands before I talked them into washin’ theirs. Hearst: I have been traveling, Sir. (He stops) Why don’t we resume after I’ve rested? (Cy chuckles, they walk) Cy: Well, I guess I can manage a while longer to keep the whiff off of him. (Hearst turns) Suspicion, Mr. Hearst, off your geologist Wolcott for cuttin’ three whores’ throats. (Hearst pauses, smiles a fake smile, turns and leaves without saying a word.) --(Ellsworth scrapes his teeth, preparing for the wedding. He grimaces as he scrapes, slips and hits his gum. He groans in pain.) Ellsworth:
Oh, cocksucker.
(He spits into the sink.) --(Alma, resplendent in a black dress with red trim, walks the thoroughfare. We hear her speak in voiceover.) Alma: I don’t know why I seek you out. If lying in the ground you can think or have feelings, you may hate me and my part in your fate as I sometimes hate you for bringing me here. Though I know your bringing me was the end of something whose beginning I had as much a part of, certainly, as you. I am afraid. I am so afraid that my life is living me, and soon will be over, and not a moment of it will have been my own. And of how my body now tells me that is fine and right. (She pauses in site of the graveyard) Perhaps I confide to you because you cannot tell anyone. (She turns and heads back) I am to have a child, and I have a child in my care. He is a good man. And he whom I love is here as well. --(Hearst is in his room, Wolcott, smoking a cigar, is seated by the door. Hearst knocks on the wall.) Hearst: Wolcott: Hearst: find.
These walls are comin’ down. They’ll be your walls soon. Ever since I was a child in Missouri, I’ve been down every hole I could
Wolcott: Boy-the-earth-talks-to. Hearst: Yeah, I’ve told you—that’s what the Indians call me. Wolcott: Yes. Hearst: It talks to you too, Francis. I know. Our time together, your hearing has stayed keen. But this gambler, Tolliver, who was our agent for securing the claims has spoken to me about you. (Wolcott ashes his cigar, uncrossing his legs.) He says that you’ve killed women. Prostitutes. That he has disposed of the bodies for you. (Wolcott fidgets with his cigar) Well!?! (Wolcott drops the cigar in the ash tray, startled.) Wolcott: (pauses, nods) When I was in Campeche. You wrote a letter on my behalf. Hearst: To the Jefe de Policia. Wolcott: “I am aware of Mr. Wolcott’s difficulty. You will find me personally grateful for any adjustments you may make in his case.” (Hearst looks at him.) What did you think that was about? Hearst: I didn’t think about it. You were my agent in Mexico! You had many responsibilities. You asked me for the letter and I wrote it! Wolcott: As when the earth talks to you particularly, you never ask its reasons. Hearst: I don’t need to know why I’m lucky! (He turns, leans on the wall with one hand.) Wolcott: What if the earth talks to us to get us to arrange its amusements? Hearst: That sounds like goddamned nonsense to me. Wolcott: Suppose to you it whispers, “You are king over me. I exist to flesh your will.” Hearst: Nonsense. Wolcott: And to me…”There is no sin.” (Hearst turns) It happened in Mexico and now it’s happened here. (Hearst, pissed, walks over to a chair next to Wolcott and sits. He spits into a spittoon on the floor next to him. He pauses.) Hearst: We must end our connection, you understand that, Francis. Make a severance you think fair. You know I won’t quibble. (Angry, he leans forward, looks back at Wolcott.) Does some spirit overtake you? Is that what you mean by the “talk”? Wolcott: (shaking his head) No. Hearst: It tells me where the color is. That’s all it tells me. My God. (Wolcott sniffles.) --(Silas is working on the proposal as Al pisses.) Silas: Al: Silas: Al: Silas:
This has to be a date certain. “Timely fashion” means fuckin’ nothin’. (Urinating) Timely fashion means when they got the fix in. So when do you want the elections? The sooner the fuckin’ better. Six weeks?
Al: (groans) No more! (He buttons up.) Silas: Far as bringin’ ringers in, a period of residence would be a nice shiv to stick in their fuckin’ ribs. Al: And now you’re using your fuckin’ noodle. How do we put that into words? (walking over.) Silas: “Period of Residence.” Al: Are you being smart with me? Silas: How would you put it? Al: “Period of residence not less than” what? Silas: Two weeks. Al: “No one is eligible to vote unless they’ve been two weeks in the camp.” Silas: Unless committed to dump in our favor. Al: I’d like to get this fuckin’ thing done. Silas: (writes) “Has not been two weeks in camp.” Al: (sits) Now I’ll tell you what the fuck else. And it makes me weep to say it. Take out the fuckin’ 50 from Yankton to us. Silas: (leans back) Shall I urge you to reconsider? Al: We get this thing off the ground, I will be without peer of robbin’ these cocksuckers senseless. I don’t want the foundin’ document recordin’ a fuckin’ bribe. Silas: (shrugs) Strike number four from the original, with disgust it was even brought up. (Al breaths deep, puts his hand down on the arm of the bench and hoists himself up.) Al:
What else? (Silas sniffs and shrugs) Summon that cat-piss-smellin’ fuckhead and his holiness the Sheriff.
(Al walks out onto the balcony, teacup & saucer in hand. He sees E.B. and Richardson preparing the porch of the hotel for the celebration. Andy is studying his bible on the porch, Jarry stands nearby.) Al:
Commissioner! (Raises his teacup) Shall we chat?
(Jarry steps forward as Merrick snaps a picture – oops! He runs as fast as he can to the Gem. Al looks down and sees Sol and Trixie step out onto the thoroughfare.) Al:
Aw, ain’t you two a fuckin’ picture? (They look up) Oh, Trixie, you, uh—save me a trip. (Tosses a letter from his jacket pocket down to her. Sol picks it up from the mud.) You shoulda let it hit her in the schnoz, reminder her of her escorts in days past. That’s a gift for the bride, from her child’s former tutor in absentia. Whirlin’ her around’s okay, Star. Just don’t tread on her fuckin’ toes! Adams! You saw Yankton’s hypocrite, huh? (Silas nods) Just his holiness. And we’ll have a quorum.
(Silas runs along, Al goes inside.) ---
(Captain Turner packs stacks of money into a satchel in Hearsts room. He turns and looks at Hearst when he finishes.) Hearst:
Oh, go ahead and take that to him, Captain. Thank you.
(Turner nods and leaves. Hearst sighs. Turner goes downstairs, E.B., spotting the satchel, dusts off the counter. Turner sets the satchel on the desk. E.B. sniffs, Turner sneezes, turns, and looks at the offending flowers.) EB:
Bless you. (Turner goes outside. E.B. grabs the satchel and runs back in his office.) Bless you. Bless you. (giggles) Bless you.
(He shuts his office door.) --(Al comes downstairs. Tom Nuttall is sitting at a table, drinking alone.) Al: I’m in the day’s fuckin’ talents, Tom. Nuttall: There’s talk of an offer on my place. Al: (leaning on the banister) How will you answer? Nuttall: I came to take counsel with you. Al: Drunk or sober is my question. Nuttall: Well, I have my wits about me, Al. Al: (Walking over) Maybe then—you’ll want a few more, huh? (Sits, raising the bottle) Nuttall: Don’t talk to me in fucking riddles. Al: Drunk, Tom, for reasons not to do with business, you’ll sell. If that’s your decision, let me offer. Sober, you know sellin’s stupid. Nuttall: What’s my reason not to do with business? Al: Use your own fuckin’ faculties. Nuttall: (sighs) Remorse. Al: Over that boy that was not your fuckin’ fault. (He readies to pour Tom another drink) Again? Nuttall: (Covers the glass) Not right now. (Al puts the bottle down.) Ellsworth…and the widow Garret, what odds would you have made on that? Al: Every so often there’s a love match. (He puts the cork in the bottle, Tom laughs heartily and Al joins in a chuckle, he gets up.) --(Silas waits on the porch that Bullock built. Seth comes out, buckling his holster as they leave. In the lobby of the hotel, the wedding party has gathered. A mandolin is tuning, Jane and Joanie hold some flowers, Jane is really uncomfortable. Merrick nods to them. E.B. is in his office, clutching his satchel, leaning up against the door looking out the peep hole.) EB:
(high-pitched voice) Isn’t it time to start the ceremony?
(Richardson tucks the antlers into his jacket. He’s looking dapper in his suit and top hat! He tucks his antlers as much as he can conceal them, into his jacket. The mandolin starts to play the wedding march and he looks up, taking off his hat. Sofia comes down the stairs first, followed by Trixie. E.B. tip-toes into his office, clutching the satchel.) EB:
And now, my dear lady, shall I part thou leather lips? (He flicks his tongue.)
(Alma comes down the stairs. She stops in front of Andy Cramed. Merrick, Doc, Joanie and Jane look on, Richardson in the background. Andy motions for Ellsworth to stand next to Alma. Sol is beside him, Trixie beside Alma with Sofia in front of her. Ellsworth nervously joins Alma. Joanie taps a fidgety Jane.) Jane: (whispering) It’s the damn underwear. Andy: Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the face of this company to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which estate instituted of God at the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church. (Jarry looks over the amended proposal, Seth standing behind Al.) Andy: Therefore, not to be entered into lightly but reverently, discretely, advisedly, soberly and in fear of God. (Jarry slides the proposal back to Al.) Andy: If any man here can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace. (Al slides the proposal back to Jarry. The wedding party looks on as Ellsworth and Alma unite.) Andy: Whitney Conway Ellsworth…wilt thou have this woman to they wedded wife, to live after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her as long as you both shall live? Ellsworth: I will. (Wolcott is writing a letter, a coiled rope is on the table beside his desk.) Andy: Alma Russell Garret…wilt thou have this man to they wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony--? Alma: I will. Andy: Uh, continuing. Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him as long as ye both shall live? Alma: I will. (Merrick wipes away the tears.) Andy: Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?
Sol: I do. Both. (Charlie rides his horse back into camp.) Andy: Say after me, “I, Whitney Conway Ellsworth—“ Ellsworth: I Whitney Conway Ellsworth, Andy: “Vow to love, cherish and protect… (Jarry and Al discuss the proposal.) Ellsworth: Vow to love, cherish and protect… Andy: “Till death do us part according to God’s holy ordinance—“ (Seth walks around the desk and sits next to Jarry to discuss the proposal.) Ellsworth: Till death do us part according to God’s holy ordinance… Andy: “And thereto I give to thee my troth.” Ellsworth: And thereto I give to thee my troth. Andy: Say after me, “I, Alma Russell Garret,” Alma: I, Alma Russel Garret, Andy: “Vow to love, cherish and obey—“ Alma: Vow to love, cherish and obey… Andy: “Till do us part according to God’s holy ordinance—“ (Hearst grabs a sledgehammer, cradles in a moment…) Alma: Andy: Alma: Andy:
Till do us part according to God’s holy ordinance… “And thereto I give to thee my troth.” And thereto I give to thee my troth. The ring.
(Sol reaches into his pocket and gives Ellsworth the ring. Ellsworth slips it on Alma’s finger and holds her hand in his.) Andy: “With this ring I thee wed.” Ellsworth: With this ring I thee wed. Andy: Those whom God has joined together let no man put asunder. (Martha crouches down to William’s garden, pushes some dirt aside, revealing a tiny sprout from one of William’s sunflower seeds.) Andy: For inasmuch as Alma and Whitney have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring and joining hands, I now pronounce that they are man and wife.
(We hear loud pounding and plaster falling from upstairs, the wedding party looks up – confused. E.B., in his office, is laying on his back wiggling his feet in the air playing in a pool of money. Hearst continues to knock down the wall he promised to with his sledgehammer. The mandolin plays as Doc congratulates a smiling, fairly glowing, Alma. The party claps.) Ellsworth:
We ask all to join us for collation and dancin’ in the thoroughfare.
(Joanie kisses Ellsworth’s cheek.) --(Later…Jarry, Seth and Al are still going over the amended proposal. Ellsworth and Alma dance in the thoroughfare. Jane, arms crossed, wanders about. Merrick takes a picture. Dan, Silas and Johnny get dressed in Chinese garb in one of the whores rooms.) Dan: Shit! (Jen laughs) What’s so fuckin’ funny, Jen? Jen: Nothin’. (She leaves) (Mr. Wu enters with a basket. He claps twice.) Dan: Who are you fuckin’ clappin’ orders at, Wu? You only got us on loan. Wu: (Picks up some masks) Ming hoi. (Hands Johnny a mask) Ming hoi. Silas: Oh, for Christ’s sake! (Takes a mask) Johnny: I guess in for a penny, in for a fuckin’ pound. Wu: Swedgin. (shrugs) Dan: He wouldn’t allow it if I went up and asked him. Wu: Swedgin! (Dan takes the mask. They all put them on.) Johnny: (To Silas) Do you wanna swap masks? (Silas shakes his head. Wu claps twice. Dan tests an ax as Wu hands one each to Johnny and Silas.) --(Trixie and Sol dance, Joanie and Jane standing next to each other. Joanie watches the dancing, Jane looks around, uncomfortable. She punches a reveler nearby.) Jane: What the fuck are you looking at? FuckingLooker: I wasn’t fuckin’ lookin’ at you! (Joanie pulls Jane back over, the song ends and people clap. Alma and Sofia curtsy to Ellsworth, who bows to each of them in return. They walk to the porch. The tailer hails Ellsworth.) Tailor:
Mr. Ellsworth, was I right about the gloves?
(Ellsworth shakes his hand around, displaying that he’s still got the stupid things on. The music starts back up, upbeat. The crowd dances on, Trixie and Sol join hands and start hopping to the beat.) ---
(Up in Hearst’s newly renovated room, he sits across a table from Cy. Two gold sacks are sitting on the table between them.) Hearst: Full and final payment, Mr. Tolliver, for what service you conceive you’ve rendered me. Cy: The Lord himself would testify to me havin’ served you, Mr. Hearst, (chuckles) and to what should be my just reward. Oh—(puts a hand to his ear) is that the cocksucker addressing us from the fuckin’ whirlwind? “George Hearst, Cy’s just reward…every claim he helped you buy he’s in for 5%. (smiles at Hearst) Cy, as I’ll sometimes be busy elsewhere, take your own fuckin’ precautions you’re fairly treated. Should George try to fuck you, Wolcott’s letter gets broad circulation.” Hearst: Tell me what letter you mean. Cy: George asks what letter you refer to Lord. (hand to ear) “That you, Cy, before you disposed of them whores, made that murderin’ geologist write once he told you George knew of his habits.” (Cy stands) Disturb you bein’ in the public eye? Some don’t mind. (Waves his hand) Fuck, some men like it. But I wonder if you’re among ‘em. Hearst: Stop movin’ your hand, Sir. I mean you know harm, but I can’t speak for Captain Turner. (Turner steps forward, revealing the gun at his hip.) Cy: “Put your hand down, Cy.” I hear you, Lord. (puts both hands on the table – sighs) The press bein’ sold-out cunts, it hardly matters that a story’s true, but one like this that is, sportin’ a man like you, and fucked-up geologist and whore dug up from shallow graves with their throats slit from ear to ear, and the same to their poor privates—what’s that Lord? (chuckles) Would you, Lord? You dirty-minded cocksucker. He says he’d follow a story like that Himself. 5%. Your interests seen to by one that controls his appetites. (Claps his hands as if done. He leaves.) Hearst: You’d first want to know from Wolcott if there is a letter. (Turner leaves) (Merrick takes pictures as Wolcott watches the revelry. He walks on. Jane and Joanie are talking to Andy Cramed.) Jane: You got your quiver full of words again, don’t you? (Andy chuckles) I found him in the woods. All’s he could say was “I’m sorry.” (Cy steps out onto the hotel porch, looking on.) Joanie: First I knew Andy, all’s he could say was “deal.” (Cy looks pissed, he steps off the porch.) --(Mr. Lee is lying on his back, staring vacantly at the plumes of incense smoke rise into the air. A whore is riding him rhythmically. The four horsemen – er, Dan, Silas, Johnny and Mr. Wu-- march down the alley. Wu taps Dan on the shoulder and points him to a hut. Dan checks it out and shakes his head. They keep walking. Johnny trips. A group of Celestials are gambling in an alley, they fight over their bets. They don’t notice as Wu points the gang in their direction. Johnny axes one guy in the back. Dan gets another. One of the gamblers runs up and grabs Dan from behind, a knife to Dan’s throat. Silas runs up and get’s his back – pardon the pun. The attacker falls dead. Jarry signs the deal, slides it to Al, stands and shakes Seth’s hand. He leaves. Al holds his hand out to
Seth, they shake. Seth leaves and goes downstairs to the bar as Jarry exits. He knocks his fist on the bar for a drink. Al comes out of his office.) Al:
Davey, tell Merrick to go ahead and print. (He walks back into his office, Seth does a shot.) Fraught with contingencies, Chief, is our fuckin’ electoral process. (sits) Will his holiness climb into a bottle or pursue the widow, stiff-pricked, the miles to her Hot Springs honeymoon? (He looks at “the box” next to him.) Who’ll bear the local’s banner then, huh?
--(Doc is giving Mose Manual a check-up at the Chez Amie. He motions Mose to follow him, taking his arm to help him up. He motions Mose over to the doorway, opening up the doors. He steps onto the porch and begins to demonstrate a breathing exercise. Mose joins in on the next one. Cy approaches Andy, talking to Tessie.) Cy:
Most men, Andy, once they’ve brought one fuckin’ plague to the camp would lay the fuck off. Not you! No, you’re gonna bible-talk my whores. Andy: God is not mocked, Cy. (He steps up to Cy, reaching in his pocket, Cy grabs his shoulders.) Cy: You got a pestilence for every fuckin’ occasion! (groans) Andy: God is not mocked, you son of a bitch! (He pulls his knife out of Cy’s belly and walks away. Cy-shocked, grabs his stomach.) Cy: He fuckin’ --gutted me. Joanie: See to him, Honey. (Tessie runs over to Cy.) Cy: I ain’t gonna die! (He gasps, Tessie grabs his arm, guiding him away.) Don’t let me die. (Joanie watches as we stumbles away.) --(Mr. Wu rises up from the side of the bed next to Mr. Lee and slits his throat. Wu, shouting, drags the blonde whore outside and shoves her away. Lee lays bleeding as the incense smoke rises in plumes. The gang leaves the alley. Doc shakes Mose’s hand, turns and leaves. Mose continues his exercise. He steps out in front of the building. As Doc walks away, he skips merrily to the music. Mose turns back to the doorway, does one last breathing exercise, and goes inside. Wolcott’s body drops from the livery balcony next door. It swings from a noose. Charlie approaches the revelry, looking around. Smiling, he approaches Jane’s side. Jane, arms crossed tries to look casual. Charlie can’t help himself, he chuckles.) Jane: Welcome the fuck back! Charlie: Miss Stubbs. (Tips his hat) Joanie: (laughs) Mr. Utter. --(Al steps onto the balcony with a bottle in one hand and “the box” in the other.) Al:
They dance on, Chief, however much at home, (sets ‘the box” down) as at yours and mine, comfort and love await. (He sees Silas, Dan, Johnny and Wu approach.) Unhurt…it appears.
Dan: Don’t hold for them that went against us. Al: I should hope fucking not. (looking at Wu) How’d he fight? Johnny: He gave a good fuckin’ account, did Mr. Wu. Al: Lee? MrWu: San Francisco cocksucka—(draws his finger across his throat) Al: Well done then, men. And well done, Adams, the day’s full course, indoors and out. Silas: (pants) Thanks, thanks. Dan: (punches Silas in the shoulder) You saved my bacon in that fuckin’ alley. Silas: Jesus Christ! (Rubs his shoulder.) Dan: Fuckin’ Adams. (The three boys go inside. Wu steps front and center, looking up at Al.) MrWu: Swedgin! Al: All right, Wu. (Mr. Wu holds his knife out to Al, reaches back and grabs his braid, he slices it off and holds it up.) MrWu: Wu! America! Al: That’ll hold you tight to her tit. MrWu: (Holding crossed fingers up to Al) Heng dai. (Al returns the gesture.) --(We see Wolcott’s hat sitting in the dust. His shadow swings over it. Turner steps onto the porch and sees the body swinging. Merrick holds up a new printing of the paper, running through the crowd.) Blazanov/Merrick: Elections are coming! Elections are coming! Merrick: Territorial governor agrees to local elections! Blazanov: Elections are coming! (Seth is still drinking at the Gem bar. Davey is cleaning up. Al comes out onto the inner balcony.) Al: Don’t you have a fuckin’ home to get to? --(Alma steps out onto the hotel porch. The tailor approaches.) Tailor: Right this way, Mrs. Ellsworth. (Ellsworth steps to her side.) Bart, help Mrs. Ellsworth onto her wagon. (Sofia pulls Ellsworth out for another dance.) There we go. Help her up there! (Alma steps up, Ellsworth and Sofia dance a jig. Trixie hands Alma the letter from Alice. Ellsworth swings Sofia around, holds his arms open and she jumps into them. He hoists her up and they climb into the wagon. Tom plays the spoons, the band plays on. Seth
strides down the boardwalk, watching. The music comes to an end as Alma catches sight of him. Their eyes meet. He smiles at her.) Al: I believe it’s to your fuckin’ right. (Seth continues home.) Jane: Hey, we ain’t done fuckin’ dancing! (The crowd claps in rhythm, the music starts back up again. Blazanov does the famous Cossack squat-kick dance, the Gem whores cheering him on. Merrick takes a picture as Jen casually fondles his ‘package’. He peeks out from under the camera’s cape, surprised to see her doing that. Seth strides down the thoroughfare. Charlie, Jan and Joanie squaredance. Doc takes Jewel’s waist from behind and they dance, his head on her shoulder. Al taps along to the music, nodding his head. All is right in Deadwood.) Cast Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker John Hawkes Paula Malcomson W. Earl Brown Powers Boothe Sean Bridgers Jeffrey Jones Kim Dickens William Sanderson Bree Seanna Wall Pavel Lychnikoff Pruitt Taylor Vince Leon Rippy Geri Jewel Robin Weigert Dayton Callie Garret Dillahunt Zach Grenier Stephen Toblowsky Larry Cedar Peter Jason Leah Ann Cevoli Jennifer Lutheran Keone Young Gerald McRaney Philip Moon Gordon Clapp Parisse Boothe Nick Amandos M. Dutch DeBoer Allan Graf Jennifer Lutheran Johnny Rad David Redding Phil Chong
.... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... ....
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Sol Star Trixie Dan Dority Cy Tolliver Johnny Burns A.W. Merrick Joanie Stubbs E.B. Farnum Sofia Blazanov Mose .... Tom Nuttall Jewel Calamity Jane Charlie Utter Francis Wolcott Andy Cramed Commissioner Hugo Jarry Leon Con Stapleton Tess Jenn Mr. Wu George Hearst Mr. Lee The Tailor Tessie Jack Jen Davey Ah Sook
Will Leong Kevin Wimmer
Lee’s Henchman The Fiddler
Publicity images & episode content © 2005 Home Box Office. All Rights Reserved. HBO and Deadwood are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc. Transcript © 2005 Cristi H. Brockway. The copyright claimed by Cristi H. Brockway herein is solely on her personal contribution of material not contained in the episode from which this transcript was compiled. Any commercial use of this transcript is expressly prohibited.
Episode 25: Tell Your God to Ready for Blood Directed by: Mark Tinker Written by: David Milch and Ted Mann
Created by Cristi H. Brockway free fuckin’ gratis for the fans.
Episode 25: Tell Your God to Ready for Blood (Panning down from the cloudy heavens, we hear birds calling out as the town of Deadwood is starting a new day. Al steps out onto his balcony, shaking his head, sipping his coffee. We hear a rooster crow, Al looks down into the thoroughfare, where Dan Dority has stepped out, he looks up at Al.) Dan: Fixin’ toward a bloody outcome, boss. Al: Absenting myself don’t change your fuckin’ instructions. (Dan looks resigned to the situation at hand, and heads back inside the Gem. We hear hammering in the distance and pan over to see 3 men erecting hustings. Inside the Grand Central, we see George Hearst laying on the floor next to his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Back in the Gem, several Cornishmen are at the bar, talking in their native tongue. A man sits at a table behind them, clearly annoyed at them.) Annoyed Man: Parp. (On of the Cornishmen turn and look at him briefly) Parp. Parp. (He picks up a shot as if toasting them) Parp. (He drinks, and the foreign chatter continues.) Parp. Corny 1: Slainte. Corny 2: Slainte. (They toast and drink a shot) Annoyed Man: Parp. (He toasts their backs and drinks a shot. Dan keeps a close eye on the situation and moves to a better vantage point. The Cornishmen have taken notice of the annoyed man and are talking amongst themselves they sound annoyed, near as I can tell. Cornish is dead language for a reason ya know. I sure as fuck don’t speak it. And they don’t enunciate near as well as Mr. Wu so fuck the phonetic shit.) Annoyed Man: Parp. Parp. Parp. (Their conversation continues. Johnny, behind the bar, has a shotgun trained and ready, out of sight. Annoyed man starts speaking gibberish as if imitating the Cornishmen.) Whoop goggle. (Conversation continues) Whoop goggle, boop boop. (He moves his arms like he’s doing the chicken dance. Hey, they’re Cornish! And there’s Cornish Hens! Hey this guy is so fuckin’ funny he gives Silas and Hawkeye a run for their money. One of the Cornishmen shouts out, the middle one turns around, annoyed man lifts a shot in toast.) Parp. (drinks) (The Cornishman on the end looks at his buddies, resigned to a confrontation. Dan shakes his head “no” at Johnny, who is ready to fire. The middle Cornishman steps forward and a shot rings out. )
Created by Cristi H. Brockway free fuckin’ gratis for the fans.
Dan: Hey! (The annoyed man jumps up and fires again. His buddy behind him has also risen and pulled a gun.) Hey! (Al turns around, hearing the commotion. Hearst puts his hands behind his head, relaxed and satisfied.) Get the fuck out! Annoyed Man: He come at me with his foreign gibberish. Dan: You get the fuck out while I let you get the fuck out. (To the Cornishmen…) You too, you get out that way. (He points to the back door. The men look at each other and shrug. They move to grab their fallen friend.) Leave him be or you’ll be riding the Goddamn sled with him. Get out! (The annoyed man keeps his gun trained on them as they leave. Dan leans over a chair, relieved the confrontation is over. He looks up, annoyed.) Parp…(The men put their guns away.) Either of you cocksuckers want to talk funny at me? Annoyed Man: Good day, Sir. Buddy: Good day. (They leave. Al looks down from the interior balcony.) Johnny: Wu’s out of camp. Al: Store him in our corner of the icehouse. (He returns to his office, slamming the door behind him.) (Inside the house that Bullock built, Seth approaches Martha as she comes down the stairs that Bullock built.) Seth: Will you look this over? (He hands her a paper.) Martha: Certainly. Seth: Words that doing the wrong jobs, piling on too heavy, or at odds over meaning— Martha: I’ll mark my suggestions. Seth: Nothing showy is the main thing. Martha: I understand. (Seth is nervous, they share a moment of awkward silence.) Shall I gather my school supplies? Seth: I’m much obliged. (Sofia! Sofia is playing with a doll, sitiing in a chair at the house that the Bonanza bought. We hear furniture dragging across the floor.) Alma: That’s better, isn’t it? Ellsworth: Mm. (nods.) Alma: Over here? (She points to her left, Ellsworth drags the settee over to the spot.) I will apologize, Mr. Ellsworth, for what I am about to ask. Ellsworth: (To Sofia) She wants to try it on the ceiling. Alma: A coverlet, dark red, is packed with the linens in the gray leather trunk. Ellsworth: Back at the hotel. Alma: It’s near time in any case to take Sofia to school. Ellsworth: The settee is best sited with its spread upon it, would be your mother’s idea. Alma: Mr. Ellsworth will help you gather your things, Darling, for school. Ellsworth: Young lady. Sofia: Goodbye.(She kisses Alma on the cheek.) Alma: Bye.
Created by Cristi H. Brockway free fuckin’ gratis for the fans.
Ellsworth: Will I bring you back a sandwich or a glass of milk? Alma: Just the coverlet, thank you. (Seth and Martha step outside onto the thoroughfare. He, holding her elbow and her school supplies, guiding her down the pathway.) Seth: I’d sooner be hanging from those hustings than stand on ‘em giving a speech. Nuttall’s bartender’s no hand at it either. We both may get pelted with refuse. (Alma steps to the window, looking out. This is the closest to Flora-vision we get in this episode. As she watches Ellsworth and Sofia walk away, we see her fall to the side, passed out.) Ellsworth: Morning. (The meet Seth and Martha along the way.) Martha: Good morning, Sofia. Sofia: Good morning. Will we bake bread again today? Martha: Is it your vote we should? Sofia: Yes. And Mr. Bullock for Sheriff, and Mr. Star for Mayor. And I will put the bread in to bake. Ellsworth: If I’m to believe what I read, you’re heavily scheduled today. Seth: Yes. Ellsworth: As to your meetin’ with Hearst, if the chance comes up natural, stomp on the cocksucker’s foot. (Seth smiles.) (Outside the Chez Amie, Mose Manuel is drinking his coffee on the porch. Joanie steps outside, leaving.) Joanie: Morning. Mose: Yes, Ma’am. Jane: Off to the Bella Union like the moth to the fucking flame. Mose: Miss Stubb’s didn’t name her destination. Jane: I’m telling you where she’s going. (She gets up and approaches Mose.) And why don’t you look for honest work? Mose: Miss Stubbs holds what I’m doing for honest. Jane: She no more needs a watchman than she does a fucking balloonist. And why should the young of this camp have to scurry past your man-toad figure to receive an education? Mose: The time they come for schoolin’, I’m in back and out of sight. Jane: Exposin’ them to being terrified only when they use the privy. Mose: Go get your load on, Jane. Jane: (Yelling as she turns around and starts to head across the thoroughfare.) Do not instruct me how to spend my day…or to itemize for you my crowded itinerary…you tub of blubber and guts! Mose: I’ve got 10 minutes yet to be out front!
Created by Cristi H. Brockway free fuckin’ gratis for the fans.
(Jane stalks off into the back alley, sits down and pulls a bottle out of hiding. Belligerently taking a hearty swig. Al watches the Bullock party approach in the thoroughfare and he steps out onto his balcony.) Ellsworth: Might I give over the little one to you here? Martha: Of course. Ellsworth: When next we meet, young lady, I will be on the eye for warm bread. (He hands Sofia her lunch bucket) Wants a coverlet from storage—Mrs. Ellsworth— to consider atop the day bed. (He rolls his eyes and heads in another direction. A.W. Merrick is at the hustings with his camera, he shouts out to Seth’s back) Merrick: Framing of a dream. Martha: (Clears her throat) He’s saying that to you, Seth. (Seth puts a hand up in acknowledgemen, Merrick grins.) (Inside the absurd restaurant, Richardson is clearing plates as E.B. watches.) EB:
Mr. Ellsworth, no doubt on some menial domestic errand. (Richardson sneaks a bite, E.B. swings around, Richardson quickly grabs the plates and returns to the kitchen. Back outside in the thoroughfare…) Al: Sheriff! Forgive my raucous tone. Martha: Mr. Swearengen. Al: May we have a word? Seth: Once I’ve see ‘em to school, I meet Hearst. Al: Very much what I’d have us speak of. (Seth nods.) Sofia: Can we plant beets again today? Martha: Yes. (Joanie passes them by, Martha nods to her.) (Charlie Utter’s hand is covered in ink, written on it is “Thank you for the intro Sherif” but it looks like he changed his mind, there were other words underneath.) Utter: “Thank you…Thank you for the introduction, Sheriff.” (He looks up and sees Seth, jumps up off his seat to meet him in the thoroughfare.) Sheriff. Seth: Morning, Charlie. Utter: Morning. Miss Bullock. Martha: Good morning, Mr. Utter. Utter: Morning there, little one, in your lovely go-to-school outfit. Sofia: Good morning. Seth: Did the evening pass in quiet? Utter: The morning got a little busy. Cornishman killed in the Gem. His buddies come babbling to our office. Seth: Dority kill him? Utter: The complainants can’t speak right so I had to have them play act. But I’m guessing no. Seth: They up in the office still? Utter: Down in Hearst’s shafts. (Martha takes Sofia’s shoulder and turns to the men.) Martha: We’ll say goodbye.
Created by Cristi H. Brockway free fuckin’ gratis for the fans.
Seth: Goodbye. Goodbye, Sofia. Sofia: Goodbye. Utter: Goodbye there, little one. Sofia: Goodbye. (Seth hands Martha her supplies.) Martha: Thank you. Sofia: Hi Dorothy. Good morning, James. (More children join them, Mose gets up to go in back of the building.) James:Good morning. Utter: Nice thing, ain’t it? The children? (He looks up and spies Jane, she gives him the finger. Back at the absurd restaurant.) EB: Will you attend the evening speeches, Richardson? Richardson: If you let me. EB: Of course I will. How else are you to vote with intelligence? (chuckles) I intend no lengthy remarks. My tenure as Mayor speaks for me. Will they have the Jew merchant instead? Well, let them then and welcome. (He smacks Richardson’s hand) I caught you, Richardson. Stuffin’ spitbacks in your vile maw. “Let tomorrow’s omelets go empty.” Is that your fuckin’ attitude? Richardson: You hurted me. EB: Shhh! Wash and stack, shit monkey. Or ready yourself for worse. (He tosses the scraps from the plates into a bucket.) (Back at the Bella Union, Cy is abed, Con and Leon are in the cage.) Leon: Con: Leon: Con: Leon: Con:
Congratulations, Sir. Congratulations. (Joanie enters and heads upstairs.) Florence Nightingale. Florence Nightingale is a nurse. I know that, ya ignorant cocksucker. Joanie Stubbs is a cocksucker. I know that, you ignorant fuck. (clears throat) Don’t be sweatin’ all over the gentleman’s money. (chuckles) Leon: 1500. (He hands the man at the cage his money, turns to Con.) And thank you for that rasher of shit. (Inside Chez Schoolhouse Amie. Heads are bowed as they recite the Lord’s prayer together.) All:
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.
(Cut to the big titted whores of the Bella Union. Sucking on cigarettes and looking like general shit. Joanie enters their room.) Joanie:
(sighs) Morning, Tess.
Created by Cristi H. Brockway free fuckin’ gratis for the fans.
Tess: Morning, Joanie. Joanie: Git. (She shoes off a whore from the vanity.) Tess: I can take him that. Joanie: I got it. (pours water.) Tess: How’s Cy? Joanie: I don’t know yet, Tess. It’s none of your business anyway. Your only business is how you start the fucking day. Tess: I’m clean. Joanie: Before you go to sleep, how are you supposed to start? Tess: I said I’m clean. Joanie: You answer my Goddamn question. Tess: My snatch is clean. Joanie: Is the rest of your body clean? Tess; Yes. Joanie: What’s next? Tess: The room where I receive, and that’s fucking clean. Joanie: Well what’s next after that? Tess: God damn you, Joanie. Joanie: What’s next, Lila, if you ain’t too fucking high? (snaps her fingers in Lila’s face.) Lila: Our room where we rest. Joanie: Which don’t it fuckin’ stink in here? It does, Lila, like a hogwhore’s cunt. And I ain’t loaded not to smell it. Why don’t you go, girl? Why don’t you get to the muck where you’re fuckin’ headed anyway? Go on. Git. (She shoves Lila into the hallway and starts to turn around. Lila sits on a bench, curling up. Joanie turns back to her.) What are you doin’ sittin’ back there? Lila: Oh, please let me stay. (Joanie slams the door and turns back to the girls.) Joanie: When I come back tonight, you better all be sweet for me to fuck. Or have your damn bags packed, ‘cause I’ll throw every one of you out. Move, Tess, move. (She takes the pitcher and leaves.) Tess: you know she’s going to let her stay. (Con and Leon watch Joanie come down the stairs, she scowls at them and stomps her foot. As if shooing a stray dog. Con growls at her as she stalks away. She knocks and opens Cy’s door.) Cy: Come on in, Honey. How are you? Joanie: I’m all right. Was the Doc by? Cy: Brightened my early mornin’. Another day on the right side of the ledger far as puss. (Joanie helps him sit up a bit higher, he catches his breath.) How’s the action outside? Joanie: It’s quiet. Cy: Either clown upright to tell you what the action was? Joanie: I didn’t ask. Cy: I guess you’d stopped in on the whores. (Joanie sits down, her back to Cy.) Joanie: Well, you might have mistook, Cy, pickin’ Tess over Lila to see to ‘em. Cy: Lila’s on the needle.
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Joanie: Well, Tess ain’t pickin’ up the bit. Cy: Maybe she’s unsure of her place, you in and out of our lives. Joanie: Well, fresh water. (She moves the pitcher next to the bed) Cy: You’re not leaving yet, are you? Joanie: Right here, Cy, on the side table. Cy: Act like a fucking baby, don’t I? (mimics whining) “Oh, don’t go.” Where’s my Good Book, honey? Joanie: It’s just next to you, in the bedfold. (He grabs and clutches it close to his chest. Joanie slams the door behind her and he throws it down.) (Inside Al’s office at the Gem, Silas is picking at his nails.) Silas: I’ve been scooping out rain gutters for a month. My fingers are bloody with sandin’. Al: You do recall you’re only the transactions beard? (He gets up and they head downstairs where Jewel is scrubbing the new bloodstain.) You return to Star. A sorry run at the tables, you can’t support the loan he made you. Silas: Well, what if he don’t foreclose? Al: Oh, you beg him to buy you out. You may harm yourself. You’re up all hours, “What have I fucking done?” Or the like. “Maybe I should fucking end it.” Star ends owning that house is the necessary fucking conclusion. Coffee! Jewel: Ready. (She gets up to pour him coffee.) Al: That croaker seen to? Johnny: At Wu’s icehouse, under a tarp, in our corner. Al: Will you pour it without scalding me, huh? Jewel: Breakfast? (Al pauses for a moment, Jewel gets back down on her knees to scrub.) Al: Bacon and eggs. Jewel: (She throws the brush in the bucket and struggles to her feet.) You know you could have said that before I went down. Al: You get in the kitchen. (Jewel stalks off an Al takes off his jacket and starts to scrub the floor.) Silas: I liked living in that place. Al: Why do I give a fuck? (Al growls and scrubs, Silas leaves.) So why not force this morning’s murder outside? Johnny: You told us not to. Al: As he stank of a put-up job, I wanted to find out if we were meant for the venue. Johnny: Well, whoever put the job up can’t be any too smart, ‘cause them Cornish work for Hearst. Murder a Cornish and you buy Hearst for an enemy. Al: You’re a fucking miracle, Johnny. It’s close to a mortal certainty he ordered the murder himself. Johnny: Hearst? Al: Shut up! (scrubbing) He stages a murder in my fucking joint. Wants Bullock to show his ass before he’ll bless his fucking candidacy. What does he require of the weather? Jesus Christ. That’s it—how you clean a fuckin’ bloodstain, hey.
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(Silas paces at the bank, distraught.) Sol: What if we stretched out the payments? Silas: I cannot fucking make it. What the fuck was in my head to sign that note? Sol: Take it easy. Trixie: (sarcastic) Take it easy, Mr. Adams. Silas: (groans) Take it off me. Can’t you? Ain’t there some way to take it off?! Oh God! (He leaves upset. Sol watches him go, confused.) Trixie:(Leaving behind Silas) I’m in crisis too, needing awfully to piss. (Catches up with Silas.) Why not cork up and go on stage with that tragic fuckin’ minstrel turn? Silas: Are you alone? Trixie:Yes, Miss Bernhardt, I am. Silas: Al wants Star to take over that house. Trixie:Why? Silas: Keep my ruddy color not askin’ Al his reasons. (Joanie is at a ledger, she’s renting a room from another local hotel of sorts. She looks up at the biblical signs he has hanging around. Pausing on “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. John VIII:32 She grabs the ledger and pen and sits on a chair nearby.) Shaunessy: Disarray…in your room. Your last day when you left, disarray. Joanie: I sat on the bed. Shaunessy: I won’t have it. Joanie: Did you hear me, Shaunessy? My last day I sat on the bed for three hours. I had a glass of water. Shaunessy: Yes yes yes. Very likely. (She stands up and throws the book to the ground.) Uh, 1-F, $2. (She turns back and steps up to the “desk” and hands him $2. He hands her a key.) The book, please. (She picks up the book and pen and returns it to him. She walks to her room and opens the door.) Ink on the floor. Pen near blunted, possibly broke. Binding’s damaged. I won’t stand for it. (Back at the Gem, Al is finished scrubbing. He stands up and puts the bucket on a nearby table.) Al:
Give that back to the gimp.
(Trixie enters, staring accusingly at Dan, he looks back at her not knowing what the fuck her problem is. She looks at Al, back at Dan, he turns and walks away.) Trixie:What the fuck you trying to pull with Adam’s fuckin’ house? Al: Star needs to move into that. He’s a candidate for office. He can’t whore-fuck no longer with impunity. Trixie:Who says I want to live in that house? Al: You ain’t. You’re installing at fucking Shaunessey’s. Trixie:The fuck if I’ll live in that shithole.
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Al:
Shaunessy being richer by 50 for his common wall with Star’s home-to-be and the passage he cut through it, so you and the Jew can fall upon each other away from prying eyes. Trixie:Fuck you, Al. Fuck Shaunessey’s. And fuck the passage into Adam’s fuckin’ house. Al: (Al looks at Dan and turns back to Trixie as she leaves, holding the paper up as if nothing happened.) Loopy cunt! (He puts his glasses on to read, shaking his head at Trixie as she stalks off.) (Inside 1-F, Joanie is crying quietly, rocking back and forth on the corner of the bed. Ellsworth enters the house that the Bonanza bought, finding Alma splayed out on the floor, unconscious. He rushed back outside to find the Doc. Trixie stalks back into the hardware store, Sol perks up as she stalk back toward him, the note in her hand.) Trixie:The wrist business on Adam’s house loan, Adams being nothing but his fucking stalking horse from the gambit’s fucking beginning. You sign to take those over, we’ll move in your 12 possessions. You will be free to come and go by your own front fucking door, and as you lay in your beddy-bye, I’ll pop from the wall like Grandma Groundhog in a storybook and attend to your Johnson, as he’d not see you jeopardize your Mayor’s campaign whore fucking in your place of business. And I’ll have installed in room 3-fucking-C or the like of Shaunessey’s adjacent shitbox, that he’s paid Shaunessey to cut a hole through to ease my fuckin’ fucking you. Sol: Swearengen has? Trixie:Who the fuck was I just talking to? Sol: I don’t know. You said you’d just gone to piss. (Seth enters the Gem. Al looks up from his paper.) Al:
Man of the hour. Quick prick-suck, Bullock? Sally forth to meet the great man with unencumbered thoughts? Seth: What happened in here this morning? Charlie Utter says a man was murdered, one of Hearst’s workers. Al: I’d spare you the particulars till after your meeting concludes. Seth: Why? Al: Why ask why? Why not honor the meeting’s purpose? Speak as a candidate of your hopes for the camp and its future, confine yourself to generalities. (Al takes a sip of coffee, looking furtive.) Suppose Hearst…was this murder’s architect? Suppose the workers were thieves or organizers? Seth: Why kill ‘em in camp before witnesses? Al: Maybe as message to me his domain includes my fucking joint, and to test your willingness to bend to his fucking will before he backs your candidacy. What we know, fucking Bullock, is if when you two meet, Hearst does ask you to go easy, and you, for love of his type, say “Fuck yourself,” no more illumination can come
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to us, because you will have muddied the fuckin’ waters. Is why I’d hoped you’d skirt the topic. Seth: Has the body been eaten? Al: The Cornish croaker? Wu’s out of fucking camp. Seth: Don’t let it get eaten. Al: Oh, absolutely—till your further full investigation. (Seth turns, leaving) As for your meeting with Hearst, may I offer a fervent Godspeed and hopes for your fucking self-control?! (Joanie rocks back and forth on her bed in the darkened room of Shaunessey’s 1-F.) Joanie:
What am I, Lord, that I’m so helpless?
(She holds a gun up to her temple. Contemplating pulling it. Almost comforted by the feel of it there. Seth enters the Grand Central, heading upstairs to meet with Hearst.) EB:
Bullock. He ascends, Richardson, to be dug at and sifted and shoveled till his crucial vein is exposed. (Seth knocks at Hearst’s door) Then Hearst will empty him out. (chuckles) Hearst: Much anticipated, Mr. Bullock—some good solid talk between us. What do you drink? Seth: No—thanks. Hearst: I believe I won’t either. I’m told that you operate a hardware concern. Seth: I’m partnered with Sol Star. Hearst: Ah, candidate for Mayor, as you are for Sheriff. (Seth itches his nose) And an officer of the Deadwood bank. Seth: Sol’s chief officer, yes. Hearst: And you are an officer too. Seth: Yes. Hearst: The bank capitalized, as I understand, by Mrs. Alma Garret Ellsworth…(Seth itches his nose) Formerly quartered in this hotel and who has struck so rich in these hills. Seth: Way back second to you. Hearst: Extraordinary, the story of that woman’s adventures. Do you suppose that its future chapters might be written…elsewhere than the hills? (Seth turns) Seth: What are your intentions? Hearst: As to Mrs. Ellsworth’s holdings, I would shape those to the lady’s preferences, and be pleased and grateful if you told her. (Seth nods, sniffs and itches his nose.) Do you need a handkerchief, Mr. Bullock? (Finishes the itch, pausing) Seth: No. Hearst: Unfortunate incident this morning at Swearengen’s saloon. Do you know about it? Seth: No. One of my workmen was killed in a drunken shootout. Seth: Hmm.
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Hearst: How will you deal with that, Sheriff? Seth: Depends—what it was about? Who makes complaints? Hearst: Mmm. My worker was Cornish. They are a clannish people. I suppose another Cornish might complain. Seth: I’d need to hear what he said then. Hearst: He may also indict the sunrise. For men of that sort, events such as these are as natural. Seth: Anyways. Hearst: May we speak of your ambitions? Seth: Another time. Hearst: I would want to support them, you see? I would want to back you—to thank you for taking her my message. Seth: I never said I’d take her your message. Hearst: Are you saying now that you won’t? Seth: You stay out of our fuckin’ affairs. Hearst: (smirking) Oh…affairs of that sort are not my interest, Mr. Bullock. My only passion is the color. Seth: Excuse me. (Seth descends the staircase, E.B. at the front desk, looking over the mail.) EB:
Bullock, how did you like Mr. Hearst? (Seth turns and makes a beeline for E.B., grabbing him by the lapels and dragging him over the desk throwing him to the floor.) What are you doin’?! Seth: You piece of shit. EB: How have I given offense? Seth: (punches E.B.) You told him. (Punch, punch, here comes Richardson and his magic Alma-Antlers!) EB: Call the law. (Seth continues beating up E.B. as Richardson goes running across the thoroughfare to the Gem and stands in front of Al.) Richardson: The Sheriff’s killing the mayor. (Al takes off his glasses and quickly heads for the door.) Al: In the thoroughfare, if I fucking need you. (Johnny and Dan follow, Hearst looks over the railing at the beating down below.) Bullock? Bulloick…Bullock! Why are you beating Farnum in Mr. Hearst’s hotel? How are you , Sir? (Stiff-neck Seth turns and looks up at Hearst) Hearst: I am well, Mr. Swearengen, and how are you? (Seth turns back to E.B. and punches him again.) Al: Bullock! (Seth stands up and back away from E.B.) Shall I have him seen to, Sir? Hearst: He seems to need that. Al: My place, Sheriff? Boys! E.B.’s had an accident. Under your supervision, and then inform us on his further transport. Seth: Yes.
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Al:
Give the poor fuck your shoulders, boys, huh? (Seth take a step forward) Sheriff! (Seth back off, sneering) Much experienced at the enterprise, Sir. Hearst: I haven’t a doubt. Al: And once he’s situated, may you and me speak? Hearst: Of course. Al: (turns, and speaks softly to Richardson as he leaves) You saw fuckin’ nothing. (Walks with Seth along the thoroughfare, following Johnny and Dan as they carry E.B. back to the Gem.) Jesus, Joseph and Mary. (Back at the house that the Bonanza built, Doc is holding a glass with a dose of laudanum in it as he kneels next to Alma.) Doc: Alma: Doc: Alma: Doc:
Mrs. Ellsworth? (Hold out the glass) No. You must drink this. I will not awaken that demon, Doctor. This has nothing to do with demons, Mrs. Ellsworth. This has to do with allaying the pain to get you through. Leave the demons to God and trust the pain to me. (Alma hesitantly nods and takes the glass. Gulping down the medicine.)
(Back at the Chez Schoolhouse Amie, Martha is reciting phrases for the children to write on their chalkboards.) Martha: “A lady should not choose a man who chews tobacco.” A lady should not choose a man…who chews tobacco. (Mose peeks in) “It robs his pocket, soils his clothes…and makes a chimney of his nose.” Jane: (sneaking up behind Mose) Good, peek. So if one of ‘em sees you, they give up attendance forever. Mose: (whispering) I suppose you didn’t come to peek in. Jane: I came to shit in the privy, which is where you’re supposed to be during school hours. Mose: How does it feel to take one sitting up? (Jane eyes Mose as he stalks off, then takes his place peeking inside the classroom) Martha: “The Jews burn sacrifices upon an altar of stone.” The Jews burn sacrifices upon an alter of stone. (Mary raises her hand. Martha bends down to her.) Altars of the kind in the sentence are spelled “T-A-R,” (Thanks, Martha. Wanna tell the folks that do the closed captioning?) It’s not so important always to be right, Mary, or to be first. (Martha stands, and reads the next verse, hesitating.) “Indians are sometimes very cruel.” (Back in the Gem, Al and Seth speak.) Seth: I’m pulling out as a candidate. Al: No, you aren’t. Seth: He’ll use knowing to try to control me, have his way in the camp’s affairs. He asked me to get her to sell.
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Al: Oh, best leave the camp entirely as penance for having a prick. Seth: You were right about the killing. He didn’t want it pursued. (A door closes upstairs, Johnny steps out.) Al: Bleeding? Johnny: He stopped. Al: Put him up on the fucking bed then. No grand gestures, fucking Bullock, till I’ve had my talk with Hearst. Do no fucking withdraw. And no more beating up on Farnum that has to run against Star. (Seth grabs his hat and leaves. Dan approaches Al.) It’s no certainty Hearst knew one Goddamn thing about Bullock putting it to the widow. Dan: Hell of a beating for E.B. to take if he’s innocent. Al: Oh, he’s still way ahead of the game. Nonetheless, we must now assume that Hearst does fucking know. As going mad in front of him, Bullock might have tipped him as to the state of things. Dan: How are you gonna go at Hearst? Al: Don’t I yearn for the days a draw across the throat made fucking resolution? (Takes a long swig of the whiskey bottle) Why, Dan, by composing my thoughts, tropes and gambits for the talk between us that is yet to come. Will you excuse me? Dan: (Shrugs) Sure. (Doc steps out onto the porch of the house that the Bonanza bought and approaches Ellsworth.) Ellsworth: Is she dying? Doc: (Putting his hand on Ellsworth’s shoulder’s to comfort him,) She’s not in imminent danger. Ellsworth: The baby? Doc: Your wife is still with child. Ellsworth: I saw the blood on the floor. Doc: There wasn’t as much blood as I’m sure it seemed to you. Mrs. Ellsworth must remain abed, And she must take the medicine I’ve given her, her fear of it notwithstanding. And you must remain strong at her side. (Pats Ellsworth on the shoulder.) Ellsworth: I have to collect the child. May I ask you to st— Doc: I’ll stay here till you come back, and then I’ll go collect Trixie to help you. Ellsworth: Thank you, Doctor. (Seth enters Charlie Frieght and Utter Mail. Charlie is sifting through a pile of boxes and throws up his hands.) Utter: Who the fuck are all these people? Seth: Guess the stages are gonna be crowded. Utter: Headed to collect the Missus? (Seth hesitates with which way to step, then heads for the open jail cell. Sitting down inside.)
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Seth: (sighs) I just beat Farnum. (Takes off his hat) Meeting Hearst, I got the idea someone had told him bidness of mine. Utter: Figured it was Farnum? (Seth nods) If it’d been me, I’da gone ahead and killed him. Seth: I wonder now if I might have mistook— Utter: Fuck Farnum anyway. Seth: If I tipped Hearst myself, is what I’m wondering now. Utter: Ah. Seth: And of my temper generally, I’m wondering about—far as running for office. Utter: Maybe you just don’t want to speak tonight. Seth: I know I don’t want to speak. I’m wondering if I ought to withdraw. Talking against my own interests—being if you pull out, I won’t have to speak from the audience—far as conversing with your rival, what’s your best fuckin’ experience? Seth: Harry Manning? Utter: Huh. Seth: I guess that once the two of us talked to him. Utter: When he killed Bummer Dan by mistake. And that was high fucking water. So you’d hold me as fair calling Harry fucking outright dimwitted? You think better than the Sheriff with a shortish temper, which in certain Sheriffing situations is a plus, camp be better with Harry? Seth: (Smiles at Charlie, stands up and puts his hat back on. Sighs) Anyways. You gonna have dinner with us? Utter: May be my last fucking meal if apoplexy takes me—off my nervousness. (chuckles) (Nuttall’s No. 10, Steve, our shit-stirrer is back at it again. Talking to Harry Manning.) Steve: What if you won? Harry:I won’t. I’m only in it to make myself known. Steve: Say you’re fucking elected, Harrry, am I entitled to the fucking livery abandoned by the Nigger Hosteteler leaving its stock to starve? Harry:Well, I know you’ve took up its care. Steve: And do you as Sheriff hold my fucking labor speaks for me, my diligent fuckin’ efforts the last six fuckin’ weeks? Harry:Well, uh, I’d hold with the law, Steve, whatever statute applied. Steve: Well, oughtn’t a “statue” have to do with justice and not just to bait back a fled fucking nigger looking to steal what a white man’s worked for? Harry:Well, Hostetler ain’t come back. Why think he ever will? Steve: Because it’s my family luck over centuries to get repeatedly fucked up the ass. And here in this fucking camp is where the chain gets fucking broken. And I’m askin’ if you as Sheriff will stand with me?! Harry:(looks helplessly at Tom Nuttall and back) Yeah, I ain’t Sheriff. I got problems enough today without kiting checks on tomorrow’s. Steve: That was a wiggle worthy of a fucking reptile, Harry. Harry:Bullock took a position?
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Steve: I ain’t asked Bullock! (Tom looks up) Fool that I am, I figured I’d give you first crack on the basis of our friendship. But I guess I was mistaken. (spits) Tom: I’ve got an idea. Instead of running for office and tending bar, why don’t you just tend bar and let everybody punch you in the face? (Jane peeks in the Chez Schoolhouse Amie, Martha passes by the door and opens it as Jane spins around trying to conceal her interest.) Martha: Hello, Jane. Jane: (enters) Yeah, hello. Martha: Several of the children’s parents have told them you scouted for Custer. Jane: I can’t hear you! Martha: (speaking up) Several of the children’s parents have told them you scouted for Custer. Jane: Not that the arrogant bastard ever heeded others’ counsel. Martha: Shall we fashion a story about your experiences, Jane, for the children to hear? Jane: Do you talk this low when you’re teaching the children? Martha: (louder) Shall we fashion a story about your experiences, Jane, for the children to hear? Jane: Uh, I best say no. My funds just now all go for liquor. Martha: I see. Jane: I fine myself for swearing amongst the young. And just now, I need my money for booze. Martha: (turning around) We’d tell your story to avoid those. Jane: Does that Mose Manuel horrify the children? Martha: no. Jane: Gives ‘em bad dreams at night? Martha: No, the children like Mose. Jane: I expect he pisses you off. Martha: (chuckles) No. Jane: Well, he irritates the hell out of me. (Seth enters, Jane jumps) Oh, I was just going, Sheriff. I thought I left a bottle in here. Must’ve left it in the shitpile outside. (She leaves quickly.) Martha: Goodbye, Jane. Seth: Good afternoon. Martha: How was your meeting with Mr. Hearst? (Seth rubs his nose) (Outside, it’s getting dark, men light the torches along the street, Al looks down upon the hustings being prepared for that night’s speeches. Inside the house that the Bonanza bought, Ellsworth and Sofia are playing cards And if you actually paid for this script on e-bay, you should know it’s available free fuckin’ gratis at http://members.aol.com/chatarama .) Ellsworth: We needn’t be afraid is the main thing. She’ll not be of a sudden taken or the like. The Doctor’s guaranteed it. So when we’re with her, we needn’t be
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worried. (Sofia looks down as Ellsworth turns at the sound of Trixie carrying a tray upstairs to Alma. He turns back to Sofia and smiles at her comfortingly. She sticks her tongue out at him and he does the same. Trixie kneels down next to Alma.) Trixie:Do you want to keep it? Alma: May not be a matter of my choosing. Trixie:As I suppose we both fucking know. I’m asking…if all the way down, you want to bring it into the world. Alma: I want it very much. Trixie:Or if an accident befalling or fate intervening or—however you want to fucking put it, might find a snmall part of you relieved. Alma: I want my baby. Trixie:Then you’re gonna lay down and be spoiled and put off proving what else you can do until after you’ve popped out this kid. (Hannibal Farnum groans in the bed he’s laying in upstairs at the Gem.) EB:
Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
EB: Al: EB:
“Voters of the camp, do you see come before you some swollen and dissolute stranger? Do not mistake—“ (groans – forces himself upright, throwing his hands in the air) “It is I, E.B. Farnum!” Lie back, E.B. “Beaten past recognition by a candidate for another office.” Lie the fuck back—and listen. I need your truthful reply. Lie, I will knopw it, and death will be no respite. I told Hearst nothing of Bullock and the widow. I will profane your fucking remains, E.B. Not my remains, Al. Gabriel’s trumpet will produce you from the ass of a pig. You told me not to tell him, and I didn’t. I believe you. My pain is such that gives me no solace. Well, try not to blame Bullock for presuming it was you, considering your fucking history. (E.B. cocks his head) Anyways, tonight’s speeches are fucking canceled. Nurse your fuckin’ wouds. Thank you. I do not mean here. All right. Let me collect myself. (chuckles)
(Al descends the stairs, surveying his domain. The Gem is busy. Johnny builds a toothpick tower at a table, while Dan is cornered by Merrick.) Merrick: Say what you have to say… Al: Again for Merrick, Dan. Gratis. Merrick: Uh, I’m due no special thanks, Al. Facilitating presentation of the candidates is the honor and privilege of the press.
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Al: That’s off, the presentation. Merrick: Is Farnum incapable of speech? Does Star refuse to take advantage? Al: Other factors at play. Merrick: But surely Bullock and Harry Manning still can take to the hustings. Al: I got to notify the parties. Merrick: I’m an interested party too, Al. And I require explanation. Al: Jesus Christ. How interested are you? Enough to bleed to keep the business from being a fucking puppet show? Merrick: I can imagine bleeding, if first I’ve been made to understand. Al: No one asked if you could imagine bleeding, or if you’d have tumbling or somersaults or cartwheels to bring you into the lists. Drink and fuck on the house, but do not attempt to detain me. (Dan pushes a drink across the bar to Merrick, Merrick resigns himself and drinks. Joanie emerges from her room and slams down her key on Shaunessey’s ledger.) Shaunessy: Joanie: Shaunessy: Joanie:
In what state? We ain’t in a state, Shaunessy. What condition? The room? How much disarray? No fucking disarray. But you nearly had brain on your walls. Oooh!
(Hearst puts a bottle of Basil Hayden Bourbon on the table, and sits across the table from Al in his room at the Grand Central.) Al:
You see me empty, Sir, do not pause and inquire, simply assume and refill. (Hearst chuckles.) Hearst: Would you rather we spoke in private? Al: No, fuck, no. I’d rather the gentleman stay. Hearst: Captain Turner. Al: I’d rather the Captain stay. Brings home I consort with my betters. (They drink) I’ll not dissemble, Sir. Today’s events have gave me pause. Hearst: Hmm. Tell me what you mean. Al: The beating of Farnum most recently. Hearst: How is Mr. Farnum? Al: Worse for wear, not that I’d care if he weren’t in your hire. Where does the Sheriff get off taking off on one of your own? Hearst: I don’t consider Bullock came here to beat Farnum. He and I had appointed to meet. Al: In my joint this morning, another of your workers was gut-shot, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Yes, I know. Al: Now this wasn’t some hooplehead bullshit. This had the feel of a put-up job. I fear a plot against you. Hearst: I have learned to accept, Mr. Swearengen, that events sharing some effect on my interests does not make them part of a plot. Al: You ain’t the center of the universe, in other words. Hearst: Exactly.
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Al: Don’t that lead you to despair? Hearst: No, Sir. Al: (chuckles) You’re stronger-minded than I. Hearst: Bullock beating Farnum seems more likely. Some expression of a private feeling of his own. Al: That leaves the bloodshed in my bar, Sir. How do you account for that? Hearst: Nor are the Cornish well-loved as a race. Al: Oh, not you through the Cornish. Maybe the Cornish themselves were the object of the violence. Hearst: Well, they do tend to aggregate and organize to further their financial interests. Al: Unions. Hearst: Have you strong feeling on that subject? Al: I don’t give a fuck about unions, Mr. Hearst. Nor do I have any objection to the killing of the Cornish as high-graders—aggregating organizing cocksuckers But bloodletting on my premises that I ain’t approved I take as a fucking affront. It puts me off my feed. Hearst: How do we know when you are off your feed? Al: You’ll start to see me tearing things down. Speeches tonight are canceled. Unless the insult’s cured by tomorrow, there’ll be further tearing down. Fuck the fucking elections, and fuck the agreement with Yankton. Let the camp return to its former repute: unstable and unsafe for commerce. Hearst: I’m a great believer in those. Al: Oh, stability, Sir, and commerce? I can fucking imagine. Think of all they’ve helped you accomplish. Hearst: Shall I perceive you then as dangerous to my interests? Al: As capable of inconvenience and of some damage and debt to those that would act against my interests, I cannot fucking argue with dangerous. Different from powerful though, which speaks to potency longer term. I’d not have myself called powerful in your company or the Captain’s. Hearst: Then I’ll hope that your insult is cured to spare the camp any danger of however brief a duration. Al: And to look for one fucking instant out of the other end of the telescope—once placated…I’m meek as a babe. (He takes the bottle and finishes it off, setting it down.) Dead. (He leaves.) Hearst: You will want to converse with those friends of yours, Captain Turner, who argues with the Cornish. Perhaps they’d care to pay another visit to the saloon. I think I’ll want to hear the talk. (Al comes down the stairs to Richardson raising the Alma-Antlers to the rack of antlers on the wall.) Al:
Fucking pagan. Tell your God to ready for blood.
(Richardson turns briefly to look at Al, then goes back to the antlers. Charlie is sitting in the house that Bullock built, practicing his speech.)
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Utter: “Thank you, Sheriff Bullock. Evening. Evening, everybody.” Sol: (muttering speech) “Citizens…” Seth: Would you rather I didn’t introduce you from the audience? Is it all so hard to remember? Utter: No, I, uh, I-I think I got it. Unless you don’t wanna. Martha: Ought we to start soon for the hustings? Seth: Five minutes. Sol: Adams may default on that house. Asks me to assume his note. Martha: That’s a very pleasant house. Sol: Uh, I-I’d…never thought of myself as a homeowner. Martha: It’s very very spacious. (knocks on door) Al: It’s Albert Swearengen. (Sol gets up to open the door.) The speeches are postponed. Sol: Is Farnum turned for the worse? Al: (shakes his head “no’) I’d borrow the Sheriff a moment. (Joanie returns to the Chez Amie, Jane wakes up and stands up) Joanie: Evening, Jane. Jane: Mrs. Bullock asks me to author with her to give the children an account of my scouting for Custer. Joanie: I think I’d like to hear that story myself. Jane: (scatching her ass) “Custer was a cunt. The end.” Yo, a piss puddle. Must not have seen that when seating myself. Joanie: Why are you drinking so much? Jane: I drink what I’m able. If that comes to much—(sniffles) That’s the day’s affair and the liquor’s. You returning to the Bella Union? Joanie: Not tonight. Jane: As residence and workplace is my meaning. Joanie: Thos girls need looking out for. Jane: And who will look out for you against that gut-stabbed cocksucker, weaving schemes from his coming to Jesus? Joanie: I don’t know. Jane: Why is everybody fucking whispering all of a sudden? Joanie: I said I don’t know. Jane: Do you mind…if I stay here tonight? Joanie: I’d be glad if you would. I don’t know why you started sleeping outside anyway. Jane: Every day takes figuring out all over again how to fucking live. Joanie: Night, Jane. Jane: Yep. (Al and Seth stand outside on the porch that Bullock built, looking over at Hearst’s.)
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Al:
Pain-in-the-balls Hearst. Running his holdings like a despot, I grant, has a fucking logic. It’s the way I fucking run mine. It’s the way I’d run my home if I fucking had one. But there’s no practical need for him to run the fucking camp. That’s out of scale. It’s out of proportion, and it’s a warped unnatural impulse, this fucking cocksucker! Sorry. Seth: Shall I go back down with you? Al: It won’t be just now. He’ll be wanting to marshal his cutthroats. Do stay in hailing distance.
Episode Cast (in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane .... Alma Garret Molly Parker .... Whitney Ellsworth Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority .... Joanie Stubbs Kim Dickens .... Doc Cochran Brad Dourif .... Martha Bullock Anna Gunn .... Richie Chase Ellison .... Sol Star John Hawkes .... A. W. Merrick Jeffrey Jones .... Calamity Jane Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson .... Trixie .... Tom Nuttall Leon Rippy William Sanderson .... E.B. Farnum .... Charlie Utter Dayton Callie .... Silas Adams Titus Welliver .... Johnny Burns Sean Bridgers Bree Seanna Wall .... Sophia Metz .... Cy Tolliver Powers Boothe rest of cast listed alphabetically: .... Prospector George Adams .... Tess Parisse Boothe .... Leon Larry Cedar Tim De Zarn Meghan Glennon .... Lila .... Con Stapelton Peter Jason .... Pasco Kevin Kearns Kevin P. Kearns .... Pasco .... Dolly Ashleigh Kizer Dan Hildebrand Shaunessey
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Episode 26: “I Am Not the Fine Man You Take Me For.” Directed by: Dan Attias Written by: David Milch and Regina Corrado
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
(Late at night, Al lays awake in bed, we hear a drunken hooplehead in the thoroughfare speechifying…) Hooplehead: I am not the fine man you take me for. No no. (He paces back and forth in front of the hustings…climbing up as Al turns to his side in bed.) I come in April to sell a string of horses and try my luck in the streams. What I got for the stock I lost at the wheel, and the flake I washed up I drank the fuck away. I don’t know as I’ll get home at all. I sold my boots. I owe $9 to a whore. (The wood creaks as the man tumbles over the side of the hustings, breaking his neck as he lands in the muck of the thoroughfare. Al awakens early the next morning, and looks out the window. Moments later, He, Dan, and Johnny are surveying the scene in the nearly deserted thoroughfare.) Johnny: It looks like he fell off the platform. Dan: It’s just a broke-necked hoople, Al. Al: That he posed us no threat was the judgment you come to even as you fuckin’ snored. Dan: Turns on watch, Johnny, until this Goddamn Hearst business settles out. Al: And not that we lack options like the sleep from which none awaken. (Johnny turns and starts walking back to the Gem, revealing his bumcheeks peeking through his open flap) Would you close your flap, that I don’t forego my boiled eggs? (Upstairs in the Grand Central, Hearst finishes drawing up a letter, seals it with wax and hands it to Captain Turner, who leaves. At the house that Bullock built, he and Martha are drinking their morning tea by the stove.) Martha: Do you believe the speeches will be delivered tonight? Seth: The speeches—the elections are hostage to the business of the camp, which is bloody…murderous. (He lifts his cup, furrowing his brow) And, you know…I don’t like this tea. Martha: Too cool? Seth: It’s too weak. Martha: I do not make weak tea. Seth: I oughtn’t to tease (chuckles – Martha looks at him incredulous) I like mine unusually strong. Martha: You might have said, Seth. It’s an easy thing to fix. Seth: You’re right. Martha: I’m not a mind reader. Seth: I’ve said it now. Martha: My goodness.
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(She sets down her tea cup, gives him a subtle smile and turns back to the stove. Seth looks at her back a moment and reaches out to caress her neck, their eyes meet briefly, she turns back to the stove and his caress cascades down her back, resting on her bustle. Back in the house that the Bonanza bought, Alma lays in bed, Doc is packing up his tools.) Alma: How am I? Doc: I could wish your symptoms further remitted. Alma: I find your answer vague. Doctor, has your medicine dulled my favulties or do you wish to cloud your meaning? Doc: You don’t do as well as I’d hoped. (Alma looks stricken) Alma: Am I know losing my baby? Doc: My opinion is you will. And your symptoms make it prudent to intervene. You’re pained at the stomach. Alma: I’d—I’d laid that to—to your medicine slowing my digestion. Doc: The spasm in the muscles of your belly doesn’t owe to slowed digestion. And while you are bleeding less, that you bleed at all with pain at the abdomen argues against further delay. Alma: Have I time to see to certain arrangements? Doc: May I begin to see to mine? (Alma nods weakly, Doc heads downstairs where Ellswroth and Sofia are playing slaphands. Doc wheezes, coughs as he descends the stairs. He looks at Ellsworth and shakes his head.) I should be back in about…an hour and a half’s time. (Ellsworth looks stricken as Doc leaves. Sofia grabs his hands as if to play again, he holds hers.) Ellsworth: Put your school things together, little one. (Back at the Gem, Dan, Silas, Al and Johnny are sitting around the bar, waiting. Al pours his coffee.) Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
If we know Hearst is coming, Boss, why the fuck don’t we strike first? From the moment we leave the forest, Dan, it’s all a giving up and adjusting. Across the thoroughfare to slit that cocksucker’s throat. We forego the rock for the dagger, learn distraction’s use and deceptions before the dagger is employed—spirits, women, games of chance. Dan: I’m older, and I’m much less friendly to fuckin’ change. Al: Change ain’t lookin’ for friends. Change calls the tune we dance to. (Captain Turner steps into the doorway. Dan steps forward.) Where are you going? (Captain Turner steps up behind Al.) Whiskey, Cap’n? (Turner hands him the envelope, and leaves.) (Joanie enters Cy’s room at the Bella Union. She retrieves the tray by his bed.) Cy: Morning, Miss Sunshine. Joanie: Mornin’, Cy. (She sets the tray down and helps him sit up in bed, propping a pillow behind him.)
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Cy:
What can you tell a man at the margin of things? Reason for these cancelled speeches? Joanie: I don’t know why they was cancelled. Cy: You seem a little sour. Don’t think lying here these weeks, I ain’t had my dark moments. Thank God I took this book up again. Joanie: If it really brings you peace, then I’m glad. Cy: Hell, yes, it brings me peace. Do you doubt that? Joanie: I try to believe. Cy: You want to read something with me, Honey? Joanie: “Same as you want to find a different way, then why couldn’t Cy?” Cy: Getting gut-stabbed by a Minister of God will bring you to examine your path. Joanie: But I don’t. (She chokes back tears) I had a gun to my ear at Shaunessy’s yesterday. Cy: What the hell were you doing at Shaunessy’s? Joanie: Staying away from here. Cy: You listen to me, young lady. What brings a gun to the temple is lack of gainful occupation and of being useful to others! I don’t see you try to kill yourself here. All you do here is good for the girls, and me too. Joanie: I don’t want to run women no more. Cy: And that’s turning from your gift and your training! Joanie: When you speak, I feel like it’s the devil talking. Cy: Ain’t that a lovely thing to hear yourself accused of? (a knock at the door, door opens.) Con: Excuse me, Mr. T, but fucking Lila’s in extremis. Cy: Jesus Christ! Con: Ought I get the Doc? Leon seems over his head. (Joanie leaves.) Cy: She’ll see to it. Con: Yeah. (he nods and leaves, closing the door.) Cy: Try to stay afloat from the fuckin’ sickbed., have to listen to something like that. (Joanie wipes tears from her eyes as she walks through the downstairs of the Bella Union, looking for Lila. She finds her outside on the porch, Leon holding her up.) Joanie: Get the fuck inside, Leon, before I take out my gun and kill you! (She shoves Leon out of the way and grabs Lila from him.) Leon: Joanie this ain’t the way it looks. Joanie: Get inside or get shot! Leon: Well, hold her up then! Got a long fuckin’ way to fall down. Lila: Let me die, Joanie. Joanie: Start walking, you lousy whore. Start walking. (Jane walks out of the Chez Amie, slamming the door behind her and swaggering outside. She takes a moment, hands on her hips, facing Mose, hesitating momentarily before speaking.) Jane: Slept inside, in case you wasn’t aware. Miss Stubbs’ request. Thought she’d try someone competent keeping watch. (She grabs a watering can.)
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Mose: She’s off to the Bella Union. Jane: I can’t worry about her right now. Can you just help me lug in the fucking water? I’m for the day off the bottle and about to bathe. Mose: (Standing) Camp get up a petition? (Inside the Gem, Dan is staring at the sketch Hearst had delivered, trying to puzzle it out. Al sips his coffee, calmly. Dan looks at Johnny, Johnny rolls his eyes to the paper, having no idea what it means. Dan looks up at Silas, who shakes his head in befuddlement too. As I would if I found out you paid some cocksucker for this transcript. Google “Deadwood Transcripts” and you’ll find ‘em for free.) Dan: I can sniff this all you want, Boss, but I—I ain’t got one fuckin’ scintilla of an idea what these marks mean. Al: What if that’s the door of our joint? Johnny: (Walking to the table.) That would make this line the bar. (Pointing to the line on the left side of the paper.) Silas: What would that make the Xs? Al: Murderers? (The boys get a look of shock dawning on them.) See to your task with the Jew. (Silas leaves, Johnny nods as if he’s got it all figured out, Dan looks worried. Over at the Chez Amie, Jane climbs into her bath. Mose pokes around in the schoolroom adjacent to where Jane is bathing.) Jane: A few fuckin’ things history proves: you sit still, you fuckin’ memorize, you repeat back what you fuckin’ learn, or, choosing otherwise, you display your knuckles to be struck fuckin’ bloody on the fuckin’ desk! (Slaps the water.) Mose: (clears throat) That how you gonna start your talk to the children? Jane: Shut the fuck up, Mose! And don’t tease me at a crucial fuckin’ hour. (Mose pauses, collecting himself.) Mose: Can I listen? (Jane pauses, surprised, and smirks.) Jane: From outside, at your post near the shitter. (In E.B.’s room at the Grand Central, Richardson is hunched over him, applying balm to the wounds on E’B’s face.) EB:
Could you have been born, Richardson, and not egg-hatched as I’ve always assumed? Did your mother hover over you, snaggle-toothed and doting, as you now hover over me? Richardson: I loved my mother. EB: Puberty may bring you to understand what we take for mother love is really murderous hatred and a desire for revenge. (He takes a drink.) Richardson: Will you give your speech to be Mayor tonight? EB: Whatever night I give it, count on me not to mince words. “Electors of the camp, as to who should serve as Mayro, reasonable men may differ. But as to who
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
should be Sheriff…we all ought to speak with one voice. And our words should be, ‘turn out the maniac Bullock, who set upon the Mayor unprovoked, who beat him with merciless protraction.’ Bullock should be murdered! We should rise up and murder Bullock! Thank you very much.” Richardson: My father didn’t liked me. EB: I’d like to use your ointment to suffocate you. (He flinches as Richardson dobs on more ointment. In the thoroughfare, Ellsworth is walking Sofia to school when they spot Martha and Seth leaving the house that Bullock built. Ellsworth pats Sofia on the back and nods to her. Sofia goes running to them.) Ellsworth: May the little one walk with you? IS that all right? Martha: Of course. (Ellsworth pauses a moment and turns away.) Sofia: My mother’s sick. (Seth looks up quickly at the Ellsworth’s home, a worried look on his face. A hooplehead strides down the boardwalk, turning to head inside the Gem. Davey puts an arm out and halts him.) Davey:We’re closed for the next 15 minutes. (Al wipes down the bar, grunting. The parper stands in front of him.) Parper: Whiskey. CoParp: Beer. (Al looks up, surprised. Dan is in Barney’s barber chair, being prepped for a shave. Al puts down the towel.) Al: (clears throat) I’m concerned it might be taken as provocation—me serving his whiskey before you getting your beer, or the very reversal of that. Parper: Just bring the whiskey. (nods, leaning into the bar.) CoParp: Fuckin’ beer. (Al pauses, points at two men sitting behind them.) Al: And these others, they friends of yours that come in on your heels? You friends of these boys, fellas? (pours the drinks) Should I be taking your orders all together? (Holds up the drinks, looking confused.) And was yours the fuckin’ beer? Parper: Mine was the fuckin’ whiskey. (Dan taps Barney signaling him to step out of the way.) Al: (Sighs) Right then. (Heads down to the Parper, grabbing a knife from below the bar in front of him) Right you fuckin’ are. (He tosses the whiskey in the Parper’s face and stabs the Parper, spinning him around and slicing his throat. The Parper screams and groans. The Co-Parper has a gun trained on Al and as he prepares to shoot, Dan grabs him from behind and guts him, causing the shot to go astray. Johnny pulls out a shotgun and trains it on the men still seated at the table. Davey holds a gun on them from behind.) Johnny:
Make a move, cocksuckers!
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Al:
Don’t you shoot ‘em, Johnny! If these fellas had been sent here to draw, I believe they’d have already done it. Go ahead. Go on, fellas. (He motions toward the door with the knife. The men get up and hurry out the door past Davey.) Mind the muck at the thoroughfare center. Debates are on for tonight, whoever you might want to tell. (Charlie walks in as the two men are leaving, surprised by the scene before him.) Charlie: I’ll drink after I’ve ate. (Al lets the Parper’s body thud to the floor and sets the knife down. Charlie turns around and grabs a hoople by the crook of his arm, do-si-doing him around and back out the door.) Nuh-uh, no no. You don’t want—you don’t want to go in there. (Dan pulls his knife from the CoParper’s back, Barney stands in shock with is pants piss-stained. At the Hardware store, Sol lays down a deed on the counter for Seth to look over.) Seth: Definitely a prudent investment. Silas: If I could control even one of my vices, believe me, I’d have kept the house myself. (Charlie enters, nodding his head to the door at Seth.) Seth: Excuse me. (He follows Charlie outside. Silas spits in his hand and holds it out for Sol.) Sol: Oh, no. That’s what these are for. (motions at the inkwell and pen. He picks up the pen, dips it in the inkwell and starts to sign the documents. Silas watching.) Whether I ever fucking live there or not. (At the house that the Bonanza bought, Trixie is by Alma’s bedside.) Alma: My husband and I agreed before marrying that property held by either of us before our union would not be encumbered by our marriage. As to such properties held…by me…(sighs) I name my ward Sofia inheritor. Trixie:(whispering) I’ve heard her. Alma: I wish no amendment as to guardianship or administration of those properties. (Ellsworths eyes grow big in shock. He stands.) Trixie:I’ve heard her. Ellsworth: Ought not Mr. Bullock be present to accept? Alma: This is property before our marriage. Ellsworth: I know what it is. Don’t he need to accept, being steward now to Sofia’s interests? Why don’t I go fetch him? (Jane stands in the Chez Schoolhouse Amie, shyly to the side, Martha takes her by the hand and leads her gently to the center of the room.) Marths: We have a special guest with us today—Miss Jane Cannary. (Mose peeks in.) Sofia: An Indian scout! Jane: There’s a child I know.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Mary: (Turning and pointing at Sofia) Sofia. (Sofia waves. Jane looks at Martha. She nods to Jane.) Jane: Anyways, um, I was a scout for Armstrong Custer. James:George. Jane: You’re right, but I always called him (salutes) “General” to his face, and “Armstrong” behind his back. (She flexes) James:Why? Martha: James. Jane: I guess I…always spoke of him as “Armstrong” ‘cause he seemed puffed up to me, and “Armstrong” has a puffed up sound. (The children giggle, Jane pulls a chair up and sits.) Any quarrel with me continuing, James? James:Go ahead. (She tips her hat and smiles. Back at the Grand Central, Richardson looks through the peep hole from E.B.’s office into the absurd restaurant, spying Bullock and Charlie entering.) Richardson: Uh-oh. (long pause.) EB: Why say “uh-oh”? If you don’t mean to go on to explain yourself, why say anything at all?! Do you only feign stupidity while in fact plotting ways to madden me?! Richardson: No. EB: Why did you say it? Why did you say “Uh-oh”?! Richardson: It’s the Sheriff that beat you. (E.B. pants, holding his jaw, laying back.) Now comes Mr. Hearst. (Cut to the restaurant) Hearst: Gentlemen. (nods to Charlie and Seth, sits down. Charlie pours a coffee and heads back to the table Bullock has seated himself at. Nodding towards Hearst, he puts his hat up as a shield.) Charlie: Two of his men throat-cut, and he he picks the fuckin’ fish. Seth: Why do you think the men were his? (Ellsworth approaches the table.) Ellsworth: My wife would like to see you. (Seth looks stunned, grabs his hat and follows Ellsworth out.) Hearst: Kinda warm. (Chez Schoolhouse Amie, Jane continues her talk.) Jane: The man didn’t listen—his basic fundamental problem. He’d look at hisself in the mirror when you’d make your report. Once I said to him how thin his waist was…(laughing) and how pretty I found his hair, just to get him to turn around, which he did—to tell me get out of his tent. (Mose peeks) So…I guess my lesson I got to teach you—listen and you won’t get scalped. And don’t look at yourself too much in the mirror. (standing, Martha starts to approach her) What else I found puffy—he traveled with a dozen caged animals like you’d see in some zoo in the east. Like we don’t have enough wild animals around here, huh? (She tips her hat and smiles. Finished.)
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Martha: Let us all thank Jane for her bravery here today. Children: Thank you, Jane. Jane: I know another brave person here, too. (motions to Sofia, Sofia smiles) Several. (Motions to Martha.) (In the house the Bonanza bought, Doc is adjusting a mirror to properly see Trixie’s pussy, in preparation for the operation he must give Alma.) Doc:
Alma:
Seth: Alma: Seth: Alma:
More. More more more more. (Ellsworth moves a mirror.) Uh-huh. More more. All right. Wider. (Trixie spreads her legs wider as Ellsworth moves.) Not you! (Trixie sighs) All right. (Taps Trixies knee) All right. (Upstairs, Alma is meeting with Bullock.) Sofia must be protected. If my first husband’s family attacks Sofias title in court, Mr. Hearst might be approached as a purchaser. I’m sure he could buy the relevant authorities. All right. Given his history with Hearst, I’d spare Mr. Ellsworth that indignity. I understand. Thank you, Mr. Bullock. (She breathes in sharply, Seth’s eyes widen.) I regret nothing. (Seth nods and leaves, as he comes down the stairs, Trixie and Doc are straightening up, Ellsworth passes Bullock on the stairs, returning to Alma’s side. Seth steps outside and sees Sol approaching the window, peeking in. Seth looks at him questioningly, Sol gives a big grin and a thumbs up. Seth leaves. Trixie sees Sol at the window and approaches it.)
Sol:
(whispering) I bought the house. (Trixie looks confused.) The house. I bought it. (He nods and grins.) It doesn’t mean we have to move in together. (Trixie nods and turns, smiling. Upstairs, Alma talks with Ellsworth.) Alma: Please remind Sofia that the full moon is in two days. Ellsworth: All right. (She reaches out her hand to him, he holds it.) Alma: We three will watch it together. (They smile.) (Back at the Gem, Dan and Johnny are moving the bodies to the sled, Davey is scrubbing the newest bloodstain.) Johnny: Davey is taking a chance not lettin’ Al do the scrubbing. Dan: That’s Davey’s fucking problem. Johnny: (grunts) All right. (groans – takes the sketch from between his teeth and holds it up to Dan.) Dan: (sighs, squatting by the sled) Now Hearst…sent these two, the two you had the drop on— Johnny: That didn’t draw. Dan: Yeah, he sent the two that didn’t draw, so that these two wouldn’t be so quick to their irons. Johnny: And these two that you and Al murdered—
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Dan: Correct. These—these two. (He pats the bodies) So, see, that give ma and Al time to cut their throats. Now that was Hearst showing Al his ass. Johnny: And sending this diagram ahead was him signaling Al his intention. Dan: Well, it was his preliminary signaling that he was gonna show his ass, if Al was smart enough to know it. Now, otherwise, if Al didn’t know it was coming, he’d have been surprised when those two didn’t back these two’s play. Johnny: Well, thinking that Al would throw his hands up surprised shows that Hearst ain’t too smart! (He slaps the bodies and the sketch on top of them.) Dan: (laughs) Aw, he’s smart, Johnny. I mean, they both, him and Al, are real fuckin’ smart. (We hear a loud fart come from the bodies and Dan and Johnny make faces. Ew, stinky!) Johnny: That’d knock a buzzard off a shit wagon. (Dan rubs his nose, looks up and sees Captain Turner at the threshold again. Upstairs, Al is talking to Silas.) Silas: I just—I feel shunted aside or the like, not involved as much as previous. Al: Adams, you were busy with Star… Silas: That you sent me off to see… Al: Thinking you’d be back before time for the murders. Silas: So it wasn’t like a decision you made to have the murders while I was signing the papers? Al: You’ve no idea how fuckin’ badly you’re boring me. (knocks on door) Yeah? (door opens.) Dan: That Captain’s brought over another envelope. (Al points the whiskey bottle at Dan “gotcha”, stands up and takes his tea cup with him. He turns to Silas) Al: Won’t you see with me what this might portend? (He swings his arm to the door Vanna White style and Silas rises.) Silas: All right. (Dan has a “What the fuck just happened?” look on his face as they walk past him. Johnny watches the Captain stand in the middle of the room.) Johnny: Drink? Or won’t you be staying? (Al comes downstairs.) Al: Ask the fella who made them Xs if he hires out for portraits. (Al sips his tea, the Captain holds up another envelope. Expressionless. Al takes it from him and the Captain leaves. Al reads the note and a look of serious surprise crosses his face, he walks out to the thoroughfare.) Johnny: What’s Al doing? Dan: Like I fuckin’ know. Silas: If we was trailing water, we might get took for ducklings. (They step onto the thoroughfare and look up to see Hearst smashing a hole through the upstairs room of the Grand Central. Al smiles while the rest just look confused. Al hands the note to Dan.) Dan: “Come watch the speeches with me…” um…It’s written in awkward hand. Al: “Come watch the speeches with me on my veranda.” That’s what it says. Merrick: (Emerging from the newspaper office) What in God’s name is going on? (Lowers his voice as he approaches Al.) And I inquire about more than that hole. (Al looks at Merrick. They enter his newspaper office.) These last months have made me expert. It was gunfire, and it came from your saloon.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Al: Has not the press a duty, Merrick, qualifying its accounts in time of war? Merrick: Are we at war now here in the camp? Has that fact been suppressed as well? Absent formal declaration, Al, information which affects this community is not my prerogative to disseminate; to do so is my sacred responsibility. (Oh that Bobby Brown could use the word “prerogative’ as eloquently.) Al: Whores currently disseminating a dose, for example? Merrick: To inform within decency’s limits. We’ve had this discussion before. Al: Citizens better die postulating than touch indecent ink. Merrick: Make a list of the infected whores and account for this morning’s gunfire, and I’ll publish it all. Al: I won’t, fucking Merrick, because neither’s to my fucking interests, just as you owning a print press proves only you’ve an interest in the truth, meaning up to a fucking point—slightly more than us others maybe, but short of a fucking anointingor the shouldering of a sacred burden, unless of course the print press was gift of an angel. I’d want to be there for that handoff myself. Maybe you should print an extra saying the speeches are on again. Merrick: Tonight? Al: What time do you think would be best? (Merrick looks at Al, surprised. Back in the Utter Freight and Charlie Mail office, Charlie is picking up mail that has fallen to the floor and putting it in a bag.) Charlie: Well, people tried keeping their thoughts to theirselves. (He sees Seth at the threshold and stands.) Yes, sir? Seth: Will you mind, Charlie, not being noted tonight from the hustings? Charlie: Be a Godsend. Seth: Mrs. Ellsworth isn’t well. (Charlie opens the gate) Charlie: I’m sorry. (Seth grabs his hat and enters the office.) Seth: If, while I’m on that Goddamn platform, you could station outside her place… Charlie: Sure I could. Seth: Sol’s speaking too, you see, or I’d ask him. Charlie: I’m glad to do it, Bullock. Glad and fuckin’ relieved. (Seth sits) Doc Cochran seeing to her? (Seth nods) In good hands then. Seth: And Mrs. Bullock sees to Sofia. Charlie: Don’t that child thrive now, with starting into school? (Charlie smiles, Seth looks at him confused.) Sweet as before and notably more outgoing. (Seth smiles reflectively, they share an awkward moment as they stand, Bullock hat in hand, turns back to Charlie.) Seth: Trixie will come out from being in helping the Doc. Charlie: Likely to come out for a smoke. (Seth nods, starts to leave and turns back – another awkward moment passes.) Fuckin’ mail, huh? (Seth leaves.) (Harry pants, uncomfortable, squeezing his buttcheeks and holding his side as he reviews his speech at the Number 10.) Rutherford: Uncharted territory, Harry. Coming up on 14 miunutes. Harry:I don’t care. I don’t care whatever you mean.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Rutherford: Readied as you were yesterday, only to have the event deferred, do you suppose it’s nerves about giving your speech has your bowels in upheaval? Harry:When you was a boy, Rutherford, I bet you was a hand at tying cans to dogs’ tails and setting cats ablaze. Rutherford: Or uncertainty when they’ll be held? (Harry groans, slams his speech down on the bar and runs for the outhouse.) Overturning turtles was my specialty. (Joanie sits down next to Lila on a bed at the Bella Union.) Joanie: Wake up, Lila. (shakes the sleeping Lila.) Wake up. Don’t you close your eyes again. Lila: (Sitting up, groaning) How do you make it through? Joanie: Go on, girl. Get out. (Alma lays on the table, her eyes scared. Trixie takes her chin in her hands and turns Alma’s face to her.) Trixie:Seven times through, Alma—I’m healthy as a fuckin’ horse. (Alma smiles weakly, yet bravely.) Doc: I trust you not to modify my instructions. Trixie:To the letter, Doc. (Not taking her eyes off Alma’s) Doc: All right, begin. (Trixie holds a cloth to Alma’s mouth, Doc holds his hand out, it’s steady as can be. Trixie pours the anesthesia onto the cloth.) You’ll be all right. (Trixie holds the cloth to Alma’s nose, watching Alma closely). Turn your head away from the cloth and breathe. Trixie:Shut the fuck up and concentrate. Doc: Turn your head away God damn it! Trixie:What I’m use to, this is like smelling fucking posies! (outside, Ellsworth and Charlie look up at the commotion.) Doc: I would just as soon that you not fucking pass out! Trixie:When you’re done with hers, Doc, why don’t you fucking kiss mine?! (That evening, a crowd is gathering in front of the hustings. Inside the house that Bullock built, Martha and Sofia are making bread. Sofia using a rolling pin as Martha sifts flour over the dough. Seth comes downstairs, Martha looks up.) Martha: I’ll be back in just a moment, Sofia. Round the dough’s ends. (She approaches Seth, he turns and pauses a moment.) Seth: Mrs. Ellsworth is being seen to by Dr. Cochran. And Trixie, I believe, is assisting him. (No shit, Seth. Did Martha think she was just watching over Sofia for the past several hours for the fuck of it?) Martha: I’ll keep care of Sofia while you deliver your speech. And we’ll both pray for Mrs. Ellsworth.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
(Seth awkwardly nods, and leaves. Cy lays in bed, all dramatic like, holding his forehead.) Cy:
Go on then. Spend time finding spine to put the bullet in your brain. Calls me the fucking devil. (hugs the Bible in his arms) Show me another fucking strategy. Bedridden and liable to fucking slaughter. Deception don’t preclude the search for fucking conviction.
(Downstairs, a drunken Con and a drugged up Leon talk.) Con: When is “when”? Leon: You are a fucking stitch. Con: “About to begin” could mean anything. There’s a crowd outside. Are the speeches about to begin? Is “when” now? (Andy Cramed enters) Oh, dear. Oh, brother. Leon: What is it? Con: Only Andy Cramed, you drug-addled turd! Andy: Gentlemen. Con: Yes, sir. (laughs) Yes, sirree. Reverend! Excuse me for just a moment! Reverend! Leon: Reverend! Guess you heard about the Clergical discount on wheel and faro both? (Con rushes into Cy’s room, quickly trying to hide the liquor bottle in his hand behind his back. He stands at attention.) Cy: Con: Cy: Con: Cy: Con: Cy: Con:
Yes, Con? Andy Cramed that stabbed you is outside with Leon, sir. Is he? Yes, sir. Just come in. Is his blade sheathed? No brandishin’ no threatenin’ gestures of any kind. I’ll see him, Con. Yes, sir. (Joanie looks out the window and sees Charlie standing there. What the fuck? Is she in the Chez Amie? ‘ Cus if she is, Martha must be taking the long way to school. Doc comes outside and retrieves Ellsworth. They go back into the house. Back in the Bella Union, Cy play acts at being asleep and “stirs” startled to see Andy.)
Cy: Andy: Cy: Andy: Cy:
Reverend Cramed. Or are you an apparition? It’s me, Cy. Ain’t that what a spirit would say? It’s Andy Cramed in the flesh. How are you, Cy? Well, I’d say overall. (coughs, shivers, sits up.) Though I’ll never shit again without pain.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Andy: Cy: Andy: Cy: Andy: Cy: Andy: Cy: Andy: Cy:
Leon: Cy: Leon: Cy:
Leon: Cy:
Andy: Cy:
Con: Cy:
I’m sorry. Now you ain’t come to finish me off? To ask your forgiveness. And decide how to vote. Coming for the speeches was my excuse. As far as stabbing me, Reverend, you was sorely fuckin’ provoked. I denied you’d been called, treated you like the shitbag fuckin’ operator you used to be. I forgive you, Cy, as I come to beg your forgiveness. (points to his bible) The ribbon’s at Matthew 12, Reverend. Could you read verse 31 for me? (Andy takes the Bible into his hands and finds the spot.) “Therefore I say to you, every sin and blaskphemy will be forgiven except blasphemy against the spirit.” Couldn’t Matthew be speaking of me there? Oh, Christ Al-fuckin’-mighty, I’m so glad to fuckin’ see you, Andy, with—with forgiveness in your fuckin’ heart. (He sits up and on the edge of the bed. Drawing a pistol out and pointing it in Andy’s general direction. Waving it around as he speaks.) Oh…where is this strength coming from now? Where is this strength coming from that I feel flowing into me, that lets me sit up and try to fuckin’ touch you, Andy, if only you’ll fuckin’ let me? Fuck me! Fuckin’ Jesus Christ Almighty! Can you feel what’s fuckin’ moving here? It’s moving in the room right now! If only you’d hold me, I believe I could walk. (Leon walks in – confused and shocked at the sight of Cy.) Con said now may be when you ask to be told about. Jesus Christ, you’re well-arrived. Would you have dope’s cross off your shoulders, son? I know I’d—(coughs) like to take less. Then fall to your fuckin’ knees. (brandishes the gun at him – Leon drops to his knees) Get to your motherfuckin’ knees, Leon, and ask the Lord to lift your burden part-way. Hear me! Lord! (Looking up questioningly confused.) Don’t fuck with the fuckin’ deity, Leon! (Andy looks at Cy, confused at his speech.) You’ve got to come to him wholehearted, even when you’re asking for partial relief. (Puts his hands together in prayer, the pistol cupped between his hands, still pointing at the two men.) Oh, Lord! Let Leon cut down, Lord, on the motherfuckin’ dujie. Let him cut way the fuck back. I’ll speak to you another time. (He sneaks out the door.) Oh! Do you hear how I’m coming at him for you, Leon? (Leon nods, his eyes shut tight and hands in prayer) How I fully fuckin’ supplicate the motherfucker? (Con opens the door without knocking.) Speeches are near commensurating, Sir. Now that’s a definite. (Shakes his head, looks at Leon) Get the fuck up, Leon. Help Con get me ready.
(Johnny leans by the doorway of Al’s office.) Johnny: Any argument for us accompanying you over there, Boss> Al: Don’t strike the right note going over there with seconds.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Dan: Know Goddamn well Hearst is gonna have his second there, that sea-creaturelooking cocksucker. Al: Hearst would have it understood the Captain is just a hefty steward of the household. Dan: Yeah, one with a dozen fuckin’ pelts on his belt. Al: Even so, Dan, Hearst’s man has pretext for his presence. You and the others don’t. What with the olive branch I’ll be bearing between my teeth. Silas: You mind if we watch you from the balcony? Al: Not at all. Moment seems meet, blow me a kiss. (He turns around, Dan right in front of him.) Excuse me. (Dan steps aside, Al leaves. Outside the house the Bonanza built, Joanie is standing next to Charlie.) Joanie: If I could, I’d tear my skin off. If I could, I’d put out my eyes. Charlie: Now now. Joanie: I hate being sick. Cy knew what I was. He knew to pick me all those years back. Charlie: Miss Stubbs, did you like my friend Bill Hickok? Joanie: Oh, I—I just met him the once at the Bella, at poker with Jack McCall. Charlie: Did you like Bill that night? Joanie: (nods slightly) I thought he was a gentleman. Charlie: He was. Joanie: I felt he had a good soul. Charlie: He did, Miss Stubbs. I can say that. I knew him 20 years. You know what else? Bill that we both liked so well—and most everyone did that knew him, incliding some he killed—Bill thought as ill of his own self as you seem to do about you. So go on and try explaining people to me. And same as hearing me say what Bill thought of his self I don’t expect brings you to think any less of him…maybe you, Miss Stubbs, oughtn’t to stand judge and jury and every other job in courth on your own personal case. Maybe, coming to verdict, credit others’ opinion of you like you do what you think of Bill…still. (She looks at him, understanding in her eyes. He reaches out and pats her hand comfortingly, and grabs it. They hold hands. In front of the hustings, Merrick talks to the night’s speakers.) Merrick: So I’m gonna-I’m gonna just do some introductory remarks. I’ll call you up on stage. Say what you have to say and that’s it. (Backs up, steps in something.) Aw, shit. (Al knocks on door #6 of the Grand Central. Hearst opens the door.) Al: Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Do you come to me placated, Mr. Swearengen? Al: Never more so, not even as a tiny tot.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Hearst: Let’s hear the speeches together. (He steps out of the room and closes the door behind him.) Al: Show me your hole in the wall, which I find a useful advance. (Merrick steps up on stage.) Merrick: De Tocqueville said, “When an opinion has taken root in a democracy and established itself in the minds of the majority, it thereafter persists by itself.” (Hearst and Al step out onto the roof of the Grand Central.) Tonight let us plant the seed of an opinion to take root and grow deep, that gathering to this end choosing those who will act in our name is proper, so that in years to come, among those who succeed us in this thoroughfare this idea will persist and seem to them self-evident. Candidates for Mayor—E.B. Farnum and Sol Star. The incumbent will address us first. (He waves E.B. up onto the stage, a smattering of applause breaks out. Like, 2 people clap. Merrick grunts as he climbs down.) Oh God. (E.B. looks down on him) Sorry. EB: I give no long speech tonight. (applauding) You know me and my works. Hearst: Your bosom must swell with pride, Mr. Swearengen. Al: Swellings and saggings to the tit I lay at the exactions of time. (Hearst chuckles.) Hearst: I mean you worked to bring this evening about. To labor without pleasure makes us our destiny’s slaves. Al: To work for crumbs or to keep from the lash says maybe a slave’s what you are. EB: I’ll not question those either who have faith in my rival, or make faith an issue of any sort. (whistles and gestures a large nose – a woman laughs. Sol and Seth glare at him.) We are long past the time of the Pharaohs. I cannot decree Mr Star make exodus. Hearst: Were you whipped, Mr. Swearengen? (Als eyes narrow) And does the lash snap still? Do you wait for the strike after all these years? Al: Would the grip have been the part you were versed with? Hearst: I was born to neither power nor money. My father sold goods.from a countryside crossroads hut. EB: A clear choice for Deadwood! Farnum—twice measured. Star—once cut. (points to his crotch) E.B. Farnum! Assayed and proven true! Farnum! Christ knows he’s earned it! (light applause as he steps down.) Thank you. Merrick: Mr. Star! (applause – Sol climbs up) Hearst: When last we spoke, you warranted your willingness to interfere with me. Al: Only to convey that my place should be for my uses. Sol: I won’t need a miracle far as parting the creek to take my leave of the camp. I just bought a house and plan to live here as long as God gives me. (E.B. mockingly claps) Hearst: And my intention in making my sacrifice to you today—and it seems, my life’s great challenge—was to show the virtue of consolidating purposes. Hooplehead: Keep people from shitting in the creek! (The crowd yells support) Sol: That—siftings runoff, tailings accumulating—
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Al:
I’d say that’s naming horseshit virtue. Purposes butt up against each other, and the strong call “consolidating” bending the weak to their will. (Captain Turner steps out) And I’d add that whoever’s behind me is about to study his guts. Hearst: That’s Captain Turner at three steps’ remove as he has heard about your knifework close in. Hooplehead: No lowered pants in the whitewood! Seth: That’s enough about the shit in the creek. Hearst: Away from your seconds’ view, the Captain’s pistol is trained at your head. Do you believe yourself enough and adept, Mr. Swearengen, to overcome your disadvantage or will you walk with us inside? (Al flicks his toothpick) Hmm. Al: Not throwing my hands up or my skirt over my head don’t mean I ain’t awestruck. (Hearst chuckles.) Johnny: Well, they ain’t slobbering on each other, but they ain’t snarling neither. (Hearst and Al walk inside, Turner sneering mockingly at them) Sol: Needs to do with the camp, or problems, you can always find me at the hardware store. (The crowd applauds as Sol steps down.) Merrick: Seth Bullock for Sheriff! (Cy steps out onto his balcony with Con and Leon behind him. Seth climbs the hustings and pulls out his speech.) Seth: I agree with what Mr. Star says. I find I usually do. I’m lucky we’ve been partnered these years. Keeps giving me time to catch up. I’m glad he’s standing for office, and I’d try to be as good a Sheriff…as he’d be a Mayor to the camp. (Doc, Ellsworth and Trixie lift Alma off the table.) Sol’s buying a house. I built one last year. I’m glad we’re in the camp…even on the sorriest of days. (Merrick looks up at him, Seth tips his had and climbs down. The crowd applauds.) Merrick: Harry Manning for Sheriff. (Trixie steps outside and Charlie looks to her. She gives a subtle smile to him, he looks to Joanie – she nods to him and he approaches Trixie. In Hearst’s room, he slams a shotglass down in front of Al and pours him an overflowing shot as he speaks.) Hearst: Accepting your premise, Mr. Swearengen, I’ll not name how you would benefit from the action I wish you to take, saying only instead it’s my will. To which I will have you bend, I suggest you drink that.. (Captain Turner takes an object out of his pocket, standing behind Al.) Al: (Seated, arms crossed.) No. Hearst: I would incorporate into my holdings the claim now owned by Mrs. Ellsworth. I am told that you can help me bring this about.(Turner hits Al in the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. He grabs Al from behind and holds him still, placing his left hand on the table.) Tell me how you will help. (He takes out a pick and brandishes it.) This is a grip I’m used to. (He hovers over Al.) Al: As far as making your way into her…act averse to nasty language and partial to fruity tea.
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
(Al smiles as Turner holds him still, Hearst reels back and swings the pick down into Al’s hand. Al gasps and thuds to the floor. Fucking Major Dad, I always hated him. Outside, Harry Manning is giving his speech.) Harry:But I’d like to get known far as wanting to help the camp. We need a fire brigade, and I’d like to lead it. I’ve always loved fires since—since I was a boy. If you’re wanting to drink, the Number Ten’s serving. (clears throat) Oh, also—also, the graveyard needs moving. That’s it. (nods at Merrick, the crowd applauds.) Merrick: well, thank you all for coming. Please think about what you heard here tonight, and thank you again. (Joanie steps out onto the Bella’s porch, sees Lila – cleaned up and standing. She holds her hand.) Joanie: Nothing’s over yet. (Cy watches from above, Charlie approaches Seth through the crowd.) Charlie: Doc’d be dour at a christening, but Trixie says he wasn’t scowling how he does, or or shaking his jowls like a bulldog. (Al comes stumbling out of the Grand Central, his hand tucked into his breast pocket, looking slightly dazed, making eye contact with Bullock.) Seth: Thank you, Charlie. Charlie: All right. Dan: Oh God. That’s the look he gets on his face when he’s hurt. (They rush back inside.) Cy: That man appears worse hurt than I am. Bless his heart. Seth: What happened? Al: We watched the speeches together. Yours was especially swell. (quietly) I need to lean on you, but don’t you fuckin’ look up. Seth: Should I go up and get him? Al: Hey, boys! (The three amigos stride towards Al and Seth) What’d you think of the speeches, huh? Seth: I’ll go get the cocksucker now. Al: Stay the fuck away from him. Hmm? I’m having mine served cold. (He steps ahead of Seth, leaving him in the thoroughfare.) First one to touch me I kill. (Dan sidesteps Al, Johnny swings around and follows Al. Hearst watches from above as the camp disperses, Seth collects himself and walks away.)
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
(in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock .... Al Swearengen Ian McShane Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Whitney Ellsworth W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs Brad Dourif .... Doc Cochran .... Martha Bullock Anna Gunn John Hawkes .... Sol Star Jeffrey Jones .... A. W. Merrick Robin Weigert .... Calamity Jane Paula Malcomson .... Trixie William Sanderson .... E.B. Farnum Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter Episode Cast
rest of cast listed alphabetically:
Larry Cedar .... Leon Cullen Douglas .... Bank Customer Chase Ellison .... Richie Meghan Glennon .... Lila Peter Jason .... Con Stapleton Kevin Kearns .... Pasco Ashleigh Kizer .... Dolly Gerald McRaney .... George Hearst David Redding .... Davey Ralph Richeson .... Richardson Brent Sexton .... Harry Pruitt Taylor Vince .... Mose Bree Seanna Wall .... Sophia Metz Titus Welliver .... Silas Adams
Transcribed by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Episode 27: True Colors (Also known as “Clatter Them Sparrows”)
Directed by: Gregg Fienberg Written by: Regina Corrado and Ted Mann
Prepared by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
(Inside Al’s office, he’s sitting at his desk, quietly scratching at a cloth bandage on his left hand. There is a knock at the door, he puts his bandaged hand on his lap, out of view, and picks up his coffee cup. He clears his throat.) Al: Yeah. (Trixie enters, shutting the door behind her, an amused smirk on her face.) Trixie:When did you turn recluse? Al: You and the Jew settled in? Trixie:The Jew’s a born fuckin’ householder. Scouts furniture in the fucking catalogues mornin’ and night. The Mrs. Ellsworth’s a 10-day miracle. Up and about and up and fucking doing. Meets with fucking Hearst today, her and fucking Ellsworth, that I’d have thought would have steered her fucking clear. Al: Hearst’s invite? Trixie:Lady’s bright idea. I’ve pretext enough if you’d have me call to dissuade her. Al: Don’t you get in the fucking middle. (He gets up and walks to the window.) Trixie:Jesus fucking Christ, Al. She might as well set herself afire. (pauses) I can’t imagine that cocksucker got to you. (Al looks at her) Or you’re folding your fucking tent. The last shot ain’t yet fired. Al: Stage is coming, (He opens the balcony door and they step outside to watch the stagecoach roll in.) Trixie:My God, look at Wu. Lost his mind in San Francisco. (We see Mr. Wu sitting next to a large African lady on the top of the coach. He’s wearing a suit and a matching bowler hat. His hair at chin length.) Al: You think he married the nigger? Trixie:I’m talking about his suit. Merrick: (Fron the thoroughfare) Mr. Blazanov! Blazanov: (Stepping from the coach) Merrick! (Merrick laughs as he approaches and shakes Blazanov’s hand. We see another stagecoach roll down the thoroughfare. Al narrows his eyes at it. Blazanov’s roll is tossed down to him. The new stage rolls in and we see “Langrishe’s Troupe” painted on the side of it.. Al looks to the heavens.) Al: Oh God. Jack: (Pointing up at Al from the stagecoach) I am barely speaking to you. Trixie:Who the fuck is that? Jack: A shabby, shabby exit from Virginia City. No “Farewell, Jack.” No “By your leave.” Nothing. Al: Did you notice I was being pursued? Delta: (Until she has a name, I’m calling her “Delta” as in Delta Burke. Yes. I know.) Is that us over there? Jack: That is we, my dear, yes. I will install us momentarily. (Delta steps away, a portly lady is still leaning out of the stage, looking up onto it’s roof.) Countess. Countess: I stay till the costumes come down. Jack: Admirable. Only the most minimal of civilities. “Hello, how are you?” “A bit warmer today than Tuesday.” That last may be too forgiving. (Al raises an amused eyebrow at Jack Langrishe as he walks away with Delta on his arm.)
Prepared by Cristi Brockway Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Hearst: Aunt Lou! Lou: Hey. Hearst: (laughs) Good to see you. (They hug) Trixie:Hearst’s meals are about to improve. Hearst: Come on in. Lou: Okay. (Merrick helps a pretty lady in red down from the stage coach. Hearst and Aunt Lou retreat into the Grand Central) Al: Go away. Stay close to the Jew. If it’s Ellsworth apprising you of the widow, let him fucking continue and do likewise for me. Trixie:That’s more fucking like it. (In Doc’s cabin, Alma is seated on a table, buttoning up her vest. Smiling primly.) Doc: Very considerate of you to come to me when I thought I was coming to you. Alma: As I was feeling well, I thought you’d agree the exercise might be beneficial. Does your examination confirm my suspicions – as to how I’m feeling? Doc: It does. You seem fully recovered. Alma: I’m delighted to be recovered. (She smiles and hops off the table, walking to the mirror and smoothing her vest.) And to find my own judgments reliable. Doc: (coughs) I would, however, advise against rushing back into things. Alma: (Putting on her hat) Would any meeting between us be complete, Doctor, until I’d had your counsel against something? Doc: Have you finished taking the medicine I gave you? Alma: Implying what, Dr. Cochran? Doc: I’m implying nothing, Mrs. Ellsworth. I’m putting a question to you. Alma: (putting on her gloves – testily) I disposed of the medicine you gave me, Dr. Cochran, knowing I had a weakness for it, without having finished taking it. Doc: I see. Alma: You seem incapable of crediting me as a full and normal person. Doc: I credit you as exactly that, Madam, which is to say as having limits like the rest of us, and to urge upon you the humility of not asking more of yourself than is reasonable. And I’d add my observation that refusal to make such adjustment sometimes is symptom in women of an inadequate recovery from the rigors you’ve just endured. Alma: You say this as my physician? Doc: Yes. Alma: Not my reprover or rebuker? Doc: No. Alma: (smiling) Then thank you, Doctor, and good morning. (Upstairs in the Grand Central, Aunt Lou is tending to Hearst.) Lou: You ain’t getting’ no cobbler, Mr. Hearst, till I get my hands on them boots. Hearst: (Untying his boots quickly) Uh, here they come. Here they come. Lou: Not one spoonful till I got ‘em clean. (Pulls off one boot, shakes it out and sighs) Filthy.
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Hearst: It’s frontier living out here, Aunt Lou. Lou: Where I go, ain’t no frontier. I bring some standards with me. (pulls off the second boot.) Hearst: Ah…I miss Missouri yet, Aunt Lou. Wasn’t the world peak of ripe back then? Didn’t even the birds seem to sing different? Lou: More like they meant it. Hearst: More like they meant it. You understand. Lou: I don’t suppose you operate another pair in secret. Hearst: You know I wouldn’t fib. Lou: Then I’ll brush ‘em up directly. Hearst: I got you living right here in the building, Aunt Lou. I wouldn’t even think about any other arrangements. Lou: Mightly generous, Mr. Hearst. Mighty brave. Hearst: Will you take a walk, see the camp? Lou: I’ll take a walk as far as my kitchen. Hearst: (chuckles) I should have known you’d say that. Lou: You want that peach cobbler, don’t you? Hearst: I do for a fact. And they know downstairs who’s boss. Lou: Is this here a rich place, Mr. Hearst? Hearst: Oh, very, very rich, Aunt Lou. For pure scale, maybe the richest find I’ve seen. Lou: Guess we can live without them birds then. (Hearst chuckles, Aunt Lou walks out. Hearst lays back in his bed. (Back at the Gem, Mr. Wu walks into Al’s office.) Al:
The high points of the fucking high points of your trip, Wu. (Mr. Wu sits at the desk and starts to sketch. Al shuts the door.) ‘Cause I won’t be able to follow you anyway. MrWu: Wu. San Francisco. Al: You look like a fucking idiot, if no one has yet conveyed to you the truth. MrWu: Wu, San Francisco, Hearst. Al: Yeah, you in San Francisco, collecting workers for Hearst. MrWu: Ho. Al: How soon, fucking Wu? (Mr. Wu frowns at Al, not understanding) The many Chinks in Hearst’s employ? MrWu: Huh? (Confusion again. Al walks to the door and opens it.) Al: “Hello, hello, hello, hello!” The many chinks here, huh? (pulls out a pocket watch) How soon? MrWu: Ah! (holds up both hands) 10 Day. Al: “10-Day, Wu.” (smiles) Clever cocksucker. You come back with more fucking English. MrWu: (smiles with pride) Ho. Al: (Sitting down across from Wu) Now once I get my ducks in order, you will give your information to Hearst in a dit-down, so we can gauge his attitude toward me. MrWu: Wu, Hearst, “Swedgin.”
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Al:
And “Swedgin” must act as translator, as he is the only one in camp versed in both languages. MrWu: Ho. (Al runs back around to the other side of his desk and pulls the Chinese plate Wu gave him before the “war” and sets it on the desk, pointing to it.) Al: Chung Kuo. Am I right or am I fucking wrong? MrWu: Chung-Kuo. Al: Chung-Kuo, Heng-Dai. MrWu: (standing) Heng-Dai Al: Heng-Dai, Chung Kuo. And I’ll tell you when the meeting is, huh? (He pats him on the back and walks to the door, opening it. Mr. Wu gathers his papers and walks to the door, pausing in front of Al.) Welcome home, Wu. (He smiles) MrWu; Mmm. (Bows his head and leaves Al shoulders the door shut, smiling.) (Back at the house the Bonanza bought, Sofia is downstairs playing with her dolls while upstairs, Ellsworth and Alma are fighting.) Ellsworth: It’s arrogance, nothing more to Goddamn less. Alma: Do not use profanity, please, speaking to me. Ellsworth: For goodness sake. Apologizing for my language, I ask you consider my meaning. Alma: It hardly seems arrogant to me to seek an equitable and mutually beneficial resolution with Mr. Hearst. Ellsworth: Then spare him that paper with your pretty ideas. Tell him your price for how much you’ll sell, because Hearst don’t let his partners set policy. Alma: I hadn’t realized you were so intimate with his business methods. Ellsworth: Please don’t be smart with me. Not about this. Alma: “This,” Mr. Ellsworth, being the question of my mine? Ellsworth: Well, what in the hell else would it be?! (Sofia looks up from playing with her dolls) Excuse me. Alma: I will meet with Mr. Hearst. I’ll be delighted if you should choose to accompany me. Ellsworth: Oh, I ain’t one to miss a train wreck. Alma: (standing up) Though if you cannot forbear from patronizing me, I’d prefer you didn’t come at all. Ellsworth: All right, Mrs. Ellsworth, all right. (Back in the Gem, Davey hand Al, stationed behind the bar, a bottle. Merrick stands at the bar across from Al.) Davey:Empty. (Al hands him back a full one.) You sure you don’t want me to work behind here, boss? Al: If I wanted you working behind here, you’d be fucking working behind here. Fucking work over there.
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Merrick: It occurs to me, Al, as you and he are so evidently well-acquainted, the decent interval that Mr. Langrishe is owed to make his domestic arrangements I might spend hearing you talk of him. Al: Ever wonder if you expressed yourself more directly, Merrick, you might fucking weigh less? Merrick: I see no logic in that whatever. Al: I don’t want to talk of Langrishe. He makes me fucking nervous. Merrick: On what account? Al: I can’t say on what account. That type, the type you don’t know exactly how you feel about him is who you’re made nervous by. (Langrishe enters) Jack: Young man! Keeping the wolf away, I see. (Merrick grins at Langrishe) Al: Jack. Jack: John Langrishe, sir. The operator has the manners of a pig. Merrick: (chuckles) A. W. Merrick, Mr. Langrishe, publisher of “The Deadwood Pioneer.” Jack: Ah! Accounted for the halo I see above you. Al: Shit blizzard’s early today. Jack: He takes his tone with you as a familiar. Merrick: Oh, we’re well-acquainted, Mr. Swearengen and I. Jack: Mmm, new friends, old campaigners. Al: The infrequent bloody win. Jack: Always superfluous, bloodshed. The deeper damage is best. (drinks) Ahh! (Merrick laughs) (Richardson is dusting downstairs in the Grand Central. E.B. comes up from behind him, takes his feather duster out of Richardson’s hands and smacks him on the neck with it. Richardson looks balefully at E.B. He hurted him again! E.B. looks back at Richardson momentarily, then turns his back to him again.) EB:
Candidly, Richardson, as I imagine you foraging for berries and grubs, and flicking at insects with your sticky tongue, I feel a certain dismay. Richardson: What are you talking about? EB: You are to be discharged, fool. As, I suspect in a wink of time, once some stage from a different direction arrives with my replacement, am I. Richardson: What did we do wrong? EB: Your error, surprisingly enough, is not to be a grotesque of inconceivable stupidity, but that you are white and male and not repulsively obese. As for my own, I wonder if it lies in an excessive courtesy and eagerness to please. (Hearst descends the stairs) Shoo, skunk. Shoo. Go, go. (Richardson runs back into E.B.’s room.) Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Farnum, have you a moment for us to talk? EB: I do. I’d ask only that you be brief and forbear from false camaraderie. (He is bending over, his head nearly on the desk. Hearst leans down, looking at him curiously. E.B. straightens up.) Come, Hearst. I’ve seen the Ethiop. Who indeed could miss her? And even as she supplants Richardson, what person, I wonder, of what depraved exotic origin have you engaged to take my place?
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Hearst: I hadn’t thought of replacing you. Do you want me to? (E.B. pauses, an “OhshitwhatdidIjustsay!” look on his face.) EB: The world begins to dance before my eyes. Hearst: As for Richardson, Aunt Lou will be taking his position, but he can keep doing whatever else it is that he does with no reduction in wage. EB: What a surprising and gratifying turn. (Two guests walk down the stairs and out the door.) Paid through Tuesday. That one’s paid through Thursday. Hearst: Having secured your approval as to my hiring plans, I wonder now if I might elicit the information I came for, which is in regard to Mrs. Ellsworth. EB: I am abjectly at your disposal. Hearst: For some time, without the unseemliness of approaching her directly, I have sought without success to generate a connection with Mrs. Ellsworth. EB: A haughty cunt. Formerly weak for dope. Most fundamentally a sexual peccant, though I’m sworn against providing specifics. Hearst: Now, as it seems of her own volition, Mrs. Ellsworth appoints to meet with me, leading me to wonder what change in her situation prompts her approach. EB: I will look into that, Sir, vigorously and immediately. Hearst: You don’t know. EB: I do not know at present. Hearst: Just send her up when she gets here. EB: I can seek the knowledge out. I can pursue it as a first priority. Hearst: Just send her the fuck up. EB: All right, Sir. And may I say…(Richardson opens the door) how delighted I am our relation is to continue? (E.B. gives Richardson a thumbs up. Richardson returns it with a double thumbs up and a toothy grin. Back at the Gem, Langrishe is showing Merrick a few moves with is feet, he laughs. Al looks on somewhat annoyed.) Al: Why don’t you see to your type? Merrick: Excuse me? Al: Type. Don’t you use type to print out your words? Merrick: Uh, well, I’d hoped to secure from Mr. Langrishe— Jack: I want copious discourse between us, Mr. Merrick. Where shall I find you soon? Merrick: Well, we could speak now if you wish. Jack: No, not now, young man. Not immediately. But soon. Very, very soon. Where is your lair, that I may beard you? Merrick: (chuckles) My lair adjoins the Gem. Jack: Wonderful. Merrick: I can be bearded there most hours. Jack: Fine.(They both laugh) Merrick: Uh,uh, Thank you very much. Thank, uh, very nice to meet you, Sir. Jack: Ah, the camp is lucky to have you. Merrick: Uh, no way, actually, you would know that. Al: Go on there, Merrick. Get away.
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Merrick: Oh, incessant and unrelenting, exactly that type of banter. I’ll just go out the front. You know, I could go out that way (looks up), but I—I’ll—(clears throat and exits through the front.) Al: You’re looking fucking well, Jack. Jack: It’s the learning fucking nothing, Al, that keeps me young. (Hearst opens the door to his rooms, inviting Alma and Ellsworth inside.) Hearst: Please. I hope you’ll forgive the disarray. I seem to feel a greater priority about making space for myself than adorning the space I’ve made. (Alma nods) Refreshments? Ellsworth: No. Hearst: I must say I feel less the grown man just now than a boy from Missouri. My Aunt Lou Marchbanks has come to camp. Alma: Is your Aunt’s visit a surprise? Hearst: No. Heavens no, no. I—expecting my stay to be brief, I left her at other diggings. Alma: Your Aunt Lou prospects, too? Hearst: My Aunt’s my nigger cook. Alma: I see. Hearst: Wonderful, wonderful cook. And a tyrant, of course, as the best ones always are. I quite quake before her. Alma: Do you? Hearst: About our conversation too, wanting so awfully much we come to an agreement. Ellsworth: Don’t disappoint him, being as he’s 12 with his Aunt in camp. Hearst: I’ve learned that we shared time in the Comstock, Mr. Ellsworth. I’m sorry we didn’t meeti. Ellsworth: Whatever’s toward what he wants. Not a flying fuck if it’s true or how fucking soaked in blood. Alma: That talk serves no purpose. Ellsworth: What talk to a murderer does? Hearst: I’d not be insulted in my own rooms, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: Where shall we go for me to do it? Alma: Will you be in this afternoon, Mr. Hearst? (Ellsworth gets up) Ellsworth: There’s bodies in here. Hearst: I certainly can be. (Alma nods) Ellsworth: The walls are down to make room for ‘em. I see every fucking one! (Alma gets up, Hearst stands as well.) Alma: Perhaps we could speak later then. Hearst: I will look forward to that. Ellsworth: You don’t look forward to nothing far as her, you murdering cocksucker. You hear me? Hearst: (putting out his hand to Alma) I’m very glad to have met you.
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(They shake hands, Ellsworth pants in a rage. Alma pushes him out the door and they leave. Out in the thoroughfare, she stops and turns to face Ellsworth.) Alma: I recognize perhaps as I never fully recognized before, how profoundly you feel about him. Ellsworth: I know him. Alma: I will present my offer to him. Ellsworth: You will not. I will not permit it. Alma: You behave in his rooms as virtually a maniac and now assert your superior prerogative? Ellsworth: I forbid you, yes. (She turns her back to him, takes a deep breath, turn back around) Alma: Well, I suppose that settles it. (She turns and walks off, he follows) Ellsworth: I know him. Alma: May I ask you to collect Sofia once you’ve seen me home? Ellsworth: Do you understand? In ways you can’t. Alma: Mr. Ellsworth, you hardly need explain yourself to me, your wife, in the thoroughfare, having once laid down the law. (Over in Utter Freight and Charlie Mail, we have Bullock Jail being used by two Cornishmen. Bullock stands inside the cell with them. One man crying, speaking Cornish. Two of Hearst’s foremen are standing next to Charlie, one looks over at the jail cell and Charlie smacks him on the chest.) Charlie: Hey. Look at me! Talk to me. Cornslater: He said they come up in cage. The guard was behind Jory. The guard wait for air change. First breath from above, he push Jory to the wall, catch his legs and cut them off. Seth: He saw it? Cornslater: Jory was organizing. That’s why they push him to the wall. (The foremen are escorted outside by Charlie, one turns to the crying Cornishman and addresses him.) Foreman: We’re awful sorry. Seth: Get the fuck away from him! Charlie: Get out of here go ahead. Get on. (looks at Seth) Accident. (The Cornishman continues to cry.) Cornslater: Another friend, he says, was shot days ago in bar. Seth: At the Gem. Cornslater: The friend talked union too. Jory and him were in the bar when he was shot. Now they’re dead. Pasco says he’ll be next. (They both cry. Seth walks over to Charlie, who hands him the foremen’s statements.) Seth: Tell them they can go when they’re done crying. Make them understand I was only talking to him. (Al and Jack Langrishe step out onto the thoroughfare from a side door in the Gem.)
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Al: Jack: Al: Jack:
Hole in the building’s front wall. He can pop out at any moment. Hearst. I’d not have him see us together. Prudent. (Al holds up his bandaged hand. Missing the middle finger. He blows on it as if to relieve pain. Jack approaches the pigpen.) Ah, bacon. Al: Might have a bit of a human aftertaste. (Jack looks bemused.) Jack: Lurid with Chinese. Al: No one suggests a theater here. Jack: Only observing, turning you outward. MrWu: (shouting at two men – here comes my phonics) Deen a ma na ha mo goh ya! Eh, chon choy! Whi nee fie! Fie ne jowa! Jow! Al: Boss of the neighborhood. Won a war to take over. (Jack bows slightly to Mr. Wu. Mr. Wu returns the gesture.) Jack: One hopes you are his backer and not his tailor. (Al holds up his bandaged hand again, showing it to Jack.) Al: You’re the first I’ve fucking revealed this to. Fucking throbs all the way up. Jack: Goes with me to the grave. (Al blows on the wound.) Al: Yeah. (They walk on, Jack tips his hat to a passerby) You fucking tip your hat to everybody? Jack: Everybody. (Sol looks at a catalogue? Seth enters and Sol puts the catalogue away.) Sol: Morning. (Seth nods) We’re low on our hardware, just doing the order. Seth: Dogs. For him to laugh at while we chase our tails. (Sol nods) I’m gonna write it up anyway. Hearst’s phony fucking accident, I’m gonna present it to him and put him on notice. (Sol looks somewhat bewildered by Seth, and looks back down to his catalogue.) (Back in Doc’s cabin, he’s talking with Trixie.) Doc: I’m concerned about Mrs. Ellsworth, Trixie. Trixie:If concerned means “Is she using?”… (lights a cigarette) I don’t think she is. Doc: I don’t either. Trixie:Then why’d you ask if she was? Doc: I didn’t. You just took me for asking that. (He coughs and ties to clear his throat) Trixie:Ask the one you want to then. Doc: (sighs) I’m concerned that her temperament is—(coughs) is labile. (coughs) Trixie:(smirks and chuckles) I guess that means she’s talking through her cunt? Doc: Her moods seem inappropriately variable. (hacking) Trixie:Saying “variable,” I don’t disagree. I said so myself this morning to somebody else. (Doc coughs heavily) Did I fucking embarrass you, Doc, that you go so fucking red? (continues coughing) Don’t throw a fit, Doc. Look, I’ll put it out.
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(She stomps out the cigarette. Doc proceeds to cough up some bloody phlegm, catching it in his hands, Trixie is horrified. Horrified like I am when I hear people pay for this on e-bay when they can download it for free. Or when I hear other people change it and pass it off for their own work. Horrified, I say. He motions for her to leave, she hurries out. Outside in the thoroughfare, Al is continuing his tour of Deadwood for Jack.) Al:
This is new. This entire area is recent. The Ellsworth house, the richest claim nest to Hearst, that woman. Jack: What sort of plays does she favor? Al: Oh, Christ, she told me and I fucking forgot. Goes through her men like Sherman to the fucking sea. This—can’t remember who this fucking belongs to. Jack: And who does this fucking belong to? (He gestures to a large building, a sign on it says “Best Rooms & Meals” It doesn’t look to be in use.) Al: Well, I guess this belongs to fucking everybody. (Jack nods, they continue their walk.) The Bullock house. Fucking Sheriff. Insane fucking person. (He blows on his bandaged hand.) (Back at the Hardware Store, Seth is done writing up his notice and starts to head out.) Seth: The one at Swearengen’s, too, I’ll put him on notice about. (Trixie walks in, she looks at Sol and steps to the side.) I’m gonna put him on notice about it all. (Seth leaves) Trixie:Wouldn’t be looking for anyone coming through the wall to deal with your Johnson. (She starts to roll up a cigarette) And don’t you try fucking coming to my side either, or your Jew head will be wearing that fucking dresser as a tiara. Sol: All right. Trixie:We’re supposed to read your mind, understand what you fucking mean. Sol: I mean…(she looks sharply at him, licking her cigarette shut) all right. Trixie:Shut the fuck up. “Please don’t smoke” means “I’m at death’s fucking door.” Sol: You can smoke. (She lights up her cigarette) I’d prefer…if you did it outside. Trixie:You’re a fucking idiot, anyways. (She flicks the cigarette to the ground and leaves.) (Al and Jack continue their walk.) Al:
Pus is a deeper yellow. (He shakes it, trying to relieve the pain) Aw, cocksucker. What are you staring at? (looks at a hooplehead on the boardwalk) Fucking boot fits, huh? (Merrick steps out from his newspaper office) Jack: Home base, young man. Al: There’s the whole fucking area on the other side. Jack: I’m quite worn out. Al: I fucking started this job, I’ll fucking finish it. (He points up to the roof of the Grand Central) This motherfucker. Jack: Al…(waves to all the hoopleheads watching him from the muck in the thoroughfare) It’s not the first impression I’d make. (He steps up to the porch of
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the Grand Central and turns to Al.) Heartfelt thanks. (Al rubs his bandages, and walks away. Langrishe makes as if to turn into the GC but instead steps past the doorway, continuing on by himself. Merrick is disappointed that Jack isn’t stopping in to talk with him. Upstairs in Hearst’s office, he and Seth are talking. Seth stands as Hearst reads the notice Seth has written.) Hearst: With such disagreement among the statements, Mr. Bullock, on what basis could an inquiry justifiably go forward? Seth: I put you on notice, Mr. Hearst. I identify a pattern in these events. (Hearst taps the table and stands up) Hearst: Unless some law is broken, Mr. Bullock, whose sanctions you have power to apply, why in fuck should I care what pattern you identify or don’t? Seth: There is a sanction against murder. Hearst: The man lost his legs in a shaft. It happens quite often. Seth: I now learn that your worker who died in the Gem last week was killed by two of your guards. Hearst: I defy you to prove that event, about which the two of us have spoken, was murder. Whereas, in the same saloon nine days ago, two guards of mine, giving no provocation, had their throats cut with two others of my guards as witness. Certainly, the guards who survive are capable of naming the killers. Shall I have them make complaint? (He drinks a shot and slams the shot glass on the table, looking up at Seth.) I put you on notice. (Seth sniffs, watching Hearst sit down at his roll-top desk and pick up a pen from the inkpot. He gathers his notice from the table and leaves. In the telegraph office, Blazanov is showing Merrick his new instruments.) Blazanov: Many new people are in the camp, Mr. Merrick. Merrick: And a very eventful time we had during your absence, Mr. Blazanov. You and I will have much to discuss in our evening perambulations. (A spark jumps from one of the instruments that Blazanov has just touched, Merrick jumps.) Oh God. Blazanov: Okay. Main line coil, artificial line coil,…(tapping) new armature lever, separate battery, supplementaries. All new contrivances I was instructed about in Chicago. Without this many innovations, differential duplex would no be possible. Merrick: Differential duplex? Blazanov: Can you speakin a high voice, Mr. Merrick? Merrick: I can speak in a low voice. Blazanov: (high voice) Blazanov then will speak in high voice. (Merrick looks at him with interest) Keep speaking on in your low voice while Blazanov, at the same time, speaks highly. (Merrick starts to speak) his is duplex telegraphy. Merrick: (low voice) From this point on, I shall speak in my low voice. Blazanov: (high voice) Both messages sent at the same time…from the same office at different voltages.
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Merrick: (low voice) Excuse me, but I can’t understand you when we both talk at once. Blazanov: (high voice) And recorded elsewhere by instruments with appropriate sensitivities. Merrick: (Confused) Well, I—I won’t keep you from your work. (Blazanov seems surprised) Blazanov: Mr. Merrick? Merrick: Hmm? Blazanov: I met a girl in Chicago. Merrick: Oh, yes? Blazanov: Also for our…perambulations. Merrick: Hmm. Yeah. (They smile at each other and Merrick heads back into his office. Upstairs in the Bella Union, Cy is meeting with Hearst.) Hearst: Seeing you on your balcony the other night, Mr. Tolliver, taking in the life of the camp, I thought maybe it was time we had a talk. Cy: I regret we have to meet in this environment, Sir. Hearst: Not at all. Cy: No. Changes that have gone on here, (taps his chest) it’s not the place I’d be seen in by you. Hearst: I’m sure whatever changes you allude to, Mr. Tolliver, will come clear from your behavior. Cy: Fresh start. (chuckles) How many men would be grateful for that opportunity? (Puts his hand on his Bible.) Hearst: Do you have more you wish to do with that, or shall I state my business? Cy: Please, state your business. Hearst: Your letter from Mr. Wolcott naming me as having knowledge of his misdeeds. Cy: A letter I mentioned to you, yes, in a conversation I regret. Hearst: 5% of my holdings I recall as your demand, or you would circulate the letter’s contents. Cy: Exactly what I regret and now find reprehensible and why I thank God that you take a new look at me. Hearst: To this point, Mr. Tolliver, you make no materially different impression. Still lying, still bullshitting. Cy: I hope I’m not, Sir, but I—I can certainly understand why that would be your material second impression. Hearst: Shall I show you the letter from Mr. Wolcott that I have in my possession? Cy: That’s not necessary from my point of view. You tell me you’ve got it, I believe you. Hearst: Here it is. Will you compare it to your letter? Verify its authenticity? Cy: It’s not necessary. Hearst: Shall I read to you certain pertinent sections on Wolcott’s assay of your nature and likely behavior after his death? (Cy closes his eyes and folds his
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hands under his chin as if to pray) His detailing your complicitous participation in the aftermath of his crimes—disposing of the bodies and so forth? You have no letter from Wolcott, Mr. Tolliver. (Cy lowers his hands and opens his eyes.) Cy: Let’s say that’s the case. Heasrst: I just did. Let’s hear you say it. Cy: I have no letter from Mr. Wolcott. Hearst: Never did. Cy: I never did have one. Hearst: You’re a lying, blackmailing sack of shit. Cy: What do you want? Hearst: I want you to go to work for me. (Cy tilts his head, surprised. Back in the Gem, Al is sipping a drink at the bar, Johnny and Dan look on.) Johnny: (clears throat) How was your walk? Al: I seemed to get around adequately. Dan: Seemed to get along with that dandy. Al: Yeah, he’s all right. (Dan looks sideways at Johnny) Johnny: Theater fella, huh? Langrishe? Al: (looking straight at them) He’s a fucking promoter of the first fucking quality, I can tell you that. I don’t go to plays so I can’t speak to his worth as an actor. (drinks) Ahh—Tuesdays…he’ll tend to have amateur nights. (Seth enters through the back door) Been to plenty of those. Virginia City. Guy farted seemed near an hour. Johnny: (to Dan) Well, that don’t sound like no amateur. (laughs – Al gives him a look.) Al: Bullock. Seth: Tell that Chinaman when I want admission to his meat locker, it behooves him to fucking cooperate. Al: What did he do instead? Seth: Said “Swedgin” and barred my way. Al: Had you eyes to select your own cut? Seth: Are you gonna fuck with me? (Al tilts his head like a father looking at his son) I had eyes for the Cornishman killed in here last week. I explained it to him, and he Goddamn understood me. Dan: Did he mosey over to a corner, lift up a fucking tarp? Seth: Yeah, he went to the tarp. Al: That’s what the croaker was under. Johnny: That’s our nook in Wu’s structure. (Al points to the bar in front of Seth, Johnny slides a shot glass down and Al pours a drink.) Al: Why Wu delayed cooperating, he hadn’t known the croaker was under there. His stupid suit so overcome me, it slipped my mind to tell him. Seth: I want that body. (drinks) Al: I’ll see Wu hands it over.
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Seth: Hearst just had another Cornish killed at his diggings for trying to organize. They’re calling that one an accident. Al: What makes you think any good will come of confronting Hearst now? Seth: Now is when he’s killing people. Al: What, you feel he’ll leave off soon? Seth: Tactics and timing ain’t the issue. Al: The hell you say. (drinks) Seth: If his pigs get that body, Wu is their next fucking meal. You make him understand . (Seth leaves, he steps out onto the thoroughfare and locks eyes with Alma, heading to the Grand Central to meet with Hearst. She smiles at him. Outside the Chez Amie, Jack Langrishe is checking out the building. He’s reading the signs when Joanie notices him.) Jack: (reading) “Chez Ami” “Cooperage” Well, well. Joanie: I’m watering these kids’ vegetables. We don’t do the other anymore. Jack: Very good. Lovely building. Sturdy? Joanie: Get away now. (He nods and tips his hat to her, walking away. Upstairs at the Grand Central. Alma and Hearst are meeting one on one.) Alma: I apologize for the awkwardness between you and my husband. Hearst: Ah. My dear Phoebe, Mrs. Hearst, like your Mr. Ellsworth, while pleasantly conversable on most subjects, finds others not to suit her at all. (She smiles and he gestures for her to have a seat, he pulls out a chair for her, and then sits across from her.) Alma: Will you hear my offer, Mr. Hearst? Hearst: Of course. Alma: (pulling out a note card) I am willing to sell to you a 49% ownership in my claim, in return for—and here…of course, I am out of my depth—but for the sake of beginning a negotiation, I’ll say 5% of your holdings in the hills. You would have an easement through my holdings for the transport of your ore, unqualified in any regard except that it not impede my mining operation. Naturally, at a separate fee, I would wish access to transport for my own ore. Hearst: Have you finished? Alma: I have, yes. Hearst: Your proposal is thoughtful, but I’m afraid I lack the qualities that minority participations require. Alma: As I said, these are the most preliminary thoughts. Hearst: A vulgar man would ask before preceding any further if you would require him to produce his jackknife and make himself a capon before you. Alma: (pausing) What in my ideas do you find emasculating? Hearst: I can offer no inside explanations, Mrs. Ellsworth, as I am not a capon, which details offend me and why your proposal offends completely. It mistakes my nature absolutely. (Alma nods) Alma: All right.
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Hearst: Will you hear my counterproposal? Alma: I think not, Sir. Hearst: Do hear it, Mrs. Ellsworth. Let me name an amount to buy you out. Alma: I will not hear it, Mr. Hearst. (She takes a step to the door, he blocks her) Let me out. Shall I scream? Hearst: The hour makes the thoroughfare uncertain. Will you have an escort until your dear home’s lights appear before you? (Alma shakes her head) No. (He steps in closer and whispers into her ear) You are reckless, madam. (inhales) You indulge yourself. (Alma, scared, holds her ground until he steps away, then she leaves. Seth leans in the doorway of the hardware store, Sol is sweeping the entryway. Pausing when he gets to where Seth is standing.) Sol:
Stand your watch. I’ll—I’ll get this part later. (Seth momentarily looks away from the spot in the thoroughfare he’s been eyeing, then back. He sees Alma coming down the boardwalk – distressed. He steps out onto the porch. Their eyes lock, pleadingly, she continues on her way. Both helpless to question the other and seek comfort and solace. Inside the Grand Central, Aunt Lou and Richardson approach the Langrishe party in the dining room.)
Lou: Everything fixed to your liking, folks? Delta: Wonderful. Thank you. Jack: (entering) Have you supped sumptuously? Delta: Actually, we have. Jack: I’m delighted. Countess? Countess: Costumes were damp. Jack: Oh dear. Are you drying them? (She raises her eyebrows at him) You are, of course. I am tedious beyond bearing to ask. (Blazanov enters) EB: A newly rakish tilt. Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company. Telegram for Mr…”Langinshire.” Jack: Langrishe! Balzanov: Langrishe. Jack: I am he. Blazanov: (Handing him the telegram) Telegram. Jack: Yes. (Blazanov averts his eyes uncomfortably, waiting for a tip. The Countess shakes her head in disapproval at Jack. Blazanov starts to leave.) Countess: Wait. (She hands him a coin, he bows to her.) Blanov: Thank you. Jack: Very welcome. (Blazanov pauses in confusion and leaves.) What did you give? Countess: A dollar. Jack: Too much. (She shrugs) Chesterton and Bellegae are in transit from Cheyenne. Delta: Having “suffered the tortures of the damned”?
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Jack: “Endured indescribably inconvenience.” Countess: “The damned” was from Fort Kearney. (Delta laughs) Jack: I shall take the air. Delta: Shall I accompany you? Jack: My destination is beneath you. Delta; At least something would be. Jack: Good evening. (Leaving) Good evening. (The lady in red enters) Madam. Red: Sir. Jack: (turning with a flourish) Wonderful food! (Aunt Lou nods at him and he kisses his fingers in a tasty farewell. Red sits and Aunt Lou approaches her with Richardson at her heels.) Lou: We got fish and we got ham, and don’t pay no attention to the menu. (Countess pats Delta’s hand as she reads the telegram, Aunt Lou takes Richardson’s hands and leads him back into the kitchen in a conspiratorial manner. E.B. watches suspiciously. Almost jealously. Back in the house that the Bonanza bought, Alma is talking with Ellsworth.) Alma: The thought I’d put into it, all the time I took to write it out and put it by and look again. (sighs) I began to read to him my proposal, but I--I was more and more afraid I was only chanting sounds. Finally, I made myself look to him to confirm that I was speaking intelligently and being understood. Ellsworth: Now you know. Alma: He grinned at me like a jackal. Ellsworth: This is what I would have spared you. Alma: He scorned my offer. He said I mistook his nature absolutely. Ellsworth: You did. Alma: Yes. Ellsworth: And was there more? After the jackal smiled? Alma: It seemed very possible that there could be, buyt finally he let me go. Ellsworth: He had restrained you? Alma: (sniffles) I was very afraid. I can’t say with any certainty exactly what was happening. Ellsworth: What the hell do you mean? Did you try to leave, and did he prevent you? Alma: Don’t use that tone of voice with me. Ellsworth: Well, I guess I know what that means. Alma: Oh, do you, Mr. Ellsworth? Ellsworth: That you’re a Goddamn fool who almost go what she deserved. Alma: And what would that have been? And why would I have deserved it? Ellsworth: I only wanted to protect you. Alma: You can’t. (Ellsworth leaves the room. Both of them hurt by the conversation. In Aunt Lou’s room of the Grand Central, Hearst is chowing down on some peach cobbler. A step up from the canned peaches Al eats.)
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Lou: I wish you’d eat that outside, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: I wanted to be sure you have all you need. Lou: And more besides. And now you done seen for yourself. Hearst: I really don’t care what others think of me, Aunt Lou. And you need only care what I think. God, I hate these camps. All this deferring and adjusting to other’s wrong-headed stupidities. Lou: I must have missed where they way better in San Francisco. Hearst: They’re not. They’re worse. Can’t bear San Francisco. Lou: Don’t let Mrs. Hearst hear you saying that. Hearst: Aw, she knows, she knows. She knows why I always leave so quickly. Goddamn truth is I’d rather be off by myself, Aunt Lou. Free to do my work. “Boy-the-Earth-Talks-To.” Lou: That’s your Indian name. Hearst: That’s right. You remember. Only Goddamn conversation I care to have. Her telling me where to dig into her. (He finishes his cobbler and holds up the plate in deference to her.) Wonderful. Lou: Thank you, Sir. (Dinnertime in the house that Bullock built. Sol and Charlie are joining Seth and Martha. Seth is in la-la land, Charlie tries to make polite conversation.) Charlie: Haven’t ate potatoes quite that smooth. I don’t know if I ever had ‘em that smooth. (chuckles) Seth: These elections can’t be a joke. More tail-chasing for him to laugh at us about. Charlie: Hearst. Seth: The offices have to count for something. Charlie: How will you work that? Sol: Laws. Charlie: Jesus Christ! Excuse me. Seems like one way more for his kind to run us. Laws do. (Charlie crosses his arms, frustrated.) Martha: Who will have strawberries? (Seth lifts his head to her. Back in Hearst’s room, Cy has come to visit.) Cy: I hope you’ll take it as measure of my keenness, Sir, and curiosity. Hearst: Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Tolliver. You wish to know your duties in my service. Cy: Well, I make my way through the muck to learn the details. Hearst: Your duties will be to answer like a dog when I call. Cy: Like a dog? Hearst: Complications of intention on your part in dealings with me or duplicity or indirection—behavior, in short, which displeases me, will bring you a smack on the snout. Cy: Ouch. Hearst: When administered by a practiced hand such a blow can be more painful and grievous even than your recent sufferings.
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Cy: I don’t doubt the hand would be practiced. Hearst: Mr. Swearengen recently discovered as much. Cy: I gather it cost him a finger. Hearst: But I should say too that in these rooms just this afternoon such displeasure brought me near to murdering the Sheriff and raping Mrs. Ellsworth. I have learned through time, Mr. Tolliver, and as repeatedly seem to forget that whatever temporary comfort relieving my displeasure brings me, my long-term interests suffer. My proper traffic is with the earth. In my dealings with people, I ought solely have to do with niggers and whites who obey me like dogs. Cy: If he hadn’t meant me to wag it, Sir, why would the Lord give me a tail? (Outside in Chink’s Alley, Aunt Lou is playing Mah Johng with the Chinese. Richardson is nearby. Men are pointing her out to Mr. Wu. He watches.) Lou: So I make you my second deputy, you clever little heathen monkey tongue. (laughs) You stand there, Richardson. You’re lucky for Aunt Lou. (He smiles and holds the antlers poking out of his apron. They all shuffle the mah johng tiles and set up a new hand.) Don’t shy away from a little noise now. Ah chung ow chi. See I speak your stuff.. You savvy? Clatter them Goddamn sparrows. “I love your cobbler like sunset, Lou.” And back-broke niggers in the fields. (snickers) George Hearst…he do love his nose in a hole more, and ass in the air, and back legs kickin’ out little lumps of gold like a fucking badger. No more use for them nuggets, either. Past counting them up, and saying that big number to astonish niggers to remind us we in the world. (She sticks a cigar in her mouth and one of the players puts down a tile. Aunt Lou snatches it up.) Hah! I seem to have won. That’s the 13 orphans natural. (laughs) Shall we clatter them motherfuckers again? (laughs) (Al and Jack Langrishe are outside on the Gem’s balcony. Drinking.) Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al:
Strange affectations your devil friend has. Shabby appearance, derelict hotel. Put the hole through that wall just before he worked on my hand. Americans…it never occurs to them to try the window. I’ll tell you the truth. I begin to wonder if I mightn’t be fucking queer. You see more to admire in the male asshole than you’d…realized hitherto? That I haven’t gone yet for Hearst’s throat. Ambition and the blessed simplicities of action don’t always quarter in comfort. I’ve no fucking ambition past trading to my favor and coming…once a day. Bullshit! A thing of this order you’d as soon not see ruined or in cinders. I will if I fucking have to. Avoiding it if I could. Good night, Al. Good night. Few enough I find tolerable. Lucky our paths have crossed again. (smacks Al on the ass) Don’t misinterpret that. All right, Jack.
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(Jack leaves, leaves looks out upon the thoroughfare, contemplatingly.)
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn Chase Ellison John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe George Adams Kevin Kearns Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Kevin P. Kearns Ashleigh Kizer Pavel Lychnikoff David Redding
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Richie Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Prospector Pasco Sophia Metz Silas Adams Cornishman #1 Dolly Blazanov Davey
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Episode 28: Full Faith and Credit Directed by: Ed Bianchi Written by: Ted Mann
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(Morning at the Bella Union, Doc walks in, coughing. He knocks on Cy’s door and enters.) Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc:
Doc. How you feelin’? Sleepy…As a man fuckin’ should at this hour, if you don’t mind me sayin’. It’s this hour I’m able to see to ya. I understand and I’m grateful. At least half that fuckin’ statement’s a fuckin’ lie.
(He starts coughing harshly again, he gets up and walks across the room – his back to Cy and a handkerchief to his mouth.) Cy: Doc:
Take it easy, Doc. (sighs) Try and get dressed today. (He walks out of the Bella Union, still coughing.) (Out in the thoroughfare, we are focused on a sign covered up with a sheet. Harry Manning is talking to some hooples, campaigning. Jane watches the crowd from across the muck. Dan, Johnny, and Al all look on as well. Blazanov approaches Jane.)
Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company. Jane: What the fuck is that to me? Blazanov: Telegram for Jane Cannary. Jane: Oh, yeah? Well, here’s a pistol for whatever your spidery fuckin’ name is. Blazanov: Please, do not kill me. I’m only messenger. Jane: Shut the fuck up and read the message! (Inside the bank, Alma sits at a desk with a sign marked “Loans” in front of her, as well as a nameplate labeled “Mrs. Ellsworth.” She looks quite pleased with herself.If a bit nervous. She stands up, Trixie – from behind the teller window – smiles at her. Sol looking on. Alma walks to the doors and opens then. Applause breaks out from the crowd. She smiles and steps out, yanking the rope attached to the sheet, revealing the “Bank of Deadwood” sign. Applause breaks out again and men cheer.) Man: Yay! (Al, watching from his balcony, slowly turns his head around and eyes Hearst, standing on the porch roof of the Grand Central. He waves at Al. Al does nothing but walk back inside the Gem.) Johnny: How’d Al answer? Dan: He didn’t answer at all. Johnny: Good for him.
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Hearst: Mornin’. (Waves at the boys, the Captain looks up from his breakfast out on the porch.) Johnny: Mornin’. Dan: Mornin’. Best time of day to go fuck yourself. (I am so using that line someday.) Blazanov: “From Samuel Fields to Miss Jane Cannary.” Jane: I don’t know any Samuel Fields. Blazanov: Valediction is “Nigger General.” (Jane snatches the telegram) Jane: Gimme that fuckin’ thing, and keep the fuckin’ contents to yourself! Merrick: (Addressing the crowd outside the bank.) Trust, Gentlemen and Ladies, we live in faith! (He enters, holding some gold coins. Joanie Stubbs walks along the thoroughfare, Jack Langrishe joins her.) Jack: John Langrishe, Madam, wishing you good morning on an august occasion. Joanie: Morning. Jack: Hoping to walk with you a bit. Better to represent my intentions this day than the last. Joanie: All right. Jack: May I ask your name? Joanie: Joanie Stubbs. Jack: I regret having abrupted upon you, Miss Stubbs as you gardened. Joanie: I took you for interested in something you mightn’t have been. Jack: My interest, to be direct, is in buying your building. Joanie: What do you want to use it for? Jack: A theater. My troupe will season in this camp. Joanie: Well, it’s a schoolhouse now. Jack: And very handsomely appointed for that purpose. Joanie: It was a whorehouse before. Anyways, I don’t know if I’d want to sell. Jack: Well, perhaps you’d consider renting. Joanie: Perhaps you’d consider fucking yourself. (She stalks off leaving a very confused Langrishe behind. From his balcony, Al sees Captain Turner heading across the thoroughfare to the Gem, note in hand. Al hurries inside.) Al:
If I was approaching you backwards, Captain, had a mirror to observe your activity, just now I’d be most trepidatious, for, Johnny, this is a man when acting from behind and advantaged with a weapon, very much to be feared. Turner: Was just doing my job. (holds out the note, Al takes it, Dan comes out from the back, wiping his face off with a towel.) You don’t want to speak like that again to Mr. Hearst. Dan: Yeah, I do. Do you wanna try to change my fuckin’ mind? Turner: Not only will I change your mind, I’ll rip your whole fucking head off. (He leaves, Al reads the note.) Al: Another fuckin’ invite. Fuckin’ Hearst must take me for an optimist. Dan: I’m gonna kill that cocksucker. Al: All in good time.
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(Business as usual at the Bella Union. Delta - formerly known to us on Carnivale as Mama Cooch, but I’ll be sticking with Delta until we finally get a fuckin’ name for her – enters the Bella, looking rather fetching and coy. She approaches Con.) Delta: I’m curious about those tables with the numbers on them. Con: Well, they’re for gambling on, those. Various kinds of games of chance or different sorts. Delta: So I imagined. I wonder if this might be convenient time for me to learn? Con: Leon, uh, take over supervising for me while I give this young lady some private instruction. Leon: Yes, sir. Supervising now, Sir. (Con takes Delta by the elbow and leads her to a table.) Con: This over here is a choice table. Horatio, beat it. Delta: Am I inconveniencing you? (Con rubs his groin, as if uncomfortable.) Con: Oh—(chuckles) damn Chinks. They shrunk these pants in the laundry. (chuckles) You ever throw the bones before, Ma’am? Delta: I’ve caught some. Con: Oh - (snickers) these are my personal dice. Nice, uh, fuckin’ set. I’m happy and glad to allow you to learn on ‘em. (She coyly takes his hand and blows on the dice. Con moans. Ew.) Damn chinks. (Harry Manning hurries into the No.10, Tom Nuttall wipes glasses and glares at him. Harry hurries to take off his jacket and settle in.) Tom: I should cut your salary 20%! Harry:Uh—(panting) Tom: Based on time you’re absent campaigning. Harry:Can I make up the hours once I’m beat? Tom: Your plans are idiotic. You’re running for Sheriff to be a fireman. Harry:And hope to be a second deputy in case they start a fire department. Tom: Well, that’s stupid and I ought to cut your salary. Harry:You have to, you have to. Tom: Why not build a fuckin’ fire wagon that you then rent out to the camp? Harry:If I had money. Tom: If you had a loan for the wagon’s makings and help with the fuckin’ carpentry, would you build the wagon then? Harry:Uh, I’d repay you at fuckin’ interest, boss. Tom: Well, that’s the 20%, pre-deducted from the makings’ purchase. We build the fuckin’ wagon then rent it to the camp. And don’t ever speak of this again. A-aa-and two fuckin’ fire hats. (Back in Utter Freight and Charlie Mail, Jane and Charlie are going over the telegram.). Jane: Nigger General ain’t quit drinkin’, we know that for fuckin’ sure. Charlie: How do we know that?
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Jane: What you just read to me is a drunkard’s question. “What is state of affairs in camp with regards to the horse?” Charlie: Seems to me whatever the state of affairs about the horse is in the camp, It’s a drunkard’s decision bringin’ the cocksucker back. Jane: That’s on Hostetler, according to the little Nigger General, if you’d understand what you fuckin’ read. Hostetler means to bring the horse back. Hostetler! “You’re right, Jane. I’m a fuckin’ moron as usual. What I should be doin’, being as you have no experience, (We see N.G. and Hostetler riding through the thoroughfare, leading the horse.) is helping you compose a telegraph back to little Nigger General as requested.” (Charlie gets up and watches them from the doorway.) Charlie: Come over here and save yourself the cost of a wire. Jane: Oh, fuck! (Inside the Livery, Steve the shit-stirrer is tending to the horses.) Steve: What are you lookin’ at, huh? You think just ‘cause I happen to got a peppermint, it’s yours by right? (The General sees Steve from the thoroughfare) Fields: Always possible I’m having a nightmare. Steve: You greedy, sweet-toothed cocksucker.–(he sees Hostetler)-That’s right—that’s right. You come to take my place away! (Joanie enters Utter Freight and Charlie Mail.) Charlie: Oh, Miss Stubbs. Take a seat in that cell there till I square a place away for you. (She sits in the cell.) Joanie: I have an offer to sell my place. Charlie: How are you inclined to answer? Unless you don’t yet know, if I ain’t out of place askin’. Joanie: I told the man to fuck himself. Charlie: Tactics or a true position? Joanie: I don’t know. I don’t know, Mr. Utter. Charlie: Why don’t I close up for a while? Joanie: Oh, please don’t. Charlie: Nigger General and Hostetler brung that horse back to camp, got away from ‘em and trampled the Sheriff’s boy. Joanie: Is that so? Charlie: Wherever the two of them was, I guess they didn’t feel their lives were in enough danger. Joanie: Well, people will do strange things. Charlie: For years at a time. Pick any part of my life, for example. Joanie: It just don’t sit well with me. Charlie: To sell your place, you mean? Joanie: But I can’t think why I wouldn’t. Charlie: What’s wrong with whim for a reason?
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Joanie: I’ll tell you what I like. What I like is knowing these children are learning. I like that, and I like watering their garden the days they ain’t in session. Charlie: The day that school opened, I remember sayin’ to Sheriff Bullock what a nice thing it seemed, watching them little ones walk off to your place. Joanie: That’s what I Goddamn like, imaginging them walkin’ into it. I ain’t seen it yet, but I’d like to, and when he wanted to buy it, all I thought’s “Now I never will.” (sighs) Oh God Almighty. (sighs) Charlie: What is it, Miss Stubbs? Joanie: I wish once I could…care for those little ones. (sighs) Just once instead of doin’ what I did. (sobs) Charlie: There, there now. (Steve the Shit-stirrer enters the No. 10, upset.) Steve: Walked in like the past six weeks never fuckin’ happened. Never fuckin’ left the camp. Never fuckin’ abandoned the fuckin’ horses to starve, or die of fuckin’ thirst. Nigger motherfuckers! Harry, what the fuck are you waitin’ for?! Tom: What are you talking about, Steve. Steve: What I swore up and down was gonna happen, and nobody paid me any heed. What happened to me in Utica and every other fuckin’ place I’ve ever been in my fuckin’ life! The white man bears the nigger’s weight around his neck like a fucking albatross. And yet people still ask, “Well, why is he bent over?! And why can he barely fuckin’ walk?!” (drinks) The livery’s gone. All my labor, efforts are gone for naught. And they walked in like they never fucking left, and they didn’t take responsibility for trampling that white boy! Nor did they give less than a flyin’ fuck! And I wonder what the fuckin’ parents are gonna say about that too! (Steve leaves in a huff.) Tom: Why don’t you stand down over there, Harry? (Harry sits at a table at the back of the bar, Tom gets out his pistol and checks that it’s loaded, putting it in a strategic place behind the bar. He watches the doors. Inside the lobby of the Grand Central. Con has his suitcase and his checking in. E.B. writes in his ledger and takes down a key, handing it to Con.) Con: Many thanks. (He tries to grab for the key, E.B. doesn’t give it to him yet.) EB: If you stay in camp long, Sir, you may have the delightful surprise of meeting your identical twin. (Con grabs the key and walks upstairs.) He has appointed to degrade himself. The open question is with whom. (Steve strides into the Hardware store, confronting Bullock.) Steve: Now we’ll find out about you. Bullock: What is it? Steve: Or justice for the white man or for your own dead child. At the Saloon Number fucking 10! Well, are you coming? (Seth turns to get his hat.) Bullock: Yeah, I’m fucking coming.
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(Ellsworth sets down an apple on Alma’s desk and stands in front of her.) Ellsworth: Mrs. Ellsworth. Alma: (taking the apple) You don’t confuse me with Mrs. Bullock? (Well that joke fell flat. Way to go, Alma.) Ellsworth: Well, as far as the conjugal enterprise, I’ll admit often feeling like a schoolboy. Alma: Thank you for it. Ellsworth: Speaking further, ‘twixt your mine and now this bank, however much I mayn’t be good at it, I feel I married rather well. Depositor: I put you on notice. Want my money, it better be fucking available, day or fucking night. (Sol gets up) Trixie:Mayn’t I draw you a map then in case it’s night you want it, to lead you to where I live so you can wake me? Depositor: Now fuck you then. I ain’t depositing. Trixie:Oh no? Oh, say it ain’t fuckin’ so, you stupid fucking asshole! Ellsworth: Now now now now. Depositor: Now now, fucking what?! Ellsworth: Now now, keep your voice down. Depositor: Who the fuck are you anyway? Alma: Sir— Ellsworth: Stay out of this. Deposits here, if we fucking let you make ‘em, are backed by this lady’s gold mine. So do not confuse her with some paper palace fly-by-night who means “catch me if you can, turn me upside down and whatever falls out of my pants pocket is what’s behind my scrip,” when his note says “Full faith and credit.” Alma: Thank you, Mr. Ellsworth. Ellsworth: She’d make the uses of money available for people in the camp ain’t belligerent cocksuckers. Short of following you around with her fucking mine on her back, how else is she supposed to do it? Alma: Thank you. Ellsworth: You’re welcome. Alma: I am Mrs. Ellsworth. Depositor: Ah. How do you do? I guess I’ll try you out. Trixie: Our hearts fucking leap with joy. (Bullock and Steve enter the No. 10, Bullock looks at Tom and points to Steve.) Bullock: Keep him here. (he leaves) Steve: Now we’ll see if he takes the nigger’s word or how they fucking lie. Tom: Shut up! Steve: Well, give me a drink and it’s a deal, Tom. (Hostetler is in the livery, tending to the horse.) Hostetler:
Go on away from here now. Ain’t nobody trying to keep you.
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Fields: Yeah, that’s why I come back with you, Hostetler, to worsen my chances when I try to flee. (Bullock approaches the livery and Hostetler steps outside to address him.) Hostetler: I was coming to find you once I had the horse cleaned. This is the horse that hurt your boy. We collected him and we brung him back. Bullock: He died. Hostetler: The horse escaped in my care, you may hold the boy’s dying against me. Fields: Hostetler took precautions. We was trying to nut the horse— Hostetler: Shut—shut up now. Shut up. I collected the horse and brought him back. I’m back too. You say what you think is right. Bullock: I’m not gonna act against you for an accident. (Hostetler nods.) Hostetler: Your boy…I’m as sorry as I can be. I hope you will take that to his mother for me. Bullock: I’m here to talk about the livery. Hostetler: I feel sorry running away from this too. It’s a shame leaving animals uncared for. Fields: Wanting not to be killed will put you to some difficult choices. Bullock: Steve’s been looking after the place. Hostetler: Did damn good at first look. Bullock: Any chance to keep hell from breaking loose between you? Hostetler: He left out of here shouting and screaming off of me saying thanks for looking out. Bullock: I’m asking, Hostetler, far as you go, does hell have to break loose? Hostetler: No, hell don’t have to break loose. (Upstairs in the Grand Central, Con and Delta Mama Cooch are laying in bed post-coitous. Ewwww.) Con: A colleague of mine, Leon, out of the Bella Union—you might not have noticed him—Leon remarks to me after you left, “That young lady had a front porch on her a fella could read a book off of.” (He laughs, Delta Mama Cooch sits up.) You know Leon said that unsolicited. Delta: It’s time to go. Con: In a few days, we can do this again. Uh, Captain will be back at the helm! (Back in Utter Freight and Charlie Mail, Joanie is going over her offer to Jack Langrishe.) Joanie: Mr. Langrishe, I couldn’t possibly consider your offer unless you would agree to building a new schoolhouse at your expense for Mrs. Bullock and the children. Charlie: Well, who could say no to that? Joanie: Well, what—what if Mrs. Bullock doesn’t want a change of location? Charlie: I can’t think why she’d prefer teaching in an ex-brothel over a place newbuilt for schooling. Joanie: People are strange about things, Charlie.
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Charlie: But if you like, I’ll get her say-so. Joanie: And then I’ll speak to Mr. Langrishe. (She puts on her hat. God I want that hat!) (Bullock and Hostetler enter the No. 10 to talk to Steve.) Bullock: Why don’t’ we talk at the hardware store? Steve: Why don’t we talk right here? Tom: A 30-minute recess boys. Steve: No recess on my account. I don’t want my getting’ fucked to put others to inconvenience. Bullock: No one’s here to fuck you, Steve, if you’d just quit running your mouth. Hostetler: First off, I thank you for looking to the livery. Steve: He’ll talk to me through you or he won’t get any fucking response. Hostetler: I’m grateful for the care you gave the animals. Steve: Now you wait until he translates from ape. (Bullock punches Steve and grabs him by the neck, Harry gets up, going for his gun.) Bullock: Don’t insult him again. Steve: You being this kind of neutral Sheriff is why I’m gonna vote for Harry Manning. (Seth nods to Hostetler) Hostetler: I want to pay you for your time and your trouble. Steve: That’s it? Send me on my fucking way? Hostetler: And if you wanted to work there, I would be willing to keep you on. Steve: Look at him, gritting his teeth, holding onto his fucking nose! Don’t you do me any fucking favors, Hostetler! I didn’t ask permission of anyone to look after that stock, and I’m not gonna start with a fucking nigger! (Seth looks away from Steve, still holding him by the collar.) Hostetler: The Sheriff will have your back pay if you come to change your mind. Steve: Fuck you! Hostetler: I was answerable to that horse that trampled his boy. Camp being stirred up, if I lingered to make my arrangements I don’t’ think I would have lived to catch that horse. Steve: Ain’t that the purest form or nigger logic? He runs, he blames the white man, (Hostetler turns his back to Steve) and then he comes back and he treats him like dirt! Hey, when can I start working for you, you fucking monkey ape?! Why don’t you start jumping up and down and pounding your chest and murder a few dozen lice?! Hostetler: You motherfucker. Steve: What did you say about my mother?! (Seth turns his head and looks at Steve.) Hostetler: You motherfuckers. (Seth looks at Hostetler.) Steve: What did you just say about these people! Hostetler: You ofay motherfuckers! (Seth grabs Hostetler by the pants and shirt and starts to force him outside.) Put me down until you’re ready to kill me or run. Bullock: You’re gonna leave this to me. Do you understand? You leave it to me. (Charlie sees them from across the thoroughfare and stops, watching.) Hostetler: I came my part and he wouldn’t meet me.
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Bullock: I’ll take care of it. Will you let me try? It’s what I want for my son. Hostetler: Put me down now. Bullock: If I do, it won’t be to kill you and I’m not running. So what are we gonna do then? Hostetler: Put me down. (Seth lets him go) I was gonna go to Oregon. You let him buy me out fair and I’ll fucking go. I’ll be at the livery. (Hostetler leaves, Charlie starts to go to Bullock but stops when he sees Bullock go back inside the No. 10 instead of after Hostetler.) Bullock: He’ll sell to you. Do you want to take it on? Steve: I don’t have the means to purchase it. Bullock: If you had the means at loan. Steve: Yes, I’d be willing, very much so. Bullock: No bargain. My partner would make the price. You’d say yes or no. Steve: Yeah, I’m interested, if I had the means at loan. (Bullock leaves. Steve looks at Tom, shocked.) What do you think of that? Charlie: Sheriff Bullock. Bullock: Trying to broker some settlement between Steve and Hostetler. Charlie: Well I’ll find you later then. Bullock: Be quick, you got me now. Charlie: Must’ve been unwelcome to Mrs. Bullock, that horse being brought back. Not wantin’ to intrude on her, Miss Stubbs was having asked me to find out, might I ask you to speak in her stead as to something I believe we both know where she stand on? Bullock: Is that your Goddamn idea of quick, Charlie? Charlie: Miss Stubbs, that owns the Chez Ami building where Mrs. Bullock teaches, has got asked to name a price which she’d sell at. She got stipulations and likes of which I won’t bore you with, but her big worry, if the buyer on his own nickel were to put a new schoolhouse up elsewhere, would Mrs. Bullock be loathe to leave the Chez? Bullock: Why would she be loathe to leave it? Charlie: Can I take that as a “no” as if from your wife’s own lips? Bullock: Yeah. (He leaves.) Charlie: Thank you. Sorry to hold you up. “Be quick.” Fucking delicate operation. (Jack Langrishe walks down the hall of the Grand Central, humming, as Mama Delta Cooch walks out of Con’s room.) Delta: Jack. Jack: One thought he’d engaged a room for you at the other end of the hall. Delta: I’m going to it now. (He watches her walk down the hall, a look of surprise on his face. Con opens the door a crack and Jack turns to see him as he quickly closes the door.) (Back in the Gem, Al is pondering the note.)
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Al:
Dolly: Al:
Dolly: Al:
Dolly: Al: Dolly: Al: Dolly: Al:
Invites me and Tolliver for a chat. What the fuck is in his head? Does he think he broke me? Does this cocksucker think he broke me and now we’re at his beck and call? Oh, Jesus Christ, get your head off it. (Dolly looks up) Get your fucking head off it for all the fucking good you’re doing down there. That’s all I need: At a perfect juncture you to alter your action and forget your previous method. I didn’t alter my action. No? (Grabs her head and puts it back in place) is my dick in your mouth? (She nods) Do I have a hard-on? (She shakes her head) Then you change your action. Go back to your previous fucking method. Hmm. Does he construe my forbearance as weakness is that what the fuck nags at me? Or my considerations of alternatives for being fucking intimidated—because the time’s coming he sees what I’m up to beyond any fucking mistake, and I only hope you don’t doubt it. Huh, you see?! Y-y-y-you don’t think that counts as altering your action? You would change your entire fucking mouth pattern. Sorry. Sorry? Oh, I guess that’s okay then—because my goal before my meeting wasn’t to come and clear my fucking head, not so much as to hear you say you’re sorry, you stupid fucking mutt. Should I go? No. Tell me who you want in the election. Star for Mayor and Harry Manning for Sheriff. Star for Mayor and Bullock for fucking Sheriff. Bullock yells at you. Get out. Shut up and get out. (Dolly leaves, Al shaking his head, he takes out a bottle of whisky and a shot glass from his desk drawer and buttons up his underwear) Does he think I’m fucking afraid? (Jack Langrishe enters the Gem, Dan smokes a cigar at the bar. Al walks down the stairs.)
Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al:
Young man. Jack. Less throb today, one hopes, in the phantom digit. Not to fucking mention elsewhere, huh? Might I ask you what you know of a Miss Stubbs that owns the Chez Ami? Whoremistress. Not presently active, I’m told. Hearst’s geologist killed three of her girls. The three he didn’t she hid under canvas and spirited out of camp. Jack: Now lets her place as a schoolhouse. Al: My impression, she donates it. Jack: To cleanse the camp’s idea of her? Would that base her turning away a theater type’s offer to buy? Al: Wouldn’t enter into it. Cares for a gut-shot shitbird no one in camp has time for, nor she has any love for either. Loyal, see? That type.
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Jack: Some sentimentality do you suppose, about the building itself? Might that account for her holding on? Al: I wouldn’t know, Jack. She’s all right. (he scratches the bandage) Must think I’m a fucking dog, forgives the blow, first friendly scratch of the ear. (Jack looks at him, confused.) Invites me back to his rooms, fucking Hearst. Jack: Shall I accompany as your second? (punches the air playfully) My obvious unsuitability might confuse him. (Al chuckles and leaves.) Do survive. (He turns and looks at Dolly, who looks sheepishly back. Cy is waiting down in the lobby of the Grand Central. Al enters.) Al: EB: Cy: Al: EB: Al: Cy: Al:
E.B. The titans gather. Swearengen. Tolliver. Do we now assault Olympus? Quiet, E.B. (He motions for Cy to climb the stairs with him.) I think Cochran’s a lunger. Bit motley ourselves, huh? (Cy chuckles as they walk up the stairs.)
(Seth enters the hardware store and approaches Sol.) Bullock: What would you make that livery worth? Sol: I’d have to look into it. Bullock: I need a figure now. Sol: 1200 (Seth leaves) if you made me say without investigating. (Sol wipes ink off his hands, confused.) (inside the bank…) Leon: Laying by for the future. Alma: Very forward looking. Leon: Oh, I’m keen-eyed. Ahead and behind. Alma: Your mark would go there. Leon: I’ll sign my names, Mrs. Garret. I’ve been lettered since I was 12. Alma: Since you can read, you may wish to examine my nameplate. Leon: Mrs. Ellsworth, I’m—I’m very sorry and very very apologetic. (Seth enters) Alma: Perhaps you would finish signing over there while I tend to Mr. Bullock. Leon: (Getting up, to Bullock) Opened an account. Alma: Mr. Bullock. Bullock: I’d like that drunk Steve to have a loan--$1200, title to the livery as collateral. I’ll cosign the note. Alma: Has Steve clear title? Bullock: He will once he’s bought out Hostetler. That’s what the money’s for. (Alma gets up)
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Alma: What is Steve-the-Drunk’s surname? (Shit-stirrer, Alma, it’s Shit-stirrer. That’s hyphenated. His Dad was a Shit and his mom was the Stirrer.) Bullock: Fields. (Oh won’t he like that. So’s the Nigger General’s! They could be cousins!) Alma: $1200, Trixie, payable to a Mr. Steve Fields upon his signature and submission of title to the livery, Mr. Bullock to cosign. Trixie:All right. Bullock: Thank you. (Alma sits back down as Leon finishes signing the document. He blows on it to dry the ink as he waves it in the air. Alma rolls her eyes. Upstairs in the Grand Central, Cy and Al are in Hearst’s room. Al leans against the wall, Cy sits in a chair. Hearst stands.) Hearst: My back’s in frank rebellion. Uh, gentlemen, will you mind if I keep to this angles? (He pats a board with a pillow strapped across the middle, leaning against the wall. He leans back against it and exhales heavily.) Cy: Hang upside down from the ceiling for all of me. Hearst: (chuckles) It may come to that. Mr. Swearengen, I will take your silence for assent. We pass another milestone. Bank of Deadwood opens its doors. Is not Mrs. Ellsworth a dynamo? Cy: Let’s find one and send it to her. Al: What’s the occasion? I have my physician to see. Hearst: How are you indisposed, Mr. Swearengen? Al: Sick at the stomach. Hearst: Would you wish to leave now? Mr. Tolliver can report our conversation. Cy: Tough it out, Al, like me that’s guts is more outside his pants than in. Al: The occasion? Hearst: The camp comes to such an hour I’d have us reach a new understanding.. Al: The “hour” meaning elections. Hearst: I am given pause by the quality of…certain of the likely victors. But I have come to believe as well that my temperament ill suits me for environments such as this one must become. And other opportunities presenting themselves elsewhere, I may best serve my own interests here by standing at some remove. Al: Are you leaving? Can you say it straight out before I have a fucking birthday? Hearst: I will be coming and going, is that straight out enough? Al: What’s the task you’d give us? And what’s our fuckin’ piece for doing ‘em? Cy: Al. Al: Shut up. Hearst: To not let become over-onerous my interests encounter with the camp’s retrogressive elements. Al: Meaning what, you phony bastard? Who do we kill? What’s our pay? Cy: It ain’t fair to make it that simple, Al. Al: Fuck you. He took the pick to me simple enough. Hearst: We will get to numbers quickly once we’ve agreed in principle.
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Al:
Numbers are the only principle I believe in, and naming what the numbers buy. When you and him come to ‘em, tell fucking Adams and he’ll bring you my reply later. Him and me, we’ve had our last word. (Al leaves, Cy chomps on his cigar. As Al comes down the stairs, E.B. addresses Al.) EB: What have the Gods decreed? Al: Too fearful and upset to relive it, E.B. (He wiggles his index and ring finger.) Hearst: We do agree in principle? Cy: Oh, Yes, Sir. Numbers and acts is what’s left to discuss. Sounds like a Bible study, don’t it? (Hearst snaps his head around and looks at Cy. Out in the thoroughfare, Seth is interrogating Jane and Charlie about theNnigger General and Hostetler.) Jane: Charlie read me the telegram, then I seen ‘em come into camp. My exact fucking thought, “Look, Jane, two dead Niggers leading a dead fucking horse.” Charlie: Matter came to rope, Steve the drunk to cinch the noose. Jane: Charlie’s right for the first time in months. Fucking Steve. The exact type malicious cocksucker tars every fucking drunk with his brush. Bullock: Anyway, here’s Trixie with the loan documents. (He walks away) Jane: This succeeds, Bullock, what you’re trying to work out here, I will doff hat to you and no fucking mistake. Charlie: Just don’t let her take off her boots. (Jane glares at him.) Did you know Miss Stubbs might sell her place? Trixie: You gotta fucking sign. (She hands him the document and a pen, turns around and leans over a barrel for him to sign on her back. He does so reluctantly.) Lot of shitbags hang around a bank. Did you ever fucking notice? (He shakes his head at her. She rolls her eyes and takes back the pen, stalking away past Charlie and Jane, Charlie tips his hat to her.) Asshole. (Charlie is a bit confused as she walks away. In the Grand Central, a brunette lady walks down the stairs.) EB: Lady: EB: Lady: EB:
Trailing clouds of glory. Do you read wordsworth? I do not, Madam, no. How do you come to ask? You’ve just quoted him. Well, I have a digest from which I memorize, suppressing the authors’ names. Enjoy your supper. (She nods and walks into the restaurant.) When will I raise courage to search that woman’s room? (Jack Langrishe holds a chair out for her.) Lady: Thank you. Jack: My pleasure. Lou: (to Richardson) Don’t look to take her order. She likes to draw awhile before she eats. Countess: “Bone weary but soldering on.” Delta: Bellegarde as a soldier?
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Countess: He is an actor after all. Joanie: But unless you would build a new schoolhouse for Mrs. Bullock to teach the camp’s children in, I couldn’t even begin to entertain the idea of a sale. Jack: The most natural and constructive of stipulations, Miss Stubbs. Joanie: At your expense, I hope you understand. Jack: I do. And may I submit to you now my offer? Joanie: Please do. (He hands her a piece of paper) Very generous. Thank you. Jack: We’ve an agreement? Joanie: Far as the schoolhouse…and its costs? Jack: Absolutely separate, my obligation in that regard. Joanie: Those’d be exclusive. Jack: Exactly. Countess: They come to an understanding. Delta: She seems quite thin. (The Countess shakes her head at Mama Delta Cooch as Joanie and Jack stand and shake hands. In the livery, Hostetler is going over the agreement as Fields and Bullock look on.) Fields: Might be where he first went wrong, learning to read and cipher. Hostetler: Why ain’t he sign first? Fields: Why ain’t I half a foot taller? Bullock: You’re who I came to first. Hostetler: Order’s right and amount is fair. And once Steve signs, then I will. Bullock: I’m not a Goddamn errand boy, Hostetler, to mule this thing back and forth. Fields: Give it to me. Let me forge Steve’s name. Hostetler: I ain’t gonna be first to sign and look a cunt when he don’t. (He firmly hands the paper back to Bullock, Bullock leaves.) Fields: Nigger, nigger, nigger. (Inside the Gem, business is bustling, Johnny walks past the bar and nods to Al. Silas approaches Al.) Al: Where the fuck have you been? Silas: I was looking for someone whose name you told me never to say again. Al: Amongst further instructions including not to look for him when he’s fucking disappeared. Silas: Well, I held off saying where I was. Al: I can repose no truth in someone who traffics with that type douche bag. Silas: I don’t think Hawkeye’s a douche bag. (Al slaps Silas) Al: Who you believe you can salvage, Adams, is the douche bag you must avoid, and no effort of yours can preclude some point past help. And you yourself, being his consort, in similar fucking straights. And all the energies I’ve poured into you gone for naught. I vow on the fucking subject I find you dead ‘cause of him, I’ll kick your corpse in the ear for the waste of my fucking time.
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Silas: Anyways, what’d you want? Al: I’ve named you to represent me in my dealings with fucking Hearst. Tolliver too, in that connection. Silas: With Tolliver in connection with Hearst? Al: As he’s put us in tandem, fucking Hearst. Silas: You and Tolliver? Al: If I sought an echo, Adams, I’d now be addressing a fucking mountain. I’m in waters I don’t know, (Dan walks out from the kitchen and sees them talking, he halts) nor soundings I can take. To bring me the knowledge I need, my second needs to seem capable of disloyalty. Silas: If that’s supposed to be a compliment, thanks. Dan: Get the fuck out. Out out. Go. Get out. (He shoos Dolly and another whore out of a corner table.) Al: Which is to say, being loyal, he can forego loyalty’s display. Like not searching out a friend who don’t want to be found. Just hoping he makes his way back, hmm? (Jack enters.) Silas: How’s Dan gonna take your choosing me? Al: That’s my fucking problem to deal with. (Walks away) Jack, how’d it go with that place? Jack: One has agreed beyond purchase to construct a new schoolhouse elsewhere. Al: That should go up prior, not to interrupt the fucking teacher. Jack: Your law-giving tone is noted. (They toast, Jack looks away and back) Lovely smile. (Al looks over and sees Dolly smiling at a customer.) Al: She sucks my prick. Her methods deserted her completely. Jack: Might varying the hour produce a different outcome? Al: What’s the hour’s relevance? It’s her technique’s fuckin’ awry. Anyway, Jack, gotta get my ear pissed in. I’m glad about your place. Jack: Thank you, young man. Glad you’re still amongst us. Nor, one imagines, is the local creek rife with oysters. (Bullock is now consulting with Steve on the agreement.) Steve: I’m onboard, Bullock. And you are looking at a grateful man, and who ain’t appreciated you previous the way he does now. Bullock: Sign. Steve: (loudly) We’ve accomplished something here today! Take this agreement and this pen, Go over to that livery and get that Nigger’s signature. Bullock: I will. Sign the fucking thing first. Steve: Let’s not lose our sense of proportion this late phase in the process. (Bullock punches him and grabs him.) Bullock: Sign it! Steve: The Nigger signs and then I’ll accept. (Back at the Gem, Al sits down next to Dan and clears his throat.) Dan: You know you hurt my feelings.
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Al: Dan. Dan: That’s the long and short of it, Al. You fucking pick Adams to represent you, you hurt my fucking feelings and that is the fucking matter’s end. Al: Would you go against me? Dan: That is not what we’re talking about. You know I’d never break loyalty. That don’t mean my feelings can’t get hurt. Al: Fucking point is you’d never go against me. Tolliver knows. I need someone he don’t know that about. Dan: I don’t think Silas would go agin you neither. You and him haven’t been through, me and him haven’t been through what me and you’ve been through. Hmm. Not by a long shot. So more than an opinion ain’t possible. Still, I’d be fucking surprised if either of us was mistaken. Al: Me too. (clears throat) Fucking Doc. Dan: What’s his problem? Al: Thank he’s a fucking lunger. Dan: Jesus Christ, it is one fucking thing after another. (Al walks out and subtley approaches Dolly, looking around as he speaks to her.) Al:
Observe a decent interval, and we’ll give it another fucking whirl. (He walks away.) (Outside the hardware store, Seth is fuming and ruminating on the day. Sol is closing up shop.)
Sol:
Keep ‘em separate, agree on a time tomorrow when their dicks will be down, have ‘em sign simultaneous. (Seth turns around slowly, and smiles at Sol. Sol shrugs.) (Inside the house the Bonanza bought, Alma looks out the window as Ellsworth and Sofia play checkers.)
Ellsworth: Petite and quite beautiful your mother is, for being a financial powerhouse. (Alma smiles, looks out the window and sees Leon approaching) Of service to the camp, turning her mine into houses and the like getting built, businesses begun. Some for people that’ll never know her name. (Leon stops and tips his hat with both hands. Alma’s eyes light up and she turns to Ellsworth., smiling.) Alma: I’ll take the air, just briefly. Ellsworth: I’ll continue to be beaten at checkers. (She smiles at Ellsworth again as she closes the door behind her. Outside the Chez Schoolhouse Ami, Mose is pacing guard, tapping his walking stick on the porch. Inside, Jane is fiddling with the herbs hanging from the ceiling, Joanie drinks. And I’m sitting here wondering why anyone would pay for this free transcript on an auction site when they can google “Deadwood Transcripts” and
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find it straight off. I also wonder how other website operators can sleep at night knowing they’re stealing my hard work, all to pump up their own stats.) Jane: Any fucking domicile but the graveyarn suits me fine. Don’t you worry about me. I got things taken care of over here. Joanie: I don’t know either. But I do know that you’re welcome wherever I go. (Jane walks across the room to Joanie and shakes her hand.) Jane: Is Mose invited to the new destination? (They stand side by side looking at the room in front of them.) Because I’d think you’d need to widen some doorways if he is. Joanie: Haven’t talked to Mose about it. Jane: Well, he can be the watchman then. I have no issue with that. Joanie: We’ll figure the rest out…when time comes. Jane: Where would the stage be? Joanie: I don’t know. Jane: Yeah, I don’t know either. (chuckles) Ain’t our line I guess. (Upstairs in the bed in the house that Bullock built, he and Martha are laying down, holding hands. She strokes his arm…) Bullock: That they agreed tonight is no guarantee what they’ll do at 10:00 in the morning. Martha: Please see that no harm comes to that horse. Bullock: I will. (pauses) Then after the watches were synchronized, another hour studying them like idiots to see if one gained on the other. (pauses) Sol. (Upstairs at the Gem, Dolly is giving it the old college try as Al sits back in his chair. He sighs.) Al:
It’s not the fucking hour. It’s not the fucking vantage of the chair. It’s you – that’s changed the level of your suction somehow. That’s the fucking sum and substance of it. Dolly: Maybe if I get up on my knees? Al: You’re the cocksucker. Change the fucking angle. (She goes back in for another try) Hey, Jesus Christ, you’ll turn me inside out. (He pushes her away) Come on. (She tries again) Advice from third fucking parties…place a table on the boardwalk, people can jot their suggestions, roll in the much of the thoroughfare in gales of fucking laughter. I did not shame myself. (He grabs Dolly’s hair and looks her in the eyes) I keep an open mind in that area. Kid yourself about your behavior, you’ll never learn a fuckin’ thing. (He lets go and turns around) I knew what was coming too. Fucking Captain, holding me down. I knew what the fuck was next. Dolly: When he chopped off your finger? Al: He didn’t chop off my finger. Hearst chopped my fucking finger off. The other fuck held me down. They hold you down, you-you can’t get at them to help yourself. Fucking cold in here anyway.
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Dolly: You want a blanket? Al: If I do I’ll put it round me. You ain’t boss of the fucking bedclothes. (sighs) They hold you down from behind, then you wonder why you’re helpless. How the fuck could you not be?! Dolly: I don’t like it either. Al: Another one that held me down, that fuckin’ proctor when I tried to get to that ship. He fuckin’ held me, fuckin’ wouldn’t let me go. Fucking my mind, you see? She was being restrainded. Couldn’t get back off that had got on the boat to New Orleans to go suck prick in Georgia. She changed her mind and—and I was being restrained by that fat bastard orphanage proctor. Anyway, that’s it. That’s the end of it. That’s the fucking conclusion. Christ, I’d have wished to—though probably she’d have thrown me overboard anyway, but I’d have wished to get to that fucking ship. But I was being restrained. I couldn’t get from where she’d left me. He held me to that bed, her calling from the ship that had changed her mind. Dolly: I don’t like it either. Al: No, huh? What? Dolly: When they hold you down. Al: I guess I do that, huh, with your fucking hair? Dolly: No. Al: No? (She shakes her head, he smiles and holds up a shot) Well, bless you for a fucking fibber. (He drinks.) Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn Chase Ellison John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe George Adams Kevin Kearns Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Ashleigh Kizer
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Richie Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Prospector Pasco Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Dolly
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Pavel Lychnikoff .... Blazanov The creation of this transcript is done without endorsement by or affiliation with HBO® or the producers of the program Deadwood(SM), without any commercial purpose whatsoever, is for personal and entertainment use only, and is solely intended to facilitate discussion, criticism, and research in compliance with the "Fair Use" provisions of U.S. Copyright Law, Chapter 1, Section 107. None of the intellectual property rights of HBO® have been violated by the creation of this transcript and the copyright claimed by the owner hereof. Any commercial use of this transcript is prohibited and will constitute a violation of the intellectual property rights of the owner hereof.
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Episode 29: “A Two-Headed Beast” Directed by: Dan Minahan Written by: David Milch
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(Upstairs in the Bella Union, Con is bathing a naked whore. Yes, I said “Con is bathing a naked whore.” An image not soon forgotten. He grabs one of her breasts with both hands and speaks into it like a microphone.) Con: Engine room! This is the Captain! Throw coal to the fuckin’ boiler! And a hard right rudder! (laughs) Hello, the galley! Fuckin’ jeroboam of champagne to the bridge immediately! (laughs – Cy enters) Uh, Mr. T. Uh, brief uh, idle time, uh, a harmless, uh, wilin’ away. Cy: I’m considering, Con, being Swearengen’s decided a underling’ll represent him in certain of our mutual transactions, would it be my seemly tactic to do likewise? Con: Hmm. Cy: I’d need to know my man had discipline and appetites in fuckin’ harness and the like. Con: Well, what this is, Sir, uh…yesterday, I occasioned to fuck a woman after a considerable period of abstention, and that seems now to have…throwed me unawares, uh, into a fuckin’ spasm of sex interest, which I…fuckin’ pray will be brief. Cy: Well…I believe I’ll defer enlisting you in this other aspect. Con: Prudent, Sir, till I get well on the other fuckin’ side. (Cy leaves, Con exhales heavily and turns back to the whore, grabbing the tit-mic once again) Iceberg fuckin’ avoided. (she giggles) Looming fuckin’ catastrophe. (Silas is seated across from Hearst upstairs at the Grand Central. Captain Turner is standing behind Hearst.) Hearst: Mr. Tolliver and Mr. Swearengen are…uneasy colleagues. Silas: I wouldn’t know, Sir. Hearst: That feels to me less than a full verity. Silas: I don’t know what that means, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: That you not knowin’ about any—uneasiness between Tolliver and Swearengen sounds to me like a lie. Silas: Yeah. I guess so. Hearst: Better. Silas: Would you want me saying my first loyalty was to you, Mr. Hearst, or to verity instead of Mr. Swearengen? That’d sound like a lie too, and peg me a liar in the bargain. Hearst: So I’ll have to win you away. Silas: I guess so. Hearst: But I oughtn’t to imagine the process will be quick. Silas: Guess not. Hearst: Good, Adams. Did he coach you long? Silas: Didn’t fuckin’ coach me at all, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Captain Turner. (Turner steps forward) Turner: Go tell your friend I know he’s afraid of me. Silas: Dority? Big guy? Turner: I guess he looks big to you.
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Silas: (To Hearst) Is that what you brought me here for? You want me to take that back to Dority? Hearst: I guess so. (Outside the Grand Central, Aunt Lou brings a covered pot out onto the back steps and sets it down next to NG Fields.) Fields: Crazy nigger at the livery’s in your debt. Lou: Crazy nigger at the livery ought not plan on this becomin’ no habit. Fields: No chance of that. He’s bound for Oregon, Miss Lady, with the handsome nigger you’re talkin’ to right now, if our luck holds to the afternoon. Lou: Get off your ass and start to walkin’. Your friend might get to eat that warm. (She whacks a rug hanging over the clothesline with her broom) Fields: Go ahead. Put a hole in that thing. Lou: I’m measuring the stroke to move you along with the rest of this shit. (whack! And off Fields runs with the pot of food.) Fields: Much obliged! Lou: Travel safe. (Outside the Number 10, Steve the Shit-stirrer-drunk Fields is splashing water on his face. Surely he’s not “washing up” since the dirt on his face isn’t going anywhere. Tom Nuttall watches from the steps.) Steve: Biggest day of my Goddamn life, and I get a fuckin’ spittoon spilled over my head. Tom: That you already knocked on its side when you were fuckin’ dozing. I’m glad I did it. I’ve enough blood and guts spilt in my Goddamn place, Steve. For a lifetime, you understand?! If it takes the contents of a spittoon to make you fuckin’ wash, then so fuckin’ be it! Steve: What does washin’ have to do with the other, Tom? Tom: Well, to put you on the fuckin’ path, fuckin’ respect yourself, and the fuckin’ occasion, and bring no more fuckin’ shame onto my place, God damn it! (He throws a towel at Steve, who turns around to see all the Chinese in the alley staring at him. He gets upset.) Steve: After I own the livery, you slanty-eyed bastards, maybe you’d like to come by and look at me then! Now get the fuck outta here! Tom: Here! (Tosses a shirt at Steve) Harry, what time is it? Harry:Hour’s 17 minutes till 10:00. Steve: 67 minutes until my fuckin’ luck changes forever. Tom: No harm in him showin’ up early. (Steve puts on his shirt and does a shot, smiling. Inside the bank, Trixie is working the counter, while A.W. Merrick talks to Alma.) Merrick:
You’ve done this camp a great service, Mrs. Ellsworth.
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Alma: You’re very kind. (She picks at a potted plant with some scissors.) And yet, Mr. Merrick, in candor, witnessing the events of late in the east, oughtn’t any depositor pause and consider before trusting his savings to a bank? Merrick: Uh, well, I suppose that’s true. Alma: Which is why a bank owned locally wishing to make available funds to organize and develop our community…to build businesses and homes, and whose deposits are guaranteed by gold not two miles distant from this building in which we sit, isn’t that why the depositor at the Bank of Deadwood, having considered, ought come forward in assurance and confidence Merrick: Yes! Yes. Alma: Have you any questions for me? Merrick: I have not, Madam. Not—not at the present moment. (Merrick leaves, Alma smiles, moans and leans back in her chair languidly, Trixie watching with concern. Alma catches Trixie’s look and sits back up in her chair, the smile gone from her face. Back at the Gem, Al is sitting down with Silas, Johnny, and Dan.) Dan: Well, I guess that argues for me showing Captain Cuntface how Goddamn afraid I am. Al: It wasn’t aftertalk between you and Turner? Silas: (Shakes his head) Hearst was there when Turner said it, and Hearst I asked did he want it brought back to you. (Points at Dan) Hearst says to me, “I guess so.” Al: “Guess so” don’t sound like Hearst. Silas: I’d said “I guess so” before. I think he was making small of me. Dan: What is there to consider over, Al? That sea creature Turner called me out. Al: It’s Hearst calling you out. I’m trying to decipher his reason. Dan: Well, me seein’ to Turner will not delay your Goddamn decipherin’. Al: Can you shut up now, Dan, that you fuckin’ couldn’t before? Dan: He hurt you, then he calls to you like a dog. I had to tell him to fuck himself. Al: Even as I forbore till I could see to my fuckin’ arrangements. Dan: Think they’ll get seen to by the snows? (Outside in the thoroughfare, Seth is watching his pocket watch. Steve is at the No. 10, Hostetler at the hardware store. NG Fields is standing outside the No. 10, Harry Manning is outside the Hardware store. They both watch Bullock. When the time comes, Seth takes out his gun and raises it to the sky, looking up at Fields. Fields turns his head inside the No.10) Fields: Ready your pen. Steve: You’re addressing me like a fuckin’ field hand won’t impede me cooperatin’. (Seth fires his gun) Fields: Now go! (Steve signs. Harry Manning looks at his watch and nods to Hostetler.) Harry:That—that’s it, Hostetler. (Hostetler signs) Steve: (signing) ‘Cause I keep my sense of priority on what the fuck is important. (He dots his signature and breaks the pen.) I broke your fuckin’ tip.
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(He picks up the promissory note and blows on the ink to dry it. Merrick and Blazanov walk along the boardwalk.) Merrick: “Mrs. Alma Ellsworth, serene and comely principal of the just opened Deadwood Bank, assured this reporter that depositors need fear no local echo of eastern financial panics. A locally-owned bank—“(trips) Blazanov: Careful, be careful. Merrick: Thank you. Uh, “Lending to develop businesses and build homes in the region, and backed by the underground assets of one of the strongest mining concerns in the Dakota territory, such a bank cannot help but—“ (trips off the boardwalk – groans) Do you mind if we, uh, walk on more level ground, Mr. Blazanov? Blazanov: Oh, no no no no. I’ll watch out for livestock. Merrick: Thank you. “Such a bank cannot help but draw prudent customers in great numbers from every area of our black hills.” (He puts away his notebook.) Mrs. Ellsworth, being so elevated, so sweetly radiant in spirit, I wonder if her words resonated with me at the time as being more poetic and compelling than (Blazanov sees Hearst’s men drag a body onto the thoroughfare) now they seem in cold transcription. And with the lady herself absent. Blazanov: (Pointing to the men) This is bad. Merrick: To abandon a friend like that when he’s taken by drink. Blazanov: I think this is more woeful, Mr. Merrick. Merrick: (Seeing the knife protruding from the chest of the dead man, Merrick takes off his jacket and drapes it over the body.) We shall fetch the Sheriff, Mr. Blazanov. (Leon enters the Bella Union, pulling on his eye – as if a signal – to Jack the bartender. Cy turns and sighs.) Cy: Leon. Leon: Mr. Tolliver. Cy: (Waves Leon over to him) That’s a guilty skulkin’ fuckin’ look on your features, son. (knocks on the bar) I think by now you’d be more come to terms with your weaknesses. (Takes the drink Jack poured him) Leon: Merciless conscience, Sir, since childhood. Cy: You’re buyin’ drugs? Leon: I was buying drugs, yes, Sir. That is the fuckin’ cross my weakness has to bear. Cy: And do you bear it for yourself alone, Leon, or long as you’re about it, with others as well and earn the extra dollar thereby? Leon: I do not do that, Sir, no. Cy: I got to wonder, son…(shoves Leon down over the bar) is it you been helpin’ Lila in her fall? Leon: It is not, Mr. Tolliver. Lila drops her own bucket down the well. I’m telling you, Sir! Takin’ a whore o’ yours down, that’s next to directly robbing you.
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Cy:
Fella like me that’s been—indisposed. To show he’s back in play might cut a thief’s throat. Leon: You’re fuckin’ misinterpreting it. I—I was copping for another but it wasn’t fuckin’ Lila. I was coppin’ for that cunt at the bank. (Cy’s eye twitches with the knowledge. Back outside in the thoroughfare, Merrick is talking with Bullock about the murdered body he and Blazanov found. Wait – “murdered body?” That’s kinda redundant I suppose.) Merrick: Their faces weren’t familiar, the men who left him here. Charlie: His name was Pasco. Seth: Does Pasco have a friend here? (The crowd disperses, no one stepping forward. Bullock stalks off, seathing.) Merrick: How do you know his name? Charlie: Cornishman, talked Union. Worked for Hearst. Merrick: Do you feel there’s a significance to that? (Seth strides into the Gem, Al is still seated with Silas, Johnny and Dan.) Seth: The third of those organizers’s been killed. Al: (To Dan) You got nothin’ to say to that or on any other fuckin’ topic. (To Seth) On Hearst’s orders, you believe? Seth: A knife to the chest, body atop Hearst’s works in the thoroughfare. I withdraw from our agreement. Al: I’d ask it’s very brief extension. Seth: No. No. Or we’re both just fuckin’ cowards. Al: (standing) I ain’t no fucking coward! Though Dan might support your position. (Al strides off, Dan seethes in his chair. Seth looks at him.) Seth: What’s he talking about? Silas: Wait a bit, Bullock. Don’t go for Hearst yet. You know Al. (Seth, frustrated, hesitates.) Seth: I’ve got the briefest of other bidness. Silas: See to it. Dan: (shaking) Yes, s-see to it, Bullock. (Upstairs, Al pours whiskey into his teacup and drinks it swiftly. He rolls across the floor to his cabinet and opens it’s door. Inside is our favorite Chief-in-a-box.) Al:
Watching us advance on your stupid teepee, Chief, knowing you had to make your move…did you not just want first to fucking understand? Huh? (Back at the Bank of Deadwood, Steve is seated, smiling, across from Alma. Bullock, Hostetler and the NG Fields stand behind him.)
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Alma: Your repayment of the loan we make you now, Mr. Fields, whose proceeds purchase Mr. Hostetler’s livery, is secured by the livery deed itself to be held as collateral in the possession of the bank until the debt shall be satisfied. Steve: (grinning) Understood and agreed to. And don’t lose one second to wakefulness or worry. I’ll repay in a timely fashion. Alma: (To Hostetler) Will you be paid in specie or currency, Mr. Hostetler? Hostetler: Gold, please. (Trixie walks over to the safe and takes out a bag, handing it to Alma. She slides it over to Hostetler, Steve watching it intently.) Alma: Thank you, Trixie. I don’t suppose a handshake signaling the transaction’s completion is absolutely required. Steve: (standing) Then I guess we don’t have to do it then. (Awkward silence, Steve approaches Hostetler) And if you’re hoping to pass as a man before you hightail it to Oregon, you will return to me that board you made me sign. (Another awkward silence as Steve makes his way outside. Davey and E.B. walk into the Gem.) EB:
Thank you so much for squiring me, these gentlemen being so obviously compelled by other responsibilities. (Dan looks at E.B. sideways, then takes a drag on his cheroot.) Such acid scrutiny by former boon companions. Dan: We was never your fucking boon companions, E.B. EB: Forgive me my confusing, Dan, my own deep feelings for you with what yours may have been for me. (He heads upstairs) I did not offer my hotel to Hearst— which sale has made me outcast among you. Hearst forced the transaction upon me. I miss our morning coffee. (They all look up at him questioningly. He walks to Al’s door and knocks) Al: Yeah? (E.B. opens the door and enters. Johnny sees Davey setting up the secondary bar and hops up.) Johnny: Bein’ no one is frequenting the main bar, Davey, what in fuck business you think you’re gonna do standing behind there? Davey:Boss says I’m to attend the auxiliary bar. Johnny: The auxiliary bar ain’t made a cunt’s hair bit of business sense since it’s fuckin’ inception! Davey:Go on up and set the boss straight. Johnny: Hey, you don’t want to take that smart-aleck tone, that fuckin’ attitude with me, Davey. You hear me? (Upstairs) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al:
Hearst organizes violence between his man and Dority. Does he? Orchestrates combat between them, mutilates me, plants that organizer’s body like a flag in the fuckin’ thoroughfare. That last is fresh news. Makes of me and Tolliver a two-headed beast to savage what might be healthy borne out of the fucking election and gnaw its own privates off-hours. Plans keep
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EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
coming to the cocksucker that their final sum is this: But for what brings income to him, break what he can; what he can’t, set those parts against themselves to weaken. Scoundrel! (Al turns and looks at him.) Hearst. (Approaching E.B.) The why’s (sitting) what fucking confounds me. What’s in his head, I cannot fucking find in mine. Don’t suppose you talk to the Captain? Hails and farewells, but he never replies. Or the cook? The negress and I are not intimate. Alright, E.B. May I ask your plans, Al? No. Only to further their achievement. No. All right. All right. (Putting on his gloves, he sees the “get the fuck out of here” look on Al’s face, gets up, puts his hat on and leave.) Yeah. (Outside the door, just before closing it) Glad to have been of help. Always available for counsel. (He shuts the door, looking down on the boys as he pulls on his other glove. He puts his nose in the air, turns and walks away. Out in the thoroughfare, a stagecoach pulls up.)
Jack: I dare not think what you’ve been through to reach us. Bellegard: It’s been a crucifixion. Jack: Too painful, even the merest details. (He walks past Bellegard and climbs into the coach. We see a man laying down inside, clearly ill.) Formidable, even at bay. Chesterton: (chuckles) My last camp, Jack. Jack: As it may be for us all, young man. The place is yearning for elevation and festering with wealth. Chesterton: Oh dear. Jack: Augment of cupidity in the Iris, a healthy augury. Chesterton: We must help them however we can. (Jack climbs back out and the stage coach driver leans in to help him out.) Heave ho, young man, but slowly. (Al swings open the door to his office and steps out onto the inner balcony, looking down at Dan.) Al: It’s past me. I cannot figure the fuckin’ angle. Go ahead and fucking fight him. Dan: (smiling) All right then. (He gets up, in his room, he greases his chest up, and his privates. Johnny approaches him.) Johnny: What you want to be carryin’, Dan? Dan: Nothing I would want found secreted on me, worse comes to worst. Johnny: Well don’t say you ain’t bringing your blade.
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Dan: Naked, visible in it’s fuckin’ sheath and disposable before we join. If he dispenses with his. (He greases up his neck) Johnny: If it’s getting to go wrong, Dan, you just drop down flat. Dan: What the fuck did you just say? Johnny: Drop flat if it’s going wrong, and I’ll blow his fucking head off. Dan: You do and it’ll be the last Goddamn thing you do on this fucking earth. Going wrong is not the end of fucking things, Johnny. (grabs his shirt) Fuck no! I have come back from plenty of shit that looked like it was going wrong. Johnny: All right, Dan. (Dan greases up his long hair) He’s got the advantage of you there, don’t he? That short-cropped fucking hair? (In Hearst’s room, Captain Turner is stretching out. Hearst is reading.) Hearst: Well, he’s not lacking for brass. “Come scare me in the thoroughfare.” Star City, Captain, you remember the man’s name? Turner: Leonard. Hearst: That was a fight. Turner: Not how I remember. Hearst: …As an object lesson to every man watching. For not much fight, it did not end quickly I suppose is what I’m trying to say. Do you understand me? Turner: Yes, I understand. (grunting) (In the Gem, Dan comes out of the room, Johnny behind him, striding across the floor. He pauses, Silas stands and nods at him. Dan nods back, and keeps walking outside. Silas and Johnny behind him. They step out onto the porch of the Gem, and spot Turner standing on the porch of the Grand Central, waiting. Dan unstraps his gun belt and takes out his knife, holding them out for Turner to see. Turner nods and unstraps his gun belt, setting it down, along with his hat. Dan sets down his knife and gun belt and they both proceed into the thoroughfare. The fight begins. I’ll not transcribe all the various grunts and groans. Suffice to say, it’s a helluva battle, heads butt noses, ears get bitten, heads get bashed against rocks, eyes get poked out, a head gets whacked with a giant log. Before the final blow, Dan looks up at Hearst, and smiles. Then he turns to Al, Al nods imperceptibly, permitting Dan to “Finish Him” in Mortal Kombat terms. I give credit to the HubbyofMaggieParker for that one. Turner dies. Woo hoo! Go Dan! The following are the actual words spoken during the fight.) Dan: Oh, you son of a bitch! (Nighttime in the Grand Central, Jack Langrishe is helping his old sickly friend settle in.) Chesterton: Thank you, Jack. Jack: I am your Jack, Chesterton, but your producer too. Chesterton: (nodding) A rigor we’ve always sustained.
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Jack: To carry a performer through illness when recovery is in prospect is an indulgence one can sometimes justify. But support of idleness destined for the grave, that, Chesterton, the narrow economy of our art does not permit. Chesterton: You would have me die destitute? Jack: You will purchase your keep with that voice—intrusive and incessantly opinionated—no vagary of our past has yet stilled. Chesterton: The subject? Jack: We have but one. In this instance, the theater is formerly a bordello. Chesterton: The eye lines must be all wrong. Jack: (chuckles) In the morning, it meets with your atrabilious scrutiny. (Chesterton smiles, Jack collects his hat and coat and leaves, smiling. The grin on Chesterton’s face makes him glow.) Chesterton: Oh…I must rest. (Jack descends the stairs, Claudia (formerly known as Mama Delta Cooch. Sadly, we now have a real name for her. Dammit. Anyway, Claudia and the Countess look up from their table in the restaurant.) Jack: (bows to Richardson and E.B., turns to the ladies and throws his arms up questioningly.) Bellegarde? (They shake their heads.) We proceed. (Bellegard emerges from his room) Costumes, Countess, will you chair? Countess: Ja. Jack: Props and scenery, chair? Claudia: (bowing her head to Countess) Only if you serve as second. Bellegard: I’m so so so so sorry. Is costumes taken? Richardson: (To E.B.) Are they performing now? EB: Quiet. Jack: Civic relations—I’d appoint myself…without objection? (Claudia and Countess nod) Bellegard: Will we continue as if all among us are well when one so plainly is not? Jack: And what committee, Bellegard, to address the old man’s mortal illness would you have us fucking form? Bellegard: No committee. Jack: Committees is the task before us. Bellegard: No business as usual. Jack: Business and tasks is what we’ll have, just as you are tardy and ginger on your bum for the usual fucking reasons, despite your deep personal grief. Not offered as a case for change. Civic relations is me, and we’ll include here a subcommittee for the renovation of the bordello. Supervision of the work, subcommittee head— (Countess and Claudia both put their hands up) Countess, done, with thanks. Civic relations, construction, Claudia. (Claudia beams in surprise.) Countess is the second. Bellegard: (chuckling to the Countess) Hiring laborers. Jack: A truth divinely writ: we make more devotees of theater engaging 20 laborers at $2 apiece than two of the same at $20. (Claudia claps quietly in approval) Bellegard: Busy busy busy. (chuckles) (The Doc walks out into the main room of the Gem. Silas and Johnny are seated at a table.)
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Doc: Is he receiving as yet? Johnny: Let me go see. (Johnny gets up to go to Dan’s room) Doc: Tell him last fucking call. (Silas nods at Doc) Broken bones mortally interfering with organs is what I would like to rule out. Johnny: (knocks on Dan’s door and enters) Doc’s back, Dan. Dan: (Naked, shaking on an ottoman) Don’t need the fucking Doc. Johnny: Come on, Dan. Let him look at you. He come back special. Dan: You heard what the fuck I said. He wants to poke around in some innards, tell him to work on the one I killed. Johnny: (Pauses) Bottle? (Dan shakes his head no) One of the girls? There’s a clamoring line to see to you. Dan: Get the fuck out of here, Johnny. Johnny: Sure. (He walks back out into the Gem, Al steps onto the inner balcony, Johnny shakes his head no.) Doc: Listen for raspy fucking shallow breathing in the course of the fucking night. Him going blue too, would hint to you to fucking come get me. Johnny: Definitely. (Alma sprinkles a dark powder into a glass of water and drinks it in two sips. She sighs, letting the drugs take effect. She stands, turns down the bedsheets and sees it’s reflection in her vanity mirror. She moves the vanity at an angle. She pinches her cheeks, and leaves the room. She approaches Ellsworth’s door. He’s bathing.) Alma: Have you ample towels? Ellsworth: (Stunned) Uh, ample, thank you. Alma: Enough hot water? Ellsworth: Well, I could almost wish it cooler. Alma: May I help you with your back? Ellsworth: What? Alma: Scrubbing your back. Ellsworth: (Jumping out and grabbing a towel) Uh, I’m out--now. Thanks anyhow. (Sol lays in bed, and knocks on the wall. Trixie, on the other side, smokes a cigarette.He knocks again.) Trixie:(Loudly)Does it occur to you, banging repeatedly on the fucking wall, either I’m not in—which makes what you’re doing stupid—or being in, don’t want to see you—which makes you a pain in my balls!? (Sol nods, resigned) (softly) Doubtless now nodding agreement like little boy fucking lost. (She gets up, dogearing the page in her book she was reading. She pushes on the wall and enters Sol’s room.) What? Sol: Hello. Trixie:You fucking work at the bank. Sol: I do now.
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Trixie:Not a noble “Hello” at opening, and regal fucking look-by at the closing up of shop? Sol: I’m at the hardware store all day, Trixie. Trixie:I’ll switch with you. Bank’s a Jew’s proper province anyways—along with the addled self-deceived. Sol: (confused) Our depositors? Trixie:The bank’s founder and president, Chief Officer, as well, of air-headed smugness and headlong plunges unawares into the fucking abyss. Sol: I-I don’t understand. Trixie:You wouldn’t. You’re too fucking healthy-minded. You’ll sit here waiting for me to materialize from a piece of fucking furniture and think the world is normal. (sighs) Do you want to get fucked or not? Sol: Please. (Ellsworth emerges from his room, putting on his suspenders. Alma is waiting in her doorway, smiling.) Alma: Your hair looks like a porcupine. Ellsworth: Forgot the brush. (She approaches him and starts stroking his hair.) Alma: Do you mind? Ellsworth: Well, no no no. That’s…How’s it now? Alma: Better. Ellsworth: Thanks very much. Alma: I haven’t finished. Ellsworth: Oh, go ahead then. Go on. Presentable? Alma: Very. Ellsworth: You’re young for failing eyesight. (She smiles at him and cups his cheek with her hand) Spiny too, like a porcupine? Alma: Huh-uh. (She shakes her head. He takes her hand in his and kisses her palm.) Ellsworth: I guess it’d be unmanly to fear I may faint. Alma: (She takes his head in both her hands, looking plaintively upon him) Please don’t. (She closes her eyes and very slowly moves in for a kiss.The kiss ends and her eyes take a moment to open back up. She has trouble focusing again, and realization of her condition hits Ellsworth. And I realize some fucknut out there on e-bay tries to sell these transcripts, but please remember, they’re available free, just google Deadwood transcripts then smack yourself in the head for paying money to some fucknut that did none of the work.) Ellsworth: I’ll make some arrangement. Alma:What do you mean? Ellsworth: For my things and the like—arrange to collect my things. (He steps away from her) Will you have me…bring the little one back? Alma: I’ll collect Sofia. Ellsworth: Don’t forget. (Inside the livery, they’re digging through the hay trying to find the chalkboard.)
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Seth: 5 hours looking for this Goddamn board. Hostetler: Come on, come on, come on, come on, yeah. (He boosts Steve up into the loft) Steve: Think this is pretty fucking funny, don’t you, Hostetler? Hostetler: No. Steve: Watch me crawl around here like a Goddamn fool, and you laughing up your fucking sleeve. Fields: Hostetler don’t know where the board is. I’m the one hid it. Steve: Oh, I believe that. Definitely. Assisstant fucking baboon. You hid it, he don’t know where and you can’t remember where it is! Fields: I wasn’t too drunk not to know I should hide it, but I was too drunk to keep track of where. Seth: Is this it? Is this the board? (He holds up a package.) Steve: Clean it the fuck off! (Fields hops up to get the board while Seth uncovers it.) Fields: Well, yeah. Ha ha ha. Hostetler: Bring it here. Bring it in. Steve: Unwrap that cocksucker! (They unwrap it, and it’s nearly blank) What the fuck is that supposed to be? Seth: Give him the board. Steve: You think I’m a fucking moron? You think I’m a moron to fall for your fucking lies. Hostetler: Don’t you call me dishonest. Steve: I’ll call you that and worse. You hand me that then ride off with the actual board? Fields: This is the actual board, wrapped in the cheesecloth that I stole off a horse. Hostetler: I never knew this board was took from where I had it until I looked for it during last night, and that’s when he told me that he had hid it. Fields: To keep you from doing something stupid. Seth: This is the board! For Christ’s sake, what difference does the rest of it make? Steve: I don’t know it’s the actual board. There’s no more fucking writing on it! Shall I accept myself as satisfied, only for Hostetler once escaped to send the real fucking board back from Cheyenne while he’s laughing up his lying sleeve? (Hostetler growls in frustration and stumbles over to the wall. Seth and Fields watching him.) For Bullock to open the package and humiliate me? Or for the fucking bank woman to humiliate me with the true fucking board? Or to revoke my fucking security on my fucking loan? Or whatever your fucked-up plan is to make me a fucking cunt! Hostetler: (He undoes his collar and turns back to Steve) I will not be called a fucking liar. I didn’t live my life for that. Fields: Yeah, fuck you, Steve. (Hostetler walks into the next room) We’re leaving. Talk stupid to our fucking dust! (A shot rings out – surprised, Seth walks into the next room and sees blood on the wall, Hostetler slouched back in a chair, dead. (Upstairs in the Gem, there’s a knock on Al’s door.) Al: Yeah? (Johnny enters) Johnny: I wish you’d look in on Dan, boss. Not for being poorly as…down.
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Al: Johnny,…some shit’s best walked through alone. Johnny: Dan’s killed people before. You have too. But neither’ve been solitary after. Al: A fair fight, something Dan and I have always struggled to avoid, is different. You see the light go out of their eyes. It’s just you left and death. Johnny: So that’s why Dan wants to be alone. Al: He knows where to find me. (Johnny nods and turns to leave) Sit down. If you want to. (Johnny turns and shuts the door, sitting down in a chair.) Johnny: What are—what are we waiting for? Al: To see what kind of hell breaks loose. (Hearst enters a bustling Bella Union. His hands in his pockets, walking somewhat shakily. He approaches Jack at the bar.) Hearst: Uh, Whiskey, please. (Jack puts a shot glass on the table) And leave the bottle. (Jack pours whiskey into the shot glass. Hearst contemplates) I just saw to the remains of a friend. Jack: Yes, Sir. (May I say – Jack looks like total shit? Did he get in a fight recently and we missed it? His face is all sortsa fucked.) Hearst: (Extending his hand) George Hearst. Jack: (shaking Hearst’s hand) Jack Young. Hearst: Jack Young. Jack: Yes, Sir. Hearst: How do you do, Jack? Jack: How do you do? (Seth enters the Grand Central) EB: Seth: EB: Seth: EB:
Sheriff. Is he up there? Who? Is Hearst fucking up there, Farnum? I cannot say. (Seth turns and strides towards E.B. – he quickly grabs a piece of paper and starts writing)I cannot say. I cannot betray the whereabouts of an owner-guest. (He pushes the paper to Seth, it says “Bella Union” on it. Seth looks up at E.B. and leaves, crushing the paper in his fist. Back at the Bella Union, Cy approaches Hearst.) Cy: Mr. Hearst…I regret not being out here with you before, Sir. Help too stupid to wake me from my nap. Hearst: Not at all. Cy: On down there now, Jack. At least do that much right. (He pours a drink and looks at Hearst) Helluva fucking day. Hearst: How much do you know? Cy: I heard there was a set-to in the thoroughfare. Hearst: Did you know it was my man killed? Cy: Was that the outcome?
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Hearst: My man was killed, yes. Cy: I’m sorry. Hearst: It happens. It’s the nature of things. Cy: It don’t lessen the sadness when it’s a friend’s. (Seth enters) The Sheriff joins us. Seth: Whiskey. Hearst: The Sheriff recently put me on notice he is vigilant of my possible transgressions. Seth: You sound drunk to me. Hearst: (Puts down his glass) Whom are you addressing? Seth: You. You sound drunk. Hearst: Do I? Seth: Mm-hmm. Hearst: When I say “Fuck yourself, Sheriff,” will you put that down to drunkenness or a high estimate of your athleticism? Seth: Did you just tell me to fuck myself? Hearst: I think I did and to shut up or I’ll quiet you myself. Seth: You’re under arrest. Hearst: Fuck you, and shut up or I will shut you up for good. Seth: (Draws his gun and holds it on Hearst) Threatening a peace officer, I’m taking you into custody. Cy: Don’t be stupid, Bullock— Seth: Don’t you be fucking stupid. (He takes Hearst by the ear, Hearst yelps in pain as Seth walks him out at gunpoint) Fuck you. (Seth pushes him out onto the thoroughfare and lets go of his ear. Holding him at gunpoint, Hearst stumbles along next to Seth as they make their way to the jail. Al sees from above) Al:
Johnny. (Johnny steps out onto the balcony next to Al) The Sheriff eliminates several of our options. (Merrick steps out from the newspaper office and looks up at Al.) Not a fucking word comes to print. Merrick: Understood. (Seth, seething, marches Hearst down the thoroughfare, holding him by the collar in one hand, his gun in the other.) (in credits order) Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen Molly Parker .... Alma Garret Jim Beaver .... Whitney Ellsworth W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority Jeffrey Jones .... A. W. Merrick Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns Larry Cedar .... Leon Episode Cast
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Michael Harney .... Steve Ashleigh Kizer .... Dolly Pavel Lychnikoff .... Blazanov Gerald McRaney .... George Hearst David Redding .... Davey .... John Langrish Brian Cox Titus Welliver .... Silas Adams William Sanderson .... E.B. Farnum Paula Malcomson .... Trixie John Hawkes .... Sol Star Cynthia Ettinger Claudia
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Episode 30: A Rich Find Directed by: Tim Hunter Written by: Alix Lambert
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(George Hearst is sitting in the jail cell at Utter Freight and Charlie Mail, glowering. Charlie is hauling bags of mail in.) Utter: Fuckin’ Postal contract. Got to bring these in first thing. I’ll be right with you. Hearst: (standing) Is he only a Goddamn fool or so stupid he thinks he’s accomplished something? Utter: Who? Hearst: You know Goddamn well who I mean. Utter: Who are you? Hearst: You Goddamn well know that too. Utter: I know from the Sheriff locking you up between sundown when I left and my coming back now, you must have fucked up at the interval. Where you drunk? Hearst: You and I have met. Utter: At the hotel buffet. Hearst: Yes. Utter: But we wasn’t introduced. Hearst: I’m George Hearst! Utter: Were you drunk, George Hearst? (Walks over to another cell, holding the body of the Cornishman killed the day before) This fellow didn’t keep you up here, did he? He didn’t like fart or snore too much for you, did he, Mr. Hearst? I mean, he imbi—(he talks off the sheet covering the body’s face) Holy Shit! Jesus! The cocksucker’s dead, George! Look, he’s got a fuckin’ knife in his chest. That ain’t your fuckin’ knife, is it, George Hearst? (Hearst glares at Charlie. At the livery, Calamity Jane is helping the Nigger General Fields build a coffin for Hostetler.) Fields: Goddamn fool. Jane: Won’t be the first the worms work on. Fields: I guess he deserves more than a dirt burying by some stranger, evem for only how big a fuckin’ nigger he was. Don’t know if using this trough was that big a fuckin’ timesaver. Jane: I’ll see to the burying with you. I owe a visit up there anyways. Fields: That ain’t gonna raise your popularity with your fellow white people. Jane: Question I wake to in the morning and pass out with at night: What’s my popularity with my fellow white people?” Fields: Suppose we ought to go get him. He ain’t fuckin’ pretty to look at. Jane: Neither are you, fuckin’ Nigger General. (Inside The House that Bullock Built, Martha is preparing breakfast, Seth is sitting at the table talking.) Seth: After that I arrested Hearst. Took him by the ear and led him to jail, where he remains. Martha: (Sitting) Hearst had no particular connection to Mr. Hostetler?
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Seth: Both their names begin with “H.” (She smiles) It’s gonna get bad here, Martha. (There’s a knock at the door) Al: It’s Albert Swearengen, regrettin’ the early hour and…that I call without notice… Seth: (Walks to the door and opens it) Good morning. Come in. Al: (Wipes his shoes off before entering) …knowing I intrude. (enters) Mrs. Bullock. Martha: Good morning, Mr. Swearengen. Will you have meat and eggs? Al: I’d be grateful for coffee. Martha: Please sit down. (Al and Seth sit at the table) Al: Swell, stem to stern—the place. (Martha sets the coffee cup down in front of Al.) Martha: If you will not eat, will you excuse me? (They stand) Seth: Teaches the camp’s children. Al: Excellent. Seth: I’ll walk you when you’re ready. Martha: There’s no burning rush. I’m sure the talk Mr. Swearengen would have with you must be important. (She walks upstairs) Al: Last night from my balcony vantage, I watched you drag Hearst by the ear to Utter’s Freight Office. I was waitin’ on you comin’ out of Utter’s, thinking that you might make a call on me, tell me what the fuck was going forward, but you did not appear. I finally asked myself, “Could our Sheriff have took another route home, maybe through Chinaman’s Alley? And what would that bespeak of his frame of mind?” Seth: It bespoke I didn’t fuckin’ feel like talking to you. Al: “Al, busy night, Short on joy.” Could have told me that. “Let’s talk another time.” (Martha starts to come downstairs but pauses at the top) I too, Bullock, when suspecting I’ve fucked the dog, keenly seek some solitude. Our hour is wrong. Having lost his man Turner, being embarrassed by you, Hearst will be on the muscle, and we who will be his wrath’s object ought to stay close and confide. Our alternative is flight. Does that appeal? Seth: No. Al: We ain’t that sort, which is maybe more the pity. (Martha walks downstairs now.) Martha: Will you walk me to school now, Mr. Bullock? Seth: Yes. Al: Thank you for the coffee. Martha: You’re very welcome, Mr. Swearengen. (In the house the Bonanza Bought, Alma is brushing Sofia’s snarled hair.) Sofia: Alma: Sofia: Alma: Sofie: Alma: Sofia:
Owie. Well, Sofia,…We’re almost through. It’s cold. The fire’s gone out. Mr. Ellsworth left for the diggings early this morning. He didn’t come to kiss me good night. (Pauses momentarily) You must not have wakened. I always waken from his beard.
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Alma: Well, last night you must not have. (She stops brushing and stands in front of Sofia, smoothing her hair.) There. You look more than presentable. Excuse me just a moment, and then I’ll take you to school. (Alma sails out of the room, leaving Sofia standing behind. Inside the Gem, Dan comes lumbering out of his room, covered in a thick blanket, looking awfully like a bear. He looks like he had the shit beaten out of him – oh wait, he did. Well, he looks like he should then. Johnny sees him coming out and is on alert. He smoothes his shirtfront and clears his throat.) Johnny: Mornin’, Dan. Jewel, you got you another customer. Just brought me mine. How do you—(Dan clanks his gun down on the bartop) How do you feel? (Dan drinks Johnny’s coffee) You go ahead and drink that. That’s at least my third damn cup. I’m jangle-nerved already. Let me go on and get shaky-handed, pop my foot on the floor like I’m a-listenin’ to banjo music! (Dan glares at Johnny) Shit. (He stops and looks upstairs) Al’s out. Dan: Out where? Johnny: Well, I don’t know. But I bet you a nickel has somethin’ to do with Bullock takin’ Hearst by the ear from Tolliver’s to Utter’s Depot. Dan: What the fuck are you talkin’ about? Johnny: Anyways, here’s Jewel. (Jewel brings Dan his breakfast, grinning. Outside in the thoroughfare infront of the Number 10 where Harry is sweeping,, Steve is ranting, of course slurring his words because – surprise surprise – he’s drunk.) Steve: We had been at odds but settled, Hostetler and me. He’d sold me his livery, and fixing to move to Oregon, pickin’ up his fuckin’ shotgun, the negro stumbled and…blew his black head off! (He coughs at the dirt Harry’s kicked up and spits) God damn it, Harry. (pause) And I fear no retribution, not by my own God…or any other…evil emissary’s dispatch from the bowels of the earth by whatever bundle of bloody fuckin’ feathers and housecat teeth the nigger race bows down to. My hands are fuckin’ clean, and my heart is quiet. (He sees Odell passing by him in the thoroughfare, full of pride as he rides his horse down the street. Steve stumbles and looks at him.) Oh, Christ. (He turns and heads back to the Number 10.) Harry? (Back at the Freight office, Seth unlocks the jail cell and lets Hearst out. Hearst, eyeing Bullock, walks over to the body of the Cornishman and pulls out the knife from it’s chest. Utter stands, Hearst swaggers away to the leave, pausing to wipe the blade clean of blood on a banister, staring at Bullock. He leaves. Inside the Grand Central, E.B. watches the outside from the lobby.) EB:
Hurry up, Richardson. (Richardson hustles over to E.B.) Thwart that Abyssinian. (We see Odell in the thoroughfare, having just dismounted from his horse. He’s heading for the Grand Central.)
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Richardson: I don’t know what you mean. EB: Any thought he has of registerin’. Bad enough we have one in help. (Aunt Lou looks out the window as Richardson runs outside to Odell.) Richardson: Hello. Odell: Hello. Richardson: We can’t take you. Lou: My baby! (Richardson steps to the side as Odell looks up) Ooh! (She hugs him) Ooh! Odell: Your baby’s growed, Mama. Lou: Oh, come on, come on. Come on around back. We’ll get you into my room. You’re so beautiful! Oh! EB: Did you hear, Richardson? (sarcastically) “Beautiful.” Richardson: Yes. (Richardson smiles cheerfully, E.B. rolls his eyes and walks away. Upstairs at the Gem in Al’s office, he’s talking with Silas.) Al:
Silas: Al: Silas: Al: Silas: Al: Silas: Al:
Silas: Al:
You make clear to Tolliver you will not confide entirety and that he oughtn’t to expect you ever fuckin’ will is the basic foundation attitude. (Silas nods) Am I fuckin’ boring you?! No. (sitting) Are you sure you don’t want to tell me a joke or the like, or dance a quick fuckin’ jig? I tell Tolliver I’m still your man and I’ll never show him your fuckin’ hole card. Guy like Tolliver always believes he can see what you want not to show him. I’m tryin’ not to show your hole card. That’s your fuckin’ act. So what do I say about Bullock? What you say to Tolliver: “I know why Bullock acted, but I’m not prepared to say. That’s confidential and privileged between me and Mr. Swearengen, who explained to me exactly.” What’ll Tolliver think off that? “This kid don’t know what the fuck Bullock’s doin’, and Swearengen don’t either. But I, Cy Tolliver, worned that the fuck out of him, even though he tried not to let me. I can handle this fuckin’ piss pot.” (Silas gives Al a thumbs up and clicks his cheek.) Fold your thum, go over and fuckin’ talk to him.
(Hearst enters the telegraph office, Blazanov sitting in front of his apparatus.) Hearst: When you’re done woolgathering, I’d like this sent. (Blazanov stands and takes the note from Hearst. Hearst turns around to Merrick.) How are you today? Merrick: Well enough, Mr. Hearst. And you? (telegraph tapping) Hearst: Well enough. What do you say of me in your paper? Merrick: I have nothing to report, Sir. Have you anything to give me? Hearst: I have not.
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Blazanov: rate.
One dollar, twenty-five cents, please. Twenty-five cents increase to our
(Hearst hands him a bill and Blazanov hands him back his note. Hearst leaves. At the Bella Union, Silas sits with Cy.) Cy: Silas: Cy: Silas: Cy: Silas: Cy: Silas: Cy: Leon: Cy:
Leon:
Damn pleased we got to speak, Adams. Al chose well making you his fuckin’ ambassador. Far as him grabbin’ Hearst by the ear, how that affects yours and Mr. Swearengen’s arrangements with Hearst— Fuckin’ Bullock. Al’s got specific ideas on that. And as soon as he’s sure he wouldn’t be unintentionally misleadin’ you, he’ll want me to confide ‘em in detail. Why don’t you cap your visit with some complimentary higher-end pussy? Thanks anyway. You know Leon here. (They get up and walk across the room) Why don’t you teach him somethin’ about craps. Soon as I finish showin’ water how to run downhill. (they chuckle as Silas leaves.) He’d have me a cur to paw through the scraps his fuckin’ flunky tosses. That Swearengen. When here, Leon, telling me about the hobby you and Miz Ellsworth share, you walk me in Mr. Hearst’s front door and sit me the fuck down across from him at his fuckin’ table. (slaps him on the shoulder) God bless you, boy. Thanks,. Mr. Tolliver.
(Charlie and Seth walk down the thoroughfare briskly.) Seth: I’m going to the hardware store, Charlie. Utter: I hope so. A little early to start drinkin’. Thought I’d stick around with you. (They enter the store) Sol: Morning, Charlie. Utter: Morn’. Sol: Busy night last night, I hear. (Seth glares at Sol, Charlie doesn’t look at anyone, just shuffles around. Sol looks confused. Inside Heart’s room at the Grand Central, Cy is meeting with him.) Hearst: I recall my instructions to you as bein’ that anytime you and I meet, Swearengen’s to be represented. Cy: Heard and understood, Mr. Hearst. And I hope correctly honored in the breach in this one single instance. Hearst: Make your case.
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Cy:
Not to read your mind, but it seemed your idea for Swearengen and me had to do with this newer phase we’re movin’ into—camp’s official business and the like, Swearengen and me unofficially seein’ to your interests. Hearst: Because the small-mindedness and self-interested behavior that’s so pervasive in this shithole makes impossible my efficient attention to the requirements of my operation. Cy: Well, I can only imagine what that’s like, Sir. Man who’s accomplished what you have, havin’ to move among the low-rent cocksuckers and short-haulers— Hearst: Make your fuckin’ case why you’ve gone against my instructions. Cy: I come into a certain piece of knowledge, Sir, that could make this more a less a fuckin’ company town. And my thinking was if communicatin’ this privately to Mr. Hearst risks putting me and Al Swearengen the fuck out of action as middlemen, so the fuck be it. Suppose I could put the Ellsworth claim into play for you, Mr. Hearst? Hearst: How? Cy: The lady’s reinvolved herself with a habit that turns a person’s life upside down. One of my own fuckin’ employees supplies her, God help me, and that’s a habit, Sir. Makes a person subject to accident and mischance of every fuckin’ sort, having to do especially with the ups and downs of the fucking quality of the fucking shit she’s being given. Hearst: (Shaking his finger at Cy.) I wish I’d heard this yesterday. Cy: I’ll confide that wantin’ to honor your instructions to the letter cost me 24 hours before approaching you. Hearst: If I had, my instructions would have had to do with bringing the inevitable about. In the interval, I have suffered certain losses. Cy: Oh, rest fuckin’ Captain Turner’s soul. Hearst: I’d be quiet now, Mr. Tolliver, if I were you. Losses and indignities which, despite the strong impulse of my nature towards simplicity, prompt me to a different approach. (He grabs Cy by the ear) Do you enjoy that, Sir? Cy: No, I don’t. Hearst: You don’t enjoy that? Cy: I don’t, no. And I wish you’d cut it the fuck out. Hearst: I not only spent last night incarcerated, I was taken to jail by the ear. Cy: That fuckin’ maniac Sheriff. Hearst: By our maniac Sheriff, that’s correct. And had as a cellmate—or to be fair in describing my situation, cohabitated with in the adjacent cell a rotting corpse, whom it was the Deputy’s pleasure this morning to accuse me of having murdered. I’m therefore distressed and angry and I seem, for the moment, to be taking this out on your ear! But in the longer term my intentions are other, (Grabs Cy’s neck) and more complicated. Cy: Can we pretend the longer term’s arrived, Sir? (chuckles) I’d have you release me, for a fucking fact. (Hearst chuckles and releases Cy’s ear, slapping Cy’s cheek and walking away) Hearst: Sorry. Temper got the best of me. Cy: Don’t give it another thought, Sir. Hearst: Don’t kill her yet.
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Cy:
I took that as your meaning. (Outside in the thoroughfare, Leon’s gone nuts. He’s talking to his reflection in a puddle in the middle of the muck.)
Leon: Oh, you think you can shine on me like the sun? “Oh, Leon, you’re good guy. You put me next to the bank lady. You got a great fucking future at my side.” Oh, fuck you. Fuck you! (He looks up quickly to see if Cy heard him) Don’t you think I know the outcome of that? Once the bank lady dies from the overdose, you’ve had a good fucking day, I get a quick one in the ear. And of course if the day went bad, first you’re calm on me for a fucking while. (A hooplehead rides his horse through the puddle.) Oh! Fuck you, rube! You clean up? Your 83 cents? Or whatever you froze your balls for all day in the fucking stream! Yeah, I’ll get off right here if I want to! Don’t confuse me, Mr. T, with having no cards up my sleeve. This scholar didn’t raise no stupid sons. Or that don’t know…how to…navigate a tight…(He steps around the puddle, then enters the bank.) Morning, Mrs. Ellsworth (We see Trixie look up, Alma’s eyes light up) Morning. Trixie:Out for a smoke. Alma: Fine, Trixie.(She writes on paper, waiting for Trixie to leave, then looks at Leon) Leon: My Celestial ain’t in position. I ain’t sure when he will be. Maybe you need to make a different arrangement. Alma: I wonder, Leon, if we don’t know approach a turn in our conversation…having to do with increasing your fee. Leon: If I was you, Lady, instead of cracking fucking wise I might be thinking of different ways of spending my idle time. Alma: I can’t help but noticing, your Celestial’s not being in a position isn’t reflected in your condition. Leon: Yeah? I’m high and planning to stay that way—not to fucking mention alive. (She looks confused) That’s the last you see of me. (He gets up and leaves an even more confused Alma behind. He walks outside and Trixie cocks her purse gun at his ear and drags him over to the wall where she holds him up by the neck, pistol cocked in his ear. She yells at a drunk hoople.) Trixie:Get the fuck out of here! (The hoople leaves) Leave her the fuck alone! Leon: If you would take that out of my ear, I would be happy to know what you mean. Trixie:I mean, if you keep selling her dope, I will fucking kill you. Leon: Fine, I agree. You have shown me the light. Trixie:I don’t want to see her high again. Leon: Only promise me this, you meddling cunt, if you do, before you head out to kill me, you’ll ask her where she got her stuff. I am no longer the lady’s supplier. (She takes the pistol away) May I go? (Trixie walks away, putting the pistol back in her garter belt, entering the bank and locking the door behind her. She leans over the desk looking at Alma. Alma looks up at her.) Trixie:I know.
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Alma: Do you? Trixie:Yes, your ladyship, I do. And just heard from that shitbad Leon, you’ve got a new supplier. Alma: You are quite mistaken, Trixie, and however well intended, beyond your proper province. Trixie:Fuck you, Mrs. Ellsworth. Alma: I am in the process of making adjustments to the—complications of my situation. Trixie:Bullshit. Alma: Do not…take over-many liberties. Trixie:You’ve fallen back with a fucking child in your home. Alma: I will no longer be requiring your services. Trixie:Alack for me. (sarcastically) How I hoped I could work here forever. (Trixie grabs her things and leaves. Alma closes her eyes and looks away. At the Grand Central, Cy comes downstairs, leaving..) Cy: EB: Cy:
EB: Cy: EB: Cy:
I give up music with my fucking. I don’t need any more friends than what I got. (chuckles) And I give up clocking that cocksucker upstairs. An inscrutable figure—Mr. Hearst. (lays $200 on the desk) Now what I want you to know: His first activities impinging on me I don’t hear about beforehand from you, I’m gonna cut your fucking throat. Goodness. You see that 200 I’ve given ya? I do, yes, at the margin of vision. That argues there’s a better way. (He clears his throat loudly, Richardson steps out, E.B. pockets the money on his way out..) Take the desk.
(In the back of the Grand Central, Aunt Lou is joyous over the arrival of her son.) Lou: Odell: Lou: Odell: Lou:
Liberia. He mind me here ‘fore his say-so? How is he gonna mind you come see your mother? Here in your room. he give me this room. “You stay here, Aunt Lou. Who says what, no Goddamn never mind to me.” (They laugh) Odell: That’s good then. Hearst: (entering) Well, well, well. (They stand) You’ve company in your room, Aunt Lou. Lou: My boy, Mr. Hearst. My boy Odell. Hearst: Your boy? How do you do, Odell? Odell: How do you do, Sir? Lou: Where have you been, Mr. Hearst? Let me fix you up some breakfast. Hearst: You made yourself at home, Odell, here in the room I set aside for your mother. Lou: I asked him in, yes, Sir. Yes, Sir, that was me asked him in.
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Hearst: Well, now that your mama has invited you in, I suppose we might say on the spur of the moment, I hope that you’ll accept my invitation as well as the hotel’s owner and your mother’s employer. Please, Odell, won’t you stay? Odell: I will, Sir. Thank you. Thank you for your kindness. Hearst: Not hungry just now, Aunt Lou. (Hearst leaves them. E.B. enters Al’s office, holding up the $200.) EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
Al: EB:
Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
Here, Al, is your answer. Nor would 10 times the sum have tempted me. Should have known. You confirm my judgment then—you were the money’s source. As it happens, E.B., I was not. I see. In that case you may view my behavior as a random display of loyalty. (He reaches for the money) Explaining yourself offers a better chance of getting it back. That money, Al, came from Tolliver. Seeking knowledge, as he claimed, of such Hearst’s activities as I, operating the man’s hotel, might come into. How could I not believe it was you orchestrating the approach as some form of test? The alternative would have Tolliver, knowing my history with you, believing nonetheless that he could approach me, swaying my loyalty as if I had no morals more than a street whore. (Taking the money) Ain’t to Tolliver’s standard, the baldness of it. My thinking exactly. The lack of prelude or prologue. It’s Hearst—Hearst, is he Caesar, to have fights to the death for diversion? Murder his workers at whim? Smash passages in the fucking wall? A man of less wealth would be in fucking restraints. We’re in the presence of the new. Fuck the fucking new! Jesus Christ, Al. Is it over for us here? Go back to the hotel, E.B. Save us. Think of something. Have I ever not? We’ll discuss that money another time.
(E.B. leaves Al’s office. At the hardware store, Charlie is nervously waiting around.) Sol: Seth: Sol: Utter: Sol: Utter: Sol: Utter:
There’s leaving the camp. No. No, I—no. One thing—if he knew it was coming, Bill was not shy of drawing first. Seth locked up Hearst instead of that. Oh, I get it. Wh-what does that mean? It means, Mr. Star, after leading him by the ear through camp for all to fucking see, Seth installs Hearst in a cell adjoining a man he’s had killed, that the knife still protrudes out of his chest. And as much as me and Hearst conversed, I made him address my ass. So do let’s don’t pretend Hearst will feel he was treated
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legal or-or-or civilized, or that his bidness with us is finished. Hearst is fucking coming. Bringing us back to Bill and doing unto others first. Which ought maybe include a-a-a visit to Hearst’s fucking diggings. And his muscle you fail to murder before they arouse? You bring to chase you to camp—Judas goat the cocksuckers—for Swearengen’s men and Tolliver’s to mow down from fucking ambush while we’re up seeing to Hearst. Sol: There’ll be nothing left of the camp. Utter: Uh. How much you figure will stand once Hearst had his fucking say? (At the bank, Alma blinks back tears, inhales sharply, opens her desk drawer, grabbing her keys and leaves the bank. She locks it behind her. Back at the Bella Union, Leon and Con are talking.) Leon: Truth is if I on Tolliver’s instructions provide an overdose Mrs. Ellsworth dies from, for being able to say he told me to, who does he fucking croak next? Con: You are lethally fuckin’ middled. (Leon signals to Con that Cy has entered the building) Leon: So she says, “No no, I want five oxen and one chicken.” (They laugh) Con: Rube fucking humor. (WTF? That’s the second use of the word rube this episode. I thought they cancelled Carnivale?) Leon: Mr. Tolliver. Cy: Come with me, Leon. Let Con calm down. (They enter the office) Hold off. Leon: Hold off? Cy: Hold the fuck off. Don’t fucking step up the purity. Just keep selling her what you’ve been fucking selling. It’s a wise man that knows his own limits. Now go ahead out there, son, and continue doing wrong. Leon: Yes, Sir, Mr. Tolliver. (He leaves, Cy leans against a chair, grabbing his side.) Cy: Cocksucker. Con: Everything all right? Leon: Leave me alone! (He walks over to a post and starts banging his head against it. Con walks away.) Con: Ooh. (Trixie is sitting with Al in his office.) Trixie:I wouldn’t mind turning a fucking trick. Al: Get the fuck out of here! (He takes a bottle out) We ain’t hiring. Trixie:Fuck you anways, Al, for not recognizing a figure of speech. Al: It ain’t one you ought to employ you stupid bitch. Trixie:I made a casual remark, and off-handed comment. I wouldn’t mind turning a fucking trick. Al: Operate out of the back of his store, then you’re so set on lifting your skirts. Let some fuck filthy from the mines, breath rotten from his broken teeth, piss-reeking, shit-stinking fuck every hole in your body. Trixie:What’s the matter with you? Al: I lose patience with cunts too ignorant to know when their lots improved. (drinks)
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Trixie:She’s using again. Al: Who do we speak of now? Trixie:The fucking Mrs. Ellsworth. And I told her I knew and that she’d ruin her child and that I quit her stupid job. Al: Oh, if that don’t straighten her out, I don’t know fucking what. Trixie:What was I supposed to do then? Al: Look after your fucking self, you loopy cunt. Now get the fuck outta here! (She gets up and leaves, glaring at him. Ellsworth steps out of his room at The House that the Bonanza Bought, catching Alma stepping out of her room. She panics momentarily then shuts her door and faces him.) Alma: Hello. Ellsworth: Hello. (she sniffs) I thought you’d be at the bank. Alma: I came away without something. You might hurry not to make Sofia tardy. (He readjusts his case) Where did you stay? Ellsworth: At the diggings. Was Sofia upset? Alma: As you may imagine. May I appeal to you to reconsider? Ellsworth: I needn’t be your husband to be what father to Sofia I can. Alma: I care for you a great deal. Ellsworth: An arrangement like ours wouldn’t get anymore tolerable to you. And I couldn’t bear it, seeing what you’d do to yourself. You’ll straighten around if I go. (Ellsworth leaves, Alma, crossing her arms, hugging herself, blinking back the tears. At the telegraph office, Blazanov is melancholy, holding his head and tapping on the table. Merrick walks over to his friend.) Merrick: I can’t help noticing you just now Mr. Blazanov, uh— Blazanov: I’m sad. Merrick: I see. Blazanov: I imagine my murdered parents. They were killed on their farm while I was a student in Petersburg. I imagine their bodies like the man we found on our walking. Merrick: We are swept up, are we not, by the large events and forces of our times? Blazanov: (sighs) How much they saved…to send me for study. (Merrick looks like he’s blinking back tears now. He steps away from his friend, leaving him alone. Outside the back of the Grand Central, Odell is sitting on the steps while Aunt Lou doing laundry.) Odell: Lou: Odell: Lou:
I’m gonna go ahead and try this cobbler. Don’t think I didn’t notice you hadn’t tried it yet. (taking a bite) Oh, that’s delicious! And praise God how fast the mails must be getting to be. (Odell looks up) ‘Cause it ain’t a month since I wrote. 27 days. I keep track when I send you my letters
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so I know when to hope for one back. And him sending for me to come here, it’s 27 days since I wrote to tell you that. And I just can’t feature Odell all that way in Liberia, you could have gotten my letter that took the time it took to get to you and then you take passage to come back here to America, and got from New York City to hell and gone out here all in 27 days. I can’t feature it’s possible. Whoo, Praise God, Praise God! Odell: Well, Mama, maybe I set out without having the letter. Lou: But then you couldn’t have known I was here. Odell: Couldn’t have knowed it proved, you mean. Would’ve had to took it on faith, reading in the newspaper that he was here in this place, you would be too. Decided it was time. (He holds his arms out to her for a hug. Hearst steps out.) Hearst: There you are. Lou: Here we are. Hearst: Odell. I had thought to find you inside. Odell: I hope you don’t take me for ungrateful. Hearst: I have an inkling you’re wise, Odell. Odell: I’ve gotten used to being outdoors. All that time at the site of the find. Hearst: What find do you refer to, Son? Odell: :Liberia, Sir. The gold. (Understanding crosses both Hearst’s and Aunt Lou’s faces. Though of different sorts. Later inside, Lou is brushing the dirt off something – Hearst’s jacket?.) Lou: Invite you now to sit down with him to eat—“Sit across from me and have dinner, Odell.” That before you said Gold, fire’s in his eyes you was anyplace indoors at all. Odell: Gold seemed to change his mind. Lou: Don’t you want to say “Yes, Ma’am” or “Yes, Mama,” before that or after, Odell, so my heart feels how sweet you are? Odell: No, ma’am. Lou: (throwing down her brush) Make me know you sweet, God-fearing and truthful like I wanted my boy to be. Odell: Back from where you send him, raising up to a man, safe amongst his own. Lou: Liberia…free. Odell: Free? Shit. Lou: Don’t you speak to me thatta way! Odell: What way mama? Lou: Use language like that to me! Odell: No kinda truth? Yes, Ma’am. Liberia--free. Praise Jesus. Here come the spirit over me. Lou: Don’t you take him in vain. Don’t you dare to do it! Odell: All right, Mama. All right. Lou: What was the truth of it then? Odell: Liberia? No field work—African niggers for that. Now they lazy and stupid, Mama. American niggers steal off the African, till the English cheat us out of it.
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Lou: Odell: Lou: Odell:
Hot till you can’t breathe. Nothing ever be dry. Hate the air. Hate the breathing in and out. Liberia. Is there gold, Odell? A rich find, Mama. Rich. Praise God. He give his son for our sins and Mr. Hearst to help us. (He puts his hat on and heads for the door) Where are you going, boy? Find a place where a nigger can have a drink, before he sits down with Mr. Hearst. (Aunt Lou lowers her head and the tears roll down as Odell leaves. At the Number 10, Tom is trying to write in his ledger as Steve continues his neve rending drunken rant)
Steve: Putting that dead one’s kidneys up his nose, however the fuck else they summon up their demons. (Tom looks up at Steve) Beat thigh bones on tin pans. (Tom stands up in frustration and moves to a table further away) shake and rattle and hop the fuck around. Harry:Another? (He refills Steve’s glass as Tom sits at a new table) Steve: Am I swine, Harry, that in an otherwise empty joint the owner must make a show of relocating further away from me? Tom: Maybe it’s you being present keeps away the broader clientele. Steve: And maybe, Tom, it’s the chill in here is what does it, when every edifice else in camp’s been swanked up and seen to. (Tom stands up, indignant) Look inward, why don’t you? Instead of always blaming the other. (Odell stands in the doorway and Steve looks like he’s seen a ghost.) Tom: Welcome to the Number 10. (Shaking Odell’s hand) My name is Tom. Harry’ll take your order. His name is Steve. (Tom leaves and Odell walks up to the bar. Steve is speechless) Odell: Whiskey. (Harry pours the drink, Odell picks it up and turns to Steve) Afternoon. (Steve, still speechless, nods his head and turns his back on Odell. Aunt Lou is back in her room, tying something up in a hanky. Hearst enters.) Hearst: Where is my dinner companion? Lou: I don’t know where that boy’s got to, Sir. Hearst: I guess we all have different ideas, Aunt Lou, of what constitutes punctuality. Lou: Guess everybody do about everything, Sir. Look like more and more that’s true. Why don’t I find him? Hearst: You don’t believe he’s forgotten? Lou: I don’t know no more, Sir. Let me just get past you. Hearst: What if he returns and you’re still gone? Who’ll serve dinner? Lou: I’m getting pst you Mr. Hearst, please do excuse. (She pushes by him and walks through the restaurant past Richardson and stops at the entrance.) Where’s the livery at? (E.B. points in it’s direction and she runs off.) EB: I’m not assuming you know left from right, or I’d have spoken.
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(Out in the thoroughfare, Jane and NG Fields return from burying Hostetler.) Jane: I’ve never done that sober in my life. Fields: Pissed yourself? Jane: And if account of the mishap circulates, I will know the fucking source. Fields: Who could I tell? I’dve never known it had happened if you hadn’t started screaming about it. Jane: Pissing yourself at the grave of your best friend and most admired person you’ve ever known, that ain’t cause for fucking dismay? Fields: Bible instructs us when two of different races return from a graveyard together, the even should be marked with liquor. Lou: Praise God! Thank you, Jesus. (Running up to them) I come looking for you, that cooked for you and your friend as was strangers to me. Fields: What’s your trouble? Lou: Save my boy, Sir. (She grabs Fields by his lapels, pleading.) That’s past his mother’s lap. (Upstairs at the Gem, there’s a knock at Al’s door.) Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
Dan: Al:
Yeah. (Dan enters – I think that’s a Buffalo skin he’s covered in) How are your spirits, Chief? All right. Do not bullshit me, Dan! The task I’d assign you is pivotal. I’m all right. And leave the matter at that? Well what the fuck else would you want me to say? Nothing. You gave me the basis to decide. I’m not fuckin’ sending you anywhere. Well, fuck where you were gonna send me! And fuck the task you were gonna assign me to do! And that confirms my opinion, that indifferent rejoinder. I’m on the verge of stiking you a fucking blow. Oh, which I would be inclined to absorb as proof you’d passed the killing of that giant. Which I have been waiting for you to volunteer. Then why didn’t you just ask me to volunteer it? Because opinion solicited does not equal one freely voiced. This is what I predicted to Johnny, virtually word for word. About what? How you’d react to that killing. “Dan, Johnny, does not like killing to end a fair fight.” “Oh, why, Al?” Asked Johnny. “Because—“ And I fucking have to explain to him, “—it’s more like a contest, Johnny, or the like, a bout.” Seeing a light go out of their eyes. In the one you had left in its socket. (Dan suppresses a smile) Better in his one than the both of yours, hmm? (Dan smiles a bit) I’d have you go to Cheyenne to see to the hiring of guns.
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Dan: Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
All right. (He throws off the animal skin) Wishing an alternative would come to me. Want me go to Bismarck? An alternative to the hiring of guns, Dan. Yeah, Hearst’s pockets are bigger than ours. Being neighbor to his prick, which Bullock may as well have belittled when grabbing him by his fucking ear.
(In the livery, Aunt Lou sits next to Jane as she drinks.) Lou: Do you feature the Nigger General getting my boy to take that money? Jane: No man better for the task. That Little Nigger General has a gift. Gets you to an attitude he’d have you and goes about his business. Leaves you to stand in wonderment. “What happened to change my mood?” Or change my opinion or decision, take money maybe I never featured I would, come fire or flood or the like. (drinks) That’s the Little Nigger General all over. Lou: I pray Jesus you’re right. Jane: Oh, having no pull in that quarter, I’m tolerable confident, I am. Lou: Could I have a swig? Jane: Now that is the first giant step towards long-term understanding and friendship. (She hands Lou the bottle, Lou reaches for a mug) Do not employ a mug lest next we’d be donning white gloves. Lou: All right then. (drinks – clears her throat) Yes yes yes. (Jane laughs) (At the Number 10, Steve’s found his voice again as Odell drinks his whiskey.) Steve: Yeah, there’s a new house policy now at the Number 10 Saloon: Anyone at all can drink or move in and take up residence, for all the fuck the policy cares. (NG Fields enters and Steve swings around quickly so his back is turned on them again.) Fields: Ain’t meaning to be here long. Ain’t looking to drink. All’s I’m here for, Steve, is to talk to this here Gentleman. Steve: Go ahead and do somersaults or peel bananas with each other for all I give a fuck. The whole place has gone to shit anyhow. Odell: What could we have to talk about? Fields: Your Mama did me a kindness and she asked me to talk to you. I guess I also got to tell you she give me $742 to give to you if you just get the hell out of camp. Odell: What’s your name? Fields: Nigger General Samuel Fields. (Steve looks wide eyed) Now my plan—I got 1200 left to me by a tall nigger who after he sold his fucking livery to Steve there blew his fucking head off—past that $742 in my pocket that I’m trying to give you, my plan is get to San Francisco, buy enough white pussy to stretch from the harbor to the closest rooming house that’ll have me and then fuck my way to the pacific ocean. (pause) She said that, uh, she sent you away. Odell: Mmm, not far. Fucking Africa. Fields: Damn. What’d you say made her mad?
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Odell: Called her Mama. Fields: So no you want to run a little something on her boss, which would be a waste of that high yellow skin, Odell. Odell: We done talking, Samuel. (He leaves and Steve turns back around.) Fields: All yours. (Hearst paces at the entrance of the restaurant, and checks his pocket watch. We see Richardson stirring a pot of food.) Hearst: The nigger I appointed to dine with does not appear. As well, since his mother’s not here to serve us. What do you know of last night? Richardson: My stomach hurt. Hearst: I was discomfited otherwise. (Richardson just continues stirring) Stupid, aren’t you? Richardson: Yes, Sir. Hearst: Better than what some of these others are. This place displeases me. I’m taking measures to bring it down. Richardson: All right. (Hearst turns and leaves. Richardson turns his head slightly and watches him go. E.B. has been spying from his room.) EB: Does he speak of the hotel? Or even more? (Hearst steps out onto the porch and leans against a post. Downstairs at the Gem, Al gives his instructions to Dan.) Al: Dan: Al: Dan: Al:
That they’re armed and awake don’t have to mean they’re fucking hired. Yeah, and when I feel a shit coming on I’ll remember to drop my pants. The obvious merits utterance. Character is fucking pertinent. If I’m to go, I’d as soon get started before the darkness. Going means the darkness is upon us. (Johnny sees Seth enter and clears his throat as signal) Bullock. (Seth pauses for a moment, then looks at Dan and Johnny) Seth: Could him and me talk? Johnny: Sure. Converse amongst yourselves. (The boys walk to the back.) Seth: Charlie Utter thinks it has to come to blood. Al: Charlie Utter’s likely right. Seth: And if it has to, that we should strike first. Al: Believe me, even now in the forest, the blade would be between my teeth, me and you making our way stealthily forward. (Seth looks impatiently to the door) And as to us and him, if blood’s what it finally comes to, 100 years from now the forest is what they’ll find here. Dewy morning’s lost its appeal for me. (drinks) I prefer to wake indoors. Dan! You don’t travel tonight! (A whore takes Dan’s pack off his shoulder.) Come. Need of canned peaches, Johnny. Let’s collect the camp elders. Be baffled among friends, huh? (In the livery, Aunt Lou looks up with hope in her eyes as NG Fields returns.)
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Fields: I tried, Miss Lady. Lou: No. No, no. (Aunt Lou takes off running. Al and Seth step out onto the thoroughfare, Hearst nods to them.) Hearst: Gentelemen. Al: Mr. Hearst. (Odell comes walking down the thoroughfare) Hearst: Odell! (Odell smiles) Odell! Odell: Hello, Mr. Hearst. Al: Who’s the new nigger? Hearst: Fucking late, son. Odell: Oh, sorry, Sir. Hearst: Your Mama’s tardy as well. Odell: Is that so? Hearst: That’s all right, we’ll await her speaking of gold. (He and Odell head inside) Odell: Oh, that’d be just wonderful, Sir. Hearst: (Pausing as he goes inside, putting up his middle finger to Al.) How’s the finger?! Al: All right, Mr. Hearst. (Hearst goes inside) Seth: How’s the fucking ear? Al: Good, Bullock, good. By dissembling our feelings we keep the strategic edge. (They see Aunt Lou running down the thoroughfare as fast as she can.) Lou: You don’t get him. You don’t take him from me. Oh no. You don’t get him. You don’t take him from me. Al: Not quick, but she does seem full of purpose. (Lou runs past them into the Grand Central. In an alleyway, Jane is sprawled out on a board of some sort.) Jane: People are fucking people, and that is fucked up! (Joanie comes down the alleyway and sees Jane.) You don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, ‘cause you don’t know people. I..I know people and I know the way they fucking operate. Joanie: Who are you talking to, Jane? Jane: What business or concern is that of yours? Joanie: I wondered where you were. I’d hoped you come stay with me instead of going back to all this. Jane: Whatever you mean by this, I have been recently engaged in complicated negotiations with niggers…who equal any other creature walking upright being able to fuck themselves up. Joanie: I got myself a room at Shaunessey’s. The offer still stands, Jane. I’d really like it if you’d come stay with me.
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Jane: I am a creature of habit and routine. And I am a creature of difficulty falling asleep. If I don’t mind pissing myself to stay asleep, I’m not likely to destroy a habit routinely sleeping someplace completely elsewhere. Joanie: Come on, Jane. We’re going. (She pulls Jane to her feet) Jane: You ain’t got the fucking manpower to pull my ass up. Joanie: Come on. Jane: You’re putting yourself very much in danger, my friend. (sniffles) Very very very ver very very much in danger. (Jane leans over and pukes as Joanie helps her walk.) Joanie: That’s all right, Jane. Come on. Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff Omar Gooding
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov Odell
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Episode 31: Unauthorized Cinnamon Directed by: Mark Tinker Written by: Regina Corrado
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(Aunt Lou runs into the lobby of the Grand Central and looks around frantically. E.B. looks up from the desk.) EB:
He’s gone up with your son. Wants notice when you’re ready to serve.
(Aunt Lou pants anxiously and heads into the kitchen. Upstairs, Hearst is meeting with her son, Odell.) Hearst: I knocked holes in these walls. Confinement gives me the fidgets. Odell: (chuckles) Set yourself up comfortable. Hearst: Let me confide as well, Odell, that when people only say to me with other words what I have just said to them, I quickly grow impatient. Odell: All right, Sir. Hearst: Tell me about the gold. Odell: I will, Sir…what little I know to say, hoping you will learn me the rest. This is what they call an assay and metallurgist report. (He hands Hearst the papers) Hearst: Yes, I’ve heard of those. Sit down, boy. Sit down. (reading) “Third Baptist Congregation, Monrovia Settlement.” Odell: The congregation has title to the find. Hearst: And how are you connected to the congregation? Odell: I’m First Deacon, Sir. Hearst: I see. Congratulations. Odell: Being you were known to me through my mama’s letters, when the proposals started to come to us— Hearst: Proposals? Odell: The different English proposals. Hearst: From Great Britain, you mean? Odell: To develop the find, yes, Sir. I was sent to ask if you’d guide us. Hearst: Does your congregation conceive some sort of a partnership, Odell? Odell: However you thought we should do. Hearst: I do take in partners with the understanding that in dealing with the color, mine is the deciding voice. Odell: Dealing with the color, Sir? Hearst: The gold—securing and exploiting the gold. Odell: Do you want to see the gold now, Sir? Hearst: Do you want to show it to me? Odell: The give it to me to show you, Sir. Hearst: Suppose we oughtn’t—let the congregation down. (He studies the chunk of gold Odell hands him.) I can’t imagine your mother’s not nearly prepared our supper. Odell: What do you think of the gold? Hearst: It makes me hungry, Odell. (Tom Nuttall is talking to Johnny at the Number 10, Harry Manning looking on.) Tom: Harry should be at the meeting. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Johnny: I ain’t saying he shouldn’t. I wasn’t told to invite him. Rutherford: Candidate for public office. Tom: Please convey to Al that short of being forbidden, I intend to bring Harry with me. Johnny: I’ll convey that word for word. Steve: And what would be my position? Oughtn’t I attend as the livery’s new owner? Tom: Hostetler never attended. Steve: Prior to blowing off his fucking head, Hostetler was a nigger. Last I looked I’m white! Rutherford: True, as, uh, far as it goes. Harry:I can abstain from attending if that closes the can of peas. Tom: Oh, uh uh, you are a candidate for public office with a chance to put the fire wagon on the table. Steve: If it’s a question of room, shove two fucking tables together! Tom: Room is not the issue, Steve., if you have to see my down card. (Johnny starts making his way to the back of the bar) I do not vouch for you, nor presume to bring you uninvited, as I do Harry, because you are not the same quality person. Steve: Meaning I’m not fanatic for fucking fire wagons like Harry and all the other fiveyear-olds. Johnny: Anyways I’ve still got the doc to invite. Is this the quickest way to the cabin here—(thumbs toward the back exit) Tom: Tell Al add and extra peach dish. Rutherford: Can you certify the purity of your blood, Steve? I only ask because your nose is…broad. (Steve looks taken aback.) Tom: Take your apron off, and consider changing your shirt, which I fucking suggested yesterday. (Steve contemplates the broadness of his nose as Bullock arrives back at The House That Bullock Built. Martha puts down her needlepoint and meets Seth at the door as he hangs up his coat.) Seth: Will you mind very much if we have our dinner quickly? (She sighs as she walks to the oven and removes a roast, setting it on the table.) Martha: Camp business, Dear? (Seth smiles at the tasty meal she has set on the table. At the Gem, Dan is opening canned peaches with his knife. Heh, that’s the knife he killed Hearst’s man with. Those peaches are parped. Parped peaches. Hee hee.) Dan: Come to cases. I will get sent to hire guns—quick time, bouncing in the fucking saddle and howling at every Goddamn hoof-fall, aches in every bone. Jewel: I put out cinnamon. Dan: Where? Jewel: The meeting table. Dan: On whose instruction? Jewel: Cinnamon’s good with peaches.
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Dan: Do not put unauthorized cinnamon on the Goddamn meetin’ table. That’s all the fuck we need. Jewel: It’s available as a choice. Dan: Which is not your province to offer, Jewel. Jewel: Well, if food’s not my province, then you can make your own fucking breakfast. Dan: I had best not come out of this Goddamn kitchen and find Goddamn cinnamon on the fucking meeting table! (Jewel looks at Dan with a stubborn chin and leaves) Leg up to Cheyenne by now, I’d be heading there in a civilized fucking gait. (Johnny pounds on the door of Doc’s cabin. Inside, Doc is laying in bed, sick. He makes motions for Johnny to go away.) Johnny: Doc! Johnny Burns, Doc! You remember you—you come to that—that meeting before to set the pest tent up and the like? (Doc gets up) And E.B. was made Mayor? (Doc opens the door) Hey, Doc. (Doc points to his mouth) You can’t talk? (Doc shakes his head) Anyway, Al’s got another one of them meetings. (Doc shakes his head and starts to cough.) You can’t come? (Doc is doubled over coughing) Jesus, Doc. All right, all right I’ll tell him—you can’t come. Anyway, look, I hope—I hope you feel better. (Doc slams the door) (Doc reclines on the floor next to the door. Breathing a little steadier. Back at the Grand Central, Odell and Hearst are seated in the restaurant, waiting for dinner. Aunt Lou brings out their plates.) Hearst: My best efforts, Odell, do not yet persuade your mother to be indifferent to the opinions of others. Lou: If it’s all right with you, Mr. Hearst, it’s all all right with me. Odell: This looks wonderful, Mama. Lou: Thank you. (Odell takes a moment for grace and Hearst waits impatiently.) Hearst: I suppose you’ve told your mama about being First Deacon of your congregation in Liberia. Odell: I haven’t yet had the chance to give her the news. Hearst: Does your congregation have no strictures, Odell, against its Deacon drinking? Odell: It does, yes, Sir. Hearst: Yet the smell of liquor’s on your breath. (Odell pauses) Do I mistake? Odell: No, Sir, Mr. Hearst, you don’t. Hearst: Did you have one drink of liquor, Odell, from nervousness about our talk? Odell: I admit I did, Sir, yes. (E.B. holds an ear horn up to his ear to try and overhear) Hearst: Did you drink on the ship from Liberia? Odell: No, Sir. Hearst: Or coming overland from New York? Odell: No, Sir, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Would the liquor I smell then be the first you’ve ever consumed? Odell: I’ve had some before, Sir. Hearst: Prior to becoming Deacon of the Third Baptist of Monrovia or after? Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Odell: I guess a little of both. Hearst: Showing gold thousands of miles from its purported source to authenticate a find, I would associate less with our savior’s qualities of character, than Adam’s, or someone pretending to his innocence. Odell: Before he me the serpent. Hearst: (laughs) Hmm. The combative note in that pleases me, Odell, as against what till now has seemed haphazard and sloven and slipshod in your approach to fleecing me. Odell: My mistake was thinking that you’d want your niggers praising Jesus. What the hell are we talking about this for? Did the assay make sense or not? Hearst: Ten dollars’ll buy a report that proves a find of pure ore in your ass, Odell. Odell: I guess that’s why I didn’t figure till you’d had someone over there, we’d be drawing up any papers. Figured this’d be a getting-to-know-each-other conversation, seeing if we’d want to go any further. Far as I’m concerned, we don’t. (He stands – Hearst puts up a hand) Hearst: Calm down. Now just calm down, son. (E.B. lurks closer, pistol in hand) If I have mistook you in some regard, you’ll find I’m man enough to apologize. Now, just sit down, we’ll finish our meal, and then maybe afterwards we’ll take in the camp and, if you have any vices beyond your drinking, I might even offer you a cigar. (Odell sits, E.B. breaths a sigh of relief and puts away his pistol, Richardson walks back to Aunt Lou.) Lou: How’s he doing? Richardson: Holding his fucking own. (Aunt Lou breaths nervously, anxious. In Sol’s house, Trixie is pacing, smoking a cigarette, as Sol talks.) Sol:
…Then I asked, “What good am I to myself or the camp standing sentinel over a coffee pot?” Was why I cam home. I wish you wouldn’t smoke in here. Trixie:I wish, when asleep, you wouldn’t snore and fucking fart. Sol: I have no choice about either of those. Trixie:If I extinguish this fucking cigarette, it’ll be in the middle of your fucking forehead. Sol: Ah. Trixie:I’m glad she fucking fired me. I hate that fucking bank. Sol: It’s the context, I think, that disturbs you, that she’s back to using dope. Trixie:Yes yes! That she’s back on the dope disturbs me. And why, even as we speak, your own life hangs by a fucking thread. (She calms down a bit and sits on the bed next to Sol.) What’s to become of that child? (Johnny knocks on the door, Trixie jumps up.) Johnny: Johnny Burns, Mr. Star! Sol: What is it? Johnny: Well, Al’s called a meeting like the ones you’ve come to before. Sol: Does Sheriff Bullock know? Johnny: Well, seemed to me they halfway called it together. Sol: All right, I’m coming. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Johnny: Uh, if you ain’t et dessert yet, don’t. Sol: All right. Johnny: Al’s broke out the canned peaches. Sol: All right. (Trixie sighs as she sits back down) The Bullock’s could take her. Or we could. (Trixie smiles) Trixie:You’d have us care for a child? (He looks at her and takes her hand. Inside The House The Bonanza Bought, Alma is preparing Sofia for bed.) Alma: Now more than previously, Sofia, Mr. Ellsworth will—spend time at the diggings. Sofia: Did he not come home last night? Alma: I’m not sure, Darling. Possibly he did not. And maybe that’s why you didn’t waken. Sofia: I didn’t feel his beard. Alma: Possibly that’s why. But he will be seeing you. (She turns Sofia around to brush her hair) And everything will be all right. (Finally, we see Al. Scratching his stump, lost in thought as Cy sits with him, talking.) Cy:
I gave him a foolproof fucking approach to wind up with that woman’s claim, and I could have been shit drawing flies. Hearst is that fucking focused on Bullock pulling his ear. (There’s a knock at the door) Al: Yeah? (Johnny opens the door) Johnny: All collected but Doc. Al: Where the fuck is he? Johnny: He ain’t up to it, he says. (Al sighs) Uh, cinnamon’s out for the peaches. Al: Huh? Johnny: That wasn’t my fucking doing. Cy: Giving Hearst Bullock is the only move that don’t end with the camp in flames. And that one only gets us up to 50-50. (Cy motions for Al to go ahead, Al motions the same in turn and they step out of Al’s office.) It sounds as if Cochran’s turned face to the wall. Al: His fucking lungs. Cy: There’s quite a falling off among the other sawbones in camp. We might put notice in the eastern papers. Al: Once we’ve ceased our weeping. Johnny: Got a meeting. Al: Had he known our might and guile, Hearst would have never left the Comstock. Dan: Earnie, you got credit for a free tug tomorrow. Let’s go. Ernie: I’ll spank it myself. Just watch me. Dan: You’ll spank it in front of a Goddamn mule team. (He escorts Ernie out – an eccentric fellow bustles in) Gustave: Sirs, if I might explain. In my vision, I leapt from the coach and straight come to see him. Johnny: Al’s got a meeting tonight, Gustave. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Adams: You can tell him your vision tomorrow (Al and Cy come downstairs) Gustave: Mr. Swearengen! It’s just as I imagined! I have something so important to give to you. Al: What? Gustave: You mustn’t ask me what. And you mustn’t ask me why. Dan: You must go fuck yourself. Gustave: And don’t speak disgusting to me or answer for Mr. Swearengen what is a very important answer. Al: Let me know when Bullock arrives.(He motions for Gustave to come upstairs) Gustave: Ah. Johnny: Oh, Tom Nuttall’s coming and he’s bringing Harry Manning. Al: Bullock! (Gustave sticks his tongue out at Dan as he follows Al up to his office. And I’ll take this opportunity to remind you that these transcripts are available for free. Just google Deadwood transcripts of you don’t believe me. Then you can kick yourself in the ass for giving your money to some fucktard that’s selling them on e-bay. In the whores room, they’re lazing about, enjoying the remnants of the canned peaches.) Jen:
Guess if you’ve got a pussy, even owning a bank don’t get you to that table. (As they contemplate what pussy can and can’t get you, we shift to Jane and Joanie. Joanie is giving Jane a sponge bath, cleaning her up.)
Jane: Jesus Christ, easy easy easy easy. There’ll be conversations left and right. Don’t get too far up there on the fucking wrist. Joanie: Do you want to use the sponge? Jane: That’s not the fucking point. You just not be starting length and breadth conversations throughout the fucking camp or territory or so on. Or do I suppose now I take off my fucking undershirt or the like and show my tits and so forth!? Joanie: I’ll leave you to wash that part. Jane: Who the fuck am I fucking kidding or putting on airs in front of? (She starts to disrobe) I been disrobed in front of every…barnyard creature that hunts or pecks or rolls in the fucking mud. Who the fuck should I have shyness before or pride or the like, for Christ’s sake? What difference does it make? What the fuck do I have to be ashamed of at this late fucking date? (She takes off her undershirt) Who cares anyway?! (Joanie sponges off Jane’s arms) Now go ahead and sponge my fucking tits and get it over with if that’s what you fucking do. Joanie: It’s nothing like that, Jane. Jane: Well, what’s it like then. I never had a sister. Joanie: I had two. And I slept with both of ‘em. I don’t know why God let me or…if he forgives me when I pray, but—but I’d never hurt you, Jane, or touch you if you didn’t want. Jane: I believe that. But I don’t want to open my eyes. But you can go ahead and kiss me if that’s what you fucking do. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
(Joanie pauses and considers, then she gently touches Jane’s face and kisses her. Jane kisses back, and when Joanie when the kiss is done, she shudders. Eyes still closed. Upstairs in Al’s office, Gustave is showing Al an array of fabric swatches.) Gustave: What possesses me to buy all of these swatches? Even though I have no reason why I should! Because who back at that camp would wear suits of such colors? But I have learned sometimes if you have a thing, the reason for the thing is that you have it! And when I am in New York City, I have a letter from a friend. In the news from the camp, he says, “And Mr. Swearengen has lost the top part of his middle finger to an accident some kind.” And I say, “I will take these swatches to Mr. Swearengen,” And, “I like the look of his vest when he is out in the morning, out on the balcony, drinking his coffee, and he is very much a handsome man at those times, and maybe he would like one for his stump. Or maybe more—a different swatch for every day, why not?” Give me your stump. Don’t think about it. Just give it to me. (Al puts his hand up Gustave puts one end of a swatch in it.) Now this corner of the swatch we pretend is the lost child. (He starts wrapping the swatch around Al’s hand) The little boy goes up the mountain, around the bend, always looking for mama. And where does he finally find her? Al: Where? Gustave: Here she is! Here’s mama! Wrapping herself around you tight tight tight. Mama’s got you little Al Everything’s all right! (He steps back and Al stares at the lumpy monstrosity on his hand) I like that color very very much. Do you? (knock on door) Al: Please God, come in. (Johnny opens the door) Johnny: Bullock. Al: Thank you, Gustave. Please leave. (Gustave leaves and Johnny looks at the swatch on Al’s hand. Al unties the thing, staring at Johnny. Outside, Hearst and Odell step into the thoroughfare.) Hearst: Before the color, no white man—no man of any hue moved to civilize or improve a place like this had reason to make the effort. The color brought commerce here, and such order as has been attained. Odell: Yes, Sir. Hearst: Do you want to help Liberia, Odell? Odell: I want to help myself. (Hearst laughs) If Liberia is where my chance is, it’s all right with me. (Hearst pulls out a cigar and offers it to Odell) Hearst: Gold is your chance. Odell: Thank you, Sir. Hearst: Gold is every man’s opportunity. Why do I make that argument? Because every defect in a man and in others’ way of taking him, our agreement that gold has value gives us power to rise above.
Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Odell: Fond as you are of my mother, without that gold I showed you, I don’t expect we’d be out here talking. Hearst: That is correct. And, for your effrontery at our meal a moment ago…I’d have seen you shot or hanged without second thought. The value I gave the gold restrained me, you see…your utility in connection to it. And because of my gold, those at the other tables deferred to my restraint. Gold confers power. Power comes to any man who has the color. Odell: Even if he’s black? (Hearst turns around) Hearst: That is our species’ hope: That uniformly agreeing on its value, we organize to seek the color. (exhales) Just before you and I met, Odell, the camp’s Sheriff released me from a jail cell. Odell: That’s hard for me to feature. Hearst: I hate these places, Odell, because the truth that I know, the promise that I bring, the necessities I’m prepared to accept make me outcast. (Hearst exhales, his eyes moist.) Isn’t that foolish? Isn’t that foolishness? And old man disabused long ago of certain yearnings and hopes as to how he would be held by his fellows, and yet I weep. Odell: Anyway, Sir, you want to send someone back with me? Hearst: Yes, I do. Yes, I do, Son. I want to send you to help your people…and take this place down like Gomorrah. (He looks around at the buildings, eyes still wet. At the meeting of the camp’s elders, Al is at the head of the table, the others all seated along the sides.) Al: Seth: Cy: Seth:
All being affected, we might consider some facts as a group. I arrested Hearst, acting in the name of the camp. Without the camp’s previous fucking say-so. Do you propose that? Getting a say-so before I do my duty? (Harry wolfs down some peaches as Seth slams his tin down on the table. Cy takes it.) Cy: Might be a good open—showing Hearst it’s off of him. Al: Bullock’s tin won’t placate Hearst. Give it the fuck back to him. (Cy drops the tin on the table.) Add to your statement or shut the fuck up. Seth: I’m done. EB: Shall I, as Mayor (standing), initiate proceedings by giving my own opinions, however titular and insubstantial and merely honorific the position? Which argues against my doing so. (He sits back down) Al: How is Hearst likely to answer? Ought steps to be taken in preemption? My instinct’s to act alone, chart the course for fucking carnage. That this would be general among ‘em whose parents were so dim as to bring them—the fucking innocents is what give me fucking pause. I invite the suggestions of others against my instinct to send for the guns. Charlie: (Standing) As I’ve expressed to the Sheriff and Mr. Star, and siding with your instincts, to protect the innocents, I’d send them from the camp. Then fall on Hearst and his in their lair before they fall on us in ours. (He pauses, then sits) As Wild Bill would have done. (They all pause and consider what was said. Seth
Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
pulls out a letter and slowly hands it to Merrick. Jewel peeks out from the stairs and sees Harry Manning eating the peaches.) Merrick: This is a letter. (Seth gives him a “No Shit, Sherlock” look.) Cy: Who’s the fucking letter to? What the fuck is going on? Seth: Last of those Cornishmen murdered. Charlie: Pasco. Seth: His family. Al: Read the letter. (Dan gives Jewel a look, she frowns and goes back in the kitchen.) Merrick: “It becomes my painful duty to inform you that Pasco Carwen was killed earlier this week. His body was found in the road….” Dan: Stop poking your head out. Jewel: I’m seeing who’s using the cinnamon, and Harry Manning is using it plenty. Merrick: It was not mutilated in any way. His death seems to have been instantaneous as he was stabbed through the heart. Pasco’s funeral occurred today and was attended by coworkers and friends who all shared the same high opinion of him. Everything was done by kind hands that was possible under the circumstances, and a Christian burial was given him. I was not personally acquainted with Mr. Carwen, save for one encounter where he demonstrated grief and deep compassion at the passing of a friend. I knew him by reputation as an earnest worker and a diligent believer in right and wrong. His memory I am sure will always be with those who knew and loved him, among whose number I imagine you as first. A letter from you which I found in his tent causes me to convey this sad intelligence to you. Sincerely yours, Seth Bullock.” (Al looks at Seth. Seth looks sheepish) What shall I do with this, Mr. Bullock? Al: What’s your fucking paper for? You fucking publish as witness, for Hearst and others to read. (Looks at Seth) That’s a very nice fucking letter. (As Merrick re-enters the newspaper/telegraph office, Blazanov gathers his papers and stands up.) Merrick: Mr. Blazanov, had you much traffic tonight on your apparatus? Blazanov: Some traffic, yes. I hope your important meeting had a good result. Merrick: As free men facing important challenges, we choose to be optimistic. Blazanov: Sir, I ask you to take me to Mr. Swearengen’s place. Merrick: Well, I—I will, of course, Mr. Blazanov, though no activity you may contemplate, for example, the making of friends with is female employees, requires Mr. Swearengen’s personal approval. Blazanov: I wish to see him for another purpose. Merrick: All right. Blazanov: Shall we go now? Merrick: Certainly. (He hangs the apron he was just donning, back up on it’s peg and heads upstairs. Blazanov grabs his hand.) Come on. (Tom and Harry head back to the Number 10. Harry is breathing labouredly.) Tom: Lovely letter, wasn’t it? Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Harry:Didn’t you…come back sick from one of them meetings? Tom: Last year, from the peaches. Which is why I refrained this time around. Far as the fire wagon, I hater you felt as I did, the moment was wrong to broach it. Harry:My—my throat is all fucking tight. (He collapses to the ground – wheezing) Tom: Where did you lay your hands on liquor, Harry? (Harry gasps) Harry? Help! Harry? Harry! Help! (Upstairs in the Grand Central, Jack Langrishe visits the ailing Chesterton.) Chesterton: Oh.Look, Jack. White lumps on my tongue. Jack: Reel it in, for God’s sake. Chesterton: I’m so sorry. It’s close, Jack. It’s very close. I feel it’s—it’s icy breath. I hear it whispering in my ear. “Forget your name. We go to black.” Jack: The downstairs buffet is quite passable. (Chesterton continues to look at his tongue in the mirror as Jack leaves. Downstairs, Aunt Lou is talking to Odell.) Lou: As like to kill you as take passage with you to Liberia, his man you meeting in New York. Odell: If Mr. Hearst wanted me killed, Mama, he could see it done here. Lou: Don’t you ever believe you know what’d please that man, or salt him to come after you. And you look a fool holding that cigar! Odell: I’ve played on for smaller stakes. And the gold ain’t playing. I ain’t trying to steal nothing. I’ll work my way up the hog. And ain’t you sent me out there so I can turn out a man? Lou: I sent you so the hell that was coming here for niggers wouldn’t burn you up. Odell: There’s plenty of fire in Liberia. Lou: I can’t undo what I done, Odell, any more than you can, searching out hurt. Odell: I ain’t searching no hurt out. Lou: We all get our portion. We don’t need to draw it to us. Odell: You hear me, Mama? I ain’t searching no Goddamn hurt out. Lou: I don’t told you to mind who you talking to. Odell: All right, Mama. No bad language. If you’d kept me to raise me, maybe I’d know. (Aunt Lou sobs) Lou: He got $742 for you, the little nigger at the livery. And this brooch here too, you can take. I can’t find it. I can’t find it. Lord Jesus, forgive me! Odell: When I read you had stayed in the Comstock, I tried to come here quick, be gone before he sent for you to come. I ain’t come here to hurt you. Lou: I never said you come to do me hurt. Odell: So’s you wouldn’t have to see me. Lou: I prayed to see you every day you was gone. My God, Odell, what’s wrong with you? No joy to seeing my boy! I’m sorry, son. Odell: Hush, Mama. Hush. Hush. (He hugs her) Lou: Oh, do what you think you got to. I couldn’t find the right. Odell: Hush now, Mama. Hush. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Lou: Oh! (wails) Odell: I got you now. (In Al’s office, Blazanov is showing him a transmission he received.)
Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Blazanov: “Bricks.” You see there? Al: Yes, I see. Blazanov: “Bricks. 25 bricks. Stop. Addition to initial order. Stop. First means of delivery. Stop.” Al: And, Blazanov? Blazanov: Do you believe, Mr. Swearengen, Mr. Hearst orders more bricks? Al: No. What do you believe? Blazanov: I believe he orders more humans. Merrick: Reinforcements. Blazanov: To do harm! As we saw on our walk. Leave to die in a country strange to them, men apart from their families, working to give them support. Fuck confidentiality of communications. Al: Why not fuck a woman instead? Blazanov: I hope so eventually. Now I deliver under seal his message to Mr. Hearst. Al: I’ll dispose of this, Blazanov. (E.B. re-enters the Grand Central to find Richardson praying at the front desk. No antlers this time.) EB: How are you occupying yourself, Richardson? Richardson: I’m praying the meeting went well. EB: Very touching. Now clear your mind of the meeting and account for the negro with Hearst. Richardson: They’re both in her room. EB: Despite your best efforts, Richardson, an answer of some ambiguity. (He slaps Richardson with his sweaty gloves.) Is she with them? Richardson: One. EB: One what? Richardson: Of them. Is with her. EB: Who? Richardson: Aunt Lou. EB: Who is with Aunt Lou? Richardson: Her son. EB: (sighs) And where is Hearst? Richardson: His room. EB: (sighs) Then I will retire to mine. Richardson: Well, how was the meeting? (E.B. sighs and heads for his room, pausing at the door and looking back at Richardson.) I imagine the pool that spawned you. I am filling it with rocks. I am holding shut your gills. To prevent you from taking in air. (Richardson is pained at the thought.) I suppose the meeting went quite well. (Richardson beams as E.B. goes into his room. At the Chez Schoolhouse Theatre Amie, Claudia is pacing.) Claudia:
I itch.
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Bellegarde: Dust. Dutchess: No matter how much regularity of cleaning or consideration for the children, a place like this is filled with dust. (Jack enters noisily) Bellegarde: He’s dead. Jack: Chesterton is with us still, though to bring him in the evening chill would be imprudent. We’ll bring him tomorrow. When this room is less cold. Dutchess: After the children have gone and before you bring him, I will give the place a good dust. Jack: Then the carpentry will begin. You’ve engaged the carpenters? Bellegarde: Yes. He is close to the end, isn’t he? Jack: (yelling) Yes, Bellegarde! For Christ’s sake! (He sighs and leaves. Bellegarde sits.) Claudia: Haunted. (Bellegarde chuckles) Drafts from all over. From the walls, from the side, swooping down from the ceiling. Dutchess: I will dust anyway for Chesterton, even though after, the carpenters come. (She puts her hand on Bellegarde’s shoulder and they all look around. Back at the Gem, Johnny is going over the outcome of the meeting with Adams and Dan.) Johnny: Uh, the attitude on people leaving definitely stepped forward from the attitude they wore coming in. I mean, no one’s trying to quarrel about that. Dan: Then what’s your quarrel? Johnny: (sighs) I’m asking what was decided. Dan: They’re publishing the letter as witness. Johnny: Witness? Dan: A witness in the sense that—uh Adams: Witness the letter—its content. Dan: Yeah, the letter’s contents is witness that…Bullock wrote a nice fucking letter. And it proves…that that’s the sort we are here, the caring sort that would write a letter of that ilk. Furthermore, we don’t give a fuck who knows it, George fucking Hearst included. Adams: Fucking Hearst especially. Johnny: Is the witness? Dan: Better late than fucking never, Johnny. (Jewel comes out) Hey! Little Miss fucking cinnamon. (She gives him the finger) (Alma enters Sofia’s room, choking back tears as she pulls the sheets up higher. She backs out of the room and comes downstairs.) Alma: (whispering) I wanna be good. (softly sobbing) I wanna be good. (Ellsworth knocks on the front door and Alma stops sobbing. Wiping her eyes, she walks to the door and opens it.) Ellsworth: Good evening. (She steps away and sits down. Ellsworth steps inside.) Alma: Good evening. Ellsworth: For being gone, I—I notice I’m frequently back. (Alma smiles) I come to kiss her good night. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Alma: I tried to persuade her you’d done so last night. Ellsworth: My beard always wakes her. Alma: She said so, refuting me. The thing I did that made you leave last night, the thing I was coming home to do again…I pray now to forego forever. Ellsworth: Not having me in this house is gonna improve your odds. Alma: I started using spirits at 17, Ellsworth, with no premonition we’d marry. Ellsworth: Well, my feeling’s that being vessel of purposes not your own, your eye was out for relief. But glimpsing since how being your own vessel is preferable, let the pressure come off and you’re liable to do all right. Alma: You are no pressure. Ellsworth: My…friendly hands’ll always be out to both of you. (He puts his hand out to her and she grabs it in both of hers.) May I interrupt her sleep with this beard? Alma: She’d be so glad if you did. (She gasps as Ellsworth releases her hand and walks upstairs. Upstairs at the Grand Central, Hearst is laying on the floor. There is a knock at the door.) Hearst: Yes? Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph. Hearst: Yes, all right. (He groans as he gets to his feet. He opens the door, smiling.) Evening. Blazanov: Telegram for Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Ah, thank you. I wonder if you might remain just a moment while I read it, on the chance I’ll want to answer. Blazanov: Of course. Hearst: “Additional shipment of bricks.” Blazanov: Yes, Sir. Hearst: Yeah, this is fine. This is fine. (He pulls out a coin and hands it to Blazanov) There’ll be no answer. Blazanov: This is $20, Sir. Hearst: It’s all right, son. Thanks for doing your job well. Blazanov: You’re most welcome. (Al sits in his office, there’s a knock on the door.) Jack: Al: Jack: Al: Jack: Al:
John Langrishe, Al. Come one, Jack. Early finish below? We’d a meetin’. I ought to have asked you too. What topic commended my presence? Reprobates? The elderly? Fuckin’ Hearst---that took an axe to my left middle digit, sends for 25 more thugs to take the tool to the whole fucking camp. Why am I fucking optimistic? Jack: Did your meeting find a strategy in counterpoise? Al: We heard the fucking reading of a letter. Jack: Ahh. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Al: Writ by Bullock, to a miner’s family after Hearst had had him murdered. Jack: Exhorting they charge Hearst with the crime? Al: Never once mentioning Hearst. Expressing sympathy to the family, respect for the way the man lived. We decided Merrick would publish in the paper. Jack: Strategy some may call ingenuous, others merely off the point. Al: I sit mystified I was moved to endorse it. Jack: Mystified, Al, at proclaiming a law beyond law to a man who’s beyond law himself? It’s publication invoking a decency whose scrutiny applies to him as to all his fellows. I call that strategy cunningly sophisticated, befitting and becoming the man who sits before me. (Al stands up and walks out to the interior balcony) Al: Open the place back up! Tell the whores if their legs ain’t in the air, they’d better be off their asses! (He comes back in his office, slamming the door behind him. He pauses in front of his friend.) So what progress in your affairs? Jack: (chuckles) Our opening is delayed. And old man is dying—one of my actors. And…(sighs) I’m sad. (Al walks over to his desk and pulls out a bottle of whiskey) Oh…perhaps just the one. (Jack sits down across from Al as he pours the drinks. At the No. 10, Doc is checking up on Harry.) Doc: In? Tom: Folded up on the boardwalk beside me like a Goddamn accordion. Rutherford: So you’ve remarked. (Doc has a coughing fit) Steve: I believe I’ll take my leave… Harry:You’re wheezing bad as me, Doc. Did you et cinnamon too? Steve: …Lest I distract from the business at hand by requesting a fucking drink! Rutherford: Have you adverse reactions to other food or condiments, Harry? Harry:Eggplant shreds the roof of my mouth if it’s any of your fucking business. Rutherford: Irratability at the bowel, we know you suffer from. Doc: You’re all right. Don’t eat cinnamon anymore. Harry:Or eggplant? Doc: Not if it shreds your mouth. (Tom grabs Doc’s case as he gets up to leave.) Tom: Hope you don’t mind my absconding with you from your cabin, Doc. Doc: No. Tom: Campaigning any threat to Harry’s health? Doc: How was the meeting? Tom: Oh, it was all right. Um, needless to say, we missed you. (Doc takes his case from Tom and leaves. Al steps out onto his balcony and heaves a sigh as he looks out upon the thoroughfare. We see Jack leaving, and a woman escorting a drunk man down the thoroughfare.) Woman: I am so glad your mother isn’t alive to see you in this condition. (Doc passes them, Al sees him.) Al: Doc, get up here. Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the fans.
Doc: Al: Doc:
(breathing heavily) Not tonight. Tonight. Now. (Doc stands there for a moment) Leave your kit. I’ll have Johnny go get it. I’m not gonna leave my fucking kit. (Al gives him the eye and Doc heads inside. Steve gets back to the livery and sees the NG sleeping up in the hayloft.)
Steve: I wonder what you think you’re fucking doing. Fields: I’m laying down before I leave in the morning. Steve: I will ask the questions here! This is my place. Do you think it’s yours? It is not. It is mine, bought and paid for. And if I wanted to shit this instant in the middle of this stable, no man, black or white, could gainsay me! Fields: You’ve already fucked a horse. Steve: Nor will I stoop to explaining the mistake in that statement, to a nigger lemur or some other small form of monkey. Where are you going in the morning? Fields: West—San Francisco. I’m hoping that chestnut’s owner might go with me. Steve: The demon nigger that appeared at the bar. Fields: The very same. Steve: I don’t suppose—knowing I’d be vigilant against theft and intolerant to tardiness—you’d be inclined to stay on and work here. Fields: No. Steve: Nor would I want to fucking have you! And do not come and try to murder me as I sleep! And…I will not come and try to murder you. (He walks into his room and slams the “door” behind him. It doesn’t latch.) Black fucking bastard. (The NG turns his head and goes back to sleep. Doc sits across from Al in his office. Al pours a drink.) Doc: Al: Doc: Al: Doc: Al:
What did you want? Fucking sick, I’m told. I have a chest cold. You’re a lunger. (He fingers the swatches as Doc has a coughing fit.) Fucking samples, Doc. Notions from that tailor as to how we cover my stump. I’ve believed for the last dozen years that disease is airborne, and I won’t make others sick. No one gets out alive, Doc. (Doc has another coughing fit, stands up and grabs his case, leaving. Al watches him for a moment, eyes the samples, then takes a drink and jumps up, grabbing the samples and following Doc.) Jesus Christ! The fucking gimp finds something useful to do in the fucking brace you made her! Do you think you could treat being Johnny—always struggling to fashion a thought?! Every fucking night I, that could cut a throat but sleep the sleep of the just, spend six fucking wakings trying to find a piss pot with my dribble, and wondering when I got to be so old. (He throws the swatches down onto Doc.) Pick a fucking swatch for a spit rag, use the others for masks, and go about your fucking business! I ain’t learning a new Doc’s quirks!
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(Al strides back in his office and slams the door behind him. Doc stands, shocked and panting. The piano starts playing again and he bends down to pick up a heap of the swatches. He leaves, coughing.) Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff Omar Gooding Leah Ann Cevoli Susie Jo Hawkins Ashleigh Kizer Jennifer Lutheran
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov Odell Gem Whore Leah .... Susie .... Dolly .... Jen
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Episode 32: Leviathan Smiles Directed by: Ed Bianchi Written by: Kem Nunn
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(In the wee hours of the morning, Merrick and Blazanov, carrying armloads of the morning’s paper, cross the much of the thoroughfare and enter the Grand Central to drop off a stack. Richardson is sweeping, Blazanov bows to him and Richardson returns the gesture. Much bowing ensues. A grinning Richardson hurries over to the stack of papers and takes the top one, quickly flipping to the last page. The comics sections perhaps? Or horoscope? That’s what on the last page of my paper anyway. Heh. Merrick knocks on the door of the Gem and enters. Johnny is drinking his coffee at the bar. Merrick counts off a stack of papers.) Merrick: 23…four, five, six. 51, 52. (He slaps the stack of papers down on the bar and leaves. Johnny takes one and Jen walks up next to him and smiles. He starts reading to her. Looks like the lessons never stopped.) Johnny: “The latest news.” (Seth is in a snit as he grabs his jacket preparing to leave the house. Martha is seated at the kitchen table.) Martha: I fail to understand, if I who am most effect am not disturbed, why you should be. Seth: Perhaps I’m disturbed by a reason different from what you believe. Martha: Forgive me then for believing the one you’ve given. Seth: I disapprove of changing from day to day when the school is to be relocated. Martha: Speak to the theater people then. Seth: What disturbs me is your accepting the uncertainty without quarrel. Martha: For whatever reason, the theater people keep deferring their moving in. I don’t want the children to feel they’re leaving vacant what has been their place of education. I want them to leave it as a place with new life. Seth: Fine, Martha. Martha: What good would quarreling with them do? Seth: Fine. Martha: It seems you waked intent we quarrel. Nor, may I say, claiming you were pleased with the outcome of your meeting with the other men of the camp, did you retire last night with your customary sweetness. Seth: Do please then forgive me, for Christ’s sake. (He stalks to the door intent to leave. He pauses, sighing deeply.) Do please forgive me. (Seth leaves and steps out into the bright morning light of the thoroughfare. Sol steps out onto his porch and tips his hat to a hoople passing by) Sol: Seth: Sol: Seth: Sol:
Mornin’. (He steps out into the thoroughfare next to Seth.) How did Hearst take the letter? I don’t know. Is the paper even out yet? Guess you don’t fuckin’ know much. Do you, Sol? (Who pissed in your cornflakes, Seth?) I guess I don’t. (They walk a moment) You want to fight? (Seth smiles and we hear a gunshot ring out. The town folk stir and look for the source of the noise.
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We see two men riding horseback behind a stage coming into town, firing their guns into the air. Seth walks to the commotion.) Men: Whoo! Whoo. Teamster: Hold on! Whoa! (He stops the stage in the thoroughfare, Al looks down.) Road agents! Ambushed us a couple of miles out! Seth: Anyone hurt. Teamster: Cocksucker dropped a tree across the road. We just come up on it and they started shootin’ from the fuckin’ ridgeline. Would have lost the strongbox sure, Sheriff, not for them there that laid down rifle fire as covered us. Morgan: Whoo! Fuck me! Holy fuck. Holy fuck, right, Wyatt? Teamster: I’d like to buy you both a fucking drink. Morgan: That’s a big fucking yes from the both of us. Seth: You hit anyone? Wyatt:No, we were just trying to drive ‘em off, Sheriff. Seth: How many were there? Wyatt:Two or three. Morgan: I heard one of ‘em shout like you winged ‘em. They was dodging behind stumps and making for cover. Wyatt:Hey. Why don’t you go in there and get drunk with them, let the Sheriff and I finish out talk? Morgan: All right. (He heads into the Gem) Wyatt:Little brother’s got me for a hero. Seth: What’s your name? Wyatt:I’m Wyatt, and going in there to get drunk is Morgan -- Earp. I was a lawman in Dodge City, before that in Wichita. But I ain’t looking for none of that here. Seth: What are you looking for? Wyatt:We got a timber lease. Seth: You and your brother? Wyatt:What’s your name? Seth: Seth Bullock. Wyatt:How do you do? Dan: There is a fella that wants to buy you a drink. Over at the Gem. Wyatt:All right. (He tips his hat to Seth, smiles and follows Dan.) EB: Shall I authorize a watering and feeding of these gentlemen’s horses, Sheriff? (Seth clenches) As Mayor? As a gesture from the camp? (Seth leaves) One at a time…lest they drag you to a deserved demise. (He pushes Richardson towards the horses. In her room at Shaunnessey’s, Joanie looks out the window, turns and crouches down next to Jane and touches a cover, ready to pull it up tighter over Jane. Jane gives a start and Joanie jumps.) Jane: Ugh, fuck! Joanie: It’s me, Jane. If you want the bed, I’m leaving. Jane: Don’t go nowhere on my account. I’m a fuckin’ floor sleeper anyway. Joanie: Wanna find fruit for the schoolchildren’s morning snack.
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Jane: Uh, I’m up, I’m up, I’m up. I’ll get the hell out of here. (sniffles) Joanie: Why not stay? Jane: I got errands all morning myself. (sniffles) If you just heard me far, excuse me. Joanie: Will you come back later? Jane: Uh…Maybe, maybe. It’s heads or tails where any fuckin’ day will take me. (They leave the room and head down the stairs. Shaunnessey sees them.) Shaunnessey: I’ll not have vile affections or uncleanness on these premises! Find my specific meaning at Romans I:24 through 6— Jane: (Mocking as iff to read the board he holds) Fuck yourself with a fist punch up your ass, today, at the present moment. (She thwaps him in the stomach and stalks off) I gotta go. Joanie: I’m moving outta that fucking place. Jane: Not me. Not me. I never fuckin’ moved in. Shaunnessey: --And verses following. (At the livery, Steve is splashing water on his face, cleaning up for the day. NG Fields takes his saddle and puts it on his horse. Steve pats his face dry and looks at the NG.) Steve: Don’t think you was offered a job here last night. Gauging the fucking level you’d fucking presume to was all that was. (He walks over to NG) Maybe you declined ‘cause you thought you ought to be partners in the fuckin’ business, name on the signage like a human’s or God hadn’t set man apart from the fucking beasts! Fields: I got an errand, then I’m going to San Francisco. (Walks away) Steve: We will never be equal, sign or fucking no. (NG turns back) And if I agreed to your name on the signage, we would know the fucking truth still. (NG walks away.) Fucking Nigger Bastard! Assuming to leave without my consent. (Steve turns and looks at the horse – eyes the saddle.) Not without a fucking saddle, he won’t. Not if I hide his fucking saddle till he reveals fucking Hostetler’s nigger voodoo ciphering methods. So accounts ain’t constantly to be carried around in the man’s mind till he lives in terror of taking a drink! (Aww. Steve doesn’t know how to read! He should try Hooked on Phonics. He looks back at the horse, it lowers it’s head a bit.) Implying what by that fucking lordly look? That he’ll outflank my tactics buying a new fucking saddle? (He runs off and grabs a shoeing tool) Then I don’t suppose you’ll mind the improved fucking strategy involves you coming unshod behind. Now give me a fucking hoof. (He bends down and grabs the horses back hoof.) Yeah. There we go. (The horse neighs and bucks Steve away.) That’s right. Harp and fucking criticize until there’s a fucking solution in the offing, and then become fucking obstinate. Now, for the last fucking time, give me a fucking hoof. (Aunt Lou is placing firewood for her stove in a basket outside behind the kitchen. NG Fields approaches her quietly from behind.) Lou: Come sneaking up like an Injun.
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Fields: Can’t wait on your boy no longer, Miss Lady. (Hands her a small bundle) Bow on that money is the same one you tied. Lou: I’m grateful you waited on him as long as you did. Fields: It ain’t being none of my business gonna stop me from asking how your boy’s talk with Hearst went. Lou: Odell gonna meet up with in New York City with a man works for Mr. Hearst. Go back with him to Liberia. Fields: Ah. Lou: Odell say if Mr. Hearst wanted, he’d harm him here, get to see the hurt he done. Fields: Well, your water broke open a damn smart nigger, didn’t it, Aunt Lou? Lou: You think there’s sense to that? Fields: More than I’ve made since I’ve learned to talk. Lou: No place I guess you can hide a child from danger. Fields: If I knew, I’d keep that spot for myself. (chuckles) Lou: And can I fix you something to take away? Fields: Something with meat and heat to it. Lou: Come on, stand next to me. (She takes the basket of wood and starts for the kitchen) Fields: Here, let me get that for you. Lou: Thank you, Sir. (Up in Al’s office, he’s meeting with Wyatt Earp, with Dan in the back of the room.) Al:
Myself and him over there, my strong right arm, along with Tom Nuttall that runs the Saloon No. 10, was the first operators in this here camp. Wyatt:So… Al: Turned the first card, sold the first booze and snatch. Road agents, story goes, don’t work these hills but by my leave. Which if that’s trye, explains why I’m fucking interested in what you’re telling. Wyatt:So… Al: So…go the fuck ahead and tell me then. (He stis) Wyatt:Me and my brother happened along and we balked some unknown parties who was having a few shots at the stage. That’s all. (He sits) Al: Ears flat back to the head, nose without boils, fucking modest. A proper hero, Dan. How many unknown parties? Wyatt:Uh, two or maybe three. Al: At what remove from you? Wyatt:A hundred feet and more. Al: Describe ‘em. Wyatt:Nah, they broke off. We returned fire. Al: Describe ‘em. Wyatt:My meaning would be them firing, I didn’t get a good fucking look at them. I’d also say you’re fucking free with your reprehending tone. (Dan takes out his knife and holds it out of sight. Al raises his eyebrows at Dan and then at Wyatt for a moment. He then furrows his brow.) Drink? Wyatt:All right. (Al pulls out a bottle.)
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Al:
My opinion, may come out of vanity, your tale’s full of shit. I say, or else I’d have known of ‘em, there was no road agents. I say…to make a hero’s entrance into camp, you and your friend kicked up dust, whooped and hollered and played all the parts yourselves. (He drinks) Who is that with you? Wyatt:It’s my brother. This was my idea. (Al smiles as he poured another drink.) Al: Any others? Not brothers, ideas—how to pass your time in camp. Wyatt:I got a timber lease to work. Al: Come by how? Wyatt: Cards, last night in Custer City. (Al drinks) Al: Small chance that you want to explore options to working your lease, anyone hires your gun, you report to me. I’ll double what they’re paying you. But your story ought be true, you understand? I’ll test the sense of it, that knows more of this place and I guess every other than you do. If you choose to fell the timber, axes, wedges, block and tackle Sheriff has at the hardware store. Wyatt:All right. (He takes his shot off Al’s desk, drinks it, grabs his hat and walk out of the office. Dan shuts the door behind him.) Dan: You figure Hearst will take a run at him? (Al plays with his fly swatter and thinks. NG Fields walks down the thoroughfare, smiling, with a cheesecloth wrapped package of food in his hand.) Fields: Hmm. Good cooking, big-hearted fat lady presiding over my rest, I wouldn’t be headed for San Francisco. (He comes upon the livery and sees Steve seemingly passed out) She’d probably know what I’m talking about—how the wicked live. And are always at fucking ease. Or just plain drunk before noon. (He takes a closer look at Steve, sees his eyes are open and he’s breathing shallowly. He bends over him and sees that Steve is bleeding from his head. The horse has kicked him in the face. At the Gem, Wyatt walks down the stairs from Al’s office.) Morgan: Wyatt. (Wyatt joins his brother at the bar, talking to Jen.) Wyatt, this here’s Jen, whose sister turns out the both of us have knowed. Mary Bess from the Yellow Bird in Gunnison. Wyatt:Even prettier. Morgan: I was speaking to Jen of that $11… Wyatt:We got to go acquire them tools. Morgan: …That I loaned her sister. We was working out the forgiveness of the debt. (He shifts to behind the bar and Johnny steps closer to them. Wyatt leans into Morgan.) Wyatt:Well you can work out her forgiveness later. (He puts Morgan’s hat on top of Morgan’s head and guides him away from the bar towards the exit.) Morgan: I thought we was gonna capitalize on the good will we created. Wyatt:Seeing to our fucking capitalizing means more than getting your end wet. (Jen smiles at Johnny as they Earp brothers step out onto the boardwalk. Wyatt takes
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out a wad of cash and counts some out for Morgan.) Here. This will buy the tools to cut our lumber. Morgan: What are you going to do? Wyatt:The next fucking step of my plan. Morgan: To capitalize? Wyatt:You go ahead down to that hardware place. Morgan: I can see to the tree cutting and more. Wyatt:Well only start with seeing to the trees. Morgan: Or don’t you think I’m able? Wyatt:Jesus Christ, Morgan. Now probably I’ll be in this place. (Points to the Bella Union) Morgan: Well, what did he want upstairs? Wyatt:You ain’t got time for me to get into that. (Morgan heads for the hardware store and Wyatt for the Bella. Inside the newspaper office, Merrick is brushing his jacket. Hearst enters.) Hearst: Morning! Merrick: Good morning, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Very constructive reminder in this morning’s edition. 12 days to the election. Will you continue to show that calendar, uh, 11, 10 days, so on? Merrick: Assuming my press stays in tact. (They laugh) Hearst: Thanks, too, for publishing Sheriff Bullock’s letter of condolence to the family of that murdered worker of mine. Merrick: Oh, you’re welcome. Hearst: I suppose I should have written them myself. Merrick: I’d not presumed to suppose in that regard, Mr. Hearst, one way or another. Hearst: Was the Sheriff’s making his letter part of the public record meant to embarrass or reproach me? Merrick: I’d not suppose in that connection either. Hearst: I’m to take you for majestically neutral? Merrick: I’d make the less exalted claim, as a journalist, of keeping my opinions to myself. Hearst: You are less majextically neutral than—than cloaking your cowardice in principle? Merrick: I can only answer perhaps, Mr. Hearst. Events have not yet disclosed to me all that I am. Hearst: Those kind of events could be in the weather, Merrick. You might have a second calendar for them. (Hearst leaves. Inside the Bella Union, Cy comes down the stairs and meets Con at the bottom. Wyatt Earp is at the craps table.) Con: The fella all those hats was up in the air about, Mr. T.
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Cy:
Ah. Claims he drove off them road agents. (They walk over to Wyatt) Elrod Yulaham from Galena, Illinois. Wyatt:Uh, afraid not. Cy: Oh, I see now. You got more flare about the nostrils than Elrod. Con: Uh, this here Gentleman’s a hero, Mr. Tolliver. Thwarted a band of brigands attacking the stage out of Cheyenne. (Wyatt rolls) Leon: Three, Craps. Cy: Don’t levy the man’s wager, Leon. His throw got queered by Con’s chatter. (Wyatt nods to Cy.) Leon: Last was no roll. Cy: Cy Tolliver, Sir. It’s a honor to meet you. Thanks in the name of us all. Wyatt:Aw, we just happened to happen by. Cy: That’s the first I hear of a we. (Wyatt rolls) Leon: Six is the point. Point six. Wyatt:yeah, well, I come into camp with my brother. Cy: Who would be where at this present juncture? Wyatt:Well, we acquired a timber lease. He’s out buying tools for us to work it. Cy: Tools to work a timber lease. (chuckles) I guess you’re even more a hero, guns being out of your line. Wyatt:I didn’t call them a fully foreign subject now. Cy: I see.(chuckles, Wyatt rolls.) I see. Leon: Eight. Point six. Cy: Pay the man, Leon. Wyatt:But I didn’t make my point. Cy: You did to me. (Wyatt nods and Cy chews on his cigar. Upstairs at the Grand Central, Chesterton still isn’t fucking dead yet. Jack Langrishe leans on the footboard of the bed.) Chesterton: We ought try…to cross the road…today. Jack: The thoroughfare’s a menace. Ruts, sinkholes…quick slimes (Chesterton starts coughing harshly, Jack sits by his side holds his hand.) Chesterton: You’re the producer, Jack. You’ll manage. (Jack gets up from the bed and strides to the door, pulling it closed as he steps into the hallway. Hearst is at his own door. His back clearly in pain.) Jack: Forgive my presumption, Sir. Have you lanceolate pains hereabouts? Hearst: Yes. Jack: Intermittent, but sudden, sharp in the onset, occasioned by a tilt of a shoulder, a shift of weight? Hearst: I may try ice-water dousing. Jack: Ah. Hearst: A german Doctor in Viginia City urged me to it. Jack: A vogue, if you would permit me to say, now quite exploded, even recognized as possibly harmful. Hearst: Really?
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Jack: Yeah. The cold causing too rapid and painful a contraction of muscles already knotted in spasm. Hearst: I see. Jack: I am aware of a certain technique by whose virtue I was gradually and by degrees relieved of a similar suffering of my own. Hearst: You are? Jack: Blessed by my pain’s entire remission for 15 years, 1 month and 3 days. (chuckles) Hearst: I dread the prospect of ice-water dousing. Jack: Taught me by a former Odabashi of the Turkish artillery, come himself to be afflicted through chronic lifting of cast-iron cannonballs. Hearst: Can you help me…who does not know your name? Jack: John Langrishe, Sir. Ah, permit me to say you are known to me. Hearst: George Hearst. (They shake hands.) Jack: Yes. Oh, yes. Would later today be convenient to start, George Hearst? Hearst: Indeed. (Downstairs, Countess, Bellegarde and Claudia all wait in the lobby while E.B. straightens his greasy hair back as he stands behind the desk. Jack comes down the stairs and they stand.) Claudia: Better today? Jack: No better. Nor will be to take him any day to come. Be good enough to inform the artisans they will not be renovating after recess at the school. Prepare his transport. We are going to show him the theater. Bellegarde: Will you help me? Jack: I’ve other fucking business. (Back at the Bella Union, Wyatt shakes the dice and rolls.) Leon: Seven out. (Leon eyes Con, Con gives him the thumb.) Wyatt:Motherless whore. Leon: Speaking against the establishment’s interests, you might leave with a rosier outlook still holding some of our money. (Wyatt chuckles and gathers up his chips, dropping them in his hat as he walks back to the cage.) Big winner on the day. (Wyatt slaps his hat down on the ledge, lifting it to reveal a pile of chips.) Con: Well, those appear to have propogated. (Con takes the pile of chips that Wyatt pushes toward him. At the Chez Schoolhouse Amie, Martha is speaking with Jack Langrishe on the porch.) Jack: He worsens, Mrs. Bullock, never to improve, I’m afraid. Martha: I’m very sorry, Mr. Langrishe. Jack: Hope having postponed the old actor’s visit to what will be our theater, its abandonment now argues the visit’s urgent execution. Martha: I understand.
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Jack: Forcing this directness upon me. When, Mrs. Bullock, today, will your classes stand in recess? Martha: How soon could you have him here? Jack: The logistics of his transport and the histrionics of his porter may not make it till late this afternoon. Martha: I’ll cancel the session right after the recess. Jack: Bless you. (He kisses her hand) And thanks. (He sees a little girl peeking out the window and taps on the glass, she runs away. He turns around and sees the garden.) Oh. Beautiful. (At the Gem, Morgan is chatting up another whore.) Morgan: (speaking softly) I got ammunition left. Whore: I see that. (Johnny approaches him, shotgun in hand) Morgan: I didn’t order any shotgun. Johnny: I’m doing you the courtesy of allowing you not to think I’m as stupid as evidently you believe that girl off who you tore that piece of pussy off of is. Morgan: The girl’s sister owed me money. From the Yellowbird in Gunnison. (Johnny sets the shotgun on the bar and turns back to Morgan.) Johnny: Well, Jen claims you worked that information from her. Morgan: That her sister owed me money? Johnny: Yeah. Morgan: Well, did she tell you how I did it? ‘Cause I’d sure like to remember for the next time I’m short. Johnny: Worked it from her at this very bar in idle chatter—having a sister who whored at the Yellowbird in Gunnison, and only then alleged the supposed owed $11. (Wyatt enters) Morgan: (whistles) How long you been wearing shoes, counselor? Wyatt:Did you fuck off the full 11? Johnny: She claims $5 was owed, but my inkling is the right total is seven. (Wyatt eyes both Johnny and Dan. Neither of them are fucking around. He pointedly counts out the seven dollar bills and sets them on the table in front of him. Johnny steps forward and takes the money.) Thanks. Wyatt:Mm-hm. Where are the tools, Morgan? Morgan: That is a story in itself. (The leave, Dan watching them. Johnny talks with Jen.) Johnny: You say it weren’t an ass fuck, I believe you. (He hands Jen the money, she takes it, Dan tosses Johnny his shotgun. Outside, Seth strides along the thoroughfare, spotting Wyatt and Morgan, he approaches them.) Seth: You buying those Goddamned tools, or not? Morgan: I wouldn’t have chose them not meaning to buy. Seth: As opposed to leaving chosen goods piled in the middle of the fucking store for every other piece of business to be conducted over and around. It’s customary to
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stand by till the transaction’s finished. (Merrick and Blazanov watch from the window of their office.) Morgan: I was called elsewhere. Seth: Elsewhere meaning the Gem. Wyatt:You wouldn’t be doubting my brother’s word? Seth: (looking at Morgan) Pay for the tools and remove them, and I’ll cease to doubt your ability to do so. (Turns his head to Wyatt) How’s that? (Wyatt grabs Morgan by the jacket and pushes him past Bullock in the direction of the Hardware Store. Upstairs in Hearst’s room, Cy is meeting with him.) Cy: There is no losing in a match like that, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Never been much for draws. Cy: Well, I—I—I meant to say, let the matter be joined aright, whether Bullock or this gunsel stood at the finish, there’s no losing in it for you. Hearst: What does “joined aright” mean? Cy: Say Bullock was first provoked out the public eye, so his throwing down in public seemed…overquick. There’s all kinds of implications to that, legal and political too. Hearst: Have you taken steps to join this matter aright? Cy: Only steps I took so far, Mr. Hearst, was to bring me into your presence. As to what steps will be required if you give the go-ahead, easy as the Sheriff sparks, and cocky look as his kid wears, the number should be few. (Hearst nods) I—I would suggest, to keep you fucking protected, that the kid should think I’m at the helm. Hearst: Very circumspect. Very considerate. (Bellegarde knocks on a coughing Chesterton’s door and enters.) Bellegarde: There are the blankets. Chesterton: Oh, there they are. (chuckles) Bellegarde: You are excused by age and illness. (He wets a cloth) I am simply stupid. (He dabs Chesterton’s chin with the wet cloth.) Chesterton: Oh, no. (chuckles) Bellegarde: At a minimum, unforgivably forgetful. Chesterton: My dear boy, we are here now. You and I and the blankets. (Wheezes and coughs) Bellegarde: Yes, yes. Um—(He starts wrapping Chesterton up with his shawl and coverlet.) Chesterton: I wonder where the chair would be in which I’m to be transported. Bellegarde: Oh that the Countess and Claudia should be wheeling across the thoroughfare even as we speak. (Chesterton coughs and sounds like he’s drowning in his own sputem. Bellegarde, fuck that he is, makes no move to help him to his side to spit it out so he doesn’t fucking choke. Yeah, we all want him to fucking die already, but geez, have a heart. Even if he does smell like a nursing home.) We shall swaddle you like the baby Jesus, (He begins throwing blankets
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onto Chesterton) making the most simple and economical of transactions to transfer to you the Countess and Claudia’s chair once they arrive. (He grabs onto Chesterton and pulls him up into a sitting position.) Chesterton: All right. All right. (Back at the livery, Doc is checking out Steve. He peers into his eyes – looking rather vacant.) Fields: Is he dying? Is he dead? Doc: He’s in a bad fucking way. (Fields goes into his money pouch and hands Doc some coins.) Fields: Here. Take that for his care and burying. Let me get my fucking horse past. And let the bank know, someone don’t take over this place, that loan they made Steve is going bad. Doc: Why don’t you tell them? Fields: “Cause I’m a nigger, Doc, that don’t care what stands or falls. Doc: Hostetler was too. Fields: Hostetler was taller than me. (He steps in close and bends over Steve) Fuck you, Steve. Fuck you, Hostetler. (Turns to his horse) And fuck you too! Doc: I can ask Jane Cannary to…see to keeping him comfortable. Fields: See to her bringing back a bottle while you’re at it. I’ll linger, look to these animals till the bank sends someone over. (Doc fingers the coins and shuffles away. Steve doesn’t move. Out in the thoroughfare, Countess and Claudia wheel a chair over to the Grand Central to transport Chesterton.) EB:
That chair is hotel property. (So, why are they heading TO the hotel with it? Wouldn’t it already be there?) I will deal with the bathhouse administrator, believe you me. (Oh, gotcha.) Countess: Shoo! Shoo! (To the cattle in the thoroughfare.) Bellegarde: Where have you been? Countess: Pushing this contraption through the muck. To the bathhouse, it was on loan. (snickers) Wait till you see what they do there. Claudia: Stay right there, Bellegarde. We’re already knee-deep in shit. (They huff as Bellegarde swoops back inside, not lifting a finger to help them as they push it onto the boardwalk. Upstairs in Al’s office, Seth stands in front of his desk.) Seth: Al: Seth: Al: Seth: Al:
Are those assholes working for you? Those heros that saved the stage? That Dority collected. Once he confessed to the stretch I put the one on a fucking string. $200 in merchandise in the middle of our store like an interrupted shit. Commerce. Every hump above ground’s your master.
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Seth: Letter was a fucking mistake. Al: No. Seth: I’m not waiting on Hearst, I’ll tell you that right now. I am not on his fucking timetable, or at his fucking beck and call. (There’s a knock on the door.) Al: Yeah. Merrick: A.W. Merrick, Al. Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph. Merrick: Is Sheriff Bullock inside? Al: Only briefly. He’s out of sorts and going downstairs for a blowjob. (Seth looks at Al with a bemused grin) Come in for fuck’s sake! (They enter, Al rolling his eyes.) Blazanov: Telegram for Sheriff Bullock. (He hands Seth the missive.) Al: What reaction to your publication of Bullock’s letter? Merrick: The great man himself took, um, umbrage. Al: It was not a mistake, and we are waiting on Hearst. Unless you think those two assholes are his response. Seth: (Heads to the door and holds up the telegram) Not likely. Blazanov: (Stepping forward) Uh, the Sheriff is going for blowjob? (Seth walks across the thoroughfare are up onto the Hardware Store’s porch, looking at the pile of goods the Earp’s are buying.) Wyatt:Now having paid, may we leave our tools here till we go out tomorrow to our lease? Seth: I’ve had a wire…says your statement is true, far as having worked as a lawman. Not asking why you put the work aside, I’ll say only some that do find themselves ready and uniquely able to work the other side of the street. Some do that. (Morgan shrugs, Seth takes off his hat and steps behind the counter next to Sol. The Earps step past him to leave.) I took the badge off myself once…without losing my impulse to beat on certain types. Wyatt:No, that seems never to go. (They step away, Morgan, looking everything like the dumb Hyena from The Lion King. Upstairs in his room, Hearst paces. There’s knock on the door.) Hearst: Not now! Lou: Could I come back soon then, Mr. Hearst? Hearst: God damn it. Come in Aunt Lou. Come in now. (She enters) Boots are in the corner. Lou: I’d pay a man three weeks of my wages, Mr. Hearst. Rode quick to catch my son and give him this from his Mama. Searched and searched before he left. Come to find it with him gone. (He takes the brooch from her.) Hearst: Lovely garnet. Does seem a moral law we find what we seek only tardily. Lou: Would you send somebody, Sir? Hearst: My imagination resists the approach, in that however quickly he might catch Odell, until he did, the man would know he rode in the service of a colored
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person. I’d suggest, having packed the brooch carefully and securely, we ship it to New York, where my man Fitzpatrick can give it to your son when he arrives. Lou: All right. (nods) Hearst: Are you afraid that by his not receiving today the token of your love, something untoward might befall Odell? Are you superstitious that way, Aunt Lou? (She says nothing, turns and picks up his boots.) Thanks for seeing to those. It’s the reason I thought you’d knocked. (Later on that night, The Earps are enjoying an evening at the Bella Union. The girls are eyeing them and flirting, trying to get their attention.) Wyatt:Maybe we should head out for the lease. Morgan: Well, now has the sun rose since last I looked? Or more than you let on previous, do you even know the path we’re going? Wyatt:No, I do not fucking know. Morgan: Second look, he don’t seem such a bad sort, that fucking Sheriff. Maybe we ought to be fucking deputies, work our lease on the fucking side. Wyatt:Well, did you hear him offer us work? Morgan: Well, then let’s kill him and take his job. (Cy comes downstairs) Wyatt:On the other hand, here is a man who might be about to. Morgan: The one that has a plan for you that factors into yours for us? (He starts to turn) Wyatt:Do no fucking turn around, Morgan. Morgan: (whispers) I thought he didn’t show up. (Wyatt clears his throat) Cy: Well, well. This the hero brother I heard about? Wyatt:This is him, Morgan Earp. Morgan, meet Mr. Tolliver who operates the joint. Cy: How do you do, Morgan? Morgan: How do you do? What a beautiful fucking joint. Cy: Well, we like to think so. (Back at the livery, Steve is still seated in the same spot, same vacant expression on his face. Jane is trying to feed him as NG Fields looks on.) Jane: Come on, you fucknut. (She holds a spoon of mush up to his mouth) Without a day’s education, medical or otherwise, I vouchsafe this fucking truth: Those as don’t eat without exception fail to survive. (Steve doesn’t move. She gives up and throws the spoon back in the pan and stands.) Fuck ya. (She puts the pan down and grabs her gun belt, strapping it back on.) He’s all yours. Fields: Thanks for your help. Jane: Yup. (She leaves) Fields: You heard the lady, Steve. Them that goes on have got to fucking eat. (He slings mush onto Steve’s face.) Cocksucker. (Laughing – slinging) Cocksucker. (Inside Hearst’s room, Countess looks on as Jack performs his treatment on Hearst’s back. Basically, he’s rubbing Hearst’s back in a circular motion.)
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Jack: Do for me, Mr. Hearst, and much more for yourself, this one important thing. Breathe, Sir. Breathe deeply, hungrily, as if your life depended on it. (Hearst inhales rapidly) And yet slowly! As with the rhythm of the waves of the sea. (He looks at Countess, she nods) The while, Mr. Hearst, allowing influx of my motion’s heat. (Countess nods) Do you begin to feel it, man? Hearst: (muffled) I think so. Jack: Hmm? Hearst: I said I think so. Jack: Then too…begin to feel this: One towards the neck and one towards the coccyx. (He puts some pressure on these points with his palms. Looks up and exclaims as if in pain.) Ooh! Hearst: What? Jack: My God! Hearst: Are you all right? Jack: I am. How are you? Hearst: Ah. Jack: Some release in tension? Countess: Ja. Hearst: Yes. (Laughs) Yes, by God. Jack: Is the pain diminished in some measure? Hearst: It is. (Jack groans as he lets go and collapses, stepping back, holding Countess’ hand. Hearst starts to move.) Jack: Now lie still, Sir. As your nodals…settle to the adjustment. Try to sleep. Hearst: I don’t want to sleep. I’m waiting for something. Jack: Very well, please yourself. (He takes Countess’ hand and leads her out of the room, taking his jacket as he leaves. At the new schoolhouse, Joanie talks with Mose.) Joanie: Second look, she may have decided it didn’t suit. This hasn’t said…anything yet to spare my feelings. Mose: I don’t believe Mrs. Bullock’s that sort. I believe them theater people not moving in yet, she feels no call to disrupt her education activities by moving the children out yet from the Chez Amie into this place here. In other words, exactly what she said. Joanie: Does it trouble you, keeping watch on a dark place? Mose: No, ma’am, it does not. Especially when I know there’s light coming to it. (She pats his arm and leaves. At the livery, NG Fields drinks and looks at Steve – now completely pelted in mush. He starts to feel guilty for Steve’s sorry state and grabs a towel to start wiping the mush out of Steve’s eyes and off his face.) Fields: One sorry-ass…shit eating cocksucker. (At the Chez Amie Theater, Chesterton and Jack sit with each other, holding hands.)
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Jack: Claudia and the Countess have embroidered the tabs in gold: Thalia and Melpomene. Chesterton: Big lie…the masks. Same damn thing, Jack—comedy and tragedy. Jack: The curtain rises. The stage is set before us. Chesterton: What’s the rake? Jack: 18 to one, old trouper. Chesterton: Hmm. Jack: Dost thou know Dover? There is a cliff whose high unbending head looks fearfully on the confined deep. Bring me back to the brim of it, and from that place…I shall no leading need. Here’s the fly tower. If you mount up, take firm a rail in each hand. (He pauses and looks at his friend, who is motionless) I’ll boost your bum, darling. Chesterton: Here’s the place. Jack: How fearful and dizzy it is to cast one’s eyes so low. Chesterton: Set me where you stand. Let go my hand. (Jack slips his hand out of his friend’s grasp.) Jack: You’re now within a foot. Chesterton: Line. L-line. (He slips away, closing his eyes. The old fart’s dead finally.) Jack: Our father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. (The others stand up from the shadows) He’s gone. (Bellegarde puts his hand on the old man’s shoulder and slips off his glasses.) Claudia: We’ll see to him now. (Jack sighs and leaves the theater. At the Bella Union, the Earps are playing craps with the whores. Wow, does that ever sound kinky and gross all at the same time.) Leon: Winner 10! 10 as hard as they come. Morgan: That is my big brother, who I’m going to be assisting on some very important business for the man you work for, and for whom I may put in a good word for you depending on how good you are to me. (He pinches their bums and they squeal. Up in Al’s office at the Gem, Jack is visiting.) Al: Jack: Al: Jack:
You seem blue, Jack. That old actor I spoke of … passed. Sorry. Wrapped like a mummy in blankets, drowning in his own fluids. (Al stops pouring and eyes him) Perhaps, Al, given the sleigh ride which ensues, the best connection to leviathan may not be by harpoon. Al: Explain yourself. Jack: I mean the inimical Mr. Hearst--suffering with discomfort at his back, the wiles of a bullshitter such as oneself may have use as a feint to occupy him. Al: How?
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Jack: Campaign towards relief protracted, punctuated by Pentecostal whoops and manual pushes and prods while invoking arcane authorities—the host’s unhealthy soul reliable to sustain his symptoms. (They step out onto the balcony and Al spots Hearst checking his pocket watch) Al:
You were good to try a net on that cocksucker, Jack, on such a sorry day. (Jack drinks and walks down the balcony a bit, eye on Hearst.) Jack: Mr. Hearst! Are we still in a state of respite? Hearst: The odd twinge, Mr. Langrishe, but overall much improved. Jack: A winning skirmish in a long campaign! (Hearst nods) Mr. Swearengen. Al: Mr. Hearst. Jack: Old friends! (He points to Al and back to himself, chuckling.) Don’t imbibe overmuch the evening chill. Hearst: Waiting for something. (Jack gives him a thumbs up, and walks back toward Al. Al eyes Hearst suspiciously. Back at the house that Bullock built, he’s looking out the window as Martha talks.) Martha: It appears the theater people’s moving in was delayed by the illness of one of their troupe, who today, I believe, has died. So they should be moving in very shortly. Seth: Thank you for telling me. (sighs) Without quarrel. (She approaches him.) Martha: And you acknowledge your lack of sweetness on retiring last evening? Seth: I do, being uneasy about my letter’s publication. Martha: And Mr. Hearst’s reaction. Seth: (sighs) Perhaps tonight will be twice as sweet. (We hear horses neighing as men ride into town on horseback with torches held high.) Cy:
Al:
Sweet mother of Jesus. (The men pause in front of Mr. Hearst and he nods them down the thoroughfare, they head in that direction.) Take them amateurs off the fucking sugar tit. Mr. Hearst brought the pros to town. (Hearst smiles and steps inside.) Leviathan fucking smiles.
(The men on horseback gallop down the thoroughfare.) Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif
.... .... .... .... .... .... ....
Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran
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Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff
.... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... ....
Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov
Leah Ann Cevoli Susie Jo Hawkins Ashleigh Kizer Jennifer Lutheran
Gem Whore Leah .... Susie .... Dolly .... Jen
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Episode 33: Amateur Night Directed by: Adam Davidson Written by: Nick Towne & Zack Whedon
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(Morning at the Bella Union. Lila is leaning over a sleeping Morgan Earp. Aw, sleeping like a baby, sucking his thumb even! Con opens the door and gestures for Lila to kick her bed buddy out. Leon emerges from a room across the hall, with a bleary-eyed Wyatt following. How Morgan got Lila and Wyatt got some no-named Bella whore, I’ll never know. Stupid whore. Morgan who? Wyatt’s the one to go for! Sheesh woman, think! But I digress, Morgan waves his hat to Lila, and she gives her signature come-hither smirk back to him. They boys leave. At The House That Bullock Built, Seth and Martha are talking in the kitchen.) Seth: One-third of six is two. The combination of the safe in the hardware store. Which you should commit to memory against eventualities. Martha: As was threatened by the arrival of those men last night. Seth: Yes. There are deeds, some 7% bonds, certificates, sundry receivables, one-third of six is two. Martha: One-three-ought-six-two. Seth: Yes. Martha: The children and I are moving into the new schoolhouse today. Seth: Good. (He smiles, she smiles as well. Seth sits at the table.) I’ll walk with you. (Martha’s smile falters just a wee bit, perhaps in surprise at his jovial offer to walk with her and the children to the new schoolhouse. Inside the new schoolhouse, Mose and Joanie are looking at a tree left standing in the middle of the schoolroom.) Joanie: I wish we’d found out the last part for Mrs. Bullock to tell the children. Mose: We did as best we could. Joanie: (Studying the room) Does four desks to a row seem right? Mose: (Considering) Mm, if not, they ain’t nailed to the floor. Joanie: You ain’t seen Jane? (Mose shakes his head, Joanie looks around the room , worried. At the Grand Central, Mr. Hearst is meeting with his “bricks”. He pours some tea out of his cup into a saucer. For someone that likes to treat people like dogs, he sure does act like a cat sometimes.) Hearst: The camp is to know they’re here. The camp is to know they’re my employees. If this knowledge came first from some disruption of traffic in the thoroughfare, I would have no objection. Brick: All right. Hearst: And matters might deteriorate from there. (He sips from the saucer. Pussy. At the Gem, Dan and Jewel are at the bar, Jewel pouring coffee. Al comes down the stairs.) Al: Coffee! Jewel: Ready.
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Al: Well-positioned, Davey. Davey:Yes, Sir, Mr. Swearengen. Al: Eyeing them idlers outside Hearst’s hotel. Dan: Copperhead cocksucker Hearst, bringing in the fucking Pinkertons. (Sweet! Pinkertons make bricks!) Al: Not much of a horserace, Dan, between the appetite for blood and fidelity to political conviction. Johnny: Fucking Pinkertons! Al: Do we have alternatives to enlisting reinforcements in Cheyenne? Dan: I knew I should have stayed packed from four days ago. Davey:Some bullshit’s jumping off on the thoroughfare, Mr. Swearengen. (Al, followed by the three amigos, walks out to the boardwalk. We see men on horses giving random hooples a hard time as they try to make their way down the muck of the thoroughfare) Pinkerton1: Get out of my way. Pinkerton2: Move it, old timer! (Mr. Wu tries to make his way down the street.) Get out of the way, Hop Lee! Pinkerton1: Hang on. (He hits Wu with his hat.) MrWu: Cocksucker! Pinkerton1: Move along, ding-dong! Move along! Move along! MrWu: Cocksucker! Pinkerton1: Move along, ding-dong! (Another Pinkerton laughs. Mr. Wu falls to the ground.) Al: Go get fucking Wu. (Johnny goes for Wu.) Question extant being—till reinforced, can we learn the ways of church mice? (Johnny helps a pissed off Wu up. Wu shakes him off.) Call on Tolliver. (Mr. Hearst meets with the Pinkertons. I’ll stick with calling the head of the clan of Pinkertons “Brick” for now.) Hearst: You will not mistake the newspaperman. He looks like a…big turtle. (hey!) Published a letter meant to embarrass me. That I authored his discomfiture should come clear only as events accumulate. Brick: All right. (At the Bella Union, Silas is standing in front of a seated Cy. They are downstairs in the main room.) Silas: Cy: Silas: Cy: Silas:
The top of my to-do list every morning, and every day gets away from me. Anyways, here you are. Here I am. Al’s delegate, as far as him and you deal with Mr. Hearst. Will you still if invited to sit or will it take me offering a meal? I’d sooner not sit, Sir, and already ate. Only asking, ought I bear a message to Al? Cy: Nothing comes to mind. Silas: Horsemen come to camp by torchlight last night.
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Cy:
Tell Al as we didn’t wake to the apocalypse, I suppose all we need fear is their Winchesters. (Silas nods and leaves. At the Grand Central, Hearst is eating breakfast when someone catches his attention. He throws up a Vanna White arm in their direction.)
Hearst: The pillars of my existence who should know each other: (He waves Jack over) Mr. John Langrishe, my dear Aunt Lou Marchbanks. Jack: With whose art I am most appreciatively familiar. Hearst: Uh, Mr. Langrishe is now to my back, Aunt Lou, what you have long been to my belly. Jack: I may say that so long as the nodals are quiet, that girth at the midriff, preached a sin by so many among the guardians of sacral well-being. Is absolved as a danger by me. Lou: I’ve been heavy all my life. Jack: Oh, I refer not at all to you, Dear Lady. Lou: Salty, juicy ham this morning. Jack: I must have it. Hearst: The usual for me, Aunt Lou. (She nods and leaves) Sit sit sit sit. Jack: Must I do so four times? (They laugh) Hearst: Ah, my closest confidant in the camp is Aunt Lou, and I say that with every awareness. Jack: Wonderful. Hoople: I guess I must have went invisible over night. Brick: I saw you, Drummer. Hoople: And yet you cut in front of me. (Brick slams the heel of his boot down on the Hoople’s foot, causing him to fall to the ground. He drags him out of the way.) I just knew you wouldn’t be eating. Jack: Did I not see the gentlemen who is still upright arrive in the camp last night? Hearst: I believe I may have as well. I was on the porch of this structure, and you with Mr. Swearengen on his balcony. I believe he came in on horseback. Jack: Not as a pedestrian, ironically, given his heavy-footed virtuosity. Hearst: What did Mr. Swearengen make of the coming into camp of that man among his friends? Jack: Do allow me, Mr. Hearst, as your corporal comfort’s advocate, in this regard to be neutral. Let me show in your company on the subject of Al, no less rigorous a reticence than I exhibit with Al when addressing the subject of you. (Aunt Lou approaches with their food) Ah! My ham. (He pulls out a pocketknife and winks at Aunt Lou. Out in the thoroughfare, Alma walks to the bank, smiling along the way. She gets to the door of the bank and sees Trixie waiting for her. She greets her with a smile.) Alma: Good morning. Trixie:Morning.
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Alma: Good morning, Louis. I hope your night was uneventful. Louis: Yes, ma’am. Jim’s late so I’ll watch till he arrives. Alma: Thank you. How have you been, Trixie? Trixie:No complaints. As if anybody would give a shit. I come to put in some money. Alma: I’m glad. (She smiles and unlocks the door of the bank, they walk inside. Back in the thoroughfare, NG Fields is trying to wheel Steve in a wheelbarrow into the No. 10 – he hits a piece of wood that stalls him.) Fields: Oh shit! You motherfucker! (He pushes harder and gets it inside the bar.) Harry:Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Fields: I ain’t no Goddamn nurse! I gotta see to my business in this camp. Harry:Tom’s rules. You can’t set if you ain’t drinking. Fields: He’s buying for them that do. (He puts gold coins down on the table) Harry:Yeah, uh, and what if he messes hisself? (NG puts more coins down) Fields: For them that wipes him off. I ain’t seeing him out. I ain’t gonna fucking do it! (He runs out of the bar leaving a confused and stunned clientele and staff behind him. At the bank, Alma is settling in.) Trixie:You seem better of late at a distance than you appeared when last seen up close. Alma: And now that you’ve seen me up close? Trixie:I get the same impression, particularly of a clearness at the eye. Alma: I am better. Jack: Good morning. (Langrishe enters, shutting the door behind him.) Trixie:Anyways, (She takes some money out of her bosom – magic breasts! I want boobs that produce money!) there’s 12 bucks I deposit into my account. If the currency’s counterfeit, my fucking Jew boss is the culprit. (She turns to leave.) Jack: Do not, please, Madam, hasten your business or abridge it. Trixie:I don’t need no receipt. Trust the lady. (She leaves) Jack: John Langrishe, Madam, of the Langrishe Theater Company. Alma: How do you do, Mr. Langrishe? Jack: Glad I’m well to bid you good morning. (they sit) I’d undertake two transactions. Deposit of $4,000 and the borrowing of like amount. Alma: Those would seem at cross-purpose. Jack: Theater types being perceived as transient, nomadic—without stake, so to speak, in a place’s particulars—my redundant undertakings would allay mistrust of my kind endemic in such camps as these. Oh. (chuckles, and picks up a bag from the floor.) No less weighty than my verbiage. (chuckles) Alma: You have your loan, Mr. Langrishe. Jack: A pleasure, Mrs. Ellsworth. (He gets up to leave, grabbing his hat.) By way of publicity, this evening we conduct an amateur night. I wish to state, unequivocally with this imposing gentleman as witness, I have no gossamer filament of doubt you have skills to delight and amaze.
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(Yes! Drinks Laudanum faster than a speeding bullet. Brushes hair to a silken sheen! Makes plaster fall from ceilings! Hee hee! Jack leaves, Alma smiles as he goes. Outside the hardware store, the Earps are loading their supplies into their wagon.) Morgan: They have their fucking fun with you, and in the morning, they treat you like dirt. Wyatt:(chuckles) And you a fucking virgin… Morgan: No, and not pretending to be. Wyatt:…To be wounded by her callous ways. Morgan: All I’m saying is she could have been nicer, and those steerers more fucking polite. (The Pinkertons come galloping along the thoroughfare, disrupting all and sundry in their paths.) Assholes! Wyatt:Hey, we got a timber lease to work. Get over there. (Seth, having stepped out to see what the ruckus was, clenches and heads back into the store. At the Gem, Mr. Wu is sketching something out.) MrWu: Dinh. (He looks up at Johnny and pushes his sketch over. And holds his thumb up. Johnny ponders the sketch and gives him a thumbs up back.) Dan: Oh, yeah, I’m sure them scribblin’s as clear as fuckin’ rainwater to you, Johnny— He who was stymied by a couple of fucking X’s and a Goddamn straight line. Winks, grins, gives Wu the big okay. MrWu: Okay. Johnny: If I recall the drawing you’re referring to, I believe the straight line signifying the bar was first made out by me. As far as these pictures here, now I, not fathoming the full particulars, I feel I get the general drift. Dan: You best trot upstairs with Johnny, Wu. Show Al your work is finished. But remember, Al, he—he ain’t near as quick as Johnny or fucking Jewel. No, Al might be confused and treat you to a fucking ass-kicking. MrWu: Bok Gwai Lo. (He shakes his head and tries to brush some dirt off of his suit. Upstairs, Al meets with Silas.) Al: Well, what does Tolliver know of the guns come to camp? Silas: Said he don’t know nothing. Al: And you fuckin’ believe him, huh? Silas: I think, I did. Felt like he’s outside looking in. Al: We ought to form a fucking club. (He steps out onto the balcony and sees Hugo Jarry riding down the thoroughfare. He steps back inside.) Fucking Yankton’s rejoined us for Christ’s fucking sake? (Silas looks outside and his eyes narrow at the sight of Jarry. Their eyes meet. He steps back in.) Silas: Must have finished stealing from the Indians. (The Earps ride along the thoroughfare in their wagon. Morgan looks rather relaxed, head in chin, foot kicked up. Wyatt drives. A Pinkerton shouts from across the muck.)
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Man: Wipe your ass, Hiram. It feels strange at first, but the shit protects against blisters. (Morgan jumps off. Wyatt stops the wagon.) Wyatt:Whoa! Morgan: Will you be here after work? Man: If I am, will you suck my prick? Morgan: Well, if you ain’t, and a fella says Hiram’s trying to find you, if he don’t go on to call you a cunt, he’s cutting the message short. (The man looks at Brick, who shakes his head.) Wyatt:Let’s go, Morgan. Morgan: What, was it him that got you hooked on cocksucking? Wyatt:Get on the fucking wagon. Man: I’ll be here, Hiram. Try some shit on them blisters. Morgan: Let him fuck your ass. He may raise your pay a quarter. You might already be too loose. (The man nods at him, smirking. Morgan waves as they drive off.) See you this afternoon. (Hugo Jarry enters the Grand Central, passing by a praying Richardson, standing next to the man with the broken foot and Doc, who is treating him. He puts his bag down on the desk and addresses E.B.) Hugo: A room, if I may, unexposed to the gales which must blow through that hole above us. EB: Mr. George Hearst, who is now the hotel’s owner, put the hole in that wall. Hugo: Enhancing not at all for me the prospect of a room in the hole’s proximity. Doc: Could I get a wheelbarrow or the like? EB: Yes, Sir. Richardson! Wheelbarrow! (Richardson scurries off in search of a wheelbarrow. E.B. hands Hugo Jarry a room key. Outside the Schoolhouse, Joanie Stubbs stands, staring at the door. Martha opens the door and steps outside.) Martha: Miss Stubbs? Joanie: I guess you’re near ready to take the children over. Or are you ready now? Do I keep you from it? Martha: Oh, I’m—I’m taking the children in an hour’s time. Just now you give us happy respite from our numbers. Joanie: Anyways, Mose says the man was a Norwegger from Wisconsin, built the building around the tree so as to have sap on hand for syrup, which must takes like hell for being burr oak, but…probably smells nice in a lamp. Martha: Does anyone know why he left? Joanie: No luck on that score. Far as that, we came up empty. It’s too bad. Martha: It’s freer rein for the children’s imaginations. Joanie: Fewer facts, I guess, to trample. Martha: I hope that you’ll walk with us, Miss Stubbs. Joanie: Oh…Sure. Martha: Good. I’ll see you in an hour.
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(Martha goes back inside the school, leaving the door open. At the bank, there is a line of customers waiting to do business. NG Fields is at the window.) Alma: I recognize, Mr. Fields, that in any foreseeable future, Steve will not resume operations of the livery or pay on his note to the bank. Be assured I am grateful for the expedient care you have taken of the livery and its occupants, having no obligation in this matter of any kind. Fields: No shadow ought be on Hostetler’s reputation that sold to Steve by me now taking leave. Alma: No reasonable person would cast one. Fields: I guess I can head out then, knowing the one in a 100 that is, won’t sully Hostetler’s name. I got a life to live of my own. Alma: As do all here in the camp. Fields: Sorry to hold you all up. (He quickly leaves the bank and Alma straightens her papers, ready for the next person in line. Brick enters the Newspaper office where Merrick is working.) Brick: Jesus Christ, whoever thought I’d come to write an article? Merrick: Have you a notice you wish circulated, Sir? Brick: What? Merrick: By “Article” do you mean you have some notice you’d wish published? Brick: By “article” I mean a fucking article. (He steps closer) Merrick: What would be your article’s subject? Brick: You’re a fat fucking bastard, ain’t ya? Merrick: I think we ought best continue our conversation Sir, when you’re not under the influence of spirits. Brick: Something stupid looking about you. Merrick: I must insist you leave. Brick: Fucking irritating! How you look makes me fucking embarrassed! (He pulls his cane out of it’s sheath and swats Merrick across the face, Merrick gasps and falls to his knees, Blazanov stands up.) Merrick: Oh dear. Brick: “Oh dear”!? (He starts punching Merrick repeatedly. Throwing him to the floor when he’s done.) Oh dear. (He grabs his walking stick, heads to the door, smiling, turns to Blazanov.) You’d better come help your friend. Blazanov: Mr. Merrick, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! (Blazanov bends down to help his fallen, groaning, friend. At the Gem, Mr. Wu talks to Al.) MrWu: Swedgin, Hearst, Heng Dai? Al: We’re the opposite of fucking Heng Dai! We’re bok gwai Lo, the two of us. MrWu: Bok gwai lo?
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Al:
Fuck bok gwai lo! We’re not fucking heng dai! We’re the opposite of fucking heng dai. Now make your fucking point. MrWu: Yah! Swedgin! Hearst! Eek! Al: Jesus fucking Christ. (Wu taps on his sketch) MrWu: `150 chung kuo cocksucka. Custer. Al: He’s dead, for Christ’s sake, Wu! Hey, how about the canoe? Did you know that had been fucking invented yet, huh? MrWu: Custer, chung kuo cocksucka, 150, Custer. (Johnny studies the sketch) Johnny: Custer City? (Wu taps the sketch) MrWu: Oh! Custer City! Johnny: Wu’s holding his men outside Custer City. MrWu: Huh. Johnny: ‘Cause you and Hearst are on the outs. (He looks up at Al, smiling and nodding. – Al punches him and stetches out his arm. Dan smirks.) Al: Clever precautionary fucking thinking, Wu. (Al takes a drink at the bar. Joanie walks into Utter Freight and Charlie Mail.) Charlie: Miss Stubbs. Joanie: Mr. Utter. Mr. Langrishe. Jack: The blessed Miss Stubbs, whose bust is so very prominent in the mind’s pantheon of the camp. Joanie: Some not 50 yards from us will put these of mine to shame. Jack: As I’ve made to Mr. Utter a proposal, the answer to which he must generate only in privacy and after meditation, if you’ll excuse, I’ll take my leave. Joanie: Well, I will too. Jack: No no no, Miss Stubbs. It is only I from whom he must be sequestered. Your counsel may be invaluable. If you can cartwheel or puff your cheeks like a fish…we have a festivity tonight. I’ll live in hope you’ll attend. (He leaves) Charlie: There is a strange fucking bird. Some kind of, uh, amateur night he’s organizing, connected with his theater. Some way I couldn’t fathom. A prelude, he called it. Fuckin’ Jane ought to break out her bullwhip. Joanie: I nearly came to know for Mrs. Bullock to tell the children why that schoolhouse has a tree growing through it. Charlie: The new one has a tree growing through it? Joanie: Who the man was, why he built around the tree instead of cutting it down. Mose couldn’t find out where he got to. Charlie: Why does she need to know where the man got to for Mrs. Bullock to tell the children about the tree? Joanie: To finish the story. Charlie: More than where the man got to once he was through, I’d think the story was of the tree and the schoolhouse built around it. (Joanie nods)I guess you’re right, though. I—I guess children are like that, wanting to know all the information. I guess that’s how they are. (She looks out into the thoroughfare.) You got something to send, Miss Stubbs? Joanie: I was just stopping by to say good morning.
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(Charlie grins and nods. At the Gem, Silas and Hugo Jarry sit. Hugo pours a drink.) Hugo: Friends become adversaries. Become now, I hope, friends again. Silas: Doing any good for yourself? Hugo: Oh, hard of late, Adams, doing that in Yankton. That is something you would be aware. Silas: From what I read on the crapper. Hugo: Washington harasses us for our difficulties in distribution to the Indians, thereby distracting the nation at large from Washington’s own fiscal turpitudes and miasms. Silas: There amongst the turpitudes and miasms, you got caught stealing the money. Hugo: The money was not stolen. There was an amount of siphoning off and certain irregularlities. Silas: Sounds like it was regular as milking Bessie, 96¢ on the dollar. Hugo: Rank exaggeration. Silas: If it was less than 90, you fucked generations of Indian Agents to come. Hugo: If saying so will let us go on, then, yes, we stayed above 90. Silas: And did you lay a few cents by? Hugo: A few. Never enough. Your star here is in ascension? Silas: I’ve been keeping busy. Hugo: Tell me how. Don’t delete a single detail. Silas: That’s a pretty taut line, Mr. Jarry, not knowing how deep your hook’s set yet. Hugo: How deep would 500 set it, time being of the fucking essence? Silas: Hard to know till it’s inside my pocket. Hugo: I’d rather not produce it in this place. Silas: Worse gets produced here pretty regular. (He nods over Hugo’s shoulder, Hugo turns to see a giant tit in his face, his eyes follow it as the whore it belongs to moves on. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his wallet.) Hugo: Much has been answered already. Little has fucking changed. (Silas taps the money on the table, looking at Hugo. Upstairs, Merrick is laying in Al’s bed, Doc is seeing to him. Al and Blazanov stand at the end of the bed.) Merrick: Ugh, it was nightmarish. Whatever cogent purpose the man may have had, his drunkenness kept him from conveying, and yet I had the eerie sense he knew what he was doing. Al: Maybe not so drunk as he seemed, huh? (Merrick moans, Al steps out onto the balcony and sees the Earp brothers rolling back into town. He steps back into his room. At the Grand Central, Hearst is pressing Brick for details.) Hearst: Details, Sir. Did the newspaperman try to defend himself? Did he beg you to stop? Did he cry out? Brick: He said “Oh dear.” Was bleeding and curled up like a baby.
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(Hearst laughs. Back in Al’s office, Doc is leaning over Merrick’s stomach.) Doc:
I’m guessing your bottom rib is cracked, and this contusion at your belly show the colors of the rainbow before it’s through with you. Merrick: Apparently, my expiration is not imminent. Doc: ‘Course, I’m wrong as much as I am right. Merrick: What purpose might the man have had, Al, in feigning drunkenness? Al: Allow you to penetrate the pretense? Teach fear while inflicting pain? You printed any letters lately, Merrick, that some miserable cocksucker would send an underling to punish you for? Hmm? Merrick: Bastard. Blazanov: I should be ashamed that I didn’t come to help. I’m so sorry, Mr. Merrick, my dear friend. Al: Oh, cut it the fuck out, the both of you, unless you want to act to the cocksucker’s purpose. (Blazanov reaches into his coat and pulls out a letter, holding it out to Al.) Blazanov: This came for the cocksucker, Mr. Swearengen. (Al reads it) Al: Take it to him. Blazanov: I’d like to punch him. Al: Give him the fucking telegram—and no punching. (Blazanov takes the telegram and leaves.) Doc: Long pulls on the laudanum as needed. Al: Check out that sow Tina, Doc, when the opportunity presents. That ain’t the whiff of roses when she passes. (Doc leaves.) Merrick: Ugh. Have I bled on your bed linens, Al? Al: You wouldn’t be the first. (Outside the hardware store, Morgan and Wyatt are dealing with the itty bitty timbers they reaped.) Morgan:
Shit.
(Pinkerton’s gallop down the thoroughfare, catching Seth’s attention from inside the hardware store. Sol readies his derringer.) Seth: Do yourself a favor, Sol. Stop thinking of that derringer as a problem solver. Trixie:It solved several for me. (Seth smiles, Wyatt walks up outside holding two teeny limbs.) Wyatt:Free fucking kindling, if you have need for it. Morgan: Our timber lease ain’t nothing but pecker poles. Man: Let’s see them blisters…Hiram. (Morgan holds up a hand, smiles, turns, pulls his gun and fires one into the man’s leg.) Man: Aw! Son of a…(The man falls) Wyatt:Jesus Christ, Morgan! (He hurries over to the man and pulls his gun out of his it’s holster.)
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Seth: Stay inside. Stay in here. (Wyatt tosses the gun to the ground beside him. Seth strides out clenching from the hardware store.) Man: Help me. Morgan: I did, you motherless cunt—to bleed out in the fucking mud. (Brick strides to the scene, Seth fires his gun in the air.) Seth: Stand away till I find out what happened here! Wyatt:That fight was fair. Brick: Bullshit! Corey was under orders not to draw. Seth: Man’s gun’s out of its holster. Brick: Was it you took it out after he was down? Seth: Do you say I did? That saw me come from my store as you came down the boardwalk? Brick: I say someone did. Corey had orders not to draw. (Seth grabs Brick by the ear and drags him along.) Seth: You’re fucking under arrest. Brick: What for? Seth: For interfering with a fucking peace officer. (To the Earps) Come with me for questioning. Wyatt:All right. Morgan: All right, Sheriff. Seth: You tell your men to interfere. Give me a reason to do what I want. (He marches Brick to the jail, the Earps following. At the Grand Central, Blazanov knocks on Hearsts door. Hearst walks to open it.) Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company, Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Mr. Blazanov. Blazanov: Telegram for George Hearst. (Hearst reaches for a coin) I decline your gratuity, Sir. Change in policy. (He leaves and Hearst shuts the door, reading the telegram. In the kitchen, Aunt Lou is watching Richardson rub salt on a ham hock.) Lou: So where you gonna take this, Richardson? Richardson: To finish curing in the smokehouse. Lou: How long you gonna leave it in there? Richardson: Three weeks. Lou: How you remember three weeks is up? Richardson: The notch where I sleep. Beside the notches for my other hams. Lou: You getting the hang of this, Richardson. So next time I ain’t gonna asked you. Only check did you make your notch. Richardson: You’ll find it made, Aunt Lou. (Hearst enters, Aunt Lou looks nervous) Hearst: Would you excuse us, Sir? Richardson: Yes. (He grabs the ham and leaves. Hearst pauses.) Hearst: Odell is dead. Lou: Jesus, help me.
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Hearst: They found him near the road to Rapid City. Lou: How they sure it’s Odell? Hearst: The letters I gave him were still on his person, and his Bible bore his name. (Aunt Lou starts to cry, Hearst tries to take her in his arms to comfort her, she pushes him away.) Lou: Get away from ‘round me, Sir! Hearst: You don’t have to feign strength with me, Aunt Lou. Lou: I ain’t pretending shit! Get the hell away from ‘round me, Sir! (She pushes him aside and runs away) Oh God! Oh my God! (She leaves behind a pained Hearst. I think she musta hurt his back when she pushed him away, but it’d be nice to think he felt bad. Outside, a figure comes up with the sun shining brightly behind. It’s Mose Manuel, having found Jane.) Jane: Mose: Jane: Mose: Jane: Mose:
Jane: Mose: Jane: Mose: Jane: Mose: Jane:
Get out of my fucking light. It’s me. Who is me? The fucking eclipse? Mose Manuel. Oh, really? I thought it—it was Giganto, the runaway circus elephant. Miss Stubbs has been looking for you. Those kids need chaperoning to the new schoolhouse, Jane. (Jane turns away, and puts her hands to her ears, shutting her eyes.) I cannot hear you, nor can I see you any longer. (Mose grabs her.) You fucking drunken slob! Oh! (He stops and she stares seething at Mose, wide eyed.) Get up and walk them kids. Okay, Giganto! Don’t tusk me to death with your tusks. (She steadies herself, sheathing her gun.) How long do I have to assemble myself? They’ll be ready to go in a few minutes. Shut up. (In the smokehouse, Richardson is holding a sobbing Aunt Lou.)
Richardson: I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry. Lou: I can’t take it. I can’t take it. (At the jail, Seth is seated with Wyatt & Morgan Earp.) Seth: Who produced their weapon first? Wyatt:Said they come out the same time. Morgan: We drew as one. Brick: That’s a fucking lie. Charlie: Come here a second. (Brick looks at Charlie – Charlie punches him through the cell bars.) Shut up. Seth: Are you as sure about your timber lease? Wyatt:What do you mean? (Leaning over, ready to sign his statement)
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Seth: As that this is truthful. Are you as sure that lease ain’t worth fuck-all? Morgan: Absolutely fucking certain. Seth: Then nothing holds you here. And arguing against you staying is who this fuckhead works for, and the man you shot in the fair fight. (Wyatt smiles a half-grin) Best you move on, taking your genius brother with you. Morgan: Um…I ain’t showed myself to advantage here, Sheriff. I’m fully fucking aware. (Out in the thoroughfare, Bellegarde is wearing a sandwich board advertising the amateur night, ringing a bell. At the schoolhouse, Martha is organizing the children. A man is balancing a board on his chin in the street.) Martha: Line up right there. Stop. Stop. You’re gonna stop right there. Right there, stop. Okay, step this way right here. (Joanie motions for Jane to come along.)Okay, stop. Stand right here. (Jane crosses the thoroughfare, joining her.) Thank you. You can carry that. Jane: Stay close. I might need you for support. Boy: I don’t want to hold her hand. Martha: You can lock arms instead. (whispering) Hey, okay, go ahead. Miss Stubbs? (She motions to Joanie to lead the way. Holding hands, she and Jane lead the procession to the new schoolhouse. People along the street stop and watch the procession. Bellegarde’s bell continues to ring. Johnny knocks on the entrance to the Freight Jail.) Johnny: Sheriff? (Seth stands) Seth: Tell him I ain’t coming for his lecture. Tell him I don’t need it. Tell him if my temper was gonna get the best of me, this cocksucker’s brains would be on the floor. Tell him I got it. All right? Tell him I’m on top of it. (Johnny nods and leaves. Wyatt looks at Seth momentarily. Charlie steps to the door and sees the procession of schoolchildren led by Joanie and Jane.) Charlie: Sheriff. (Seth steps to the door, standing next to Charlie. Charlie nods down the thoroughfare at the children, Seth follows his gaze.) Seth: They’re finished, Charlie. (He leaves) Charlie: I got it. Seth: I told Mrs. Bullock I’d walk with her. Charlie: Well, go ahead. Hello to Miss Stubbs. (Alma steps out of the bank to watch the children, Seth passes her, they nod to each other. Seth joins Martha, she takes his arm and they walk. Sofia waves to Alma. Alma waves back with a big smile on her face. The Earps watch from the jail. Al and Hearst both watch from their balconies. Johnny motions to Al that Seth’s all right. The procession moves along. Later that night, the festivities of
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Amateur night are about to start. The Shyster selling soap is back. Go ahead shyster! Tell everyone that these scripts are guaranteed to show up on e-bay after the season’s over. Priced at an outrageous amount. That is, not free! Remember, these scripts are available for free, just Google “Deadwood Transcripts” and you’ll see!) Shyster: Soap! Soap with a prize inside! Guaranteed prize in every case of soap! Soap! Soap with a prize inside. Jack: Hello! As we have in Chicago, Denver and San Francisco, the Langrishe Troupe bids welcome to the Deadwood Camp! (The crowd applauds) Nights to come will find us on the stage within. Our enactments may bring an odd tear to the eye, and may be relied upon to produce guffaws and howls of laughter. This evening, however, in memoriam of a passing colleague, whose jocund spirit hovers over our gay fiesta, I will give you his favorite epithet. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Tonight, we will be the audience to you. (Applause) (Inside the kitchen of the no-longer absurd restaurant, Hearst enters as Aunt Lou prepares sweet potatoes.) Hearst: How you feeling, Aunt Lou? Lou: I’m getting dinner ready. Hearst: Don’t. Isn’t right you serving supper to strangers when you’re in such grief. Lou: I want to. Hearst: No. Hugo: Ahem. Hearst: Kitchen’s closed. Hugo: The sustenance I would take in any case, Mr. Hearst, like a newly-hatched bird, would come, I would hope, from your mouth. (mimics a bird screeching. Hearst, eyes narrowed at the weird raptor-impresario, walks up the stairs. Hugo follows.) Hearst: Don’t follow so damn close. (Hugo pauses a moment then follows. Aunt Lou continues to cry as she slices potatoes.) Lou: Kill you if I could, George Hearst. (Outside) Jack: Sir! Do you tumble! Do you have a colleague! Tumble, Sir! Tumble away! Shyster: Soap with a prize inside! (The crowd cheers as the men called up on stage play leap frog.) Jack: Magnificent! Well done! Bravo! A round of applause for our dueling gymnastics! And again, who’s there next? Our pick of the week?! On you go, Sir.(He calls up a man with a pickaxe who procedes to balance it on his chin.) Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Young lady, you’d raised your hand. I have a sense you
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might favor us with a song. (A blond lady is helped up onto the stage by the Countess. NG Fields wheels Steve to the festivities.) Lady: Jesus loves me. This I know. (The crowd is silenced. She’s good!) I know that the hand… Hoople: When my dad died, I didn’t even cry. (We see a hooplehead standing next to a character with a sing saying “Can Cry at will”)Here you are, I’ll give you a dollar. You cry right for him right now. Jack: Oh! Look at this! Look! (We see the board balancer again. The lady continues to sing.) Man: That is the best fucking thing I have ever heard in my life. (He tries to kiss her.) Jack: Indeed it is, Sir! Lady: Get off me, Sir! Jack: Thank you, young lady, Thank you! (We see that everyone is out watching. Silas, the Gem whores, Johnny. Back to the hooplehead. The man he paid is crying shedding tears.) Hooplehead: Hell, it’s easy for you. You didn’t know the cocksucker. (At the jail, Charlie and Seth ares releasing Brick.) Brick: What’s the upshot? Seth: What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Brick: I was arrested, I was locked up. What’s the upshot? (Seth tugs his nose, seeing the signs, Charlie tosses the man his gun belt.) Charlie: Go and sin no more. (Brick chuckles as he leaves.) Seth: Go ahead, Charlie. Charlie: Where? Seth: Go ahead to the fucking amateur night. Charlie: You don’t mind? All right. (He pulls on his coat) I believe I’ll attend badgeless, Lest I put a damper on stupidities. (chuckles) (At the house the Bonanza Bought, Alma is brushing Sofia’s hair and pondering the area behind her ears.) Alma: Hmm. (gasps) (Sofia turns around) Hmm. (She reaches out to Sofia’s ear and produces a gold coin.) Sofia: Grandpa’s trick! Alma: It is, yes. And we oughtn’t to let that spoil it for us. (Outside a man is doing lasso tricks.) Jack: Such elegance! Such dexterity! Ah, magnifico, magnifico! (The lady in red joins the festivities.) Let’s hear it for the lariat lad.
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(In the Gem, Al wipes down the bar top. The board-balancer enters and starts to do his thing again.) Al:
Get outta here with that fucking nonsense. Get outta here before I cut your fucking throat! (The man stops and heads for the door.) Go on! Fucking amateur night. Some people gotta…fucking work, hmm? (Seth pens in his journal at the jail. Jen joins Johnny on the porch, smiling.)
Claudia: Look at this! (She gestures to a lady with fans and scarves, dancing. The audience laughs and cheers. A drum beat starts to tap.) Jack: A mystery from the east. (The crowd claps with the drum. Cy puffs on his cigar in an empty Bella Union. The Earps head out of town on horseback. The lady twirls, faster and faster.) Magnificent, young lady. (Claudia looks at Jack, jealous) Well done, young lady. Well done, well done. (The audience cheers and Claudia pushes the lady back into the crowd.) Ah! (At the schoolhouse, Joanie is sweeping up while Jane looks around.) Jane: Little fucking James, huh? Joanie: He is a chatterbox. Jane: “Why why why?” Shut the fuck up and maybe you’ll find out. Joanie: He liked the tree house most of any. Jane: What’s a tree house doing way the fuck up there? I like them school kids. (Back at the festivities, Richardson approaches the stage, juggling.) Jack: Well done, well done. Ah! Orbs of gold! The wonderful Mr. Richardson. (The crowd cheers. E.B. stands up.) And his magic orbs. (Richardson juggles) And again, Sir, and again. (He dances as he juggles) And again, Sir! Hidden talents! EB: Richardson! (The crowd boos as E.B. stops the fun.) You’re done. Jack: Envy is a cardinal sin, Mr. Farnum. Cardinal sin. (Ellsworth watches, surly. From above, Hearst watches. He speaks to Hugo Jarry – who lingers as close to the hole as he can get.) Hearst: How many are they? Hugo: 265 soldiers have bivouacked near Sturgis now.Another 200 could be brought to the hills if needed. Hearst: Why can’t the soldiers near Sturgis vote twice? Hugo: Reinforcements are available should poll watchers prove hostile to repeaters. Hearst: Come forward, God damn it. My back fucking worsens. Hugo: I am so sorry, Sir. Hearst: Better you dizzy than me have to turn around and look at you. Hugo: These votes will support (creeping from rafter to rafter by the windows) candidates of your preference in each office, Mr. Hearst, as if cast by you
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yourself. My stringent instruction from Governor Pennington is to convey upon my return a confirmation in your hand that—that we have had this conversation. Hearst: Then the Governor in turn confirms the rumor he’s a moron. Hugo: (laughs) My heavens, no. I do mean that he would seek your signature on any itemizing of particulars, merely to confirm the fact that I spoke to you. (He holds the document out for Hearst, who looks at him. At the schoolhouse, Cy appears in the doorway) Jane: Oh My God. Cy: Oft confused with the most high, though our inseams got different lengths. Jane: Fuck you. Fuck you! (She drops her broom and runs out the back door.) Joanie: You can’t come in here, Cy. Cy: I suppose I could if I want to. Joanie: If you need us to talk, we can do it somewheres else. It ain’t for you to come in here. Cy: Fuck you, Joanie Stubbs, and your fucked-out whores thinking what’s mine to come into and ain’t. (She steps closer.) Come on, girl. Come on close. Come on. (Jane runs outside to Mose.) Jane: Mose! Help, Miss Stubbs. I’m too afraid. (Mose goes running around to the front.) Cy: What a lovely tree inside a building. Is that a darling fucking tree house in the precious fucking branches for the shitheel little kids to play amongst in jolly joy? Mose: Get away, you! Cy: Well now, Mose. Mose: Go on! Cy: You fat bastard. I’ll hold your heart in my hand for your beady little rat eyes to look at before I shove it down your fucking throat! Joanie: Cy! Cy: (laughs) I wonder how till tonight I found my way in the world at all, not having my steps directed at every fucking quarter. Joanie: Go along. Cy: I got fucking places to go. (So says Dr. Seuss.) (He strides off, pulling the schoolbell sharply as he leaves. Jane jumps at the sound. She then walks over, standing next to Joanie, and holds her hand. Back at the festivities, NG Fields is standing next to Steve in the wheelbarrow.) Fields: Isn’t this fun, man? Huh? Jack: Ah! The camp giant! (The drunk man offers the lady a sip of his bottle, she takes it.) Giant: Oh! (He holds up a large sledgehammer with one hand, steadily bringing it down to within an inch of his face, stopping just shy.) Jack: What a figure! What a figure. Look at this! Look at this! Look at that, Ladies and Gentlemen. (applause) Well done! Bravo, bravo! Bravo. Magnificent. (A man pulls his glass eye out) Ah! Look at that!
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Cyclops:
Look at my eye.
(Jack laughs at the goings on. Hearst signs the document for Hugo, sees Brick approaching and heads back inside. At the Gem, Al is singing.) Al:
♪As I was a-walking down by St. James Hospital As I was a walking down by there one day Who should I spy but one of my comrades ♫ All wrapped up in flannel and gray was the day I asked him what ailed him I asked him what failed him I asked him the cause of all his complaint ♫ ‘Twas all on account of some handsome young woman ‘tis the reason why I weep and lament. If she had but told me before she disordered me If she had but told me all but in time♪ I mighta got pills and salts of white mercury But now I’m cut down in the height of my prime. ♪Get six young soldiers to carry my coffin And six young girls to sing me a song♫ I let each of them bear a bunch of green laurel So they don’t have to smell me as they bear me along. ♪ So don’t muffle your drums and play your fifes merrily ♫And play a quick march as you carry me along And blaze your bright muskets all over my coffin Saying there goes an unfortunate lad to his home. ♪ (drinks) Ah! (He starts wiping the bar down again.)
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver
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Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff Parisse Boothe Leah Ann Cevoli Franc Ross Ashleigh Kizer Jennifer Lutheran Stephen Toblowsky Gale Harold David Redding
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Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov Tess Gem Whore Leah .... Louis the Bank Guard .... Dolly .... Jen Hugo Jarry Wyatt Earp Davey
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Episode 34: A Constant Throb Directed by: Mark Tinker Written by: W. Earl Brown
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(Morning at the Bella Union. Upstairs, in Cy’s room, Doc is checking Cy’s stomach wound.) Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc: Cy: Doc:
Ooh! Jesus Christ! What’s wrong? What’s wrong? It fuckin’ hurts, Doc. What do you think’s wrong? As the particular mix of stupidity and self-pity that moved you is of no interest to me, I will not put to you the question of why you would abrade a healing wound. I was examining myself for fuckin’ pus. Bullshit. (coughs – starts packing up his case) I have a patient whose shattered foot is going gangrenous. I’ll likely amputate. He’s a salesman. His livelihood depends on walking. (picks up his case and makes for the door) I’ll return tomorrow. If I see any further evidence of self-mutilation, that will be the last day I treat you. (coughs, leaves.)
(At Shaunnessey’s, Jack Langrishe is at the desk, speaking to Shaunnessey.) Jack: One wonders, Sir, if last evening installed in your hostel a woman of exotic appearance, not perhaps gypsy by extraction. Shaunnessey: What would your business with her be if she had? Jack: To hear my fortune told. Shaunnessey: There’ll be none of that on these premises. Jack: Nor were those my true intentions. Your query is impertinent. (He puts a coin down on the desk) Is the lady here? (Shaunnessey takes the coin with a huff.) Shaunnessey: 2-C. Jack: As your faith must proscribe receiving bribes, credit the five toward her stay. (Aunt Lou delivers two plates to the table in the not-so-absurd-anymore restaurant. At the table is Hearst and Hugo Jarry.) Hearst: Thanks so much, Aunt Lou. Lou: All right. Hearst: You know I’ll notify you first word from the freight office about your boys remains. Lou: All right. (Jack Langrishe is now speaking to the gypsy dancer.) Jack: There’s a stout woman, the Countess Berman, fires and hires for the troupe. You will meet her at the theater should you appear and apply. The devout Shaunnesey has a week in advance to your account. Gypsy: Take it back from him. I won’t take money from you. Jack: Are you not being quite absurd, in the self-serving way of your sex? You come here penniless, a supplicant. Gypsy: For learning.
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Jack: Well well well…and to learn, must you not live? And how will you do so amidst the thoroughfare’s depravities? Gypsy: Let me stay in the theater. Jack: (chuckles) At a minimum, for the career to which you aspire you show the requisite presumption. (Jack leaves. At the hotel restaurant, Jarry and Hearst are talking over breakfast.) Hugo: No small part, the hotel’s amelioration under your regime. The nigger cook, no small part. Hearst: I heard you. (We see Alma walking down the boardwalk, Hearst watches her walk past the window next to him. Jarry looks as well.) Hugo: Hmm, a tenant when last I was resident in the previous regime. (Alma continues to walk as Al steps out onto his balcony, drinking his coffee. She meets his gaze and they nod to one another. At the restaurant, Jack Langrishe returns and stands in front of the Countess and Claudia, at a table in the restaurant.) Jack: I thought the evening went well. (The Countess nods) Claudia: Wonderful. Jack: Very much to our purposes—the idea of us in the camp. Claudia: And what about that beautiful harem dance by that darling little darkhaired prostitute? (Alma continues her walk and is startled by gunfire hitting the building directly in front of her. E.B. and Richardson hear the noise and look outside.) Richardson: My God. (We hear another gunshot, this one hits the building directly behind Alma, startling her. Charlie comes running down the boardwalk to her.) Charlie: Make yourself fuckin’ small, Mrs. Ellsworth! (There’s a commotion in the thoroughfare. Al runs to the end of his balcony and steps over the railing, jumping to the ground as Alma crouches down out of sight. Al rushes over to her. In the restaurant, Hearst and Jarry continue their meal.) Hearst:
My goodness. I believe someone’s shooting at the former tenant.
(Al and Charlie reach Alma at the same time and each takes her by an arm, hurrying her into the Gem. She’s panicked.) Al:
Keep your fuckin’ head down! (Silas comes running around the corner) Get to the fuckin’ schoolhouse! Particular attention to the foundling and send fuckin’ Trixie over here! (Silas goes running off to the schoolhouse as Hearst, Jarry and E.B. step out onto the porch of the hotel.) Oh, just some nonsense among the
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EB:
ordinaries, Sir. Getting Mrs. Ellsworth under cover. Excess of fuckin’ caution, but you yourself, Sir, are absolutely safe! Absolutely safe, Sir. (He pats Hearst on the shoulder, Hearst turns to look at the idiot. In the Gem, Johnny meets Al and Charlie at the front as they rush Alma inside.)
Al:
Wire Bullock in Sturgis. “Return’s urgently required.” (He seats Alma down.) In fuckin’ generalities only, otherwise that maniac’ll come back shooting. (Charlie nods and turns to leave via the front door.) No, not that way. Don’t want that cocksucker knowing nothing of our business. Upstairs and fuckin’ around you’ll find the fuckin’ telegraph. Johnny. (Johnny hurries to follow Al. At the hotel, Hearst wanders back inside, E.B. following.) Hearst: Oughtn’t someone look out for who fired? EB: Richardson, look into who fired. Countess: What was it? Jack: The business of others. (Back at the Gem, the whores stand around naked downstairs, eyeing the lady suddenly in their midst.) Al: Shall we review the biddin’ in my fuckin’ office? Alma: (breathless, shaking) Oh, I need to take off my corset. Al: And no one objects to that here. (Silas strides up to the porch of the schoolhouse as Martha ushers the children into their seats. She sees him standing guard out front and looks at him. He turns and gives her a thumbs up, and motions for the boy who’d turned around to look at him to turn back around. Martha has no clue what is going on, but she seems a bit nervous. Joanie sees Silas standing guard and looks at him curiously. Back at the Gem, Al has brought Alma upstairs.) Al:
Easily as it could have been some hooplehead, not knowing who or what he was shooting at, it’s likely prudent to credit you as the target. Alma: Yes. (Al pulls out a bottle) Al: If I’d been aimed at, of course…(chuckles) dozens of authors would need be considered. Alma: Yes. (Al pours them drinks) Al: So I know someone’s in there, vary your replies, such as, “Yes…and I’d be one of them.” (Alma holds up her shotglass to Al.) Alma: That wouldn’t be very grateful of me. (They drink and she gasps.) Al: It’s horrible being shot at. Never gets no better. (knock on door) Yeah. Trixie:(enters) What the fuck? Al: Assuming she ain’t got the smell of gunpowder on her fingers, I’m leaving you to her. (He nods Trixie to the doorway, she steps back out of the office.)
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Alma: Thank you, Mr. Swearengen. (He nods and follows Trixie, closing the door behind him.) Trixie:Who the fuck shot at her? Al: Who the fuck knows? Hearst? Her first husband’s family? They both work with the fuckin’ Pinkertons. (Dan strides across the floor of the Gem.) Maybe they’re now allied. Trixie:Someone should see to the child as her fuckin’ heir. Al: Bein’ looked to. Just you fuckin’ look after that one till matters clarify. (Dan comes upstairs and approaches them.) Don’t think of tossing the place. Every fuckin’ valuable’s inventoried. (louder) Get Tom Nuttall! (Davey nods) Cheyenne’s off. God damn it! Second-rate deployment, Dan. Sending you off for reinforcements to come back to a camp in ruins. Dan: I’ll pack, unpack, repack. Al: Whoever you intended to fuck, send monies to bring her here. Dan: Who I intended to fuck won’t ride a stagecoach. Makes her puke. (Jewel meets Al at the bottom of the stairs holding a tray of food.) Jewel: Toast and eggs or toast and bacon—she can choose or she can mix ‘em, whatever she wants. Al: Why the fuck are you telling me? (Jewel scowls at Al and slowly starts heading up the stairs, one step at a time.) Every step a fuckin’ adventure. (He walks off.) Collect fuckin’ Ellsworth. Nothing of her being shot at. Dan: What am I to say I’m collecting him for? Al: Just knock him out and bring him im. Dan: Do you want to close? (Charlie enters) Al: No, I don’t wanna close. Fuckin’ Hearst’s to see not one single sign on any fuckin’ front that he’s had half a cunt hair’s effect on any of the comings and goings in this camp. Charlie: Telegram’s sent to the Sheriff. Blazanov’s helping Merrick dress. Al: Why the fuck would you say that to me? Charlie: Merrick—that was beat up yesterday—is being helped to dress by Blazanov. Now Blazanov sent the telegram to the Sheriff, so’s Merrick could come do his part. Al: All right. Charlie: Should I relieve Adams at the schoolhouse? Al: Please. (Charlie turns to leave) Charlie: Let Adams come back here, be available for whatever nefarious fuckin’ carryings-on you assign him, ‘cause I do not take orders from you. (Upstairs, Jewel holds out a towel, not sure whether or not to set it on Alma’s lap. Alma takes the towel from Jewel. Jewel is grinning from ear to ear, crossing and uncrossing her arms, unsure how to hold herself she’s so excited.) Trixie:Before she eats, she somersaults and don’t want no one to see. Alma: In fact, I rarely eat before noon. Jewel: Well, maybe you just ain’t found what you like to eat yet.
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Trixie:Get out, Jewel. (Jewel pouts at Trixie and starts to leave, smiling and waving at Alma.) Jewel: Did you ever have bacon? Alma: I very well might. Trixie:Goodbye, Jewel. Alma: Thank you! (Trixie shuts the door.) That was so considerate of her. Trixie:Fascinated by you. (She lights a cigarette and Alma sits back in her chair, distraught) If you saw who it was and want to say, I wouldn’t have to tell Al. Alma: I didn’t see. And I’m very grateful to be under Mr. Swearengen’s protection. Trixie:Yeah, he’s a prince. Alma: In the Sheriff’s absence, I mean. Trixie:Good a place as any for you to be…in the Sheriff’s absence. (She chuckles and ponders a moment, the smiles and walks out the door, shutting it behind her. She stands at the rail watching Jewel make her way downstairs.) She somersaulted and et and says her entire fuckin’ dietary outlook has changed. Jewel: What plate did she et from? Trixie:She et from them fuckin’ both. (Jewel beams with happiness, Trixie goes back inside the office. I dunno why, but all those “ets” really bugged me. Sounded forced to me. Just say “ate” if that’s comes more natural. Sheesh. At the hotel, Jarry and Hearst are meeting in Hearst’s room now.) Hugo: What a world. A woman in innocent transit. A wayward shot from some watering hole, do you suppose, prompted by a surfeit or spirits, exuberant punctuations of some sort? Hearst: Do you believe anything you say? Hugo: I am hypothesizing. Hearst: And have you some private hypothesis as to my possible role? Hugo: In the shooting at Mrs. Ellsworth? Hearst: In the rising of the sun. Hugo: I would hypothesize as to the latter possibility, Sir, before imagining you involved with the first. Hearst: Oh come, Jarry. My holdings butt up against hers. I value efficiencies and economies of consolidation. Haven’t I reason to nudge her toward a sale? Hugo: (stands) Men of a certain caliber cannot allow fastidious morality to distract them from the exigencies of commerce, can they, Mr. Hearst? And did you heave up your responsibilities upon broad and reconciled shoulders? Hearst: No. Hugo: Perhaps then, rather, at this moment you are Socrates to my Alcibiades, taken it upon yourself to edify me. Hearst: (stepping up to Hugo) Are you saying you want to fuck me? (Knock on door) Hugo: What? Hearst: Well, you keep calling yourself Alcibiades to my Socrates. Are you proposing some sort of homosexual connection between us? (He opens the door.)
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Hugo: I forgot that part of the story. (Hearst whispers to the person at the door.) Hearst: Wait. (Hugo kneels as Hearst shuts the door and faces him again.) Hugo: But, if I were courting you, Mr. Hearst, I claim no allure of my own, suggesting only the mutuality of our interests concerning the upcoming elections grants my suit some small virtue. As you gaze upon me, Sir, recall that some unions of convenience may outlast those conceived in passion. Hearst: Get up off your knees. Hugo: Of course. Hearst: Elections cannot inconvenience me. They ratify my will or I neuter them. Hugo: Compelling perspective. Hearst: Time to go back to Yankton. Hugo: For me? Hearst: Yes. (He reaches for a door. The knob doesn’t turn) Locked. (Hugo nods and soldierly walks around the partially torn down wall separating them. He faces Hearst before leaving.) The troops in Sturgis will await your instructions. Hearst: Thank you very much. (Hugo leaves, closing the door behind him. Outside we see Barrett (formerly known as Brick before I read the freakin’ recap. He never does get a name within the script) waiting outside in the hallway. Hugo acknowledges him with two fingers, as if a gun held to the sky. Smooth, Hugo. At the schoolhouse, Martha continues her lesson.) Martha: “I like winter when snow and ice cover the ground.” (Charlie steps up onto the porch outside to relieve Silas. Silas walks away, Charlie looks around and hears Martha’s voice. He looks inside.) “I like winter when snow and ice cover… (She sees Charlie and pauses. Outside, Joanie sees that Charlie is now on guard and they acknowledge each other. Joanie nudges Jane awake. At the Gem, Richardson is standing in front of Al with a note pinned to his suspenders like a kindergartener.) Al: What are you doing here? Richardson: Too afraid. Al: If you were too afraid, you wouldn’t be here. Richardson: Too afraid to explain. Johnny: He’s got a note pinned to him, Al. Al: Take it off him. Then stick him in the eye with the fucking pin. (Richardson winces) Johnny: He don’t mean it. (Al reads the note.) Al: Tell him, “Nothing.” Richardson: I’ll just keep quiet. Al: No. Tell E.B., “Nothing’s going on, “ and then tell him “If I wanted to tell you anything, I’d have told you. Don’t send the imbecile over with no more notes.” Richardson: I can’t remember all that.
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Al: Can you remember, “Nothing’s going on”? Richardson: Yes. Al: Tell him that then. Richardson: Thank you. (Dan deposits an unconscious Ellsworth into Barney’s barber chair. Tom Nuttall talks to Al.) Tom: The Mrs. Ellsworth was shot at? Al: Got her upstairs. I figured…we’d hunker down till matters clarify. Tom: Lovely. Al: What did the geek say walking past you? Davey:“The girls in here are pretty.” (Al and Tom drink. At the Hotel, Hearst meets with Barrett.) Hearst: The fool husband ought soon appear. Some small number to deal with his dudgeon, main force in reserve for Bullock. Barrett: Okay. (At the Gem, Al paces while Dan, Johnny, Silas and Tom stand around the bar.) Tom: Dan: Tom: Silas:
How did sentiment incline in this joint when Bullock and Harry spoke last? Glad when they was finished. As to who had the upper hand? Fuckin’ cross-legged pose your man struck, Tom, may have swayed the diarrhea faction. Johnny: Creek was having its way with Harry. Al: The fuck was the logic when he sent that giant Captain to fight you? Dan: Get me killed. Al: It wasn’t to get you killed. (Trixie comes out) His man finally kills you after a more or less equal fight? Trixie:I gotta go reassure my Jew. Al: Out of boredom’s why he put that fight together. Same with this too. Fucking shots at her fore and aft. Tom: Wants to see he’s made people afraid, so he knows he’s a fucking big shot. Al: Exactly fucking correct, Tom. If this was overture to an onslaught, He’s have let them pistoleros loose by now to start the actual killing. That’s the keenest of fucking assessments. Dan: Mightn’t that argue for my trip to Cheyenne? Al: He ain’t waiting no fucking week, Dan. Trixie:I leave here full of confidence knowing you’re all thinking in concert. Al: But I’d as soon not die fighting 25 against four—you being my missing fifth, the equal of 10 of Hearst’s fucking mercenaries, and Bullock, Who’s no fucking slouch either, if he ever gets the fuck back, bringing the odds closer to even. Johnny: Well, her Jew’s got sand if you tell him where to point the gun. Al: I’d trust a fucking wire to Cheyenne if I knew someone to send it to. Silas: Far as that, there’s Hawkeye. (Al punches him.) Al: You were told never to say his name.
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Silas: Al: Silas: Al:
Well, now I did. And I’d trust him to hire the guns. And the hiring to take place where? Up that squaw’s cunt he’s fucking? Squaw’s in Lead, not Cheyenne. Did he take vows of abstinence in Cheyenne? Do they let him have wires in his monastery? Silas: I’d trust Hawkeye—once he learned the situation—to hire the guns without stealing, to herd ‘em back here to help us out, not stopping to get laid in Lead. Johnny: Can Hawkeye read? Silas: He can, and I can put my words such in the wire, he’ll take my meaning and prying cocksuckers won’t. Al: Go get the fucking Russian, send the fucking wire. Silas: Out the front or by the stairs? Al: By the stairs, by the fucking stairs. (Silas leaves) We want his piss pot’s play hours occupied by confusion and grievance. We want him sitting, sulking like a three-year-old whose toys won’t do his biddin’. (He ponders as he holds Alma’s feathered hat.) Johnny: I had a fucking Jack-in-th-box. I’d turn and turn and turn that fucking handle, and the Jack, he’d never jump. Al: If she’d complete her walk to the bank…(sets the hat on the bar) she’d confound this motherless cunt. (louder) Tea for two, Jewel, on a fucking tray! (Outside the schoolhouse, Joanie and Jane confront Charlie.) Jane: When did you start giving that cocksucker Swearengen a “by your leave” and “if you fucking say so”? Joanie: Jane. (She gestures to the schoolhouse behind them.) Charlie: All’s I asked, Jane, did he know you was relieving me? Jane: Maybe Swearengen’s coordinating strategy ‘cause the Sheriff being gone campaigning his Deputy didn’t jump to take charge. Joanie: We just thought we could release you to other responsibilities, Mr. Utter. And I could run get you if they headed up. Jane: Assuming the unlikely need. Charlie: All right. (He leaves, the girls stand guard.) Jane: That’s how you have to fuckin’ deal with him. (At the Gem, Ellsworth stirs on a settee in the back room. Dan stands nearby, watching him stir.) Dan: Cocksucker. Um…(louder) How you doing, Ellsworth? Ellsworth: What the fuck did you hit me for? Dan: You realize that was me? Ellsworth: You think I’m asking out of general suspicion? Dan: All right, I’ll, uh—I’ll tell you what happened, fill you in on the full fucking circumstance. (He helps Ellsworth sit up and sits on the ottoman across from him.) Now, uh…(sighs) Mrs. Ellsworth is completely safe. (Ellsworth struggles
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against his bindings.) Calm down or I will hit you over the fucking head again, Maybe use some more of them spirits under your Goddamn nose. Ellsworth: What happened? Dan: Well…there was some completely-no-fucking-damage-done gunfire taken at Mrs. Ellsworth fore and aft. (Ellsworth seethes) But she—she couldn’t be no better. Ellsworth: I’ll kill that cocksucker. You get out of my way or I’ll kill you fucking first. Dan: Put up a struggle, Ellsworth—it’s stupid Goddamn thinking. Why would they take shots at Mrs. Ellsworth fore and aft when they could have just blowed her fucking head off? Ellsworth: Goddamn it! Dan: Calm down and think about it! They took shots at her fore and aft so that you would come running, so they could do to you what they could have done to her but they didn’t. And to Bullock too, maybe. So do you see how Goddamn irresponsible it would have been of me to allow you full fucking conscious movement? Do you see? Now…(He puts Ellsworth’s hat back on his head.) I’m gonna cut loose them throttles, but you best not make me regret it. (Upstairs in Al’s office…) Al:
Them shots were meant for maybe rethinking your tenure here, huh? Maybe too, in the aftermath, the shots’ author’d designed Mr. Ellsworth would be moved to take steps, or Sheriff Bullock would, that’d justify a violent answer. Alma: The author being Mr. Hearst. Al: Him, or him having made cause with your first husband’s family, Pinkertons presiding over the vows. We’ve wired Bullock to counsel restraint. We’ve Ellsworth trussed up downstairs. Little in the past commends me to your trust. I’d ask you, accepting the premise that you were bait, not quarry—complete your walk to the bank. Get that fucking angler fulminating, tangling his fucking tackle and the fucking like. Alma: Mr. Swearengen. Al: I’m sorry. (She sighs, takes a deep breath and nods assent. The door to Al’s office opens and they step out. Upon leaving the office, Alma sees Ellsworth waiting anxiously for her below. She smiles at him as she descends the stairs.) Alma: I’m quite all right. Ellsworth: I thank God for it. And I’d be glad to keep you company the rest of your day. Alma: I’d be glad if you’d join me at the bank in a few minutes’ time, having made my way to the bank alone. Ellsworth: Why in heaven’s name would you want to do that? Alma: To demonstrate his tactics failure and to bid defiance to him who shot at me. Ellsworth: I got an idea who had you shot at. Wouldn’t mind killing him, even if I’m wrong.
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Alma: If the shots meant not to harm me but to provoke certain others, wouldn’t attempting that be playing into our adversary’s strategy? Ellsworth: If it ends with one between Hearst’s eyes, let me play to his strategy and welcome. Alma: I hope instead you’d have dinner tonight with Sofia and me, all of us having passed the interval uneventfully. (Ellsworth struggles with her proposal) In any case, please accede to my walking to the bank alone. (Jen and Dolly smile kindly at Alma as she turns to leave through the front door. Ellsworth silently watches her leave, struggling with the thought of her leaving unaccompanied. Al walks down the stairs. Alma steps out onto the boardwalk and looks around. Hearst, standing on his “balcony” watches her. She boldly meets his gaze and turns away, heading for the bank. Ellsworth steps out onto the boardwalk just outside the Gem doors, his eyes on Alma. Al steps out behind him.) Al: I’d not have you step one more foot forward, Ellsworth. Ellsworth: As I fucking understand. (Alma walks by a Pinkerton, he watches her closely. Next she walks past Silas, they nod at each other. Down the thoroughfare, Johnny keeps an eye on things as well. Another Pinkerton walks parallel to her along the thoroughfare. Hearst bends over, squinting to get a better view. Alma keeps walking. Charlie and Dan both watch over her as she continues her walk. She reaches the bank, Louis standing guard at the door. She unlocks the door and hurries inside, shutting the door quickly behind her. The walk finally over. Inside Hearst’s room, he writes a letter, blows on it to dry the ink, folds it and hands it to the waiting Barrett.) Hearst: For Mr. Swearengen. Barrett: Last man took a note for you to Swearengen wound up dead. Hearst: The man you refer to knew the note he bore might bring about that outcome. This note’s import’s more innocuous. Will it make you less afraid to read it? Barrett: I ain’t afraid. I guess I made a poor joke. Hearst: You do read. Barrett: Sure, sure I do. Hearst: Read the note then. (Barrett opens the note and reads it.) Barrett: It’s good. Hearst: Out loud, so I know you can. Barrett: I made a poor joke— Hearst: Out loud, to prove you are lettered and not a liar unfit for my employ! Barrett: (nervously – slowly) “Thanks from all for your rescue of Mrs. Ellsworth. Who could have shot at her? Do you wish her guarded at the bank with the Sheriff away? I saw you let her walk alone. Answer via bearer.” (he nods at Hearst.) Hearst: You don’t read easily, do you?
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(At the Gem, having delivered the note, Barrett waits for Al to finish reading the note. The 3 amigos stand at the end of the bar.) Al:
Why don’t you come to my office while I compose my reply? (Barrett touches the brim of his hat in acknowledgement of the boys as he follows Al upstairs. Elsewhere in the Gem, the whores are talking about their recent guest.)
Jen: I’d have asked Jewel ask her, if I thought to ask, if I’d foreseen in time. Dolly: You’d have only put Jewel in a position— Jen: She talks to Trixie, the bank woman. Why wouldn’t she talk to us? Blondie: ‘Cause she has something to say to Trixie. We’d just be asking conversation that she wouldn’t know where to begin with. Philadelphia’s where she’s from. ‘S what we could’ve had as a subject. Brunette: Got beautiful gracious manners there. Blondie: Philadelphia, its many gracious attractions. Dolly: Her dress, her comportment. Jen: She’d have fucking talked to us. (At the Grand Central, the woman that was dressed in red previously, whom we find to be named Mary, opens the door to see Jack Langrishe on the other side.) Jack: May we speak? Mary: You stand in the hallway addressing me in my room. Jack: Yes. (She stands to the side allowing him to enter. She closes the door behind him.) The girl who danced last evening, vagabond sort, hodgepodge costume— Mary: I know who you mean. Jack: She’ll be staying in the theater, possibly joining the troupe. Knowing precious little at all events, of the course now charting I know absolutely nothing at all. Mary: You seem to know what it means for us. Jack: Knowing you, I suppose I do, swearing I’ve laid no carnal hand to her. Mary: What does installing her accomplish acknowledging me could not? Jack: Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That I’m old, that I’ve lost my belly for sham. (She opens up her dresser drawer and takes out her sketchbook.) Mary: Every drawing I made in this sketchbook, every one I’ve dreamed of painting from, near a home where we’d live. Jack: Say at least I never asked it of you. Mary: You’d have me say that on the day you ask it of someone else? Jack: Shall I have these? Mary: No. Jack: Paint every fucking one, Mary. (He leaves the room, Mary, eyes brimming with tears, clutches her sketchbook. In Al’s office at the Gem, he sits and talks with Barrett.)
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Al: How well do you know the other guy? Barrett: Who would that be? Al: That my man Dority killed—the Captain. Barrett: We served in the 69th in New York. (drinks) Al: Was that a mick regiment? Barrett: Mm-hmm. What were you doing? Al: Cutting throats. Barrett: I was asking whose flag you were under. Al: The famous cocksuckers brigade. Barrett: Is that so? Al: Command of the all-whore detachment. (drinks, pours another) Distress you when my man downed your friend? (Slides the bottle to Barrett) Barrett: Let me tell you something, Mr. Swearengen: You don’t scare me, and you don’t fucking know what happened with the 69th New York. I will tell you this: I didn’t like what happened to Joe Turner. Mr. Hearst came to him and said, “Make it last, even if you gain the upper hand and can kill him.” And I think that was halfway selfish of Mr. Hearst, whereas Joe could have killed your man and didn’t, and look how it wound up. But that’s as much as I feel like saying, and that’s neither here nor fucking there. (Al nods and takes a drink.) Al: Fair enough. (stands) All right then. Barrett: All right. But I’ll tell you this: You don’t seem halfway like such a halfway bad fucking person. (Al smiles and chuckles and walks towards the door, Barrett stands as well.) So should I tell Mr. Hearst that there’s no messa—(Al kicks him in the groin and he falls to the ground. Al grabs the gun from Barrett’s holster.) Al: So you’d shoot at a fucking woman? (Barrett groans) Beat that poor newspaper bastard? Scare that Chinese with your fucking horses? (He kicks Barrett in the ribs. Barrett screams, Al kicks again.) How many ribs you think you broke? Barrett: Aw, I feel like I broke two or three ribs. Al: I’m talking about that newspaperman’s ribs, you fucking cunt. (Al kicks him in the groin again and Barrett groans. Hearst steps out onto his “balcony” and watches the doors of Al’s office. Waiting. At the Grand Central, Claudia lies on her bed, Con knocks on the door.) Con: I prayed it would pass! But it’s a constant fucking sore spot and throb. (He hesitates an pulls a note out of his pocket, reading it.) Uh…”you are a constant vision before me, you and your fabulous bosoms. I beg you, release your man stallion from his he-stable for another gallop round the ring.” Claudia: Not today, Con. Con: Tomorrow? Claudia: Come back tomorrow. Con: Any particular time? Claudia: Late in the day. Con: Perfect! We’ll be waiting.
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(She flops back down on the bed. Heh, you got yourself into that mess, Chica. You shoulda talked to him for a while longer before you unleashed that crazy beast. Back in Al’s office, Barrett is laying on the floor, Al standing over him.) Barrett: Listen to me, listen to me. And I’ll tell you one fucking thing. Do you hear me? Al: I don’t hear nothing. Barrett: I’m telling you that I’m gonna tell you one fucking thing. Al: All right. Barrett: Do you hear me? Al: What the fuck? I’m not fucking deaf. Barrett: I want…I want to know that I’m gonna be fucking heard, that what I have to fucking say will matter, will have some result. (panting) ‘Cause if not…then what’s the fucking point? (Al throws his arms out in a shrug) All right…then I’m not gonna say fucking anything. What do you think of that? (Al kicks him a few more times.) He sent for more guns. He wired for more Pinkertons. They’re on the way, and I told you that. If he finds out I told you— Al: Don’t worry. Barrett: You won’t tell him? (cries) (At the Bella Union, a new woman has made her way into Cy’s office.) Cy:
You might want to close the fucking door. (She closes the door.) Who the fuck are you? Janine: Janine, that’s Sara’s friend from Cincinnati. Cy: Hmm. That’s a stupid name for a whore. Makes the tricks feel like they’re stammerers. Ja-ni-ni-nine-nine-nine, like they’re in the fucking alps. Janine: You can call me whatever you want. Cy: Well, let’s call you stupid until we can think of something better. You miss Cincinnati, Janine-nine-nine-nine-nine? Are you afraid of fucking Deadwood? Do you miss your Mom and Dad? Do you have one of each? Are they above ground, do you know? Ohh…Do I see the beginnings of a tear in the corner of your left eye? Janine: I’m all right. Cy: For the purposes of our discussion. As much as anyone cares, is my meaning. (He puts down his glass.) All right, stupid. Con’ll advance you $5 against your first evening’s fucking. Don’t do no dope with Leon. Welcome to the Bella Union. (She opens the door and hesitates, not sure whether or not she’s supposed to leave. She looks like she has something to say. He’s turned his back on her and is writing in his ledger.) Close the fucking door, stupid! (She pulls the door shut and leaves. Back in Al’s office, he’s seated over the whimpering Barrett.)
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Barrett: He’s got 25 more guns coming, 25 Pinkertons. When they get here, he’s gonna move on the camp. Al: Before the elections? Barrett: 25 Pinkertons already. He had 25 on the way, and 100 at his operation. Al: Before or after the elections? (He picks up the gun from the desk.) Barrett: I don’t know. I don’t know. Please don’t hurt me. It’s all I fucking know. (Al holds the gun by the barrel and uses the butt of it to turn Barrett over onto his back.) Al: Come on, come on. Don’t give up hope. (He stands up and puts the gun on his chair and steps out onto the balcony. He looks out onto the thoroughfare then casually looks up and sees Hearst.) Passing a little wind. (Barrett, shaking badly, reaches up to the chair trying for the gun. Al kicks him out of the way and Barrett cries. Hearst rushes downstairs to the lobby and knocks on E.B’s door. E.B. answers in a weird deep voice.) EB:
Yes. (Hearst pounds again, this time E.B. answers more jovially.) Yes, come in. (Hearst tries the knob but the door doesn’t open. E.B. opens the door.) Mr. Hearst. (Hearst steps inside.) Hearst: Have you enjoyed yourself today, Farnum? EB: For reasons I find elusive, the day has quite displeased me. Hearst: What will help you find a name for your feelings? Shall we cut open your belly for you to wrap your guts around a pole? EB: You seem distraught. Hearst: I am not! I await an outcome! And the readying for it wearies me. EB: Oh, Dear. Hearst: Have you smelt human flesh on the spit? EB: How would I have? Hearst: I know the smell. EB: You have been to and fro in the world. Hearst: It pleased me to find out. EB: Well then, fine. (Hearst hocks a loogey on E.B.’s cheek. Ewww.) Hearst: Don’t you want to wipe that off? EB: No? (Hearst does it again, this time on E.B.’s nose.) Hearst: You would regret my coming back and finding that you had cleaned your face. EB: I understand. (E.B. stands still, the goop dripping from his face, stunned into silence. At the Gem, Al steps outside his office.) Al: Dan, Johnny. (He steps back in his office. Johnny gets up.) Dan: He doesn’t want you to dirty your hands.
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(Silas puts his hand up in reply as if saying “That’s quite all right.” Dan gets up and follows Johnny up the stairs. Back in Al’s office, Barrett is laying on his side on the floor.) Al:
All that shouting—“You’re a cunt for hire to shoot at women” and the like—just trying to frighten you a little, encouraging you to chat. Who amongst us hasn’t wanted to shoot at women once or twice, hmm? (Barrett breathes shallowly as Al kneels over him.) Anything you want to say else before I let you rest, knowing I don’t sit upon you in judgement? (Al grabs Barrett by the hair and exposes his throat, matter-of-factly slitting his jugular. Barrett gags, turning on his back as he writhes in pain, we hear him gurgling on his own blood. Al steps out onto his balcony.) Did he come to you by a different path, Mr. Hearst? Did he somehow circumnavigate to bring my reply to you without me seeing? Hearst: What are you talking about? Al: Your man went out the back of my fucking place, and I’ve been hoping against hope for reasons beyond my understanding that it was to return to you unseen by me. Hearst: He has not returned. Al: Jesus Christ, maybe he was telling the truth—that he was lighting out for fucking Bismarck. Jesus Christ Almighty! Did you and he have some kind of misunderstanding, Sir, that he took for pretext the letter’s delivery to make his fucking escape? Well, then I say, Mr. Hearst, you are well the fuck rid of that cocksucker, that he’d show so little loyalty or sense of responsibility to the delivery of communications. Jesus Christ Almighty, were do we find good help? Oh, and in reply to your letter, Sir, my opinion only, she don’t need no escort or guarding, but it’s the kind of generous inquiry I’d expect you to make. How’s your back, Mr. Hearst? (Hearst goes inside) How’s the fucking back there, Pal? (Al goes back inside as Dan and Johnny wrap Barrett’s body up in the rug.) Wu. Johnny: Longest a rug’s lasted so far. (Outside Utter Freight and Charlie Mail, Charlie is counting packages and writing in his ledger as Bullock gallops up on his horse.) Seth: What’s going on, Charlie? (Charlie hesitates as Seth waits for his reply. Inside Joanie’s room at Shaunnessey’s, she and Jane are recounting the events of the day, undressing.) Jane: Some fucking day. Joanie: It was a good day. Jane: I only wish some of Hearst’s pistoleros had come to test our mettle. Joanie: Well, once my derringer was empty, you would have been firing for the both of us. Jane: And equal to the taks, believe you fucking me. Not that I wouldn’t have regretted them children having to witness. (She tries to take off her boots.) Can I tell you something?
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Joanie: Okay. (She gets up and helps with Jane’s boots.) Some stupid fucking thing. Stupid fucking dream I had. Joanie: Okay. Jane: I dreamed last night I was clamoring up a fucking creek bank, which is often required of a drunk. It was dark, and I couldn’t tell where I was till I cleared the bank and came face to face with Charlie Utter’s ugly mug. Now Charlie’s, as usual, on the lookout for Bill that’s, as usual too, losing at poker inside the joint we’re outside of. “Where are we, Charlie?” And this could be any fucking place the last number of years. And he said, “Jane, don’t you know this is the Number Ten Saloon here in the camp where Bill’s gonna fucking get killed soon?” “Jesus Chri—how do you know, Charlie?” I asked him. He said, “Don’t you know,” he says, “Some point we know these fucking things? Don’t you know the world says its fucking name to us?” “What the fuck? What the fuck do I have to dream about this for,” I say to Charlie, “Wasn’t I miserable enough?” “Jane,” fucking Charlie says to me, “Don’t you know this is the night you couldn’t look out for that little girl when you was at Cochran’s, and Swearengen come in and scared you and you went down to the creek to weep? That’s where the fuck you’re coming from. And, and, “Don’t you know,” he says, “This is the night you spirit that child from Cochran’s, and to where our stock was outside of camp, and we watched out on that little girl and sung to her, and you, with the presence of mind to continue the fucking round when I was too fucking stupid? And you said you would…(sighs) Row, row, row and I said…row, row, row your boat…and we had this…” (She pauses) “Now,” Charlie says to me, “Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Any evenings in your life you made mistakes, remember where even evenings you was as most ashamed as you ever thought you could ever be are able to wind up, and don’t fucking only remember the middle of the dream!” If I wonder why I dreamed that dream…yesterday you sent Mose to find me, and I was nearly dead-drowned drunk, and Mose made me get up, and you and me walked them kids to school, and before I went to sleep you kissed me. Joanie: After Tolliver come, and you found Mose to help me. Jane: And Charlie to help me find that little girl the very night I got scared and run, and the both of us sung a round to her, and then you went ahead and kissed me. (And so, Joanie goes ahead and kisses her again. Probably to shut her up, good God woman that was a long and rambley bit. Anyways, back in the Grand Central, Jack enters the lobby and pauses in front of some small suitcases in the middle of the floor. He continues on as if it’s nothing and joins Claudia and the Countess at a table. He turns back and sees Richardson adding another suitcase to the pile.) Jack: To spare you surprise on our advent at the theater in the morning, I tell you here and now that you will come upon a certain person—a woman who will be joining us. Claudia: Who is she? Where has she performed? Jack: I believe her name is Joseanne. Countess: She is French?
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Jack: I believe. I know she’s spent time in Paris. Claudia: Where has she performed? Jack: She has performed nowhere that we would have knowledge of, to my knowledge. Countess: Joseanne? Jack: Yes. Claudia: Living at the theater? Jack: Temporarily. Claudia: To be installed thereafter where? Jack: Shut up! I won’t have it, this is getting off on the wrong foot. Claudia: So you commit us to a long relation with Joseanne. Jack: You will find her at the Goddamn theater in the morning is what I mean! And I won’t have this Goddamn wrong-footedness. (He turns and sees Mary.) Mary: Thank you, Richardson. Jack: Mean-spirited is what I mean. A lack of generosity. Selfishness. Don’t you think it all has an effect…(he turns and sees the lobby empty) on your performance? Claudia: (crying) Does this performance seem genuine? (She gets up and leaves. Jack ponders. At the house that Bullock Built, he, Martha and Sol are having dinner. Seth clenches and seethes, pounding his hand against the table in his inner anger. Sol and Martha share a glance and Sol tries to distract Seth.) Sol:
Situation being fluid and not likely to get less so for a while, I went ahead and reordered hames. (Seth looks at him, taken off guard) Steve, made imbecile by that horse’s hoof, he couldn’t authorize it. But I went ahead and assumed whoever finally takes the livery overmight want a restock of hames. So I ordered ‘em. (Seth looks at Martha like “What the fuck is he talking about? What are you gonna say now?”) Martha: Let us give thanks. (She folds her hands in prayer and the men follow suit.) Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter
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Powers Boothe Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff Parisse Boothe Leah Ann Cevoli Franc Ross Ashleigh Kizer Jennifer Lutheran Stephen Toblowsky Gale Harold David Redding Sarah Pachelli
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Cy Tolliver Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov Tess Gem Whore Leah Louis the Bank Guard Dolly Jen Hugo Jarry Wyatt Earp Davey Janine
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Episode 35: The Catbird Seat Directed by: Gregg Fienberg Written by: Bernadette McNamara
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(Early morning, out in the thoroughfare, Harry Manning is sleeping in the saddle of his horse. At the hardware store, Seth, Trixie, Charlie and Sol are up and appear to be waiting for something. Seth clenches and paces. Trixie sigh. At the Bella Union, Cy puffs on a cigar, watching and waiting while Janine-nin-nin-nine watches him. He sighs and turns, seeing her eyes were on him.) Janine: Quiet. Cy: I notice too, stupid, we’re each of us breathing in and out. (She hesitates and walks over to his side. Leon enters in a hurry and approaches Cy.) Leon: It’s Bullock, Star, Utter, and Trixie. And Harry Manning’s outside on a sorrel. Cy: What’s the whore doing with ‘em? Leon: I don’t know. They ain’t fuckin’ her. (At the Gem, upstairs in Al’s room, Dolly lays naked in his bed, partially covered by a sheet. Al sits in a chair next to the bed, half clothed.) Al:
What the fuck is afoot in that hardware store? Facing the dawn united, we’re even odds for disaster, let alone in fuckin’ factions. Knowing him for an arrant maniac, I’ll still not believe Bullock doubts me. (chuckles) “Certain dangers meet to be faced only by the decent and decorous”—or idiocy of that fuckin’ ilk—is what must have captured his thinking, this fuckin’ jerk. (He pulls on his vest) I’m going over there. I am going the fuck over. Let them fucking try to exclude me, huh? You know, saying I like you hefty don’t mean you couldn’t stand losing a couple of fuckin’ pounds. (Dolly casts her eyes down at that remark. Al leaves the room. Out in the hallway, Merrick, groaning in pain, enters from the newspaper entrance to the Gem. He holds out a paper carefully in front of him. We hear the door to Al’s room shut and Al walking down the hall.)
Merrick: Oh. Ah. Ah. Al: Whatever you’d have me scrutinize must wait until certain cocksuckers have received a piece of my mind. (Merrick walks backwards holding the paper in front of him.) Merrick: Of whom do you speak? Al: Why are you walking backwards? Merrick: The ink’s not yet dry, and I’d have your immediate attention to the article at the top right corner. Al: Stop fuckin’ moving then. Merrick: Oh, thank you. Al: How’s the fuckin’ ribs? Merrick: Very painful. (Al taps the paper) Yeah, right there.
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(Al starts to read the article. Out in the thoroughfare outside Shaunessey’s, Jack Langrishe stands, looking at the rooms. He takes a step forward. Shaunessey pops his head up from behind the door to his office.) Shaunessey: No rooms to let. Jack: Only taking the air. Shaunessey: Well, go away. I’m at prayer. Jack: If that’s not a lie as I situate on the common, what claim has you piety on my deference? (Shaunessey sputters trying to think of something to say.) Shaunessey: Fuck yourself! Jack: Fuck you, Sir! (to himself) Who’d prevent expedition of one’s life’s disarray. (Jack walks away, Shaunessey eyeing him. Back at the Gem, Al is still reading as Blazanov opens the door next to them.) Blazanov: Telegram from Mr. Swearengen. Merrick: A superfluous trumpeting, Mr. Blazanov, as we three are alone. Do I accomplish my purpose, Al, as to the shooting at Mrs. Ellsworth? Short of accusation, do I waft the odor of complicity at Hearst’s direction… Al: Give me the telegram. Merrick: To settle not only upon his clothing, but as it were, on the man himself, in the very fabric of his being. Al: This is bullshit! Blazanov: I’m sorry. Al: “23 men hired, all on our way.” This squaw-fuckin’ idiot—proves in eight words he’s incompetent and a fuckin’ liar. He can’t have Adams’ telegram more than four hours ago, yet he expects me to believe that in four hourshe can prudently assess the qualities of 23 hires. And you know what “on our way” means, huh? Blazanov: No. Al: “On our way” means they’re getting drunk and blown in some saloon in Cheyenne and running their mouths about this big fuckin’ filibustering expedition they’re being commissioned for under the command of the famous Hawkeye—the laziest, most shit-faced whore-mongering cocksucker to ever piss my money away! Blazanov: Please do not strike me. (Al stares at Blazanov.) Merrick: Have you finished the article, Al? (Al turns back and looks at Merrick. At the Grand Central Hotel, E.B. still stands in the same spot he was when Hearst spat upon him hours earlier. The spittle dried to his face.) EB:
That I have not wiped his expectoration from my cheek is understandable. I’m threatened with death if I do. That I stand immobile these hours later speaks of a flaw in my will. Surely this is not the culminating indignity. There remains, for example, receiving his regurgitations or swallowing his feces! Would I stand stoic…still? (He pulls out his handkerchief) I am going to fuck you up. (Wiping
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his face) I’m going to fuck you up. And I’m the kind of cunt you’ll let close. (He leaves his office and we see Richardson holding his antlers up to the larger rack on the wall in prayer again.) Quit it, Richardson. (Richardson turns and watches E.B. leave. Back at the Gem, Al finishes the article.) Merrick: Is it all right then, the article? Al: Perfect. Fuckin’ wafts just the way you want it to. (Al heads down the stairs) Merrick: I’ll go ahead and publish then. Al: I gotta get to the fuckin’ hardware store! (We see a blonde whore had joined them on the balcony and Blazanov looks at her curiously until she turns and sees him. He coughs, turns and leaves. Jack enters the thoroughfare from behind Harry Manning and Al steps out into the thoroughfare in front. Jack smiles.) Al: Jack: Al: EB: Jack:
Jack. Young man? At the soul’s dark hour? Name one that fuckin’ ain’t. (E.B. joins them.) Mr. Langrishe. Yes. (E.B. nods to Jack and smiles at Al expectantly. Al looks at Jack and back to E.B.) Al: We’re going in there, E.B. EB: Shall I join you, as we all seem up and about? Harry:(farts – startling himself) Excuse me…(the men look at him.) Gentlemen. (clears throat – the men follow Al.) Waiting for the Sheriff. We campaign in Sturgis. (He yawns and puts his head back down to his chest. A rider trots up behind and past him.) Rider: Hmm. (Al opens the door to the Hardware Store and enters.) Al:
A meeting, I gather, of the upper fucking crust exclusively. No hoi polloi need apply. Seth: I ought to have called you. What events in the camp would argue I be called back from Sturgis is what we are trying to decide. Sol: It’s not a meeting at all, per se. Al: Now I don’t feel so horribly injured. Jack: The meeting per se is what he’ll not be kept from. Al: Jack Langrishe. He’s all right. (E.B. waves to the room from behind Al. Sol tips his hat. In Hearst’s room at the Grand Central, he meets with the rider and another man.) Hearst: You showed perfect judgment, Sir. I’d keep from the camp that your janissaries have arrived.
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Rider: We’ll quarter at your find. Hearst: Ah…will you drink? Rider: No, thank you. Pinkerdick: I will. (Hearst and the Rider look at each other, Hearst semi-speechless. He goes ahead and motions for the man to help himself. The Pinkerdick does. Back at the hardware store…) Sol:
Shall we leave it being generally vigilant? Under very specific circumstances we’ll wire you to make early return. Seth: Yes. That’s exactly it. Sol: And those would be? (They all look at Seth expectantly. Seth clenches and turns and paces.) Seth: Any further shooting out of the ordinary. Charlie: Like at Mrs. Ellsworth, definitely. Seth: Hearst-initiated horseshit of any sort. Charlie: Intimidation or the like. Sol: If it looks to eventuate in immediate violence. (They all look at Sol) Otherwise why try even to make it to Sturgis for the speeches? Trixie:Hearst-initiated bullshit is inevitable is his point. Jack: Surely, Sir, you leave in the certain knowledge that you are the camp’s irreplaceable man. Trixie:He don’t need no further encouragement in that way of thinking. Charlie: Comes to sending a wire, I put that Russian ill at ease. (Al opens the door to leave, E.B. pats him on the back.) Sol: Oh, I do all right with him. Al: My meetings—I provide refreshments. (E.B. nods and hurries out the door behind Al, first having a bowing match with Jack. Each trying to let the other leave first. Jack takes the lead, E.B. following. Seth follows shortly after, grabbing his hat and smiling at Sol as he does. As Seth steps into the thoroughfare, putting on his hat, Hearst continues his meeting with the Rider and the Pinkerdick.) Hearst: You were shown the tent of the man I want killed first. Rider: Looked fine, how he wants to work it. Hearst: Ah. (The men leave the room and Hearst smiles in expectation at the murder he has just planned. Asshole. At the Grand Central, Countess walks to answer the insistant knocking on her door. It’s Mama Cooch Claudia.) Claudia: Countess: Claudia:
I’m leaving. Come in. It’s too much. He’s too cruel.
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Countess: Come in. (Claudia enters, Countess shuts the door, sighing. Claudia flops dramatically on the bed.) Claudia: Brazenly sends the other packing, to brazenly install her replacement in the theater. Countess: How was he brazen with the one who left? Claudia: No one with eyes could fail to recognize their connection. And now brazenly— Countess: Us recognizing his connection to the one who left does not mean he was brazen. Claudia: Fine. (She gets up) Fine then. I just came to say goodbye. Countess: Must I agree he is brazen for you to not leave the troupe? Claudia: He has no respect for art. Countess: Claudia. Claudia: He hates me. Countess: No. (I do!) Claudia: I was well-received in Denver. Countess: Yeah, very well received. Claudia: I could have stayed. I could have let you all go on. Countess: I think you were approached by Millerick. Claudia: I was. Countess: Go to sleep, Claudia. No coaches now anyhow. Claudia: Did he suspect Millerick approached me? Countess: He doesn’t miss much. Claudia: He misses everything. (She leaves Countess’ room and walks down the stairs to head to the other side of the hotel back to her room, passing Richardson at prayer along the way.) Richardson: Claudia: Richardson: Claudia:
I juggled at amateur night. And what are you doing now? Praying for my loved ones. How nice. Lucky them.
(She heads back up the stairs. At the Bonanza, Ellsworth is sitting in his tent, talking to his dog and feeding him scraps.) Ellsworth: Would my conversating with her or lingering after supper have disrupted the little one’s routine on a day that had been disrupted previous? Yes. Already she’d seen a series of people taking up watch to protect that schoolhouse, and how many questions must have occurred to her—because that is a bright child—“What is transpiring that we need guarding from?” And what memories must that have brought back of her own dear family murdered in a sudden fake Indian depredation by shit-heel fuckin’ road agents. Not solely how would I like to be passing the evening, the like. When I’ve left, have I given the mother more calming down to do before she gets the child asleep? Them’s the sort of things is what you have to consider.
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(The dog turns and looks at the back of the tent and growls. Ellsworth turns his head and sees the Pinkerdick has a gun trained on him. His eyes grow with the knowledge of what is to come next. The Pinkerdick pulls the trigger and hits Ellsworth in the forehead, the dog runs having lost another owner because of this fucking mine. Ellsworth falls to the ground, blood dripping down the deck of his tent. Fans all over cry out “No! Not Ellsworth! You fucking piece of shit cocksucker, Hearst!” We all will remember with great fondness and respect, the wonderful, heartfelt portrayal that Jim Beaver gifted the fans with. For that, we thank you, Sir.) (At the Gem, Al is drinking his coffee and reading the paper. Merrick waits at the bar with Johnny and Silas. Dan walks up from behind with his breakfast and coffee in hand. He chooses the table next to Al’s and puts his plate down.) Al: Fuck, must you hover, fucking Merrick? Merrick: I admit to wondering, Al, if you have any further impression of my article. Al: Didn’t I tell you how well it wafted? Merrick: If on second reading— Al: Oh, Merrick, it’s a good article. It’ll no doubt irritate him, fucking Hearst, but I’m wakeful wondering who he’s likely to shoot at next, so with regard to that I’ve gave your article all the thought I need to. Merrick: Who do you think he might shoot at? Al: I have no fucking idea, Merrick. I doubt it’ll be long before we find out, and in the fucking interval until we do, I guess I’ll just have to abandon any prospect of finding respite in any part of your rag I could just fucking read without having to evaluate how it fucking wafts! (He gets up and starts heading upstairs) Oh, which leaves me the solace of contemplating the journeying hither of the intrepid fucking Hawkeye and his 23 fucking reprobates to even the odds in the coming combat. Didn’t tell you that, did I, Adams? Hawkeye’s wire to announce he’s on his way. Does that sound likely to you or does it confirm our deepest doubts about his incompetence and veracity? And mine, in turn, about you that I allowed to fucking vouch for him! (He goes into his office and Silas looks at Merrick.) Silas: Couldn’t let him read his fucking paper. (In Sturgis, Hugo Jarry is standing at the entrance of the hall that Seth and Harry will be campaigning in. He watches the men entering the hall, taking election flyers. Harry counts.) Harry:26…27…28. Uh, not counting them soldiers or Yankton’s commissioner. (A soldier watches them from the window.) Seth: I won’t be lingering once we’ve finished. If you want to stay and politic, you’ll have to ride back alone. Harry:I hate what happened in your home. Seth: It’s all right. Harry:Your wife good enough to ask me in for breakfast. Seth: I’m working on my presentation.
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Harry:That lovely woman putting her hand behind her for support when I feared she might fall to the floor. Seth: Would you shut up about it? Harry:And then, even if only briefly, to have failed to acknowledge it had been my wind, I’d—(He turns to see Seth seething at him and stops. Seth sees the soldier still eyeing him from the window. He gets up and strides over to the man.) Seth: What’s your purpose here? Soldier: What do you mean? Seth: There’s no Sioux around here. Soldier: Shall I go find some, ask ‘em to join us? Seth: I’m saying there’s no Fort and there’s no Sioux. Why would they have you bivouacked? Soldier: Seems like you got me confused for a general. (A man stands and clears his throat.) Seth: Don’t be grazing by the windows. Come in and listen or stay the fuck out of sight. Soldier: I guess you got yourself mistaken for a general. (To his friend) He wants to know what we’re here for. SoldierII: We’re here for the election, maybe gonna exercise the franchise. (The man clears his throat again. Seth eyes Hugo Jarry at the front. Harry approaches Seth.) Harry:Time for us to speak now, Sheriff. Seth: Have they told you yet who you’re voting for? (The soldier shakes his head) SoldierII: Not yet. Harry:Sheriff, we— Seth: Shut up, Harry. (Seth sits down behind the man trying to conduct the speeches. Back in Deadwood, we see hooples stepping to look inside the bed of a wagon, shaking their heads. Alma steps out as the driver climbs back into the seat to drive it away. She gasps, and runs down the boardwalk.) Alma: Mr. Utter!Mr.— (She grabs Charlie by the arm and he holds her steady as the wagon goes by and he sees the source of her shock. He hurries her inside the Gem as Al sees also what is causing such upset in the thoroughfare. Hearst, satisfied, steps back inside and out of his room into the hallway where Jack is jiggling the lock of his room. Hearst stares at him.) Jack: The key got stuck. (He works on the lock harder and opens his door, hurrying inside his room where he breathes deeply in relief. At the Gem, Al strides out of his office.)
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Al:
Ready for fucking Freddie? (Now that you mention it, Silas could do a good Freddie Mercury impression.) Hearst let his dogs loose. (The boys all ready their guns.) Davey, get to the Russian. Tell him to wire Sturgis. Say to wire Bullock as agreed, huh? (Alma and Charlie enter.) Alma: I want my child. Charlie: I’ll—I’ll go get her now. (He releases her) Mr. Ellsworth—Mr. Ellsworth’s been shot. Mr. Ellsworth’s been killed. Alma: I want my child! Charlie: She’ll be here with you before you know it, Mrs. Ellsworth. Alma: Oh, what did I do to him? (gasping) Al: We’ll go upstairs, get you a drink. Alma: What did I do to that poor man? Al: You didn’t fucking shoot him. And don’t be going off into fucking hysterics, huh? (Alma stops gasping and looks at Al. She steps forward and reaches for his arm. He escorts her upstairs.) Collect your child. Utter will be back with her here any minute. Come on. (The go upstairs, Jewel turns to the boys.) Jewel: I’m going to make her breakfast. (The boys stand guard at the front door. Out in the thoroughfare the wagon turns a corner and Trixie comes upon it, seeing Ellsworth dead, she begins crying in anguish. E.B. watches through a window and holds his head in shock. Cy stands up straighter and looks even more pissy as he sees the wagon. He looks up at the hotel and shakes his head in anger, turning back inside the Bella.) Cy:
Pinchbeck motherfucker. (Trixie grabs her derringer from her stockings and heads for the Grand Central, tearing open her blouse along the way. Walking bare breasted into the hotel, E.B. snaps to.)
EB:
My goodness! Bare-breasted. My word. Who has commissioned such behavior? Who summons you with such power to do his will? (She strides upstairs and knocks on Hearst’s door.) Trixie:Mr. Hearst? Mr. Hearst? (He heads for the door and she flips up her skirt, baring all her girly parts. He opens the door and looks at her head to toe. She shoots him in the shoulder. He grunts with the impact and shuts the door on her. The Pinkerdicks downstairs run upstairs passing Trixie on her way down.) EB: Did someone interrupt your rendezvous? Did someone else attack him? Cover those things. (She steps out into the thoroughfare, pulling her blouse shut. She looks up at Al’s balcony, seeing no one, she turns for the hardware store, dumping her derringer in a water bucket along the way.) Trixie:Give me your fucking poot-butt gun. Sol: Why?
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Trixie:Fucking shoot me with it if you don’t. Sol: What’s going on, Trixie? Trixie:Ellsworth’s murdered, and I fucking shot Hearst, and I don’t think I killed him! (He grabs his hat) Shoot me or he’ll do for all of us. (He takes her by the shoulders and ushers her out of the room.) Shoot me! Shoot me! Sol: Shh. Trixie:Don’t you fucking take me anywhere! Sol: Shut up! (They rush out of the store, shutting the door closed behind them. At the Bella Union, Cy is in a tizzy and taking it out on the whores.) Cy:
Stand the fuck up! (They stand) I piss hard-stole money away to gussy you fucking cunts up. (He tears Tess’ dress and slaps the whore next to her.) Starchy bullshit. And fucking pretend there’s a difference between fat ass snatch and fat ass snatch in a fucking petticoat! Con: Come on, Mr. T. Cy: Where are we going, you rummy-faced piece of shit?! Con: I’m just saying— Cy: Just saying what? What were you just saying? Con: I don’t know, Sir. Cy: Weren’t you being this fat twat’s gallant? (He pushes Con away) Ain’t Con the nuts, fatso? Ain’t it great to have a fucking beau? (He steps outside and looks around. We see Sol and Trixie rush off down an alley. Back in Sturgis, Seth is giving his speech.) Seth: I’m Seth Bullock. In Montana, I had a hardware bidness with my partner Sol Star, and we do the same in Deadwood, which we came to in ’76. (A man pokes his head in the window with a note and gives it to the man inside next to the window, whispering something to him.) I was Marshal and territorial delegate in Montana, and I’m Health Commissioner and Sheriff where we are now. (The man gets up and gives the note to a man in front of him, whispering to him to pass the note up) With the hills now part of the new territory, I run for Sheriff of the new organized county. If elected, my intention’s to look to the good and safety of people hereabouts. (The note makes its way closer, Seth eyes it.) I will venture my life (The man in front of Seth stands and waits)that law-abiding persons will be secure in their rights and their property. (Seth nods and the man passes him the note. He reads it.) I have to go. (The audience murmurs as Seth retrieves his hat and leaves the hall. Hugo Jarry follows him as he climbs up onto his horse.) Hugo: What is it, Bullock? What happened? Seth: Don’t you know? Have they just got you handling the votes? (Seth gallops off) Hugo: The voting exclusively. (E.B. rushes into the Gem.)
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EB: Dan: EB: Dan: EB: Dan: Al:
He’s dead. Dead! And at my hands! Or the next thing to it. Who? Hearst! He’s dead? I think. (Silas marches off) Boss! (Al stands up) Excuse me. (He drinks) The gimp’s making breakfast for you, if you ain’t ate yet. Jewel. (He opens the door and leaves.) Dan: Well, where was he hit? EB: I don’t know. Trixie shot him. Dan: Boss! Johnny: Trixie said she killed him? Dan: E.B. said Trixie killed Hearst! Al: You saw him dead? EB: No. (Al sighs) Al: How bad was he hurt? EB: I’m not sure. Al: Well, how bad did Trixie say he was hurt? EB: If he wasn’t hurt, wouldn’t I have seen him pursue her? Al: What you mean is she might not have fucking shot him at all! (Hearst and the Pinkerdicks walk out of the hotel.) Hearst: Four steps removed no fucking closer. (Silas sees them and runs back into the Gem.) Silas: Boss. (Al looks at Silas and Silas nods out to the thoroughfare.) EB: Or w-wouldn’t he have? Johnny: Wouldn’t he have what? Dan: Shut up, E.B. (They all step outside to see Hearst marching down the alley next door.) EB: I’m a dead man. Al: You ain’t gonna be alone. (Back inside, Sol and Trixie enter through the back.) Trixie:I’ve made this fucking walk before. Sol: All right. (He opens the door to the girls room and sees her in.) Stay here till I get him. Trixie:Then you get out! Get out with your hovering and fucking clucking! (He closes the door.) Before hell breaks fucking loose. (She sobs as Sol steps out into the bar area and meets up with Al. They walk to the back.) Sol: Al: Sol: Al:
Trixie’s here, in back. Your idea, her coming here? My fucking idea, after she did what she did. Was it your idea to have her do that? All right. (He opens the door to the room Trixie’s in) Loopy fucking cunt.
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(She puts her head down and starts to cry again. Al looks at her kinda tenderly. For Al anyway. Back at the front, Charlie arrives holding Sofia.) Dan: Mother’s upstairs. (They head for the stairs as Jewel starts to climb them, breakfast tray in hand.) Johnny: Get out of the fucking way, Jewel. Dan: Here, let me take it up. Jewel: No, you fucking won’t. (She starts to head upstairs, Charlie and Sofia ahead of her.) Johnny: Oh for Christ’s sake. (He and Dan hand their guns to Silas, who passes them to E.B., and grab Jewel by the elbows and carry her, tray and all, upstairs. She grins with joy as they all head up the stairs. Al comes out of Trixie’s room.) Sol:
Mr. Utter’s come with the child. (Al heads upstairs as Sol hesitates, momentarily looking back at Trixie’s room, he then follows Al. Inside Al’s office, Alma is hugging a crying Sofia. Al looks around.) Jewel: Getting another plate. (Back at the schoolhouse, Joanie and Jane are talking with Martha.) Martha: (whispering) Mr. Utter said only that Sofia’s mother had requested her at the Gem. Jane: (whispering) Rely that something fucked has transpired…(Martha looks at the children) With Mose God knows where, and me likely needed in camp. Martha: Uh, go ahead, Jane. Joanie: I’ll stay with Mrs. Bullock. Jane: (heading for the door) Trouble jumps off, ring the bell. That’ll bring me fucking running. Joanie: All right. (Jane looks back at the kids.) Jane: Or I guess maybe I’ll just stay instead. (At Doc Cochran’s, we see Ellsworth’s body laying in the back as Doc works on Hearst’s shoulder.) Doc: I suppose there’s some connection between his condition and yours. Hearst: That bare-breasted woman who shot me seemed to think there ought to be. (groans) Shit! Go ahead, knowing I’d appreciate less enthusiasm. Through the years, that fellow’s path and mine crossed several times. I never meant him a moment’s harm, but the natural operation of my holdings and his bad luck brought me to figure in his imagination as some sort of bogey. (he takes a swig of whiskey) I expect my attacker was a bawd connected somehow to the man in back before he married so luckily. Likely, she fell victim as he did to imagining me responsible for the change in her situation. (straining) God damn it! Often, because our interests are extensive, people like me are believed the authors of
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events which may benefit our holdings, when our connection in fact is incidental. God damn it! (Doc pulls out the bullet and Hearst grunts in relief. He laughs) Whew, ahh. Mmm-hm. Mmm. Mmm. (drinks) Doc: I have some calls to make. Will your gunmen let me pass? Hearst: Of course. (Doc starts to get up) Don’t you want to dress the wound? (At the hotel, Jack sits in silence in his room. Contemplating. Downstairs, Joseanne approaches the table of Countess, Claudia and Bellegarde.) Joseanne: My name is Joseanne. Mr. Langrishe was so generous to say he would install me today in the theater. Countess: Sit down, dear. Bellegarde: (pulling out a chair) Oh! We are waiting for him. One of our chief occupations. (Upstairs, Jack stands, grabs his coat and hat and leaves the room.) Jack: Mr. Farnum! (The troupe looks upstairs, as does E.B., he sees a Pinkerdick on the stairs and opens his coat to reveal no weapons.) Ah, good day, Sir. Mr. Farnum, a little while ago I heard what I took for a gunshot—and impression, I remark, not on the grounds of its uniqueness, but for the shot having seemed to issue from so near to my recumbent ear… EB: (whispering) You are not mistaken, Sir. Jack: …The hallway, that is to say, separated from where I rested only by a wall whose thinness you’ve no doubt had others before me deplore. EB: The walls do thicken in our west wing. I’ll have a quick look for vacancies. (whispering to Jack) Hearst shot, the wound, alas, not mortal. (A man tries to go up the stairs and the Pinkerdick blocks his access to Herast’s wing. The man goes the other way.) “No help,” as we say at the tables. Jack: Booth…never went you better. Anon anon, Sir. Anon anon. (He glares at the troupe before he heads out the door. They look confused as to what just happened. At the Gem, Jewel is in the kitchen when Richardson comes shuffling in, startling her.) Jewel: God damn it, Richardson. You’re too ugly to be sneaking up on fucking people. (He holds out a basket.) Richardson: From Mrs. Marchbanks. Jewel: We got all the fucking food we need. (He continues to hold it out and she steps closer) Who the fuck is Mrs. Marchbanks anyway? Richardson: It’s Aunt Lou. Jewel: I guess I’d know her for Mrs. Marchbanks if she took time to introduce herself. (She takes the basket) Tell the arrogant nigger thanks. Richardson: No hurry returning the basket. Jewel: Tell her my fucking name’s Miss Caulfield…(Richardson shuffles off) I think. (Al sips his coffee downstairs.)
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Al:
The terms come clear. If she’d (Jack enters) keep her property here, she’ll leave, having first hired as many as Hearst has, and who can kill as well as his do and ain’t disadvantaged too, to keep Hearst from killing her, which—by the shots yesterday and Ellsworth butchered today—means her to understand Hearst will not cease endeavoring to do. (Charlie nods) But if she’d herself stay in camp, she must sell her property to him. Jack: A very pithy rendering. (He puts his hand on Al’s shoulder and Al smiles and sips his coffee. Upstairs, Alma hugs Sofia.) Sofia: (whispering) I want to feel his beard. (Alma is caught off guard) Alma: Mr. Ellsworth’s with God now, Sofia. Sofia: I want to feel his beard so I can pray that he’s saying goodbye to me. (Oh, if you only knew his last thoughts, Sofia. You’d be comforted to know just how much he thought of you. At the schoolhouse, the children are seated in a circle playing Duck, duck, goose.) James:Duck duck duck duck duck. Goose! (He tags a grinning Jane – she gets up and starts chasing him.) Class: Go, James, go! Go, James, go! Go, James, go! Go, James! (He makes it around the circle to sit where Jane was.) Yay! Jane: Aww! Outflanked by a boy half my size. Next time I’ll get you, James. (James grins. He’s so cute! Back at the Gem, Seth arrives back from Sturgis and strides inside. He approaches Al.) Al:
Ellsworth’s murdered, head-shot at the Garret find. Your partner’s sweetheart put one in Hearst’s shoulder. Seth: Where’s Mrs. Ellsworth? Al: Above with the child. With the child. Seth: I fucking heard ya. (Charlie starts up the stairs after Seth and stops.) He once had something to do with her. Jack: Reason for his making the case she sell, keep her here for another swing. Al: Reason ain’t his long suit. (Charlie turns toward the other, Silas turns away, followed by Dan and Johnny. Charlie stalls on the stairs and waits. Upstairs, Seth enters the office with Alma and Sofia inside. Alma gasps. He strides over to them and kneels down, looking first at Sofia then Alma. He puts an arm around both of them and hugs them for a long time. Downstairs, Jack and Charlie look at each other uncomfortably. A coughing Doc enters and approaches Al.) Doc: Bullet, removed uneventfully. Jack: Let’s pray he avoids infection.
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Al: Doc: Jack: Doc: Al: Doc:
What did Hearst say of the shooting? That some bawd still connected to Ellsworth musta blamed him for the murder. Wrong-headed and fallen in the bargain. Would you find pretext to let the mother know I’m here? Bullock’s with her. Shall I shout out and ask it of him? (Al turns and heads right upstairs. Gotta love Doc.) Jack: Very much in your line, this type thing? Doc: Yes. Jack: Not to my taste at all. Time’s past, one’s fled. (Upstairs, Seth holds Sofia, stroking her hair. Al knocks on the door and enters.) Al: Doc’s here. Someone fell. (Alma stands and puts her hand on Sofia’s shoulder) Alma: Will you excuse me for a moment, Darling? (Alma leaves and Sofia stands and looks at Seth.) Sofia: I want to see Mr. Ellsworth. (Seth turns and looks at Al.) Al: Excuse me. (Downstairs, Jack sees Charlie holding his back and grunting, in discomfort. He turns to the bar and takes a shotglass out and pours a drink. As he turns, ready to give it to Charlie, Al approaches and takes it from him, drinking it. Jack looks at Charlie, bemused. Upstairs, Alma sits next to Doc on a couch in the hallway.) Doc: Are you certain that she saw her family dead? Alma: Yes. I certainly assume she did. (Downstairs) Jack: The man I once was, Al, was not formidable, and I am but his shadow now. And yet I’d be put to use. A decoy, perhaps. A weight to drop on villains from above. (Upstairs) Doc:
As I heard the account, the child was found inside a hollowed-out tree trunk some distance from the others. Alma: Having crawled from the carnage and hidden herself, I’d always assumed. Doc: See, I suppose, rather than Sofia crawling unseen from the carnage, the possibility might exist that the family hid her in the tree trunk and then fled that distance before the murderers fell upon them. For the child to have been found having been savaged by wolves, those hours later by strangers, and then taken away having never seen her family again, living or dead… (Alma sniffs, puts her hand to her chest, distraught at the thought, and looks at Doc. Downstairs, Jack pours another drink and successfully delivers it to Charlie this time. He points to the point at Charlie’s back that he’s holding in pain.)
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Jack: I can fix that. (he holds up his drink) Slainte. (Charlie nods and drinks. He heads over and joins Dan and Silas at their table.) Dan: Thought you was near pitching a tent and setting up housekeeping over on that first step. (Silas laughs, Johnny pours a drink.) Charlie: You sound like a pig my cousin run off with. (Silas and Dan both laugh. Charlie puts his empty glass out in front of Dan.) Get another? (Dan turns to Johnny and gets another shot. Dan plays at handing it right to Charlie taking it back before grinning and giving it over. Aww, new buddies. Charlie drinks.) Al: If that cocksucker hadn’t shareholders, you could murder him while you adjusted his back. Jack: Serpent’s teeth—shareholders. 10,000 would rise to replace him. (Upstairs, Sofia strokes Bullock’s mustache. She stops when Alma enters the room again. Alma approaches Sofia and strokes her dress.) Alma: All right, darling. All right. (Bullock picks Sofia up and heads to the door, looking back at Alma. She picks up his hat from the desk and opens the door. They head downstairs.) Al: Monitor my thinking, Jack. Jack: Oh, no warrant as to competence. Al: Had Hearst wanted this woman killed, she’d be dead already. Jack: Agree. The husband’s murdered to coerce her to sell. Al: For the moment, the child’s safe too, huh? Jack: Pending the mother’s decision—agree. Al: Safe then to let ‘em go, huh? Jack: I would, Sir. (He takes his hat off and the other stand as Seth, Sofia and Alma come downstairs.) Yes. Seth: Gonna take Mrs. Ellsworth home. Al: As you think best. Alma: I wish to thank you again, Mr. Swearengen. (he nods) We are all very grateful. (She reaches for Sofia and Seth sets her down. She hands Seth his hat and puts her arm around Sofia’s shoulder, leading her away.) Al: Trixie’s with Star at his place. No on knows but Shaunessey, who lives in fucking terror of me, huh? (Seth looks confused) Passages between their places only Shanessey knows. Jack: Heartfelt condolences, Madam. (Alma nods at him.) Sofia: I get to see Mr. Ellsworth tomorrow. Jack: Very good, young lady. God bless. Al: You take care of them, Bullock. Leave the other to me, huh? Oh, Bullock, you might want to stand guard outside her place. Seth: I’ll take Charlie as backup. Al: No no, Hearst ain’t gonna be coming for her. But to bring the matter home as grave, it’d make a case for her selling her claim. Not to jeopardize the tranquility of your own hearth. (Seth pauses, eyes on Alma. He looks back at Al.) Thank you for looking to them. (They leave, Charlie following.)
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Jack: Nimbleness, Lad, dexterity. Al: I’d prefer Hearst’s advantage at arms. Jack: True, true. The world is less than perfect. (Seth escorts Alma down the boardwalk, Charlie behind them. Hearst watches from his room.) Hearst: The camp is galvanized. People scurry about. They’ve tasks to perform. They feel important. (He turns and looks at his Pinkerdick in the corner.) I oughtn’t to work in these places. I was not born to crush my own kind. (At Sol’s, he and Trixie lay in bed next to each other. Back at the Gem, Al is wiping down the bar as Mr. Wu comes marching in the back door. Johnny alerts Al to his presence in the back. The whores clear out of the hallway in front of Wu. He bobs around looking for a way past them.) Al:
Right with you, Wu. In there. In there. First door. (Wu stops) Yeah, in there. (Wu bows his head to Dolly and turns. He enters the room. Al follows and pauses outside the door.) When he leaves, them that ain’t lining this fucking hallway like he’s the tallest, best-looking white man ever got fucking lucky better prepare for a fucking beating. (Al enters the room. Inside, Al unfolds a piece of paper and starts to draw.) Wu—Custer City—brings back all his Chinks the fuck back to Deadwood. (Wu ponders) MrWu: Wu…back Deadwood? Al: Brings all his Chinks back, huh? MrWu: Wu, Custer City, back Deadwood! Ding n amah gai. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday! 10 day, Swedgin! Al: I am sorry, Wu. I’m sorry I made you wait. But I want you to bring them now. While you’re about your journey, I’ll be trying to conceive some practical use for your countrymen’s arrival besides seeming to swell our ranks. Oh, we’ll give ‘em guns, yeah. We’ll provide ‘em with guns, so any of the slant-eyed bastards know what one is, or, perish the thought, know how to use one—we’ll enhance our prospects. MrWu: (tapping his chest) Guns. Chung Kuo. Wu, Custer City, back Deadwood. 150 Chunk Kuo cocksucker, Swedgin. (He kneels in front of Al.) Al: Shut the fuck up, Wu. MrWu: (crosses his fingers) Heng Dai. Al: (crosses his fingers) Heng Dai. Heng Dai, fucking Wu. (Mr. Wu gives a slight bow to Al, gets up and leaves. As he enters the hallway the whores line the hall and bow their heads.) MrWu: Big man. Wu—big man. (He smiles as he turns the corner and leaves. Al steps out, looking at the girls. He looks over and sees a sleeping hoople. He points to him.)
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Al:
Rouse him to spend on pussy, or rob the son of a bitch. (The whores do a quick rock, paper scissors, the loser walks over to the man and nudges him. Al pours a drink.) Ah.
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker Jim Beaver W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Brad Dourif Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff Parisse Boothe Leah Ann Cevoli Franc Ross Ashleigh Kizer Jennifer Lutheran Stephen Toblowsky Gale Harold David Redding Sarah Pachelli
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Whitney Ellsworth Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Doc Cochran Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov Tess Gem Whore Leah Louis the Bank Guard Dolly Jen Hugo Jarry Wyatt Earp Davey Janine
The creation of this transcript is done without endorsement by or affiliation with HBO® or the producers of the program Deadwood(SM), without any commercial purpose whatsoever, is for personal and entertainment use only, and is solely intended to facilitate discussion, criticism, and research in compliance with the "Fair Use" provisions of U.S. Copyright Law, Chapter 1, Section 107. None of the intellectual property rights of HBO® have been violated by the creation of this transcript and the copyright claimed by the owner hereof. Any commercial use of this transcript is prohibited and will constitute a violation of the intellectual property rights of the owner hereof.
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Episode 36: Tell Him Something Pretty Directed by: Mark Tinker Written by: Ted Mann
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(Early morning at camp, Hearst is sleeping on the floor of his room when there’s an insistent knock upon his door. He wakes with a jolt and begins to get up, slowly due to the pain in his back. The knocking continues.) Hearst: Quit your Goddamn knockin’. I’m comin’. (The pounding continues, Hearst opens the door. It’s Charlie Utter.) Charlie: Casket’s come with your name on it. Hearst: Why tell me in the middle of the night? Charlie: Body’s inside. Hearst: Evidently not mine. Charlie: I’d as soon make delivery. Hearst: You’ll find out where when I decide. Good night. (He starts to close the door, Charlie stops it with his foot. Hearst opens it again, glaring at Charlie.) Charlie: I don’t like your tone of voice. Hearst: Who are you, Mr. Utter, for me to care what you like or don’t? Charlie: I’m the guy that the next time you see me, you’d better take a different fuckin’ tone with. (Hearst chuckles.) Hearst: Given what’s in store, I’m not sure I’ll ever learn what price I’d have paid for not complyin’. Charlie: Oh, I guess someone lookin’ hard might could find you in there somewheres, peekin’ from under the covers to make a fuckin’ threat. (He firmly closes the door on Utter. Seething. Downstairs, Richardson and Aunt Lou are preparing breakfast. Charlie comes down the stairs and meets Aunt Lou’s gaze. After an uncomfortable moment, he tips his hat and continues on his way. At the theatre, Jack Langrishe is on stage, Claudia across the room.) Jack: Their quality apart, Claudia, failing reception, our efforts are lost to the void. Claudia: I understand. Jack: Don’t say so! Please! I lose my thought. (She sits) This camp is in mortal danger. The man Hearst is a murderous engine. My friend Swearengen, aware their combat is unequal, feels the appeal of the gory finish. Others I’ve just come to know stand candidates in the elections, whose results they know may be moot. What, one is disposes to ask, in fuck ought a theater man to do? Of a certainty, our debut’s postponement is necessary. But unless of one’s own volition, certain is it too that one would not be canceled. To prevent that, if need be, even off the boards, one would take steps of one’s fuckin’ own! (He sits and looks at Claudia.) Claudia: Why did you bring me here? Jack: I don’t know, child. (He douses the oil lamp and the room goes dim. At Wu’s meat locker, Johnny and Silas are coming out, loaded with fresh meat carcasses.) Johnny: What’s the point Al having us leave I.O.U.s when Wu can’t read fuckin’ English?
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Silas: Wu gets back, he’ll take Al the I.O.U.s for interpretin’, find out Al did the rightful thing while he was gone. Johnny: That’s big point with Al, ain’t it? Silas: When he ain’t lyin’, Al’s the most honorable man you’ll ever meet. (He sees Hawkeye passed out Jane style against the wall of a building.) Johnny, balance up against this fuckin’ Chinese sign while I lay my rack on your shoulder. Johnny: Why? Silas: Just shut the fuck up. Get this meat inside. (He lays the rack on Johnny’s free shoulder.) Johnny: What are you gonna do? Silas: (He waves Johnny away, turns and walks toward Hawkeye) Murder. (He kicks Hawkeye in the ass.) Where the fuck you been? I fuckin’ vouched for you! Hawkeye: We’re camped up at the Spearfish Meadows, as not to tip Hearst off till Swearengen can deploy us. I mean, I rode into town to tell you, but I fell one saloon short. Silas: Come on. Hawkeye: Lots of Chinks in that meadows up there. Is the railroad comin’ to camp? (At the house that the Bonanza bought, Alma is brushing Sofia’s hair. Both of them dressed in black.) Alma: To have kept our claim, we’d have had to leave here, you and I, so that thugs we’d have had to engage could counter Mr. Hearst’s thugs without having the further responsibility of defending us. So…we are to sell, Sofia, so that we may stay. To be fair to Mr. Hearst—which is more than he deserves—the price he is paying assigns a great worth to our holdings, which lacking expertise of our own and others now being absent who might have provided it, as a practical matter makes refusal absurd. But how I hate to give that man what he wants. (She smoothes out Sofia’s hair, tied in a black ribbon.) Your hair has survived my diatribe. Sofia: If we left, we wouldn’t be able to see Mr. Ellsworth. (Alma turns Sofia around to face her.) Alma: And we are not leaving. (Downstairs, Bullock, Sol and Jane are waiting. Alma and Sofia come down and Jane takes Sofia by the shoulder. Alma kisses Sofia goodbye. She leaves with the men. Joanie looks down from her window and sees the three leaving. She leaves her vantage point. Silas brushes off Hawkeye’s jacket outside as Hawkeye showers.) Silas: Your fuckin’ throat’s gonna be at risk, Hawkeye, in case you don’t fuckin’ realize, which wouldn’t bother me except mine’s gonna be too. (In Hearst’s room, he signs paperwork with Alma, Bullock, Sol and some Pinkerdicks in attendance.)
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Hearst: Advancing your interests, Mrs. Ellsworth, mine and all others, what we do here seems natural and proper. Mr. Newman, I ask you to ready payment to the officers of Mrs. Ellsworth’s bank. Seth: We’ll receive it where we can put it in her safe. Hearst: May I hope, Madam, you do not subscribe to this insulting and juvenile precaution? Alma: I do not find the precaution juvenile, so many having been murdered with whom you’ve had dealings in this camp. Hearst: At least you acknowledge the insult. Alma: I acknowledge the pretense to civility—in a man so brutally vicious—as vapid and grotesque. (They stand.) Hearst: Have the gold seen to her bank, Newman. Have its purity assayed. Let her or her seconds choose the man. When that tedium is completed, have the documents witnessed as though we were all of us Jews. And bring the business back to me. (He turns to leave) Excuse my absence, Mr. Star, as I hope you’ll forgive my thoughtless aspersion on your race. (Sol nods) You stand for local office, but some contests being countywide, I await wires from the other camps. (He holds the door open and Alma turns to leave. Hearst sniffs as she passes by.) You’ve changed your scent. Seth: Can’t shut up! Every bully I ever met can’t shut his fuckin’ mouth…except when he’s afraid. Hearst: You mistake for fear, Mr. Bullock, what is in fact preoccupation. I’m having a conversation you cannot hear. (Hearst turns his back on the group, Seth clenches and glares at his back. Alma looks stricken, looking at Hearst’s back. Sol gathers up the papers and leaves the room. Seth follows, Hearst turns to watch them leave. At the house that the Bonanza Bought, Jane and Sofia are playing a game of – um, slap hands? Chicken? Whatever, Sofia is slapping the crap out of Jane’s hands. There’s a knock at the door.) Jane: Oh see, that’s just Miss Stubbs now answering my message I sent her by secret thinking, requesting unguent for my bruises. (She opens the door) Hello hello, Miss Stubbs. Joanie: Hello hello, yourself. Hello, Sofia. Sofia: Hello, Miss Stubbs. Joanie: I’m just going to the center. I wondered if you needed anything. Jane: Oh, I’ve let her in on it. (Joanie looks confused) You needn’t tell a stretcher how it is you come to appear. Joanie: (Playing along) You told? Jane: Asked for unguent by secret thinking for the beating she was giving my hand. Joanie: That’s my purpose in the center. Stopped to ask if you needed aught else. Jane: If I did, I believe you’d already know. Joanie: (To Sofia) Hit her a good one for me. Sofia: I will.
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(Joanie leaves, Jane shuts the door behind her. Back in Hearst’s room, there’s a knock on the door.) Hearst: Come in! (E.B. opens the door and peeks in) EB: I was looking for Mr. Hearst. Hearst: Who do you think you’re talkin’ to? (He’s laying on the floor next to his bed.) EB: Candidly, of late, I’m at pains to be certain which voices are within me and which without. Hearst: This one is without, telling you to come in. EB: Of course. (He steps in and closes the door, removing his hat.) What is it, Mr. Hearst? I’ve sensed for some while we owed each other a talk. Let the outcome be grim or worse, I’ll at least be relieved that it’s past. (Hearst holds up a letter, E.B. squints at it. Shielding his face he creeps towards the bed, reaches out and grabs the letter, hurrying back closer to the door.) May I look at the addressee? Hearst: How will you know to whom it is to be delivered if you do not? EB: Oh dear. Well, I’ll be on my way the (He leaves. At the Number 10, Rutherford is playing checkers with a despondent Steve. I’ll bet he’s winning. There’s a black checker hanging from Steve’s lip, we know it’s his favorite color. How thoughtful. Harry Manning is sweeping.) Harry:Must have shook 100 hands in Sturgis. Tom: When you declared for Sheriff, Harry, I feared you’d be a poor campaigner and derelict in your duties here. You’ve held your end up and more. Harry:Ache in my hand and wrist, the deep-set dirt defies me. Tom: Well, if sweeping, you don’t raise your usual simoon, it’s a paltry price to pay. Rutherford: Fuck if you saw that comin’. Tom: I have something to show you, Harry. (He walks across the bar and uncovers a large crate. Harry stares at it in awe.) The Finster Model 60 steam pumper fire wagon. Harry:120-gallon boiler? (Rutherford stands) Tom: Three brass nozzles. Harry:Nickel-finished firebox? Tom: I believe that to be the case. (NG Fields enters.) Harry:Did the hats come? (Fields picks up the checker) Rutherford: Is that a checker in Steve’s mouth? Fields: You don’t want to look after him, just say so. Rutherford: Who says I don’t? (Fields wheels him to the door) Only he kibitzes my moves. Where are you goin’? Fields: Takin’ him to vote for Bullock. Rutherford: This may require my supervision. Tom: I’ll vote just before lunch. Harry:And I’ll go once you’ve relieved me.
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(He touches the crate in reverence. At the Gem, E.B. has delivered the letter to Al in his office.) Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB: Al: EB:
Al: EB: Al: EB:
You don’t expect me to believe you didn’t steam this open and reseal it for me to open again. I didn’t wanna know. (Al holds the magnifying glass up to the letter and slams it down a moment later.) This motherfucker! For my complicity in his shooting, he orders my death. You did read it. (E.B. gasps and holds on to the chair behind him to steady himself. He stands up and holds his chin to the sky.) Be quick then, please. Your complicity’s mostly in your noggin’, E.B. It’s the whore he wants dead. (He fans himself as he sits for a moment, then stands again.) By what vile method then? Is Trixie to be drawn and quartered and set aflame? Say he’ll have my answer in an hour. Al. E.B. I can’t, Al. I can’t engage him in further conversation. When I hear his voice, I see the inside of his skull! (Al pulls out a pencil and paper and scribbles a note) Phantoms grin out at me, oozing gruesome goo. Slide this under his door then. (Raising his eyebrows) Would you rather I tell him? Only decide quickly. (E.B. strides to the door and puts on his hat.) Fear is every man’s portion. (It appears that the center is in fact the center of hell, the Bella Union. Joanie has arrived and Con quickly intercepts her.)
Con: Did he send for you, Joanie? Joanie: What’s happenin’ here, Con? Con: Well, not knowin’ Mr. Tolliver’s, uh, present state of feelin’ towards you is why I ask. Joanie: Then why don’t you stay the fuck out of it, Con? (We hear a door open and close.) Cy: I wasn’t fuckin’ dreamin’. It is Joanie Stubbs. Con: I got “Stay the fuck out” written on a stone tablet in my bedroom. (Heh.) Joanie: How you feelin’, Cy? Cy: I get around all right. Joanie: Your color’s better. Cy: Is that a fucking fact? My color’s better, Stupid. (Janine looks over.) Stupid, this is Joanie Stubbs. Janine: Hi. Joanie: What’s your name, Honey? (Janine hesitates and looks at Cy.) Cy: Go ahead and tell her your name. Janine: Janine.
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Joanie: Hi, Janine. Janine: Hi. Cy: Go ahead now, Jan-nee-nee-neen, and finish your Latin lessons and your Greek. The thirst this girl has for knowledge, she’s barely time to suck a prick. Joanie: She’s pretty. Cy: What the fuck do you want? Joanie: I’ve been thinking about you is all. Cy: (scoffs) Help me understand cunt, Lord. Joanie: Saying the other night you oughtn’t come inside that school, Cy, don’t feel I don’t wish you well. Cy: Buy some lines in the paper, Joanie. Let the public know. Joanie: I know you meant that for me in your way. Cy: What? Joanie: Meant me well. Cy: If it’s Christmas, where’s the fucking snow, or the fucking harp music or the like? Joanie: If it wasn’t for you, I’d have died a long long time ago. Some happiness has come into my life now, and I’m grateful I didn’t. Cy: My lines are women, liquor and rigged games of chance. Are you playing? Joanie: What do you think of all this trouble Hearst brought? Cy: Does a girl have to drive cattle for you to eat her pussy? (Joanie looks ruefully at Cy, turns and heads for the door. She stops to tug on the broom that Leon is leaning on and sleeping. He wakes.) Joanie: You voting, Leon? Leon: Against the opium ordinance. (sniffs) (Joanie leaves. Janine looks at Cy, he catches her.) Cy: What the fuck are you looking at? (At the Gem, Al pours a drink.) Al:
That whore’s gotta die. (Johnny looks at Al skeptically.) Jen? Hearst won’t stand for an empty coffin. Likely, he paid most attention to Trixie’s tits and snatch, so Jen’ll adequately pass. (They drink.) Johnny: Jesus Christ. Al: I know. You like her. Johnny: She’s a nice girl. Al: All right. Johnny: She’s learning to read. Al: Spend some time with her, and let me know when you’re done. (Johnny stands, a moment of anger passes his face.) Johnny: You’ll scare her. Al: I’ve done it once or twice, Johnny. She won’t know that’s what I’m there for. Johnny: She won’t need to. You scare her no matter what. (He tears up a moment, slams the table with his fist.) Oh, just give me a fucking knife then. Just give me the fucking knife. (Al hands him a knife and he walks dejectedly to the door. He turns back in anger.) Fucking Trixie! Al: Don’t get me started.
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(At Sol’s house, Trixie is lacing up her boots as Sol enters. He looks at her questioningly.) Sol: What are you doing? Trixie:Going for a stroll to the polls. One vote for Star buys a hand job. Repeaters get a suck. Sol: Trixie. Trixie:I’m through staying inside. If something’s to happen let it happen to me. Sol: You selfish cunt! Trixie:No one asked you to put me up. Sol: That’s right. That’s right. My fucking choice! I’m not fucking afraid. Trixie:I guess maybe I’m not either. Sol: Not to die. Trixie:Well, ain’t you clever? Ain’t you fucking clever, you deep thinkin’ fuckin’ Jew! (He strides over and takes her by the arm, dragging her to the door.) Sol: Why bother with your boots then, Trixie, if you’re going to be on your knees? Trixie:Let go of me! Sol: No! Trixie:Let me walk out by myself.! Sol: The fuck if I will! At least I can say I threw you out if you’d rather die than live with me! (He opens the door and pushes her outside. He slams the door shut and looks unsure for a moment. He walks over to the trunk and sits down, putting his head in his hands and weeping. There’s a soft knock on the door. He looks at the door a moment, stands, walks over and opens it. It’s Trixie, sadness etched on her face. She collapses in his arms and cries. He holds her. Back at the Gem, Jen is shaking a beaker with a tube attached. She’s talking with another whore.) Jen: Use just half till you see how you stand it. (Johnny enters.) Whore: It itches bad. Jen: I’m saying use just half till you see. (She hands the beaker and tubes to the whore, the whore leaves the room.) Johnny: I wanna talk with you. (Jen hikes up her skirt and bends over the bed.) No, I mean it, Jen. I wanna talk. (He takes the knife out of his belt behind his back. She lets go of her skirt and faces him.) Pure conversation. (Puts his arm around her shoulders) Nothing for you to be alarmed about. (He walks her over to the wall and they look at it. Outside the door, Al waits. Davey approaches him.) Davey:Four and five deep to vote, Boss. Al: Eyes up or predominantly down when Hearst’s goons glare upon ‘em? Davey:Uh, I want to go check again. Al: Good. Good. Never opine short of certainty. (Back inside) Johnny: What is this, Jen? Jen: A wall?
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Johnny: On the surface, yes, it is. But inside, many creatures go about their lives, such as ants. (And here I thought he was going to tell her about the rabbits.) They got a whole operation going. They got soldier ants and worker ants and whore ants to fuck the soldiers and the workers, right inside that wall, baby ants. Everyone’s got a task to hew to, Jen. You understand me? (She nods) Jesus Christ’s fucking sake. (He spins the knife around in his hand and puts it away.) We’ll talk about this later. (He steps out into the hall, meeting Al. He sighs.) I can’t. Al: Give it to me then. Johnny: No. Al: Give me the fucking knife. Johnny: She ain’t stole or been quarrelsome or set the bedding afire. Al: Get out of my fucking way, Johnny. Johnny: It ain’t fair to fucking kill her. Al: Since when did that begin entering in? Johnny: I won’t let you pass, Boss. Al: Johnny. Johnny: I won’t. I won’t let you. Al: You’re willing to die in her stead? Johnny: If I got to…preferring you’d handle things different. (Al walks away from Johnny and down to Dan, standing at the bar.) Al: Make sure the whore don’t leave. Let Johnny cool down, then knock him the fuck out. Dan: What’s gonna happen? Al: What’s gonna happen is I’m gonna go look and see if, perchance, I mightn’t be the owner of another fucking knife. (Johnny stands outside the door of the whore’s room as Al walks upstairs. In the kitchen of the Grand Central, Aunt Lou brushes a pair of boots.) Lou: Richardson! (He comes out of the side room dressed in his best. He holds the ends of his tie.) Richardson: I can’t remember. Lou: Come here. Give it to me. (She takes the tie.) I don’t suppose you gonna go vote stocking-footed. Richardson: I forgot. Lou: Ain’t those them? (He takes off his hat and pulls on the boots that she shined up for him.) You gonna vote for Mr. Bullock now. Richardson: Even though he beat Mr. Farnum, ‘cause he took you-know-who by his ear. Lou: Like some others ain’t brave enough to do. Richardson: Anyways, Harry Manning gives me splinters. Lou: How’s he do that, child? Richardson: Raising the windows after he’s ate. Lou: Richardson…Richardson, you’re right about that. South had that man’s gas to load in their cannons, shoot, wouldn’t be no free niggers nowhere.
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Richardson: Noah hisself would have throwed him out the boat. (They laugh. She puts his tie back on him and tightens up the knot.) Lou: Now that’s for us talking now. Don’t you be saying what I say to you outside these rooms. First you back, you’re gonna clean your mess up, Richardson. You hear me? Richardson: Yes, Ma’am. Lou: Okay. Go on on. You look fine. Richardson: Thank you. (He smiles, tips his hat and leaves. Out in the thoroughfare, we see a table set up with a sign saying “Gratis Drinks! Care of Democratic Slate.”) Democrat: Remember who gave it to you, boys. Vote democratic. (We hear a Pinkerdick imitating a monkey as we see NG Fields in line with Steve.) Pinkerdick: Look what broke out their cage—a monkey. Rutherford: Right to vote shall not be abridged or denied…(drinks) on account of race or color or condition of previous servitude. 15th amendment to the U.S. Constitution, ratified 1870, law of the land thereafter, including territories. Pinkerdick: They got something about niggers not waiting their turn? Rutherford: Not that I’m aware of. Pinkerdick: Oh, you ain’t aware of it. Then I guess you’ll want this white man voting first. Fields: What’s a few minutes more? Charlie: The nigger was before him. (We see Joanie watching.) Richardson: Yes. Pinkerdick: No he wasn’t. Charlie: I guess you’re blind and stupid. Fields: I believe I’ll vote later. Charlie: Fuck if you will. Get your nigger ass back in line. Pinkerdick: You’d better be walking him home afterwards. (He pulls on his collar and gags.) Charlie: You’d better see to that yourself, ‘cause if he don’t make it, you’ll be eating your spuds running till I hunt you the fuck down. Rutherford: And that ends that. Charlie: What your shit-stirring started. Will you drop your fucking ballot? Fields: Ain’t it wonderful, Steve? Charlie: Sorry for all the commotion, Miss Stubbs. Joanie: That’s all right, Mr. Utter. Charlie: Uh, I got something at the jail for you and the other one. ‘Cept right now I’m pretty agitated. Joanie: Well, I got time. Maybe you’ll calm down as we walk. Charlie: All right. (Steve drops his ballot and wheels Steve off. Richardson drops his ballot, smiling. Back at the Gem, Al is talking with Sol.)
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Al:
How do you make your way, Star, not sometimes buying silence by punching her in the fucking mouth? Sol: She thinks Hearst is going to want her dead. She thinks you’ll kill one of these others. Al: Oh, Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Sol: Is it true? Al: I already fucking did. Sol: Is that true? Al: Don’t waste your Jew’s time wondering what’s true and what ain’t. You go over there, tell fucking Hearst the whore Trixie has been killed, and then tell Joan of Arc that instead of flames lapping at her tippy-toes, you’d have her live to fuck in the morning. (Sol nods) And after to you tell fucking Hearst, before you tell that loudmouth cunt, tell your fucking partner I need him here. Sol: Don’t talk about her that way. Al: Oh, I fucking recant. Off you fucking go. And don’t neglect fucking Bullock. Water comes to a boil. (Jen leads a trick upstairs) Unlucky fucking mutt. (Al walks to the bar and stands between Silas and Hawkeye. Dan behind the bar.) Silas: You remember Hawkeye. Al: How many has he got? Silas: Ride from Cheyenne winnowed the wheat from the chaff. Al: How many, Adams, of the promised 23? Hawkeye: Almost 18, Mr. Swearengen, camped in Spearfish Meadows, ready to join in the issue. Al: What does he mean by “Almost 18?” Silas: 17 normal size and a short one that’s hell with a knife. (Al rolls his eyes to Dan.) Dan: Turn me loose. (Oh! Yeah! Another country-ass-kickin’!) Silas: Ain’t that Mr. Wu? Al: In there, Wu. (To Silas) Go with him to get the men, station in Cochran’s Alley. Send word you’re positioned with the midget. (He heads to the back room with Mr. Wu.) Hawkeye: That went off well. (Joanie returns to her room, finding Jane laying on the bed, drunk.) Jane: Hello, hello. Joanie: What happened, Jane? (She just called to say she loves you.) Jane: Nothing out of the ordinary. The bank lady took her child to Ellsworth’s grave and I got drunk. Joanie: How long you been here? Jane: Many years. Or is it a day or two? What’s important is you get to keep asking me questions so I don’t get to ask you one. Joanie: Go ahead. Jane: Why in fuck, with me asking you in to play hot hands with me and Sofia, you stood there instead looking like you just did murder? (Hot hands! That’s what it’s called. Duh.) Joanie: Well, you didn’t. I’d come in if you’d asked.
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Jane: Bullshit! How can you say we’ve been sending secret thought messages and pretend you didn’t know? Joanie: Well, anyways. Jane: Anyways, what? Joanie: Anyways, I’ve just finished my business at the center. (Of hell!) Jane: Who gives a fuck? Joanie: I saw you, and then I went to the Bella Union, and I talked to Cy real quick, and then I went and saw the voting— Jane: Is that so? Oh, so did you go see Cy real quick? Did you pay a quick call on Cy? Did they stick some quick pricks in you? Joanie: It wasn’t like that, Jane. Jane: Who gives a fuck? Not me. Joanie: I saw at the voting what I guess you knowed about Mr. Utter all these years, and Mr. Hickok musta knowed. What he’s like in a tight—one he didn’t even need to be in. Jane: Yeah, he’s okay in those. Joanie: I want to be that to you. Even when we don’t get along. (Aw, she wants to complete you, Jane!) Jane: You got that part down perfect, me and him. Joanie: What, the “don’t get along”? Jane: Of course we had years of practice. (Joanie opens the door quick to get something. Jane sits up.) Joanie: He sent us this. (She puts Bill’s Buffalo pelt robe over Jane) Jane: That’s Bill Hickok’s robe you got there, that’s whose that is. (Jane snuggles up and Joanie spoons her.) Warm. (They both smile. In Hearst’s room, Sol stands before him.) Hearst: I, in no way, wish to impugn his veracity, but I would have Mr. Swearengen understand that for her try on my life, I ought to see that the whore has paid with her own. Sol: All right. Hearst: Wherever the viewing will impose least. Sol: You’ll go there? Hearst: Of course. I feel very safe in this camp. (In Al’s office, he’s talking to Chief-Head-in-the-box.) Al:
This fucking place is gonna be a fucking misery. Every fucking one of them, every fucking time I walk by, “Ooh, how could you? How could you?” With their big fucking cow eyes. The entire fucking gaggle of ‘em is gonna have to bleed and quit before we can even hope for peace. What’s the fucking alternative? I ain’t fuckin’ killing her that sat nights with me sick and taking slaps to her mug that were some less than fucking fair. I should have fucking learned to use a gun, but I’m too fucking entrenched in my ways. And you ain’t exactly the one to be leveling criticisms on the score of being slow to adapt. You fucking
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people are the original slow fucking learners! (He slams the cupboard door shut and walks out of his office. Jen and her trick are coming out of a room.) How was she, pal? Trick: Mmm. Good, wonderful. I don’t mind a small pair of tits. Al: You sure you’re done? You look the sort could turn right around and drop the hammer again. Trick: I will if it’s free. Al: See you later, Pal. (The trick leaves, slapping Jen’s ass on the way out.) C’mere. (He holds the door to his office opens and follows her inside. Shutting the door. At the House that Bullock Built, he’s talking with Charlie.) Seth: Did it seem like Hearst ordered the interference? Charlie: Huh-uh. Being stupid on his own, that strong-arm was. (Chuckles) Or if you want, I could say “Yes.” Martha: Tea, Mr. Utter? Charlie: Tea got kick to it too, a little, don’t it? Martha: Would you rather coffee? Charlie: Oh, no no no. I ought to get familiar with tea. (Martha goes to pour him a cup and he leans in to Seth.) Uh, Much free liquor as them Pinkertons poured against you, Sheriff, it seemed like strong support for you and Star. Seth: My election’s countywide, Charlie. Charlie: That’s what’s fucking worrisome, fucking countywide aspect. (There’s a quick knock on the door followed by Sol barging in.) Martha: Mr. Star. Sol: I’m sorry for barging in, uh. Seth: What is it, Sol? Sol: Uh, everything. (Back at the Grand Central, Hearst opens his door to Jack Langrishe.) Hearst: Mr. Langrishe. (No! Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod!) Jack: Making bold to ask after your health, Sir. Hearst: I was shot in the shoulder. Jack: So one understood. Hearst: But the wound seems healing clean. Jack: And your back, Sir? Hearst: Oh, deprived of your Turkish artillery treatments, my back is as it was. Jack: Please blame my dereliction on the demands of readying our theater. Hearst: (chuckles) I had been blaming your choosing old friends over new acquaintances. Please, sit down. Jack: One prays always, Sir, as one’s store is depleted by time, new acquaintances may become one’s friends. As your friend, I ask if you believe that fate has not chosen for your encounter with your deepest destiny the place where you now find yourself, while decreeing for some—my friend Swearengen included—quite otherwise?
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Hearst: Your proposition is that this place at this hour will show all of Mr. Swearengen? Jack: Yes. Hearst: And Mr. Bullock, who took me by the ear? Jack: I only hazard my impression that, less possessing his character than possessed by it, he is also someone for whom the outcome must be soon. Whilst imagining for you, Mr. Hearst, the earth entertaining some larger purpose to be told you elsewhere and at another time. Hearst: Why do you say so? In those words, I mean—“The earth speaks”? Jack: A vestige of childhood tales in which not only humans spoke, but other creatures too. Mountains and streams. Hearst: I imagine she still speaks to me still, the earth, what’s inside her, how to get it out. Jack: Comprehending such a language can cost a man his own kind’s sympathies. Hearst: Arguing perhaps for a more solitary life. Jack: Sad anointing. Hearst: The mountain I must go up on, Mr. Langrishe, I have ascended before. It’s in Montana, and I came down it with silver, suspecting there was copper too, and now I’m told that’s true. Jack: Do I understand you to say you’re leaving us? Hearst: For the Anaconda, yes. (Jack stands) But first, I’ll have the election returns, and then one last visit with your friend to see the cunt who shot me dead. (opens the door) Good day, Sir. (Jack gives a quick bow and leaves. Mouth agape. At the Gem, Al walks downstairs over to Dan at the bar.) Al: Box her in my office. Dan: Send Jewel up to clean up the mess? Al: If I’m having her boxed in my fucking office, don’t I want the blood left for the cocksucker to see? (Dan nods) And when that’s over, if we’re still alive, I’ll clean my own fucking mess up. (Dan heads upstairs) Look in on Johnny, see if he’s grown the fuck up. (Merrick approaches Al.) Merrick: Sturgis is a landslide for Harry Manning. Blazanov: 970 votes for Harry Manning, 68 votes for Mr. Bullock. Merrick: Heavy turnout among the bivouacked military. (Trixie comes striding in from the back door. She climbs the stairs.) Sol: “Within the hour,” Hearst said 20 minutes or so ago. Al: Didn’t you tell him? (He looks at Merrick and points at Seth with a bottle.) Merrick: I have not as yet, no. Al: How do you think you might enjoy private life? Seth: Sturgis? Blazanov: 970 votes for Harry Manning, 68 votes for Mr. Bullock.
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(We hear a loud thump, then see Dan carrying a coffin upstairs to Al’s office. Inside, Trixie, he hand over her mouth in grief, looks at Jen’s body. Dan enters, pauses a moment, then puts the coffin down on the ground and unties the strap around it.) Dan: Put her in? Trixie:Don’t I want to put my dress on her first, you fucking moron? Dan: I’m sent to check on Johnny. I’ll come back and put her in. (Trixie cries and Dan steps out. The men below look up at him.) She’s, uh, putting Jen in her dress. Al: Johnny. Dan: (nods) Then I’ll do the boxing. Al: We show united in the prelude when he’s making his entrance and the fucking like. Comes to viewing the body, I stand for virtue alone. The deception failing, I’ll make a pass at him with my blade. In the aftermath, play the lie as mine, knowing I speak of you in heaven. Others owe thought to the future—their thinking straightforward don’t come that naturally to. (Johnny, bound and gagged in the backroom, is pissed.) Johnny: Fuck you, Dan! Fuck you! Dan: You got my condolences. As sorrowful as the passing of Jen is, you know that Al, he didn’t have no choice. Johnny: Bullshit. Dan: Feeling how he feels about Trixie, is what I’m saying. Come on, Johnny, you side with your feelings. Right or wrong, you side with your feelings. Now can you come to yourself in time to be of some fucking use? (Dan takes the gag out of Johnny’s mouth and cuts the rope binding his hands to his feet. At the Bella Union, Cy is talking to a Pinkerdick.) Cy:
You don’t chew your cabbage twice, do you, Mr. Newman? I guess I don’t have to set big blocks of time aside for this future collaboration between us that Mr. Hearst outlines here. Newman: You don’t want to crack too fucking wise. Cy: I don’t want to be talking to you at all, Mr. Newman, but that seems to be the way the hand lays. Newman: I tell him you agree? Cy: Yeah, you tell him I agree, and I appreciate the chance at a new friendship. (Newman leaves. At the Gem, Dan comes out of an upstairs room.) Al:
A few nails in the box, Dan, would do me for pretext.
(Dan goes into Al’s office, Trixie is still inside, crying as she finishes dressing the body of Jen. Trixie sits back and Dan takes Jen into his arms and sets her inside the coffin. Trixie has placed her cherished cameo brooch on the dress. Trixie stairs at the sticky puddle of blood as Dan taps in a few nails. At the Bella Union, Cy is
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on his balcony, staring at the “balcony” of the Grand Central, flanked by Leon and Janine.) Cy:
All but sucked your prick, you’d have me be your fucking quartermaster. (We hear a bunch of men speaking in Chinese out in the thoroughfare. They’re doling out firearms.) The rising tide of fucking chinks, Janine? The ragtag collection by the hardware store: I’d put in Swearengen’s camp. (Leon giggles and sniffs) Good dope today, am I right, Leon? (Two Pinkerdicks come out onto Hearst’s “balcony” with shotguns, more are staged down below. Hearst strides out behind Newman and another Pinkerdick.) Leon: Last two or three days have been good. Cy: You are a fucking beauty, Leon. Lifts me up to be with you. (Cy thrust a knife up into Leon’s thigh, Leon gasps.) Leon: Jesus! (He falls to the floor.) What the fuck did you do to me, Sir? Cy: I believe I fucking stabbed you. (Hearst and a mob of Pinkerdicks enter the Gem. Al and the boys are ready. Al walks out from behind the bar to meet Hearst.) Hearst: Gentlemen. Any word yet on how the other camps have voted? (Al clears his throat and heads upstairs. Seth, Hearst and the Pinkerdicks follow.) Is it as Sheriff, Mr. Bullock, you divide us? Al: Need anyone divide us inside? Hearst: Are you sure you still hold office? Seth: If I’m beat, it owes to Yankton’s whore buying cavalry repeaters in Sturgis. Hearst: Why, Sir, then you must protest; camp in Yankton; protest and demand justice; grab the legislators by their ears. Al: Ain’t you hear to confirm a croaker? Hearst: In here? (Al opens the door to his office. Hearst steps in the doorway and sees the coffin.) Mr. Newman and so many of his cohorts as he deems appropriate will precede us. Al: You don’t mind if I go in alone? Hearst: Not at all, Sir. (They go inside, Seth and Charlie guard the closed door. The Pinkerdick shit-stirrer stares at them. Back on Cy’s balcony, Janine is trying to stop the blood flow out of Leon’s thigh.) Cy:
Hearst moves his operating headquarters to Lead, I get to see to all his other-thanmining interests here in the camp. Leon: Congratulations, Sir. Cy: Thank you, Leon. (He throws the note from Hearst at Leon) If those are your last words here on earth, you tell the Lord you went out stupid. Janine: He’s dead. Cy: Oh, not yet, honey. See how the blood still pumps a little out his leg? When they’re dead, that turns to seep.
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(Back in Al’s office, Hearst and Al stand over the coffin.) Hearst: Do you believe I will leave without seeing? Al: Well, I was hesitant to presume. (He puts down his whiskey bottle and pulls out his knife, the Pinkerdicks cock their guns at him. He holds his hands up and kneels down to pry off the lid. The guns uncock. Al slides the lid to the side, revealing the body of Jen. Hearst looks upon it, pushes the raised gun of the Pinkerdick out of the way and steps beside the coffin, facing Al before he bends down and checks her slit throat for a pulse. He stands, looking at Al, Al grips his knife. Hearst wipes the blood from his hands and throws the bloody handkerchief into the coffin with Jen. He steps away, leaving a bloody footprint on the floor. He wipes his boot off onto the bare wood. A Pinkerdick opens the door and he and the Pinkerdicks leave, passing Bullock and Utter on the way out.) Charlie: What do you want done with that body? Hearst: It’s Mr. Swearengen’s affair now. Charlie: The body at my fucking freight office, what you want down with that one? Hearst: You’ll be wired instructions. Seth: Has she family ought be notified? Al: I don’t notify fucking family. Seth: I guess especially not hers. (Sol walks into the room where Trixie’s waiting. He takes off his hat and looks at her.) Al: She has a sister, whores in Gunnison. Jen’s sister, you could write to, care of the Yellowbird. (Seth walks downstairs) I’d take that fucking scrub brush. (Dan walks past Al to go get the brush. Outside, Merrick follows Hearst in the thoroughfare.) Merrick: I wonder if, the other day, you took my not publishing the news that you’d been shot for a failure to observe, or lay it correctly to a judgment on my part that suppressing the news would better serve the camp. Hearst: I’ve stopped reading your paper, Merrick. I’ll have my people here start another one—to lie the other way. (Merrick nods) Hop down. I’d like to take a last look around. (He climbs up onto the driver’s seat of the stage coach, Cy watching from above.) Cy: If I’m quick enough about this, Janine, maybe me and Mr. Hearst will get to hear the Lord judge Leon. (Seth steps out onto the boardwalk in front of the Gem, locking eyes with Hearst. He turns to the left and sees Alma and Sofia coming down the thoroughfare in their wagon. Hearst tips his hat to her as she passes, glaring at him. Up on the balcony, Janine still kneels over Leon’s body.) You want to get a listen too? (He pulls Janine up off her knees and pulls out his pistol) Huh? (He points it in Hearst’s direction. Seth comes striding down the boardwalk, Charlie following, shotgun in hand. Jack Langrishe watches from across the way. Seth approaches Hearst.) Seth: No, Charlie. Hearst: Yes, Mr. Bullock?
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Seth: You’ve looked at your last body. You’re done tipping your fucking hat. Get out of here or I’ll drag you out by the ear. (Cy watches the confrontation down below and puts the pistol to Janine’s head instead. She pulls down her bodice.) Janine: Oh, Please. Please don’t. Hearst: Drive on. (As the coach pulls out of town, Cy lets Janine go) Cy: Tell fucking Con to take care of that asshole. (Out in the thoroughfare, Seth locks eyes with Alma and Sofia as they turn in their stopped wagon to watch Hearst leave. Their driver pops the reigns and they move on.) Charlie: You done fucking good. Seth: I did fucking nothing. Charlie: That’s often a tough one, in aid of the larger purpose. Seth: Which is laying head to pillow, not confusing yourself with a sucker? Charlie: Far as I ever get. Seth: ‘Cause that’s gonna be a project tonight. (He sees Sol walking Trixie down the alley, her hair covered in a blanket, Sol’s arm around her shoulder. Seth smiles. He pats Charlie on the shoulder and walks away through the group of fuckwits that Hawkeye brought to camp. E.B. peeks out of the hole Hearst put in the Grand Central and steps out onto the “balcony” surveying the town as if he were Hearst himself. Back in his office, Al is scrubbing the bloodstain as only he knows how. Johnny stands in the doorway.) Johnny: Did she suffer? Al: I was gentle as I was able, and that’s the last we’ll fucking speak of it, Johnny. (Johnny nods and walks away) Wants me to tell him something pretty. (He returns to scrubbing the bloodstain. The screen fades to black.) The End? A note from your friendly transcriber: My friends and fellow fans, though the series may be over, according to the present state of mind of HBO (though the stubborn ass in me notes that the commentator said “And now the Season Finale of the HBO original series, Deadwood.” Not the “Series Finale”) I will be back when they air the 2, 2-hour movies to give this wonderful,
masterfully written show, the send off it deserves. Whenever that may be. I hope you have found these transcriptions as enjoyable and entertaining as it was for me to prepare them for you. The hours involved are but a pittance of what I would pay were this show to go on for one more season as it was meant. Please, if you know of anyone else that may enjoy these transcriptions, send them the link to the website http://members.aol.com/chatarama where the transcripts will be hosted as long as they are useful. Hopefully, forever. And if you’re the e-bay fucknut looking to make a quick buck off of my 60+ hours of labor in transcribing this season, please, if you have a shred of decency , don’t make other fans bleat when they speak because they’d been fleeced by you. These transcripts are provided free for a reason. It has been a joy and an honor to be able to enhance the enjoyment of this show for you, the fans. And if you’d like to contact me, just google, I’m not that hard to find. Just like these transcripts. Cristi H. Brockway Prepared by Cristi H. Brockway, Free Fuckin’ Gratis for the Fans.
Timothy Olyphant Ian McShane Molly Parker W. Earl Brown Kim Dickens Anna Gunn John Hawkes Jeffrey Jones Robin Weigert Paula Malcomson Leon Rippy William Sanderson Dayton Callie Powers Boothe Bree Seanna Wall Titus Welliver Larry Cedar Pavel Lychnikoff Leah Ann Cevoli Franc Ross Ashleigh Kizer Jennifer Lutheran David Redding Sarah Pachelli
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Seth Bullock Al Swearengen Alma Garret Dan Dority Joanie Stubbs Martha Bullock Sol Star A. W. Merrick Calamity Jane Trixie Tom Nuttall E.B. Farnum Charlie Utter Cy Tolliver Sophia Metz Silas Adams Leon Blazanov
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Gem Whore Leah Louis the Bank Guard Dolly Jen Davey Janine
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