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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.)
(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 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: 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: He may have heard worse stories.
Clell: God? Well if he ain't, I'll tell him six, or seven, just on people of my own
personal acquaintance.
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 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 walks over to meet Sol at the desk. Clell is upset about being interrupted.)
Clell: (To Sol) Get the fuck out of here for a moment would you, sir?
Sol: (To Seth) Byron Samson's comin' for him.
Clell: (To Sol) Sir, would you please get the fuck out of here 'til we have finished
our previous conversation?
Seth: (To Sol) How many in his play?
Sol: (To Seth) A dozen, shit faced. Samson just caved in Tommy Raymond's head
over at the no-name frog. He went against it.
Clell: What are you two conversing at?
(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: Now who is that? That sounds like ah, Byron Samson.
Seth: Yeah.
Clell: What would he want?
(Seth removes his arm sling and turns to look back at Clell. Clell smiles sadly.)
(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.)
(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: I'm executin' sentence now and he's hangin' under color of law.
Byron: You and your partner plan on makin' Deadwood, marshal, do not try for this
scaffold.
Seth: That's a deal you loud mouthed cocksucker!
(Seth throws the rope over an overhead support beam at the front of the porch.)
(Seth kicks a stool across the porch so it rests under where the rope is looped.)
(Clell steps up on the stool and Seth ties off the end of the rope, securing it.)
Seth: 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.
Byron: And you don't get to tell us what to do and what not to do. 'Cause you're
leavin' Montana anyways! Now do not jump off that stool, you cocksucker!
Clell: (To Byron) Or what? You'll kill me? (To Seth) You tell my sister, if my boy
turns up, raise him good.
Seth: What else?
Clell: Tell her, give him my boots.
Seth: What else?
Clell: Tell him, his... daddy loved him. Tell him, he asks God's forgiveness.
Seth: Anything else?
Clell: You help me with my fuckin' fall!
Seth: (Gesturing with his hand) Come ahead.
Clell: (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: 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!
Seth: (To the men) Who'll give his last words to the sister?
Byron: (To the men) None of you better fuckin' move!
Toady: 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, 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.)
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 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.)
(Seth pulls the wagon over when he sees Sol standing at the side of the street.)
(Sol looks up at Seth, and they nod to each other. Sol takes out money to give to Dan.)
(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.
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.
(Al grabs a gun and the cash box, and he and Dan rush up the stairs.)
-----
(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.)
(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.)
(Johnny comes into the room, followed by the Doc. Doc walks over to the john and
crouches down next to him.)
(Doc sticks a thin probe completely through the john's head, temple to temple. Johnny
sees the probing.)
-----
(Back at the stalled wagon train, Wild Bill climbs down from the back of the wagon.)
(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 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: (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."
Seth: I gotta put a book together of your old man's deathbed sayin's.
Sol: That was Wild Bill Hickok just ridin' past us, Seth. I seen him in photographs.
-----
Trixie: 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.
Al: None of that's anything to me.
Trixie: He wakes back up, starts in beatin' on me. "Where's his stake? Where's all his
money?"
Al: You call Danny, you call Johnny.
Trixie: Must've been me took it from him.
Al: 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?
Trixie: (Closes her eyes against what's coming, because Al's about to give her
another beating.) Do what you gotta do to me.
Al: (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.)
-----
(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)
-----
(Later that day. Al's office. Al, E.B., and Johnny are there.)
-----
(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.
(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.
(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: (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.
Brom: Don't think I confuse two nights holding good cards with being a faro shark.
Al: Two here, Dan. (To Brom, regarding his shot of whiskey) You ah, you see a
finish to that?
Brom: (After downing his shot) Did you hear Bill Hickok's in town?
Al: Oh, yes I did. Does that give you the vapors?
Brom: Are you mad about something, Al?
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.
Brom: What? Where's Driscoll now?
Al: He ain't here, so I'd assume at his hotel.
Brom: You told me he's here by six.
Al: Well, he ain't yet.
Brom: Al, E.B. Farnum just saw me here and headed for the door.
Al: I wouldn't know how to interpret that.
Brom: 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.
Al: I see, fair enough.
Brom: Oh, that's what I had to ascertain.
Al: Did you do the legwork?
Brom: Al. (Brom downs another shot, and pulls his hand out of his pocket holding a
piece of gold he retrieved from Driscoll's claim.)
Al: For God's sake, close your fist.
Brom: Cleaned up during the night with five more just like it. From claim number
nine above Discovery. Panned, at the Driscoll claim.
Al: All's I can say, Brom, while you were out winnin' the battle, I hope you didn't
lose the fuckin' war.
Dan: 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.)
Brom: Who's that?
Al: Tim Driscoll. Shit faced. Let me handle the play.
Brom: My God, he is shit faced.
-----
(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.)
(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: So ah, ah, what brings you to our camp, Mr. Hickock, ah... may I tell my
readers?
Bill: Warrant out on me in Cheyenne.
Charlie: Ah, get off of that now, Bill.
Merrick: Well, I suppose for a man like you, warrants are a vocational hazard.
Bill: You callin' me a professional vagrant?
Merrick: The ah, warrant was for vagrancy?
Charlie: (To Merrick) He's kiddin'!
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: (To Tom) You run that game, Can I buy 50 in chips?
Tom: I do, and you can. Just, settle up after you see how your luck runs.
Charlie: You feel like playin' now, Bill or you wanna take in the rest of the camp?
Bill: I feel like playin' now.
Tom: Draw and five stud. Dealer calls the game.
Bill: Sounds fair. See you later, Charlie.
Charlie: Alright, Bill.
(Bill walks to the back of the room and speaks to a group of men already seated at a
table.)
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.)
(Downstairs at the Gem. Tim Driscoll is acting drunk and loud with a whore.)
Tim: Now Mabel, Mabel, get your ass across that table. This dollar is not for a
drink.
Whore: My name's Caroline.
Tim: Yeah, well you'll always be Mabel to me.
Al: (To Tim) Claim nine above Discovery, $14,000, yes or no? $14,000, yes or
no?
Tim: (To Brom) Alright, we'll make it 14,000.
Al: (To Brom) Spit in your hand. Spit in your hand.
(Tim Driscoll spits in his hand, but Brom hesitates to spit in his.)
-----
(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: I bought it. We own a gold claim. This is how we sealed the deal.
Alma: And then, did everyone dry their hands?
Brom: Do you know who I was bidding against? Farnum, who owns this hotel.
Alma: Oh, and where was your secret agent?
Brom: 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.
Alma: Yes, I've already begun to imagine it.
Brom: It's a near thing 'til the end. I had to go all our 20,000 to turn Farnum away.
Alma: Oh well.
Brom: I'll have to write the bank to renew my credit. Of course they'll contact father.
Alma: Well, I expect that's inevitable.
Brom: 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.)
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: 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.
Sol: Schedule like that, Mr. Smith, seems like you'll have 'em here in no time.
Rev: And then Sabbaths I preach Christ's crucified and raised from the dead.
Seth: I'm from Etobicoke, Ontario.
Rev: So you were born in Canada.
Seth: I come to Montana when I was 17. That's when I met up with Mr. Star.
Rev: Is that so?
Sol: I was born in Austria.
Rev: Austria? Wonderful where people come from.
Sol: Well, I was born in Austria and then I, I grew up in Chillicothe, Ohio.
Rev: And you partnered with Mr. Bullock in Montana.
Sol: That's where we partnered up.
Rev: 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?
Sol: We did alright.
Seth: We'll be a few hours, Mr. Smith. We want to look around the camp.
Rev: I will watch your goods as if they were my own.
Sol: 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: (To his horse) (whoo) (To Sol and Seth) I seen a terrible thing tonight.
Seth: What'd you see?
Ned: I seen white people dead and scalped and... man, woman, and children with
their arms and legs hacked off.
Seth: Where? How many dead?
Ned: 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.)
-----
(Inside the No. 10 Saloon. Wild Bill and Jack McCall are playing cards with two other
men.)
Jack: You call my bluff, Hickok? I was tryin' to run one. Whoa! Wait on Mary. I got
a third eight under there.
Dealer: (To Jack) Three eights wins, your pot.
Jack: Oh, I absolutely did not realize that.
Dealer: Your chips.
Jack: Here I am, thinkin' I'm fuckin' bluffin' the third eight, and I mistakenly
outdraw the greatest gunfighter in the world.
Bill: Meaning the third eight?
Jack: What?
Bill: Sayin' you outdrew me? You meant the third eight.
Jack: Well, what else would I have meant?
Bill: Say it. Then we'll play cards.
Jack: Third eight's what I meant.
Bill: Deal.
Dealer: Ante's up, same again.
Jack: Jesus Christ ah, can we shake hands or somethin'? Relieve the atmosphere? I
mean, how stupid do you think I am?
Bill: 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.
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.)
(The men who will be riding to find the third Metz child leave the saloon. Jack McCall
remains.)
(Bill and Seth walk together down the street towards their horses.)
-----
(Al's office. Al is trying to open his safe. Dan Dority enters the room.)
Al: What'd you give Driscoll?
Dan: 20 bucks. Free poke with Wanda.
Al: Half smart Mick that he is. Yeah.
Dan: Tim really fucked up with the dude, huh?
Al: 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.
Dan: So, shut the dude down?
Al: You bein' his secret best friend, he'll want you out prospectin' in the morning
beside him. That claim needs to pinch out.
Dan: Oughtn' take but a couple a days. He ain't got much sand.
Al: And Tim Driscoll needs to be seen to.
Dan: No kiddin', now?
Al: No kiddin'
Dan: Well not than anybody asks, but I'd look to Trixie for danger before I'd look to
Tim.
Al: No kiddin'.
(knocking)
Johnny: Jimmy says the Sioux massacred a family on the Spearfish Road.
Jimmy: A hand come into Nuttall's Number 10 telling the story, Mr. Swearengen.
Al: Who was he?
Jimmy: I-I never seen him before.
Al: Can you get him over here? Is he still at Nuttall's?
Jimmy: Ah, they're ridin' back out to where it happened. Hickok and some others were
ridin' with him.
Al: Did the hand look happy to be riding back out with Hickok?
Jimmy: He didn't look too happy.
Al: (To Jimmy) How many people downstairs did you tell about this?
Jimmy: A few?
Al: A few?
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: (To Dan) Give him a bottle of dope.
Dan: (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.)
(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.)
(laughing)
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.)
(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)
-----
(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.
Ellsworth: And fuck us all anyway for the limber dick cocksuckers we are.
-----
(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.)
(Dan covers Tim's mouth with his hand, then stabs him once with the knife.)
(muffled screams)
-----
(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: (To Sol) What kinda hand is your friend with a gun?
Sol: I don't feel qualified to say.
Ned: (To Seth) I ah, guess I'd done my duty, and I's ah, I was glad enough to help.
Seth: Stick around. See if she lives.
Ned: Nah, I-I was ah, glad enough to done my duty, and that little one will be in my
prayers.
Seth: Get down off your horse.
Ned: Listen to me. I'm an innocent man, and it was them Indians, goddamnit!
Seth: Too much ransackin', and too many goods left behind. Someone was after
money.
(Wild Bill walks over to stand beside Seth.)
Ned: Goddamnit, if I had somethin' to do with what happened, why'd I come to this
camp, huh?
Bill: Maybe when it got thick out there, you ran? Maybe the others was goin' a-
ground, but you had to have pussy. And get to a faro layout. I felt that way
sometimes after a kill.
Seth: 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)
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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.)
---
(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: Coffee!
EB: Mornin’, Al.
Al: I’d like someone to tell me what in fuck is goin’ forward in this camp?
EB: Tim Driscoll’s checked out. I can tell you that much.
Al: Left you hotel, has he?
EB: Moved to Wu’s pig sty.
Al: What was that shootout about?
EB: At sunup?
Al: Yeah, at fuckin’ sunup!
EB: 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.
Al: What’s it to Hickok or that hardware guy either how them squareheads come to
die?
EB: I couldn’t agree with ya more.
(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.)
(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.)
(Dan holds out a bucket for Brom to dump the silt into. We see Ellsworth on the other
side of the creek behind Brom.)
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: Sol Star.
Seth: Seth Bullock.
Sol: Rent on lot four. (Puts a money on the bar in front of Al.)
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.
Seth: Who says that? I’d like to ask ‘em what they mean. (Says this with a smile)
Sol: That fella drew on Seth this morning.
Al: Never heard different.
Seth: No one mistook his intentions.
Al: 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?
Seth: We’d like to make an offer on that lot we’re rentin’.
Al: Sell my back teeth for the right money.
Sol: Would 600 get the job done?
Al: I guess before I made a price I’d want to know if you boys have unnamed
partners?
Seth: Why?
Al: I think specifically Wild Bill Hickok. Didn’t you and Hickok act together in the
street this morning?
Sol: No, we just met Wild Bill Hickok.
Seth: What business of that is his?
Al: You mean what business of mine is that?
Seth: Don’t tell me what the fuck I mean.
Al: Not a tone to get a deal done.
Sol: 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.)
Al: Sure. Yeah and you and me’ll find our proper stride, huh?
Seth: Alright.
Sol: Good luck on the days trade.
Al: 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.
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.)
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 – 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.)
(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: 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.
Sol: That’s a real generous perspective, Reverend.
Rev: 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.)
Al: 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.
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.)
(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.)
(Brom-stricken-takes his hat and lantern off the counter and heads upstairs. EB drinks
his coffee.)
---
(Back in Al’s office.)
Doc: 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: 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: This camp is a going concern. We could secure our futures here. Hardware could
just be a start.
Seth: Camp needs a bank.
Sol: 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.
Seth: What about what he called you?
Sol: I been called worse by better.
Seth: Get it in writin’ from that sonofabitch. We buy the other half in October.
Sol: Just leave it to me.
Utter: Ah..ah..(pissing) Uh…ah…ah. (looks over at Seth and Sol) Evenin’.
Seth: Evenin’.
Utter: Um, Bill and me didn’t make it to your tent today.
Seth: Tomorrow’s another day.
Utter: 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.
Sol: Anyways, have a good evenin’.
Utter: What’s your secret, Bullock?
Seth: What do you mean?
Utter: 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.
Seth: 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.)
(Seth and Sol enter and approach the bar. Nuttall pours them a drink – at his table,
Hickok does a shot.)
(Jane backs out of Charlie’s arms, stops crying, shrugs it off and gets back into mean
mode – walks off.)
(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.
(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.)
Dan: You go on away from here for a little while, Doc. (Doc points his gun at Dan)
Doc: I won’t.
Dan: Go on. You go see about the whores.
Doc: No.
Dan: You know I’ll come through you if I have to.
Doc: 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’)
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: 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.)
(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)
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 Johnny Burns
Keith Carradine Wild Bill Hickock
Joe Chrest Persimmon Phil
Jane Leigh Connelly
Garret Dillahunt Jack McCall
Dan Hildebrand Tim Driscoll
Peter Jason Johnny Varnes
Geri Jewell Jewel
Jeffrey Jones A.W. Merrick
Ray McKinnon Rev. H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon)
Nick Offerman Tom Mason
Timothy Omundson Brom Garret
Toni Oswald
Dean Rader-Duval Jimmy Irons (as Dean Rader Duval)
Tom Simmons
Bree Seanna Wall Metz Girl (as Breeseanna Wall)
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 #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.)
(Bill takes one of his revolvers out of its holster and lays it on the table.)
(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.)
(Wild Bill lays down his cards, not taking his eyes off Jack)
Rev: I was a field nurse during the war. At Shiloh in Sanko Manassas. That was a good deal of
violence.
Seth: Is that when you got your callin’?
Rev: 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.
Seth: If your preachin’ at me, Reverend, you need to put some more light on the text.
Rev: If I am preaching at you, sir, I do you a disservice. Good Morning, Mr. Star.
Sol: Good Morning, Reverend.
Seth: Can we get the lot? Can we start buildin’? The Reverend’s come to help.
Sol: We’re still hangin’ fire.
Seth: What’s the damn holdup?
Sol: New gambling outfit come into town, Seth. Time wasn’t right to push and do a decision.
Seth: I got all the lumber cut.
Sol: And I warned you that was premature.
Seth: You said 98 percent, after your last conversation with that sonofabitch.
Sol: 98 is not a hundred.
Seth: Goddamnit! (Oops! Turns his head toward the Rev.)
Rev: Good day, Sirs.
Sol: Good day, Reverend!
---
(Out in the street, facing the Bella Union – we hear Jane talking before the camera goes inside the
Grand Central)
Jane: I said they’d find a way to stop me. (Now we’re inside the hotel)
Utter: If it’s raisin’ room rates, you have to go ahead and raise ‘em.
EB: Rates aren’t the only factor. There’s a waiting list for occupancy.
Jane: 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)
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)
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!)
(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.)
Al: I only hope you understand my being short with you out in the street this morning.
Sol: You had a lot on your mind.
Al: 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.
Seth: What’s your thinkin’ today?
Al: 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?
Sol: Nope.
Seth: Not them and not Bill Hickok. And all we want to do is run a hardware business.
Al: 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.
Sol: Why wouldn’t ya, Mr. Swearengen?
Al: Well thank you for sayin’ that, even if you don’t fuckin’ mean it.
Seth: What would make you comfortable sellin’ to us? (Al looks at EB, EB raises his head and
eyebrows, kinda smiles)
Al: Thousand. Plus right of first refusal on any further sale.
Sol: Accepted.
Al: And right to buy back at the original price, plus the cost of your improvements.
Sol: Accepted.
Al: No gambling on the fuckin’ premises. No association of any kind with these Bella Union
cocksuckers.
Sol: Accepted.
Seth: We can’t sell ‘em our goods?
Al: No. What do you think of that?
Sol: Accepted.
Al: What do you think?
Seth: (pauses) Accepted.
Al: 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)
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)
(Cy checks his pocket watch and motions to the gunman who steps forward and fires several shots into
the air. The crowd cheers.)
(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!
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: For havin’ nothin’ to do with him, these hardware cocksuckers sure seemed to be joined to
Hickok at the hip.
EB: You make your judgment on that situation, Al. And I believe you judge correct.
Al: No connection between them and him? Or between any of them, and these new saloon people?
EB: You saw it like that and I did too. To the best of the both of our thinking.
Al: Which was important to me.
EB: Which was?
Al: What?
EB: When you said which was, I didn’t follow what you were askin’.
Al: 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?
EB: Ah, my palms are damp.
Al: They’re always damp.
EB: Yes, sir.
Al: So is something…wrong?
EB: no, no.
---
(Out at the claim, Brom and Dan are walking along the creek – Ellsworth is at his camp, observing)
EB: You tell me, Al. Have you a doubt or misgiving? You tell me.
Al: Generally, if I have a misgiving, or a doubt, I kill the cocksucker I have a doubt and misgiving
about.
EB: But these are special circumstances.
Al: I don’t know what you mean by special circumstances. If I want to, I can burn the whole fuckin’
camp down.
EB: Yes, you can.
Al: Cut your throat first, and them burn down the whole fucking camp.
EB: You can---
Al: So I don’t know what the fuck you mean.
EB: I mean, short of burnin’ it all down, you gotta trust someone. (EB is sweating, very nervous)
Al: What were you doing over there?
EB: Where?
Al: Where?
EB: At the Bella Union? Got an impression scouting. Listen to me, listen to me. I was the go-
between, 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.
Al: (Licks his lips and leans in close to EB’s ears) Stay friendly with them cocksuckers.
EB: With them Bella Union people?
Al: You can’t help yourself, can you? (EB smiles and leaves)
---
(Back at the claim, Dan is heading down to the rocks where Brom landed. Brom is breathing
laboriously. Dan feels around Brom’s neck and picks up a gold nugget)
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…)
Main 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:
Bill Bolender
Powers Boothe Cy Tolliver
Sean Bridgers Johnny Burns
Keith Carradine Wild Bill Hickock
Larry Cedar Leon
Kim Dickens Joannie Stubbs
Garret Dillahunt Jack McCall
Gill Gayle Huckster (aka Shyster)
Peter Jason Stapleton
Ricky Jay Eddie Sawyer
Geri Jewell Jewel
Jeffrey Jones A.W. Merrick
Sarah Lund Bella Whore
Joel McKinnon Miller Nathan Gordon
Ray McKinnon Rev. H.W. Smith (as Raymond McKinnon)
Timothy Omundson Brom Garret
Dean Rader-Duval Jimmy Irons
Tahmus Rounds
Tom Simmons
Bree Seanna Wall Metz Girl
Clay Wilcox 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)
---
(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.)
---
(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: 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.
Al: Jesus Christ.
EB: What is it?
Al: The Dude musta had some kind of accident.
EB: (Joining Al at the window) My word.
Al: Looks dead, don’t he?
EB: Yes.
Al: See my reasoning was, get the Dude his money back. Keep him from askin’ in the
Pinkertons.
EB: Appears now that’s unnecessary.
Al: 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? 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.
Al: 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.
EB: 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. )
---
(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.”)
---
(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.
---
(Al and EB at the Gem)
---
(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.)
---
(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, watchin’ you, even at a distance, was a pleasure and privilege.
Al: If she don’t come back to you with an answer inside an hour, you pay a call on her.
EB: 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)
(The view pans up and then cuts to Al and EB standing near the walkway handrail upstairs.)
Al: Asks a bribe for somethin’ he never intends to do, takes my hundred and fifty, then tells
her not to sell.
EB: Why are you so sure he told her not to, Al?
Al: You went back there. You knocked on her door.
EB: She said Hickok reported to her his conversation with you. But she wasn’t prepared yet
to give me an answer.
Al: 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.
EB: If you’re talkin’ about Tom Mason, I’d say that’s water under the bridge.
Al: And I’d say Hickok has to die if I have to kill him myself.
EB: 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)
---
(Hickok’s room. He is seated at a table writing a letter, when someone knocks)
---
(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.)
---
(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)
---
(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 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
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…)
(Looks up and sees Alma in her room, pacing, looking out the window occasionally)
Alma: I don’t know what’s become of the woman who was Hickok’s friend.
Doc: Probably, drunk over his murder.
Alma: Yes, well there’s a child to be considered.
Doc: And she couldn’t be doin’ better.
Alma: Despite her situation.
Doc: I don’t see your medicine.
Alma: No, I broke the bottle.
Doc: Alright. (Bends down to his satchel to get a full bottle)
Alma: No!
Doc: I don’t know if this is the time for you to stop takin’ this laudanum, Mrs. Garrett.
Alma: Oh, what a pleasant surprise, doctor. To hear you admit the limits of your
knowledge.
Doc: 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)
Seth: Reverend.
Rev: Hello, sir. Sir, who stands for Mr. Hickok?
Seth: What do you mean?
Rev: 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.
Seth: What are you tryin’ to find out?
Rev: For example, I thought “How Firm a Foundation.”
Sol: For the hymn.
Seth: Sounds a good choice.
Rev: Do you think so?
Seth: Yes, I do.
Rev: Might something else be more appropriate?
Seth: I don’t know, Reverend.
Rev: I think “H-How Firm a Foundation” for the hymn and from the gospel, first
Corinthians 12.
Seth: Alright. (Sol, this whole time, is watching as Seth gets more and more frustrated
with the Reverend’s questions)
Rev: 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.
Seth: (Firmly) That is a good choice Reverend.
Rev: (Smiling) 12 and 13, I think. (Leaves)
Sol: 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)
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)
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…)
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…)
(The whores all smile and wave at Jack, he blows them a kiss)
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. He-
he 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…)
(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…)
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…)
(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!
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: Woman lives in your fuckin’ hotel. But you can’t find pretext for pressing the
offer on her claim?
EB: I can’t outflank Trixie, Al. The whore guards that widow like a mother hen.
Al: She’s dosed her with opium! Primin’ her for your approach.
EB: Be that as it may…
Al: E.B., put that offer in your pocket, you knock on the widow’s door.
EB: But Trixie’ll answer.
Al: 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?
EB: No…
Al: What? (knocking)
EB: Nothin’.
Al: 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!
EB: I said, (louder) something strange is goin’ on in that hotel room. (EB leaves, Doc
shuts the door)
Doc: It’s bad with that fella downstairs, Al.
Al: Plague, is it?
Doc: Smallpox.
Al: Would land in my joint.
Doc: Yours wasn’t the first. (Al’s face turns serious)
---
(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)
(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)
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)
---
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: Trixie and me chatted on the subject of the widow takin’ dope. (Motions to Dan
for a drink)
EB: I see.
Al: Trixie’s gonna make sure she does.
EB: Good.
Al: You find pretext to determine Trixie ain’t lying.
EB: Oh… (Dolly gasps and runs off to the back room) Damsel in distress. And will
you want me back here, for the get together?
Al: How the fuck could we go it without you, E.B.?
EB: Truth isn’t in you, Al.
Al: Makes two of us. (EB leaves)
Dan: Dolly’s with that drummer? ‘Fraid he gave her plague.
Al: 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)
(Trixie comes down the hotel stairs with a bag full of dirty linens…)
(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)
(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: Well, appears luck pinches out at this game even quicker than prospectin’.
Joanie: It can come back that quick, too.
Ellsworth: Every weekend, claim’s at the creek.
Joanie: You want to stop for a while, Ellsworth? We can stop. (Cy hears this,
looks at Joanie)
Ellsworth: 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.
---
(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)
---
(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: Trixie did her work, and then some, Al. Must’ve put a double handful of that
dope down the widow’s mouth.
Al: Did you happen to offer on her gold claim?
EB: The moment was wrong. The dope had made the widow randy. (Cy enters)
Lustful looks, heavy breathing. Out thrust chest. The full catalog.
Al: Only hope you comported yourself as a gentlemen, E.B.
EB: There was a child in the room.
Al: 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: Oh, gonna build a joint in future catering to the Celestials, ain’t you, Cy? You
clever cocksucker.
Cy: They’re the fuckin’ degenerate gamblers among all the races, Al.
Sol: I’ll see to recruiting the riders. (The Rev is shaking, trying to hid it)
Al: $10 a rider advance money.
EB: If I can get your John Hancock, for the receipt of the 150.
Al: So, fruit’s up here, anybody didn’t get any, huh?
Rev: (Groans, stands up straight, throws his head back and starts to have a seizure)
Al: Oh fer chrissake.
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.”
---
(Doc and the Reverend are sitting in a back room at the Gem…)
(We see Cy enters Joanie’s room through the reflection in the mirror hanging above her
bed. She is laying down.)
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…)
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.)
Doc: 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)
----
(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)
---
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
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.)
(Charlie looks at Seth, who glances over to the bunkhouse, looks back at the cowboy.)
(The two walk into the bunkhouse to the sound of chatter. Seth glances around, finally spots
Jack McCall slumped over a 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.)
(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: 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.
---------------------------
(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: No.
(Al turns, looks at Dan, inclines his head toward the boy)
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?
-------------------
(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.)
Rev: 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 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 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 looks out the window again. Al is pointedly watching her from across the way, sipping
out of a tin cup, Trixie is concerned.)
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: Am I early?
Alma: Good morning, Mr. Star. I’ll be ready in just a moment.
Sol: I can have a cup of coffee downstairs –
Alma: 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.)
-------------------
Cy: What a handsome man. Wish I could tell you I recognize him.
Flora: Thank you anyway.
Cy: Your dad, I expect?
Flora: Yes.
Cy: You’ve reason to think he’s out here?
Flora: He wrote us from Bismarck he’d be prospecting the hills.
Cy: Us bein’…?
Flora: My brother – he just got work over here.
Cy: (cavalierly) Good for him. (pause) So, it’s just … the two of you?
Flora: Our mother passed – why we come from Buffalo.
Cy: And you’re out here lookin’ for your dad?
Flora: Yes.
Cy: …Henry?
Flora: Yes.
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.
Eddie: No.
Cy: Henry…Anderson.
Flora: Yes.
Cy: Well, what are you gonna do while your brother works?
Flora: Work too, while we’re lookin’ to set aside if we have to move on.
Cy: Yeah, if dad doesn’t turn up here, yeah. Well, what do you do?
Flora: Cook, clean, uh – sew. Sweep.
Cy: Uh huh. How quick do ya learn?
Flora: Guess I learn pretty quick.
Cy: Maestro.
(Joanie smiles.)
-------------------
Rev: 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”
(E.B. sees Seth and Charlie riding up. He scurries to Alma’s side as she’s singing.)
(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.)
(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: 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.
Miles: No tellin’ me.
Al: Yeah. And then he goes on his way home, relieved for the day. What’s
your name, it’s Miles, hmm?
Miles: Miles, yeah.
Al: 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?
Miles: No, sir.
Al: So, do you wanna ask your sister if she’d like to reconsider, hmm?
Miles: 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?
EB: I did my part – raised our offer to twenty and demanded an answer within
the day.
Al: But what, you cocksucker?
EB: Complications have ensued. Bullock’s come back. I expect she’ll want to
take counsel with him.
Al: (flatly) Tell the whore I wanna see her.
EB: And I trust this doesn’t alter our agreement.
Al: I trust you know two percent of nothin’s fuckin’ nothin’
-------------------
Seth: That fella from Montana I knew to trust won’t be able to assay your claim.
Alma: I see.
Seth: I’ll engage someone local, and I’ll keep an eye on him.
Alma: 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 looks at Alma consideringly as he holds a pitcher. She walks past him. He looks vexed
and puts the pitcher down.)
(lma smiles and nods. Seth pulls a chair out for her, then seats himself. She looks up at him.)
-------------------
(In the hardware store, Sol’s talking to Trixie, who’s got Sofia in her arms.)
Sol: 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: 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.
EB: Welcome back, Mr. Utter. We’ve had a mild increase in rates, but I do
have a room available.
Utter: I’ll see.
-------------------
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: Here.
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.
Joanie: Andy…?
Andy: In the flesh, sweetheart. Which ain’t much to look at.
Joanie: You made it, 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: 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?
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?
-------------------
(At Nuttall’s # 10 Saloon, Charlie walks in, takes off his hat. Nuttall sees him - nervously
touches his hat...)
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.)
(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.
-------------------
(Back at the pest tent, Jane is staring grimly at the ailing Joey. Doc walks over to her.)
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.)
Doc: Yeah.
(He slumps away as Rev gets closer to the body, Bible at the ready.)
Rev: 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.
Jane: I hope that’s only the beginning of what they fuckin’ did to’m.
Rev: They gave him over to the federal authorities.
Jane: Gave him over?!
Rev: Rendered unto Caesar.
Jane: (sorrowful) Jesus Christ!
Rev: Mr. Bullock was struck by an Indian’s axe – marked like the first born of Adam and Eve.
Jane: (skeptical) Are you drunk?
Rev: No.
(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.)
Doc: 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.
Rev: Could not the lesion be the instrument of God’s instructive intention,
doctor, if I am so afflicted?
Doc: 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.)
-------------------
(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)
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?
(Dan heads off to get his beloved a soft cider. He walks past 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?
-------------------
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.
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.)
(CUT back to Al, fork half raised to his mouth, as Seth walks into the Gem.)
(Al leads Seth up the stairs to his office as Johnny watches, with Dan watching…hmm, someone
else.)
-------------------
(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 sets down the fucking fruit and grabs the fucking bottle.)
(Seth stands.)
(Al rises.)
(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.
(Dan pulls the knife out. Asshole falls to the floor, dead. Al looks back up the stairs at Seth.)
(Miles takes a shocked Flora out of the Gem, walks past Al.)
-------------------
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 looks over at Jane, shifts his feet, backs up, puts his hat back on.)
Utter: Go ‘head.
-------------------
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.)
Credited 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
"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.)
(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: 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)
(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 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.)
Al: 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.
Dan: I start from below?
Al: 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’!
Dan: (Gets up, strapping on his belt) I’m to lead you to the widow Garrett’s claim.
Seth: You’re the assayer?
Dan: Nope. Ahh. I’m to take you to him.
Al: He’s one claim over. Nice fuckin’ guy and a dead eye for the fuckin’ color.
Dan: Ellsworth.
Al: Ellsworth, is absolutely right.
Dan: 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)
(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 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 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.)
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…)
(Alma heads to the door – gesturing to Sophia on the way. Sophia stands up and faces the door…)
(They both turn and see Sophia watching. Alma smiles at her and closes one of the interior doors)
(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: Young lady, thank Christ. I’d feared after the murder you’d shun us.
Flora: I come for lunch with Miles.
Al: Well, bless you then for bein’ a caring sister. Miles!
Miles: (Coming out from the back) Sir?
Al: 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 stabs a piece of apple with her knife and eats it off the blade, staring at Miles)
---
(Seth enters the hotel lobby)
(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.
Seth: Does the find change your mind at all about New York City?
Alma: (hesitates) I can’t see why it would.
Seth: I can’t, either, but I don’t count.
Alma: Of course you count. Why wouldn’t you?
Seth: ‘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.
Alma: I was made to understand last night that my reasons for wanting to stay have been completely
selfish.
Seth: By who?
Alma: 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.
Seth: Why can’t you care for her here?
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?
Seth: Not being expert, I can’t guess at the extent.
Al: Dan’s a fucking expert. When he’s not shit-faced drunk, so’s Ellsworth.
Seth: Well, the immediate result is she won’t be sellin’.
Al: 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.
Seth: I was the second hoople-head stuck.
Al: 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.
Seth: I heard. (Holds his glass up to Al & drinks) Before you know it, we’ll have laws here and every
other fuckin’ thing.
Al: 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.
Seth: Would your bona fides extend to Mrs. Garrett’s future safety?
Al: (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
cocksuckers in Deadwood, who do strive mightily and at little money to add to my ever-
increasing fortune,” she’ll be safe in the wiles of Al Swearengen. (Drinks)
Seth: She’s stayin’.
Al: (pauses) The oath stands as a gesture to you.
Seth: Can I take a shave over here?
Al: Please. (Seth gets up and walks to the barber chair) Barney, be careful in the uh, area of the
throat, huh?
Seth: If you authorized an offer of 20 on the widow’s claim, your agent was looking to skim a little
cream.
Al: How high’d E.B. go?
Seth: 19,500.
Al: 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…)
(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…)
(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.)
(Flora screams and starts running back upstairs, she runs past Joanie, who doesn’t move to stop her.)
(Miles comes out of Elizabeth’s room and runs to the balcony door, holding it open for Flora)
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)
(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.)
(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 so-
called 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.
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.)
(Touches the brim of his hat and exits through the hotel entrance. We see the red-headed pants
shitter enter at the same time.)
(The shitter walks off to the restaurant and as he passes the hotel entrance we see Charlie Utter
enter.)
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 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.)
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.
---
(The Reverend approaches the pest tent, limping slightly)
(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.)
(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: Shoot.
Sol: Thank you, sir. (Hands the bag of gold dust to the man.)
Guy: Uh-huh.
Sol: Good luck out there. (Man leaves)
Seth: 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.)
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
(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 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.)
---
(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.)
( 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.
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?
(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: Pick the names from a fuckin’ hat as far as I’m concerned. (Points to Cy’s top hat sitting
on the table.)
EB: I’d like to be mayor. (Nuttall smiles.)
Al: Objections? (Merrick starts to open his mouth – Al pounds the table with his fist, gavel-
like – points to EB) Mayor. (Everyone has frozen looks on their face. Did that just
happen?)
Seth: Wouldn’t a good use for an informal government with temporary appointees be providing
a few services to the camp?
Al: Mayor?
EB: 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.
Dan: (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.
Al: You want me to abandon the fucking meeting to bring in a new piano?
Dan: Well, I’m just telling you it come in from Montgomery Ward.
Al: Yeah.
Dan: “Any big arrival, notify me immediately” you said that.
Al: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Dan: Well, um---
EB: Floors open for levy suggestions and nominations for department heads. Self-
nominations are permitted.
(EB bangs a tin on the table (ashtray?) as a gavel, sending up clouds of dust into Nuttall’s face)
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: 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.”
Seth: They buy bodies to do their research. Doctors, they cut ‘em open and study ‘em.
Sol: All the less reason for saying you’ve been arrested for grave robbing. Seven Times.
Anyways, good for you volunteering for the post.
Seth: If I had known then they wasn’t gonna have a sheriff, I’d never raised my hand.
Sol: I don’t follow.
Seth: I only raised my hand ‘cause I didn’t want to be sheriff. It’s all temporary, anyhow.
Sol: That’s right.
Seth: And ad hoc.
Sol: Did you happen to notice at the Gem that one girl we rode back with from Mrs. Garrett’s
funeral?
Seth: Trixie, isn’t that what she said her name was?
Sol: Who’d been helping Mrs. Garrett with the child.
Seth: Yeah, I noticed her.
Sol: Much as she’d taken to helping with that little one.
Seth: Big pull to that, goin’ back to what you know.
Sol: You think she’s pretty?
Seth: Very.
Sol: (Taps out his pipe, stands up) Take some air.
Seth: Yes, sir.
Utter: Evenin’
Sol: Evening.
Utter: Some meetin’ huh?
Sol: Congratulations on your new post.
Utter: Oh.
Sol: And for your freight business.
Utter: Thank you.
Sol: Okay. (Takes off)
Seth: Evening, Charlie.
Utter: 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 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: Doctor.
Doc: I’m gonna have a look at you.
Rev: Alright.
Doc: 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.
Rev: I apologize for the smell.
Doc: What is it that you smell?
Rev: As if I’ve died.
Doc: You emit no such odor.
Rev: I smell my flesh rotting.
Doc: 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?
Rev: 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.
Doc: Alright.
Rev: This is God’s purpose. The not knowing the purpose is my portion of suffering.
Doc: And is there any pain competing with the not knowing?
Rev: 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.
Doc: (shaking his head from side to side) And you want to continue like this?
Rev: As long as He wills, this must be my part. To be afraid, as well.
Doc: Well, if this is His will, Reverend, He is a sonofabitch. Goodnight. (The Doc gets up
and leaves)
Rev: Goodnight, Doctor.
---
(Joanie enters the Bella Union and approaches Eddie)
(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.)
(Jane throws her arms up like she’s been hit by a wave, smiling)
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.
(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 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
Marshall Bell 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)
(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.)
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 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)
(Titlicker comes out with his hanky to his mouth wiping it clean)
(Johnny smiles – Al leaves bar, E.B. scurries after him as Al’s heading up the stairs.)
(Silas takes out another coin and places it next to the other.)
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.: This one legislator’s named on the list you were given twice, Al. Lucalis Childs
of Bismark.
Al: 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?
EB.: Habit, I suppose.
Al: Could you learn the habit of lickin’ a fuckin’ stump? (E.B. chuckles)
EB: If health commissioner Bullock, has his way, some of the levies meant to defray
the cost of these payoffs may get diverted.
Al: To what?
EB: Infirmary for the camp. Garbage dump.
Al: Well, that type of shit’s inevitable. E.B., steal none of this money.
EB: Gratuitous, hurtful and unnecessary.
Al: 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.
EB: Understood. Intact and undiminished.
(Silas approaches)
(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: Gentlemen!
Al: You know what he says here?
Silas: No. You think you should’ve asked me that before you motherfucked me?
Al: A double-crossing cocksucker, that’s Magistrate Claggett.
Silas: Is that the message you want me to take back to him?
Al: 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…)
(Outside on porch)
(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?
(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.)
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: Is that the fuckin’ Reverend idlin’ by the piano?
Dan: Yes, sir.
Al: Has he explained his presence at all?
Dan: No, sir. But he ain’t been tryin’ to lead no lost souls to the Lord.
Al: So there’s that.
Al: Reverend.
Rev: Uh, Mr. Swearengen. Your new piano plays wonderfully.
Al: 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?
Rev: I-I’m not certain. Something’s been amiss the last week or so.
Al: Anyways, not wanting to give offense, would you mind me asking you to frequent
another joint?
Rev: No. No, I understand.
Al: A man of the cloth slows business down, huh?
Rev: I-I understand, certainly. (Rev gets up from his chair with some trouble)
Al: Hey, what – what’s that then, hmm?
Rev: Something amiss with my leg, as well. (Al takes his arm and walks him to the
door)
Al: Ah. How you dealin’ with the fits, huh?
Rev: Nothing amiss with those. They come with some regularity.
Al: My brother suffered them.
Rev: Did he?
Al: 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.
Rev: I just happened to hear the piano.
Al: Alright, Minister.
Rev: Alright, Mr. Swearengen.
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: 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 leaves. Mr. Wu looks at his men and walks towards them, yelling (phonically again
As much as I could get– sorry!))
Al: If it’s your missing faro dealer you’re drinking over, he just threw up in my
office.
Cy: (snickers) Had you been sharin’ space with him a while?
Al: Only long enough to find out him and a fellow dope fiend works for me robbed
and murdered a chink opium courier.
Cy: Oh, Leon, Leon, Leon. Second best thimble rigger I ever saw when he wasn’t
chasin’ the dragon.
Al: You do realize I’m presentin’ you with a mutual fuckin’ problem.
Cy: Which I expect’s a little ways down the road, so I’m waxin’ philosophical ‘til you
tell me what the fuck you want.
Al: I made a deal with the boss chink to give him one of the two dope fiends.
Cy: 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.
Al: What’s your fuckin’ principle?
Cy: A white dope fiend’s still white. I don’t deliver white men to chinks.
Al: Leaving me with a bag of shit to hold.
Cy: Well, maybe you should think harder about traffickin’ in fuckin’ junk.
Al: 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.
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?
Rev: In what connection, sir?
Al: In the connection of you staying the fuck out of here.
Rev: I don’t recall that, sir. Do you wish me to leave?
Al: 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: Alright, sir.
Al: And stay the fuck out of the Gem, what ever my fuckin’ problem is, hmm?
Rev: I was drawn to the music. The piano uh, relieves my headache.
Al: 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)
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: Any other business connections with the white pillar?
Al: Several.
Silas: I’d give him one. Let the dope fiends draw fuckin’ straws.
Al: 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’.
---
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)
(Al shakes his head no, Jimmy hesitantly reaches for a straw, picks one, looks at Leon)
(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.)
(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: What are you afraid of, sir?
Rev: 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.
Rev: Wonderful.
Seth: You’re here with friends.
Rev: Yes. Yes, I feel that now. And I have various ailments of which we all suffer.
Sol: And next morning, often finds us feeling better.
Rev: Yes. In any case, part of God’s plan.
Seth: May we walk you back to your tent, sir?
Rev: (The Reverend smiles) An evening stroll with friends. I would do enjoy that.
Sol: 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)
(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)
Al: Wu! Here’s that cocksucker to apologize. (Lifts the sheet from Jimmy’s face)
Dan: Say you’re sorry, Jimmy!
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 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
Nick Amandos
Sean Bridgers Johnny Burns
Larry Cedar Leon
Kim Dickens Joanie Stubbs
Richard Gant Hostetler
Meghan Glennon
Monty 'Hawkeye' Henson
Ricky Jay Eddie Sawyer
Geri Jewell Jewel
Jeffrey Jones A.W. Merrick
Ray McKinnon Reverend H.W. Smith (as Raymond
McKinnon)
Dean Rader-Duval Jimmy Irons (as Dean Radar Duval)
Ralph Richeson Pete
Teresa Shae
Gene Thatcher
Bree Seanna Wall Sophia Metz
Titus Welliver Silas Adams
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 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)
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…)
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.
(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)
(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)
(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: mmm.
Otis: Does caring for Sophia please you?
Alma: More with each day.
Otis: And do you have any of the gold?
Alma: As it happens…(pulls gold out of doll basket)
Otis: The well-mannered Mr. Ellsworth says these abound?
Alma: Yes.
Otis: There’s some talk that you did Brom in.
Alma: From his parents?
Otis: They have raised the possibility.
Alma: As it happens, I was not present when Brom fell.
Otis: You have to admit, it’s a suspicious sequence.
Alma: The man who was is in the camp.
Otis: Given their view of the marriage.
Alma: I doubt he tells the true story of how Brom died, but he would verify that I wasn’t
there.
Otis: I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s always about the money, button.
Alma: In certain circles.
Otis: But not here, hmm?
Alma: I suppose here, as well. In certain circles.
Otis: Mr. Ellsworth being the exception?
Alma: Mr. Ellsworth was engaged by a Mr. Seth Bullock, who’s been steadfast and kind.
Otis: And when did you path cross Mr. Bullock’s? Before Brom’s accident or after?
Alma: Mr. Bullock was asked to look to my interest by Wild Bill Hickok.
Otis: 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…)
Cy: Yeah!
Leon: Mr. Tolliver.
Cy: Leon, come on in. Your habit get the best of you a while, son?
Leon: It got the fuckin’ upper hand.
Cy: How’s your sight, Leon?
Leon: Whole left eye’s perfect and the right’s comin’ back. Have I still got a job, sir?
Cy: 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.
(Al laughs, Nuttall gets up to leave – walks to door, gets to threshold, turns back)
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)
(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.
(Flash)
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)
Rev: Who—who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall, shall affliction or
distress or – or persecution or—
(Looks to 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
Seth: Sol
Sol: She wasn’t here in a professional capacity.
Seth: We have an agreement with Swearengen as to the use we put this establishment
to.
Sol: She came lookin’ for goods and things took a turn.
Seth: That can happen.
Sol: Not twice, though, at this location.
Seth: 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.
Sol: Did you have another look?
Seth: Go ahead and get to buildin’ if Hostetler takes the offer.
Sol: Maybe have a leg up when Martha and your boy arrive.
Otis: Good afternoon, sir.
Sol: Good afternoon.
Otis: I am Otis Russell. Uh, would you be Mr. Bullock?
Sol: I’m Sol Star.
Otis: Oh. How do you do Mr. Star?
Sol: Very well.
Seth: I’m Seth Bullock.
Otis: Mr. Bullock. I am Alma Garrett’s father.
Seth: How do you do, sir?
Otis: 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.
Seth: I’d be happy to.
Otis: Oh, Mr. Star, will you join us?
Sol: Thanks, but I can’t.
Otis: Regrettable. Would six at the hotel be convenient? My daughter says that the
dinner hour is early.
Seth: Six is fine.
Otis: Just months that this camp came together, huh?
Sol: Yes, sir.
Otis: Remarkable.
---
(Jewel in the whore’s quarter sweepin’)
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
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: 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)
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…)
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 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
Sean Bridgers Johnny Burns
Larry Cedar Leon
Kim Dickens Joanie Stubbs
Zach Grenier Andy Cramed
Peter Jason Con Stapleton
Ricky Jay Eddie Sawyer
Geri Jewell Jewel
Jeffrey Jones A.W. Merrick
Ashleigh Kizer
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
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: Trixie’s fine.
---
Al: 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?
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)
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.
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.
Joanie: Oh.
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?
Seth: Married.
Alma: Yes.
(Kiss Kiss Kiss)
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?
Silas: I’ll be happy to give you this paper when you take that fuckin gun off me. Both
of them.
Al: Swaddle the cocksucker and dispose of him. His money and effects are yours.
Silas: That don’t count towards the 2,000.
Al: No I still owe you the two.
---
Seth: 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: yeah, I’m uh, I’m gonna get to that. Crooks forces in full retreat.
Seth: Taking Mrs. Garrett’s father with ‘em.
Al: Up and about so quick.
Seth: He’s slung over a mule.
Al: Alive is my point. Dority give me to understand you’d just as soon as seen him
dead.
Seth: If that man comes back to the camp, he’d be my problem to deal with.
Al: The way you and Hickok dealt with Ned mason.
Seth: No. I’ll be the fuckin’ Sheriff.
Al: Startin’ when?
Seth: Startin’ now.
Al: You have the tin?
Seth: I do.
Al: Produce it. On the tit.
Seth: I know where it goes.
Al: (raises a shot) Huzzah.
---
Soldier: Hey General! You sonofabitch! Woo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo! Woo! Ha-ha-
ha-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 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 Eustis Baily (E.B.) Farnum
Sanderson
Robin Weigert Calamity Jane
W. Earl Brown 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
Geri Jewell Jewel
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”
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.
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.
---
(Alma’s room. She and Bullock are seated at the desk.)
Seth: All the invoices other than this mission from Hendy Iron have been acted on.
Alma: I see.
Seth: You’ll note I’ve made partial payment to them…
Alma: Yes.
Seth: Questioning a possible duplication.
Alma: For the bill hooks?
Seth: Yes.
Alma: Is that my worth?
Seth: That’s the amount on deposit. Your worth is considerably more.
Alma: Thank you for your attention in all these matters, Mr. Bullock.
Seth: (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 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.)
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”)
(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.)
---
(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…)
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…)
(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 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...)
(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.)
(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 aims his rifle at Seth – Adams runs to Dan & wrestles the rifle away from him…)
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.)
Al: Hmm?
(Al looks up at William as Martha uncovers his eyes. William smiles at Al. Al points his knife to
the stagecoach…)
(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.
(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?
(Seth is propped up, watching all the goings on through Flora-vision, he looks over and finally
sorta-focuses on William…)
(E.B. kicks his cook, how was leaning in for a closer look.)
(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.
---
(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.
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.
(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.)
(Alma enters, Merrick pulls off his hat, holding Martha’s bonnet in his other hand. Seth stands.)
(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…)
(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…)
---
(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…)
(Cut to the stream in front of the Bullock home, they pass over a little foot bridge…)
(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.)
Cast (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
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter
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
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”
(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.
(E.B. leaves, Doc closes his eyes and shakes his head in annoyance at all the
interruptions.)
---
(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…)
(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 lifts Sol to set him down on a bed, Trixie helps lift his legs up…)
(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.)
(Outside, Trixie is smoking a cigarette, Charlie is standing next to her, looking around.)
(Inside the Gem, Al and Silas are seated at the bar, Dan is behind the bar.)
(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.)
(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.
---
(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…)
(They enter a back room, they all look around. Maddie smiles.)
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 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…)
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…)
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 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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
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…)
(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)
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.)
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 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.)
(Merrick throws up his hands, backs away to leave. Seth hangs his coat up, Martha
approaches him…)
(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.
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.”
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”
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…)
(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.
(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…)
(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.)
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.
Alma: (loudly) Does the scope of the find, Mr. Ellsworth, warrant more than the five-
stamp 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.
(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.)
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…)
(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.)
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...)
(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.
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.
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.
(E.B. puts his hand on the envelope, Wolcott does as well, stopping him…)
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 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…)
(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.)
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…)
(They enter the hotel, Alma turns her head toward the restaurant and sees Seth. Their
eyes meet. Alma steels her resolve and continues upstairs…)
(Alma stops, takes a deep breath, grabs her skirts and walks upstairs.)
---
(Trixie enters the hardware store and closes the door.)
(She mashes her cigarette out and leaves…Sol staring after her…)
---
(E.B. is at his ledger…)
(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…)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
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.
(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 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 side-
by-side, Cy, with his hands behind his head, Lila, with her hands over her pelvis.)
(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.)
Doc: 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!
Al: (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.)
Cast (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
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter
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
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”
(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…)
---
(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-your-
leave 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 cave-
in.
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…)
(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.)
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…)
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.)
(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)
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.)
(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!)
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.)
(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…)
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.
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.)
(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…)
(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.
Cast (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
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter
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
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”
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.)
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.)
(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: Put your nose between my fingers, you’ll find how much I can use my fucking
arm.
Doc: That’s good. That is a good sign, Al.
Al: Don’t bullshit me.
Doc: I won’t. I think you’ve had a small stroke, guessing maybe from the strain of that
stone.
Al: You keep bullshittin’ them.
Doc: I will.
Al: This gets out, I’ll slit your fuckin’ throat. I wield a blade good with my left.
Doc: It won’t get out.
Al: If I need it, you will fuckin’ kill me.
Doc: You stop that.
Al: You find me no better, you will wish to hell I was fucking worse, ‘cause I wield a
blade good with my left.
Doc: (Shaking his head) Don’t you put a fuckin’ clock on this.
---
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
(She takes his hand and puts it inside her dress, over her bare breast—holding it there.)
(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: You wouldn’t suppose they’d be saltin’ the fuckin’ find over there, now would
you, Doris?
Doris: I don’t understand.
Cy: 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’.
Doris: I don’t know.
Cy: ‘Cus this is—this is fuckin’ heavy action for an operation ahead of itself far as
décor and location and every other fuckin’ aspect!
Doris: It’s mostly from just the one trick.
Cy: Which is who?
Doris: I don’t know his name. They call him Mr.W. (Cy looks up at Doris)
Cy:` What does he look like?
Doris: I wouldn’t know how to say.
Cy: Oh, you fucking mutt. Is he tall or short?
Doris: Tall.
Cy: Thin or fat?
Doris: Thin. Good looking, I guess.
Cy: Clean shaved or beared?
Doris: Bearded. He threw me into a wall last night.
Cy: Huh. Don’t tell me. (standing) On what pretext, Sweetheart?
Doris: I looked at him.
Cy: And that was against his instructions?
Doris: He had all the girls facing the wall.
Cy: 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?
Doris: Violent-like.
Cy: 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’.)
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.)
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.
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…)
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 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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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, 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.)
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.)
(Johnny points to his chest, then holds his hands over his pockets to undicate a badge and
guns. He mouths again – “Bullock” – Al sighs.)
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.)
Cast (in credits order)
Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock
Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen
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
Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick
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
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”
Doc: You, Al, are an object lesson in the healing powers of obstinacy and a hostile
disposition.
Al: My leg and arm are waxy.
Doc: 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.)
(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…)
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.)
(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: 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.
Al: That’s why Yankton’s suddenly got balls.
EB: I made him think I was trying to gull him, (sits) and that he had turned the tables
on me.
Al: How much did he buy you for?
EB: I kept Dan apprised while you convalesced, in abbreviated fashion.
Al: How much.
EB: 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.
Al: Tolliver’s the front, hmm?
EB: (nods) Buying from the panicked sellers, engaged by this Wolcott.
Al: This agent for George Hearst?
EB: 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.
Al: You looked out for yourself against the chance I’d die.
EB: 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: Morning.
Seth: Morning, Sol.
Sol: (Hangs up his hat, removes his coat) Thanks for opening.
Seth: You were out.
Sol: (Pauses – turns) Yes. Yes, I paid a call and then I’ve been walking. (Pauses –
apprehensive) The call was on Mrs. Garret.
Seth: We agreed – that wasn’t gonna happen.
Sol: Our agreement was to not solicit her investment in a bank. The call I paid was at
her invitation.
Seth: (Angry – walks out from behind the desk, approaching Sol) I don’t give a fuck
who invited who, Sol.
Sol: That’s your position.
Seth: Was the bank the subject of the meeting? (A customer walks in) Get out! (The
customer stops, turns, leaving)
Sol: (To the customer ) Uh, excuse us a little while, please. (Turns back to Seth) She
invited me, Seth.
Seth: To talk of forming a bank, came here and invited you?
Sol: Sent Ellsworth that works for her.
Seth: You told me none of it.
Sol: Suspecting maybe you mightn’t act rational.
Seth: (Smirking) But I bet you told the whore.
Sol: We’re done talking about this for now. (Turning)
Seth: No! (Following Sol)
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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
(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: Assist me in a flight of fancy, Gentlemen. (They take the glasses from him. Leon
looks confused.)
Con: Well, don’t make me think of Leon in a dress, Mr. T. (Cy chuckles.)
Leon: Or me of him anything but fully clothed.
Cy: (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?
Leon: “Go fuck yourself.”
Con: “We don’t know anything about it.”
Leon: “If you ain’t here to fuck or be fleeced, get on your merry way.”
Cy: Good. Now, how about, “Referee’s the only neutral in a prize fight, Merrick, and
you ain’t one of those.”
Con: (Mulls this over) We could say that.
Leon: What would we mean?
Cy: Tch. I don’t know, fellas. I do not fucking know.
Con: Well, if you don’t, we don’t have to either.
Cy: 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.
Leon: When do you suppose he’ll show up?
Con: Once we’ve paid a visit to his place, Leon.
Leon: Oh! (As in “No shit, Sherlock.”)
Con: And aftermath, when Merrick’s path crosses ours, he’ll here of the “neutral” and
the “prize fight.” (Con looks to Cy, Cy smiles.)
Leon: In no uncertain terms.
Con: And know the import of that fucking parable.
Cy: All right then.
Leon: Got any sledgehammers?
Cy: (chuckling) Always. (They drink)
---
(Back at the Chez Amie, Joanie and Maddie are sitting, waiting nervously.)
Joanie: I’m going in there.
Maddie: No, you aren’t.
Joanie: He ain’t the type to be with two women.
Maddie: I never took his full history.
Joanie: I’m saying he ain’t!
(Inside the room, Carrie looks stricken. She’s crying silently, scared. Wolcott is behind
her.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
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?
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.
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.)
(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.)
(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…)
(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.)
(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.)
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”
(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.)
(Charlie slowly closes the gap between them, pulling her gently into a comforting hug.)
---
(At the Bella Union, Con & Leon are talking to Cy.)
(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
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!
Cy: 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)
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. A new suit?
Al: No.
EB: 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.
Al: Go back. (Throws a halting hand out behind him.)
EB: Of course. Room 2 on the left. (Stomps his foot – weirdo) Hearst’s man
convalesces just to your right.
Al: 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.)
(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.)
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?
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.)
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…)
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 ex-
partner, 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.)
(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.
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…)
(Joanie, sits in a chair alone in the middle of the empty Chez Amie…)
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”
Al: What did you know about me, Bullock, first we met? No concern for my feelings,
huh?
Seth: That you were a killer.
Al: Certain facts show in the mug. (Looks over at Dolly, passing by) Look at her.
You know she’s fucked for food.
Seth: What’s the point?
Al: 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)
Seth: What’s the campaign?
Al: You have friends in Montana in high positions, some type fuckin’ judge? (Dan
watches)
Seth: I’ve cut ties with the judge in Montana.
Al: Amiably or owin’ money?
Seth: Maybe you’re mistrusted less as a killer than showin’ your cards a corner at a
time.
Al: 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.
Seth: Annexation to Montana instead of Dakota?
Al: 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?
Seth: No dictatorship?
Al: 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.
Seth: I’m not interested.
Al: (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?
Seth: (He doesn’t move) As you see.
Al: (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.)
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.)
(William and Sofia head to the corner, Martha and Alma walk into the bedroom, Alma
closing the doors partway behind them.)
(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?
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
(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.)
Al: 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.)
Dan: If I’m overstepping, Boss, I apologize.
Al: I’m waitin’. (Dan sits, holding his hat.)
Dan: …Sometimes I hear you speakin’ in here when I know there’s nobody in here but
you.
Al: You have not yet reached the age, Dan, have you, where you’re moved to
utterance of thoughts properly kept silent?
Dan: Been known to mutter.
Al: 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.)
Dan: Well, anyways, it’s the late shift. (Puts his hat on and approaches the door.)
Al: You subscribe one way or anther to Tom Nuttall’s big ride?
Dan: 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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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.)
(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.)
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.
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.)
(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)
(She stumbles off toward the Chez Amie. Wolcott stumbles off to the hotel.)
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”
(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…)
(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.
Johnny: This one’s a “D.” And this one’s a “G.” And what’s the first one?
Whore: “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 free-
standing 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.
(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.)
(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.
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.)
(She leaves, slamming the door. Charlie puts his bag over his shoulder.)
---
(William is watching Trixie do her numbers in the hardware store.)
(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)
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?
(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 sledge-
trench, 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?
(Sol, Seth, Ellsworth and Trixie all wait with baited breath.)
(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)
(He leaves.)
---
(At the Bella Union, Tessie is on her hands and knees under Mose Manuel’s table as he
plays cards.)
(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.
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.)
Cast
Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock
Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen
Molly Parker .... Alma Garret
John Hawkes .... Sol Star
Paula Malcomson .... Trixie
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Dayton Callie .... Charlie Utter
Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver
Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns
Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick
Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs
William Sanderson E.B. Farnum
Bree Seanna Wall Sofia
Pavel Lychnikoff Blazanov
Pruitt Taylor Vince Mose
Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall
Sarah Paulson Alice Isringhausen
Nick Amandos
Jennifer Lutheran Jenn
Robin Weigert Calamity Jane
Josh Eriksson 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”
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.
(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: 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.
Dan: (Striding inside) Where’s Hawkeye?
EB: I see, Dan, with the world off its axis, I’m no more to you than a room clerk.
Dan: Hawkeye, E.B., is he here or fuckin’ not?
EB: Not. For three days. (pauses) Will you have a shine? Leave your shoes while you
eat.
Dan: You see Hawkeye, you grab him and bring him to me. (Turns to leave)
EB: If you leave your dirty clothes, I’ll see to them.
Dan: (Turns back and grabs E.B. angrily.) Did you fuckin’ hear me?! Hawkeye!
EB: (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: Did they get that fat bastard to Joanie’s? Did her ladyship take him in?
Jack: Ain’t towed him halfway yet, Boss, Leon and Con.
Cy: (Rubbing his neck) We got to get a better sled.
Jack: Less the sled’s holdup than Con’s. Says he threw a rupture.
Cy: (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.)
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.)
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 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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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.)
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!
Al: 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.
Sol: What do you mean my “preferred activities”?
Al: Oh, a reference to your people’s penchant for money-gettin’. A poor attempt at
wit.
Sol: I don’t find those funny.
Al: I apologize.
Sol: If you want my help, don’t insult me.
Al: 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?
Sol: (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.)
(Sofia smiles, Trixie turns & strides out the door, leaving a flustered Alma in her wake.)
---
(Al’s office)
(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.
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.)
(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.)
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 gets up and grabs his things and leaves. Silas watches him go, once the door is
shut he leans forward to Al.)
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.
(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?
(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: My name is Cramed. I heard a boy was trampled and like to die.
EB: You look familiar.
Andy: I came last year to hustle dice, took sick with plague. I—I minister now in Lead.
EB: How’s the new racket pay? (He says this jokingly, Andy is not amused.)
Andy: 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 .... Seth Bullock
Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen
Molly Parker .... Alma Garret
John Hawkes .... Sol Star
Paula Malcomson .... Trixie
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver
Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns
Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick
Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs
William Sanderson E.B. Farnum
Bree Seanna Wall Sofia
Pavel Lychnikoff Blazanov
Pruitt Taylor Vince Mose
Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall
Sarah Paulson Alice Isringhausen
Nick Amandos
Geri Jewel Jewel
Robin Weigert Calamity Jane
Josh Eriksson William
Garret Dillahunt Francis Wolcott
Zach Grenier Andy Cramed
Stephen Toblowsky Commissioner Hugo Jarry
Franklin Ajaye Samuel Fields
Richard Gant Hostetler
Michael Harney Steve
Ted Mann Shit Stirrer
Brent Sexton
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”
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…)
(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.)
(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.
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.)
(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.
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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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: (To Silas) Look fucking mournful.
Silas: (Lowering his head) Even more?
Hugo: Sad day, gentlemen, on which commerce must intrude.
Al: Says who that it must?
Hugo: Because of the death of the Sheriff’s son.
Al: You need to ask, you don’t deserve an answer.
Hugo: I should say that even in his hour of grief, Sheriff Bullock conveyed to me his
reliance on you as his proxy.
Al: And as his proxy, I don’t do business on the day (turns back) of my godson’s
passing.
Hugo: I’m compelled to wonder, Mr. Swearengen, if this show of grief is a pretext to
some other purpose. (Silas straightens up, Al turns.)
Al: What a type you must consort with, that you not fear beating for such an insult.
Hugo: 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—
Al: Leave here with your sick fucking ghoulish thinking!
Hugo: (Grabbing his bag) I’ll have further instructions within the day. If not honor,
practicality dictates granting Yankton further counter.
Al: You come back here offering one more dollar than that 50, you’ll find yourself
face down in the horseshit.
Hugo: But you would entertain enhancement of the offer other than cash?
Al: I do not discuss business on this day. (turns) Silas.
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.
Hugo: All right. All right. I’m not without imagination. A counter without currency is
in the offing.
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.)
(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.)
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.)
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.
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 looks at Seth, walks to the bed and sits. He stands in front of her and takes her
hands in his.)
(She looks up at him—he pulls her hands to his chest and holds them.)
Cast
Timothy Olyphant .... Seth Bullock
Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen
Molly Parker .... Alma Garret
John Hawkes .... Sol Star
Paula Malcomson .... Trixie
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver
Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns
Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick
Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs
William Sanderson E.B. Farnum
Bree Seanna Wall Sofia
Pavel Lychnikoff Blazanov
Pruitt Taylor Vince Mose
Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall
Geri Jewel Jewel
Robin Weigert Calamity Jane
Josh Eriksson William
Garret Dillahunt Francis Wolcott
Zach Grenier Andy Cramed
Stephen Toblowsky Commissioner Hugo Jarry
Larry Cedar Leon
Peter Jason Con Stapleton
Will Leong Mr. Lee’s Henchman
Ashleigh Kizer Dolly
Leah Ann Cevoli Tess
Jennifer Lutheran Jenn
Keone Young 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”
MrWu: Ah Sook!
AhSook: 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.)
(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.)
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 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.)
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.)
(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.
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-a-
price 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)
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.)
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.)
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.)
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, 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: This has to be a date certain. “Timely fashion” means fuckin’ nothin’.
Al: (Urinating) Timely fashion means when they got the fix in.
Silas: So when do you want the elections?
Al: The sooner the fuckin’ better.
Silas: 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.)
(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.
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 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: 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.)
(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.
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.)
(Seth walks around the desk and sits next to Jarry to discuss the proposal.)
(Sol reaches into his pocket and gives Ellsworth the ring. Ellsworth slips it on Alma’s
finger and holds her hand in his.)
(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.
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.)
(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.)
(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.”
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.
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.)
(Seth is still drinking at the Gem bar. Davey is cleaning up. Al comes out onto the inner
balcony.)
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.)
(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 .... Seth Bullock
Ian McShane .... Al Swearengen
Molly Parker .... Alma Garret
John Hawkes .... Sol Star
Paula Malcomson .... Trixie
W. Earl Brown .... Dan Dority
Powers Boothe .... Cy Tolliver
Sean Bridgers .... Johnny Burns
Jeffrey Jones .... A.W. Merrick
Kim Dickens .... Joanie Stubbs
William Sanderson E.B. Farnum
Bree Seanna Wall Sofia
Pavel Lychnikoff Blazanov
Pruitt Taylor Vince Mose
Leon Rippy .... Tom Nuttall
Geri Jewel Jewel
Robin Weigert Calamity Jane
Dayton Callie Charlie Utter
Garret Dillahunt Francis Wolcott
Zach Grenier Andy Cramed
Stephen Toblowsky Commissioner Hugo Jarry
Larry Cedar Leon
Peter Jason Con Stapleton
Leah Ann Cevoli Tess
Jennifer Lutheran Jenn
Keone Young Mr. Wu
Gerald McRaney George Hearst
Philip Moon Mr. Lee
Gordon Clapp The Tailor
Parisse Boothe Tessie
Nick Amandos Jack
M. Dutch DeBoer
Allan Graf
Jennifer Lutheran Jen
Johnny Rad
David Redding Davey
Phil Chong Ah Sook
Will Leong Lee’s Henchman
Kevin Wimmer 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
(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)
(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.)
(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!
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.
(He looks up and spies Jane, she gives him the finger. Back at the absurd restaurant.)
(Back at the Bella Union, Cy is abed, Con and Leon are in the cage.)
(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.)
(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.
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.
(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.)
(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.
(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.
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
(Joanie rocks back and forth on her bed in the darkened room of Shaunessey’s 1-F.)
(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.
(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.
(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.)
(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.”
(Doc steps out onto the porch of the house that the Bonanza bought and approaches
Ellsworth.)
(Seth enters Charlie Frieght and Utter Mail. Charlie is sifting through a pile of boxes
and throws up his hands.)
(Nuttall’s No. 10, Steve, our shit-stirrer is back at it again. Talking to Harry Manning.)
(Jane peeks in the Chez Schoolhouse Amie, Martha passes by the door and opens it as
Jane spins around trying to conceal her interest.)
(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
(Hannibal Farnum groans in the bed he’s laying in upstairs at the Gem.)
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!”
Al: Lie back, E.B.
EB: “Beaten past recognition by a candidate for another office.”
Al: Lie the fuck back—and listen. I need your truthful reply. Lie, I will knopw it,
and death will be no respite.
EB: I told Hearst nothing of Bullock and the widow.
Al: I will profane your fucking remains, E.B.
EB: Not my remains, Al.
Al: Gabriel’s trumpet will produce you from the ass of a pig.
EB: You told me not to tell him, and I didn’t.
Al: I believe you.
EB: My pain is such that gives me no solace.
Al: 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.
EB: Thank you.
Al: I do not mean here.
EB: 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.)
(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.)
(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.
(Al comes down the stairs to Richardson raising the Alma-Antlers to the rack of antlers
on the wall.)
(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.)
(Joanie returns to the Chez Amie, Jane wakes up and stands up)
(Al and Seth stand outside on the porch that Bullock built, looking over at Hearst’s.)
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hereof.
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.)
(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.)
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: If we know Hearst is coming, Boss, why the fuck don’t we strike first?
Al: From the moment we leave the forest, Dan, it’s all a giving up and adjusting.
Dan: Across the thoroughfare to slit that cocksucker’s throat.
Al: 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.)
(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.)
(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
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.)
(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.)
(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.
(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.)
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.)
(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: 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.)
Alma: 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.
Seth: All right.
Alma: Given his history with Hearst, I’d spare Mr. Ellsworth that indignity.
Seth: I understand.
Alma: 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—
(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.
(Harry pants, uncomfortable, squeezing his buttcheeks and holding his side as he
reviews his speech at the Number 10.)
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.
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.
(Con rushes into Cy’s room, quickly trying to hide the liquor bottle in his hand
behind his back. He stands at attention.)
(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.)
(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.)
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—
(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.
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.)
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!
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.)
(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.
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.
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.”
(Back at the house the Bonanza bought, Sofia is downstairs playing with her dolls
while upstairs, Ellsworth and Alma are fighting.)
(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.
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?
(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.)
(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.
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.)
(Al and Jack Langrishe step out onto the thoroughfare from a side door in the Gem.)
(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.)
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: 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
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.)
(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
(Cy tilts his head, surprised. Back in the Gem, Al is sipping a drink at the bar,
Johnny and Dan look on.)
(He nods and tips his hat to her, walking away. Upstairs at the Grand Central. Alma
and Hearst are meeting one on one.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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: Strange affectations your devil friend has. Shabby appearance, derelict hotel.
Al: Put the hole through that wall just before he worked on my hand.
Jack: Americans…it never occurs to them to try the window.
Al: I’ll tell you the truth. I begin to wonder if I mightn’t be fucking queer.
Jack: You see more to admire in the male asshole than you’d…realized hitherto?
Al: That I haven’t gone yet for Hearst’s throat.
Jack: Ambition and the blessed simplicities of action don’t always quarter in comfort.
Al: I’ve no fucking ambition past trading to my favor and coming…once a day.
Jack: Bullshit! A thing of this order you’d as soon not see ruined or in cinders.
Al: I will if I fucking have to. Avoiding it if I could.
Jack: Good night, Al.
Al: Good night.
Jack: Few enough I find tolerable. Lucky our paths have crossed again. (smacks Al on
the ass) Don’t misinterpret that.
Al: All right, Jack.
The creation of this transcript is done without endorsement by or affiliation with HBO®
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hereof.
Cy: Doc.
Doc: How you feelin’?
Cy: Sleepy…As a man fuckin’ should at this hour, if you don’t mind me sayin’.
Doc: It’s this hour I’m able to see to ya.
Cy: I understand and I’m grateful.
Doc: 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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
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.)
(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?
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!
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?
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.
(Bullock and Steve enter the No. 10, Bullock looks at Tom and points to Steve.)
Hostetler: Go on away from here now. Ain’t nobody trying to keep you.
(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 new-
built for schooling.
Joanie: People are strange about things, Charlie.
(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.)
(Jack Langrishe enters the Gem, Dan smokes a cigar at the bar. Al walks down
the stairs.)
(He turns and looks at Dolly, who looks sheepishly back. Cy is waiting down in
the lobby of the Grand Central. Al enters.)
Al: E.B.
EB: The titans gather.
Cy: Swearengen.
Al: Tolliver.
EB: Do we now assault Olympus?
Al: Quiet, E.B. (He motions for Cy to climb the stairs with him.)
Cy: I think Cochran’s a lunger.
Al: Bit motley ourselves, huh? (Cy chuckles as they walk up the stairs.)
(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.
(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.)
(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.)
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.)
(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
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.
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.)
(Outside the Grand Central, Aunt Lou brings a covered pot out onto the back
steps and sets it down next to NG Fields.)
(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 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)
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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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)
(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.
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.)
(Nighttime in the Grand Central, Jack Langrishe is helping his old sickly friend settle in.)
(The Doc walks out into the main room of the Gem. Silas and Johnny are seated
at a table.)
(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.)
(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.
(Ellsworth emerges from his room, putting on his suspenders. Alma is waiting in
her doorway, smiling.)
(Inside the livery, they’re digging through the hay trying to find the chalkboard.)
(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?
EB: Sheriff.
Seth: Is he up there?
EB: Who?
Seth: Is Hearst fucking up there, Farnum?
EB: 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?
(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.)
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hereof.
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.)
(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?
(In the house the Bonanza Bought, Alma is brushing Sofia’s snarled hair.)
Sofia: Owie.
Alma: Well, Sofia,…We’re almost through.
Sofia: It’s cold.
Alma: The fire’s gone out. Mr. Ellsworth left for the diggings early this morning.
Sofie: He didn’t come to kiss me good night.
Alma: (Pauses momentarily) You must not have wakened.
Sofia: I always waken from his beard.
(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.)
(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: 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?!
Silas: No.
Al: (sitting) Are you sure you don’t want to tell me a joke or the like, or dance a quick
fuckin’ jig?
Silas: I tell Tolliver I’m still your man and I’ll never show him your fuckin’ hole card.
Al: Guy like Tolliver always believes he can see what you want not to show him.
Silas: I’m tryin’ not to show your hole card.
Al: That’s your fuckin’ act.
Silas: So what do I say about Bullock?
Al: 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.”
Silas: What’ll Tolliver think off that?
Al: “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.
(Hearst hands him a bill and Blazanov hands him back his note. Hearst leaves.
At the Bella Union, Silas sits with Cy.)
Cy: Damn pleased we got to speak, Adams. Al chose well making you his fuckin’
ambassador.
Silas: Far as him grabbin’ Hearst by the ear, how that affects yours and Mr.
Swearengen’s arrangements with Hearst—
Cy: Fuckin’ Bullock.
Silas: 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.
Cy: Why don’t you cap your visit with some complimentary higher-end pussy?
Silas: Thanks anyway.
Cy: You know Leon here. (They get up and walk across the room) Why don’t you
teach him somethin’ about craps.
Silas: Soon as I finish showin’ water how to run downhill. (they chuckle as Silas
leaves.)
Cy: He’d have me a cur to paw through the scraps his fuckin’ flunky tosses.
Leon: That Swearengen.
Cy: 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.
Leon: Thanks,. Mr. Tolliver.
(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.
(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.
(Trixie grabs her things and leaves. Alma closes her eyes and looks away. At the
Grand Central, Cy comes downstairs, leaving..)
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.
EB: An inscrutable figure—Mr. Hearst.
Cy: (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.
EB: Goodness.
Cy: You see that 200 I’ve given ya?
EB: I do, yes, at the margin of vision.
Cy: 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: Liberia.
Odell: He mind me here ‘fore his say-so?
Lou: How is he gonna mind you come see your mother?
Odell: Here in your room.
Lou: 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.
(Hearst leaves them. E.B. enters Al’s office, holding up the $200.)
EB: Here, Al, is your answer. Nor would 10 times the sum have tempted me.
Al: Should have known.
EB: You confirm my judgment then—you were the money’s source.
Al: As it happens, E.B., I was not.
EB: I see. In that case you may view my behavior as a random display of loyalty. (He
reaches for the money)
Al: Explaining yourself offers a better chance of getting it back.
EB: 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.
Al: (Taking the money) Ain’t to Tolliver’s standard, the baldness of it.
EB: 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.
Al: We’re in the presence of the new.
EB: Fuck the fucking new! Jesus Christ, Al. Is it over for us here?
Al: Go back to the hotel, E.B.
EB: Save us. Think of something.
Al: Have I ever not?
EB: We’ll discuss that money another time.
(E.B. leaves Al’s office. At the hardware store, Charlie is nervously waiting around.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
(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.)
Al: Yeah. (Dan enters – I think that’s a Buffalo skin he’s covered in) How are your
spirits, Chief?
Dan: All right.
Al: Do not bullshit me, Dan! The task I’d assign you is pivotal.
Dan: I’m all right.
Al: And leave the matter at that?
Dan: Well what the fuck else would you want me to say?
Al: Nothing. You gave me the basis to decide. I’m not fuckin’ sending you
anywhere.
Dan: Well, fuck where you were gonna send me! And fuck the task you were gonna
assign me to do!
Al: And that confirms my opinion, that indifferent rejoinder.
Dan: I’m on the verge of stiking you a fucking blow.
Al: 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.
Dan: Then why didn’t you just ask me to volunteer it?
Al: Because opinion solicited does not equal one freely voiced. This is what I
predicted to Johnny, virtually word for word.
Dan: About what?
Al: 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.”
Dan: Seeing a light go out of their eyes.
Al: 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.
(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?
(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: That they’re armed and awake don’t have to mean they’re fucking hired.
Dan: Yeah, and when I feel a shit coming on I’ll remember to drop my pants.
Al: The obvious merits utterance. Character is fucking pertinent.
Dan: If I’m to go, I’d as soon get started before the darkness.
Al: 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.)
(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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hereof.
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.)
(Tom Nuttall is talking to Johnny at the Number 10, Harry Manning looking on.)
(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.
(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?
(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.
(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.
(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.
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.
(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.)
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.)
(Upstairs in the Grand Central, Jack Langrishe visits the ailing Chesterton.)
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.
(E.B. re-enters the Grand Central to find Richardson praying at the front desk.
No antlers this time.)
(Richardson beams as E.B. goes into his room. At the Chez Schoolhouse Theatre
Amie, Claudia is pacing.)
Claudia: I itch.
(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.)
(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.
(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.
(Al gives him the eye and Doc heads inside. Steve gets back to the livery and sees
the NG sleeping up in the hayloft.)
(The NG turns his head and goes back to sleep. Doc sits across from Al in his
office. Al pours a drink.)
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.
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: Mornin’. (He steps out into the thoroughfare next to Seth.)
Seth: How did Hearst take the letter?
Sol: I don’t know. Is the paper even out yet?
Seth: Guess you don’t fuckin’ know much. Do you, Sol? (Who pissed in your
cornflakes, Seth?)
Sol: 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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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
(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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(Back at the livery, Doc is checking out Steve. He peers into his eyes – looking
rather vacant.)
(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 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.)
(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.)
(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.
(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.)
(At the Chez Amie Theater, Chesterton and Jack sit with each other, holding hands.)
(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.)
(He pinches their bums and they squeal. Up in Al’s office at the Gem, Jack is visiting.)
(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: 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.)
Al: Leviathan fucking smiles.
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.
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.
(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: The top of my to-do list every morning, and every day gets away from me.
Cy: Anyways, here you are.
Silas: Here I am. Al’s delegate, as far as him and you deal with Mr. Hearst.
Cy: Will you still if invited to sit or will it take me offering a meal?
Silas: 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.
(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.)
(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.
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.)
(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!
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.)
(Blazanov bends down to help his fallen, groaning, friend. At the Gem, Mr. Wu
talks to Al.)
(Al takes a drink at the bar. Joanie walks into Utter Freight and Charlie Mail.)
(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.
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.)
(He marches Brick to the jail, the Earps following. At the Grand Central,
Blazanov knocks on Hearsts door. Hearst walks to open it.)
(He leaves and Hearst shuts the door, reading the telegram. In the kitchen, Aunt
Lou is watching Richardson rub salt on a ham hock.)
(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.)
(At the jail, Seth is seated with Wyatt & Morgan Earp.)
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 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
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.)
(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
(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 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.
Jack: Such elegance! Such dexterity! Ah, magnifico, magnifico! (The lady in red joins
the festivities.) Let’s hear it for the lariat lad.
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!
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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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hereof.
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.
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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
(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.)
(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 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: How did sentiment incline in this joint when Bullock and Harry spoke last?
Dan: Glad when they was finished.
Tom: As to who had the upper hand?
Silas: 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.
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.)
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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
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.)
(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.
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.)
(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.)
(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?
(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.)
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hereof.
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.)
(Jack walks away, Shaunessey eyeing him. Back at the Gem, Al is still reading as
Blazanov opens the door next to them.)
(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
(Richardson turns and watches E.B. leave. Back at the Gem, Al finishes the article.)
(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.
Jack: Young man? At the soul’s dark hour?
Al: Name one that fuckin’ ain’t. (E.B. joins them.)
EB: Mr. Langrishe.
Jack: 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: 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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.
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.)
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
(At the hotel, Jack sits in silence in his room. Contemplating. Downstairs,
Joseanne approaches the table of Countess, Claudia and Bellegarde.)
(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.
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
(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.)
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.
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?
(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.)
(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.
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.)
Al: You don’t expect me to believe you didn’t steam this open and reseal it for me to
open again.
EB: I didn’t wanna know. (Al holds the magnifying glass up to the letter and slams it
down a moment later.)
Al: This motherfucker!
EB: For my complicity in his shooting, he orders my death.
Al: 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.)
EB: Be quick then, please.
Al: Your complicity’s mostly in your noggin’, E.B. It’s the whore he wants dead.
EB: (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?
Al: Say he’ll have my answer in an hour.
EB: Al.
Al: E.B.
EB: 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.
Al: Slide this under his door then.
EB: (Raising his eyebrows) Would you rather I tell him?
Al: Only decide quickly. (E.B. strides to the door and puts on his hat.)
EB: 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.)
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.
(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?
(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.
(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.)
(Joanie returns to her room, finding Jane laying on the bed, drunk.)
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.
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
(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.)
(Back at the Grand Central, Hearst opens his door to Jack Langrishe.)
(Jack gives a quick bow and leaves. Mouth agape. At the Gem, Al walks downstairs over
to Dan at the bar.)
(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.
(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
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-than-
mining 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.
(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?
The End?
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.