Deadwood (2004–2006): Season 1, Episode 9 - No Other Sons or Daughters - full transcript

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Her majesty awakes, huh?

- (urinating)
- Cocksucker's gonna grace me

with his fucking
presence this morning.

Fucking Magistrate Clagett

will impart to me the attitude
towards the settlement

of him and his fellow
lying fucking thieves

at the Territorial Legislature
of Yankton.

How fucking much
it's gonna cost us to get annexed

when they sign a treaty
with the fucking dirt worshipers, 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 fucking 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 nothing to be afraid of.

(sniffs)
Everything changes.

Don't be afraid.

I can hope



those'll be appearing
on a regular basis?

No.

No?

How's your arm?

It's all right.

Don't fucking try doing away
with yourself again, huh?

Good morning, gentlemen.

This is Ellsworth, who found
the gold on your claim.

- How do you do, Mr. Ellsworth?
- Pleasure.

- And this is Sofia.
- Pleasure, Sofia.

I'm grateful for your expertise
and keen eyesight.

Luck's what you want
to congratulate me on, Mrs. Garret.

Till you decide how you want develop it,
Ellsworth can spend

time enough at wages on your claim
to sustain your ownership.

I nod as if I understand
what you just said.

He'll explain it all to you.

Might we have a word, Mr. Bullock?

I'm certain Mr. Ellsworth's
are very capable hands,

but I hope you're not disassociating
yourself from my affairs.

I already got my impression
of this fellow, Mrs. Garret.

- This meeting's how you form yours.
- I see.

Then we compare notes
and decide how you proceed.

- Fine.
- Toward a future point

when you tell me my thinking's
so consistently wrongheaded

it's a waste of your valuable time
having to deal with me.

In any case, I know you have
many claims on your attention.

A couple.

Thank you very much.

I'd lean more on what I felt
about this fellow than what I saw.

Late as usual.

I just comes from the creek,
Mr. Farnum. Washin' my pants.

A habit to cultivate.

And under a rock down there, I found
other pants of mine I thought I'd lost.

But seein' as I gets drunk
and on occasion shits myself,

I figured that must be how
I lost 'em in the first place.

I imagine you making
your way from the creek,

rolling into the lobby
when all others are abed,

bare-ass naked with shit streaming
down the backs of your legs.

Sir, no. It must have been the night
that Mr. Hickok was killed.

Now I recall that Mr. Hickok, he gives
unto me a letter for me to put in post,

but what with all the hullabaloo
and me gettin' drunk,

I forgot about the whole thing.

Until I found my pants.

Do you think I'm gonna touch that?

No, uh, I didn't get my pants wet, nor did
I soil the letter when I soiled myself.

That's the miracle of it, sir.

So I'm to believe that's a letter
written by Wild Bill Hickok

just before his murder
by the coward McCall?

- Just minutes before, sir.
- Addressed to whom?

His wife, sir.

Well, I only hope
you haven't opened it.

No, sir.

At least that eliminates
tampering from the list.

Of what, sir?

Crimes in which
your inebriation and sloth

as my employee
has implicated my hotel,

which I will attempt to shield you from
in the course of trying to extricate myself.

I didn't mean to extricate you, sir.
I-- I didn't--

Just give me the confounded letter!

- And none of this hangdog look.
- Sir.

- Not a word of this to anyone.
- Yes, sir.

Mr. Utter. Hearty congratulations
on your new venture.

Take awhile to find out
if those are what's in order.

Being this is the first
day of my enterprise,

I wore this frock-coat.

Very flattering.

You don't think it looks stupid?

Not to me, no.

Mr. Dority of a sudden stumbled,

and in-- in grabbin'
at scrub to steady him,

I saw a color beneath.

(chuckles)
Ain't you a little doll.

She's formed an instant attachment.

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.

Thank you for telling me so.

Not bein' impertinent,

your people gonna help you with this?

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.

Well, blood don't always prove loyalty.

But you're gonna need some people
on your side, Mrs. Garret,

'cause I believe you got
a big one on your hands.

I believe Mr. Bullock's on my side.

No question about that.

And I believe you are too.

Excuse me.

I was among them
found that little girl.

I'm glad to see her doing well.

I'm Alma Garret.

How do you do?

Ellsworth.

Charlie Utter.

- (knocks)
- Come in.

- Johnny: Yes, sir.
- You see this?

"Utter Freight and Postal
Delivery Service."

That's what happens
when you drop a fucking stitch.

What stitch did I drop?

I did.

This freight and delivery service should've
been opened by Persimmon Phil as

- a cover for his other fucking activities.
- He's dead.

I know he's dead now.

Well, if you don't know,
nobody does.

I should have brought in a replacement
is my fucking point.

- Well, you'll know better next time.
- The direction of my thoughts--

with the sustained fucking stupidity
that you're exhibiting,

I hesitate to voice them--

is that you might want
to train for Phil's former position.

Al.

I have hoped for this conversation

ever since you give me
that Indian head to hide.

How'd it go with Johnny?

I have just fled
my own office in horror

at his fucking dimwittedness.

Well, Persimmon Phil
wasn't no genius.

I know.

And Johnny, so eager.

I know. Was it not
my fucking idea to ask him?

There's a minimal standard here though.
He'll be in the wilderness.

You gotta be able to sustain a thought.

You gotta be able to remember
a fucking instruction.

- Dan: His Honor.
- Oh, yeah.

Hold fast to your valuables.

Hey, Al, any reason
I can't share with Dan

the proceedings of the talk
me and you just had about me

taking over for Persimmon Phil?

Yeah, keep Dan in the dark.

Have a seat, Your Honor.

- Hey, Johnny.
- Dan.

What's new?

I want to know how the camp
stands with the Legislature.

And don't give me this, um,

- "On the one hand and on the other hand."
- All right.

Just say, "This is the way
I think it's gonna be,"

'cause this several-hands
fucking shit don't help me.

- I'll boil things down.
- Go ahead.

Let's assume for the sake
of conversation

that there's a new treaty
with the Sioux peoples.

"People," that's what we're calling
those cocksuckers now?

That's the way things are headed?

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 situation

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.

So who needs to get paid?

Signs of conciliation and willingness
would weigh 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?"

What's the right fucking
number for the Legislature?

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 a preliminary guess
at some numbers.

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'd want to address that.

I could help with that too.

How much is that gonna cost me?

$5,000.

If you don't mind,
I'll continue writing.

Good morning, Miss Jane.

Yeah, hello.

No one croaked today.

Tommy's still fucking sick
and the doc will be back

I guess whenever
he fucking feels like it.

I see your fucking eyes
are still playin' tug o' war.

Well, this is the one to look at.

Left arm still useful
as an old man's dick?

Do I smell strangely to you, Miss Jane?

What?

Do I have a strange odor about me?

What is that, your clever way of saying
you smell whiskey on my breath?

No.

If either of your fucking eyes takes me
for hiding I'm drinking again occasionally,

it's sadly mistaken, so desist
from any clever odor references.

I thought the smell might
be coming off the creek

so I went into the hills last night
but it followed me there too,

as if my, uh--
as if my flesh were rotting.

I, uh-- do I look like a man
taken from his own grave?

God damn you, Preacher, don't start
talking crazy to go with everything else.

Also, when I read the-- the scriptures,

I do not feel Christ's love as I used to.

Oh, is that so?

That is too bad.

Join the fucking club of most of us.

Let me tell you something, Preacher,

I see you skulking around
when the doc comes in.

You're trying to hide your fucking eyes,
trying to hide your fucking arm.

You're a fucking mess.

And I am in the process of wearing out
my own fucking welcome in this camp.

And I wouldn't expect to be
around here much longer

for people to be disgusted by

so they don't notice what the fuck
is going on with you!

And you need to think
about some of these things

and raise your nerve
to consult with the doc!

God damn you!
Spilling my cleaning water too, Minister!

Up.

Thank you, I'm fine.

You're fine?

I am off duty.
You're on duty.

You can go fuck yourself!

Al.

EB:
Al, what are you doing out?

Clearing my head.
And if I bleat when I speak,

that's because I just got fucking fleeced.

- What's going on?
- Be at my joint in two hours.

- We're forming a fucking government.
- Yes, sir.

- (glass shatters)
- Merrick!

Jesus Christ.

Hey, Merrick!

Fucking cocksucker.

Shoot.

Thank you, sir.

Mm-hmm.

Good luck out there.

I believe it's time
to send for my wife and boy.

Treaty coming with the Sioux.

Where the fuck is Merrick, huh?!

We don't know.

Well, anyways, this is it. What we spoke
about before, this puts it to the test.

- All right.
- 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.

We're to meet to discuss
putting this organization together,

is that what you're saying?

Centuries of fucking inbreeding

attune him to the necessities
of the times.

- (chuckling)
- Two hours, my place!

Did a fucking good job here.

Your room's put back together.

That ain't my room anymore.

Cy needn't have done
for them kids that way.

Not in your room,

not in the way he did for them.

I'm getting outta here, Eddie.

Are ya?

I'm going to open my own place.

Good for you, honey.
Have you saved money?

I got a way to work it.

I know you'll get a long way
away from here first.

You think I have to?

Cy told me he'd help me
open a place here.

He promised he'd keep his distance.

Good.

- Is he around?
- Asleep.

There's a meeting at my place

in a couple of hours
he'll want to be awake for.

All the pillars of the fucking camp.
You mind?

You could use some rest.

I could use a clean conscience.

So could we all.

Blah!
(spits)

Where the fuck have you been?!

- As you see.
- As I see, what?

At my storage cabinet,
replentishing needed supplies.

Be over in a couple of hours. We gotta
form a government for the settlement.

Who does?

Us! You and me.

Come to me in a vision!
You stupid bastard.

Anyways, I'm going to look for a place.

Eddie.

Swearengen's called a meeting.
Two hours.

Where's Joanie?

Out looking for a place.

Good.

'Cause I told Joanie I'd back her
in having her own joint.

That's what she said.

Something on your mind, Eddie?

You fucked me up, Cy.

The shit you did to those kids,
there's no angle to it.

That shit wasn't just
about those kids, Eddie.

You need to sit there and tough
your way through your problem.

Just keep shuffling your cards

and let your tie hang down
till you feel better.

I want to come to that meeting.

Do ya?

Come ahead, Eddie.

Put the cards down,
tighten your cravat

and come on
if it'll cheer you the fuck up.

(chuckles)

(squealing)

(chatter intensifies)

Mornin'.

Good morning.

I'm opening this business.

Well, good luck.

Thank you.

I'm Charlie Utter.

I'm Joanie Stubbs.

- How do you do?
- How do you do, Charlie?

Ooh, I was out of breath,
but now I'm better.

Are you off someplace?
Uh, you need an escort or the like?

No, I'm more or less just walking around.

What do you think of this frock-coat?

Very well fitted.

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.

If you would have made me guess,
I would have said it's not your usual garb.

And I'm a considerable hand
at the freight business,

but far as leasing this building

before knowing 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.

Anyway, you're wearing it today.

You're right.

I'm sorry for running on about it.

I'm looking for a piece of property

to start a business on.

That's what I'm doing out.

I see.

And what sort of business
you looking to operate?

- Brothel.
- Uh-huh.

Well, uh, I'll tell you what,
this camp here,

it seems like it's got
some legs under it.

I'm just a whore though.

I mean, I run the whores for this man,

but far as being ready to run a place

and stand up to all
you have to stand up to,

I-- I don't know what got into me.

I'll tell you what,

if something's ready
for you to do something,

it don't seem to matter
if you're ready or not.

Better lift your skirts and...

jump, huh?

That's what's coming to me
to be true.

I'm surprised you're not
at that big town meeting.

Uh, yeah, well, I'm, uh--

I'm heading over there shortly.

Uh, I prefer to appear late
to that type of thing.

Bella Union, where I work, is bigger

but I guess being that
it's Mr. Swearengen's meeting,

that's why they're having it at The Gem.

Yeah, that's--
that's why it's located there.

Yeah.

It's awful nice to meet you, Charlie.

Well, it's good
to meet you too, Joanie.

Take care.

I'm going to The Gem.

Man: I'm heading on.

I'm heading for The Gem.

Hooray for you.

Reverend is laid down trying
to hide another seizure.

Ain't you clever to see
through the subterfuge.

I been letting it go,

but if the idea is for you to drink
more and more till I say something,

I am hereby officially saying

I wish you would stop
fucking drinking.

I have no fucking idea

as far as you saying
one fucking thing

about anything I do or don't,

far as drinking

or where I stand or nap

- or any other fucking thing concerning me.
- I see.

Or go or leave or don't or when.

All right, Jane.

So you can go fuck yourself.

And don't try and hasten
anyone anywhere,

'cause everyone follows
their own fucking pace,

and don't try and fucking hasten them.

And you happen to be
fucking overlooking

that you think it's just
one day after another

with the same fucking seizure

as if it happened the week before.

And that just shows you
how much you fucking know

and what you pay attention to.

(sobs)
God damn you!

What do they pay you
to hold that building up?

Charlie Utter

of "Utter Charlie and Freight."

Close enough
to get you offered a position.

I'm in a position,

you eternally-meddling cocksucker.

Yeah, leaning forward
shit-faced drunk.

I am talking about nurse
of the plague-

fucking-tent operation,

caring of the sick
in the fucking tent!

How about bullwhacker
of the fucking freight

between Deadwood and Cheyenne?

No.

How about supervisor,
mail delivery?

- Go away, Charlie.
- Or any fucking thing else you want to do.

Go away!

Congratulations on being
a big fucking deal.

No one's any big fucking deal, Jane.

And all them offers stand.

I've seen you in some stupid
fucking outfits in my time,

but that one takes the prize.

I think that this month

we're gonna try raspberry leaf.

Thanks, Doc.

Young lady,

anything to report
with your privates?

Nah.

Unguent.

Meeting outside
when you're done, Doc.

All right.
(clears throat)

(door closes)

Thanks, Doc.

In a case like yours, I wouldn't
know what else to prescribe.

All right.

Whose idea was them pears
and fucking peaches?

I figured since we had 'em
for the plague meeting...

Shows good thinking and initiative.

Ladle 'em out at various intervals
on the fucking table, Johnny.

Yes, sir.

I'm declaring myself
conductor of this meeting

as I have the bribe sheet.

If I'm excluded, say so, Al.

Don't leave me to die
the death of thousand cuts.

- Sit down, Tom.
- Don't subject me to death by water torture.

Take a seat, Tom,
and toss whatever book

you've been reading on
the fucking yellow peril, huh?

I just opened across the ways.

Was I supposed to attend?

Well, before I can answer that question,
I better know who the fuck you are.

Charlie Utter.

Of "Utter's Freight
and Postal Delivery Service."

Nice sign blocking my fucking view.
Take a seat.

Had a lovely advert in today's "Pioneer."

So US government's
negotiating peace

with Spotted Elk, Red Cloud

and other leaders of the heathens.
Thank you, Johnny.

The heathens will get money
to give up the Hills,

and the Hills'll be annexed to the Territory.

First notice of our cost

to avoid getting fucked in the ass

by those legislative cocksuckers

was just handed to me
by Yankton's toll collector,

who suggests also our best case
in keeping title to the claims,

property and businesses
is to start up now

a kind of an informal
governing organization

that'll be recognized
by the Territorial cocksuckers

and given legal status
when the Territory is annexed.

Since we'll all have proved ourselves

civilized sorts

that don't only wear our pants
to cover our tails,

hence the fucking meeting.

- Do the bribes come out of our pockets?
- Hmm?

The hell you must have gone through
talking to that leech.

Hereafter, you let me
take my fair share

- of the weight in those conversations.
- Okay, thank you, Cy.

Couldn't our informal organization
levy taxes

on the settlement to pay the bribes?

Say to license businesses?
Wouldn't that spread the burden?

Will women who pay the license fees

have the same right
to operate brothels as men?

What's that got to do
with the price of fish?

Our proper order of fucking business

is to make titles and departments

before the Territorial cocksuckers send in
their cousins to rob and steal from us.

Well, who fills the various positions?

Pick the names from a fucking hat
as far as I'm concerned.

I'd like to be mayor.

Al:
Objections?

Mayor.

Wouldn't a good use
for an informal organization

with temporary appointees be providing
a few services to the camp?

Mayor?

Well, provide a few services

and use the lion's share
of revenues to pay the bribes.

More than providing services to 'em,

taking people's money is what
makes organizations real,

be they formal, informal or temporary.

There's a piano outside.

Piano?

When Tolliver opened
up across the way,

you said we needed a fancier piano.
You ordered one.

You want me to abandon the fucking
meeting to bring in a new piano?

I'm just telling you
it come in from Montgomery Ward.

Yeah.

"Any big arrival, notify me immediately."
You said that.

- Yeah yeah yeah.
- Well, um--

Floor's open for levy suggestions

and nominations
for department heads.

Self-nominations are permitted.

Sorry. We lack a gavel.

Doc?

Who's gonna be comptroller?

AW:
Well, um, elections?

Will we have some elections

somewhere down the road?
This is temporary, right?

- Yeah, ad hoc.
- Ad hoc.

Ad fucking hoc.
Free fucking gratis.

Can we just get on
with the fucking meeting?

(piano playing)

Timid? Ha!
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.

I've got to find early occasion

to put the mayor off his pedestal.

Don't do it with no nudge.

Did you wait a day before you
ordered that fucking thing?

Boss, you specifically
countermanded my waiting

and asking again when you
give me the order to get it.

What fucking revenue is being
generated by those hoople-heads

gathering around that cocksucker

and yodeling about
their fucking points of origin?

The shine'll wear off.

My fucking head.

All that organizing businesses?

Aw, 25 cups of coffee and too much
circulating in the fresh air.

You chaired the piss out
of that meeting this afternoon.

That still don't get you
off the hook about that piano.

Before I'd told a story
on myself like the doc did,

I'd have just said,
"Thank you for the nomination,

but I decline being Health Supervisor."

They buy bodies to do their research.

Doctors, they cut 'em open
and study 'em.

All the less reason for saying you've
been arrested for grave robbing...

seven times.

(chuckles)
Anyways,

good for you
volunteering for the post.

If I had known then
they wasn't gonna have a sheriff,

- I'd never have raised my hand.
- I don't follow.

I only raised my hand
'cause I didn't want to be sheriff.

It's all temporary, anyhow.

- Sol: That's right.
- And ad hoc.

Did you happen
to notice at The Gem

that one girl we rode back with
from Mr. Garret's funeral?

Trixie, isn't that what
she said her name was?

Who'd been helping
Mrs. Garret with the child.

Yeah, I noticed her.

Much as she'd taken
to helping with that little one.

Big pull to that,
going back to what you know.

You think she's pretty?

Very.

- Take some air.
- Yes, sir.

- Evenin'.
- Evening.

Some meeting, huh?

Congratulations on your new post.

Oh.

And for your freight business.

- Thank you.
- Okay.

Evening, Charlie.

Evening.

(sighs)
How much time you think that

Fire Marshal obligation's
gonna take?

More or less as much as
your Health Commissioner, huh?

How about that Doc?

Grave robber.

Anybody else felled
from them canned peaches?

Not to my knowledge.
Why, you feeling poorly?

Well, um, it's-- it's easing up some.

- Evening.
- Evening.

I've wondered how things
were with you...

and Mrs. Garret and the child.

I expect they're well.

I know she struck lucky
at her claim.

And how are you, Trixie?

As you see.

Earning the greasy eye
from my boss for idle chatter.

Can I buy you a drink?

I'd rather you didn't.

This isn't the place for you.

So you say.

If you insist on
my embarrassing myself,

have it not where
I'd want you to see me.

Come see me then.

He doesn't permit
our making calls out.

Come to our store.
Come buy a broom.

I don't want what
I can't have, Mr. Star.

All right.

If I did come,

I'd buy an axe,
a hammer and a saw.

All fully stocked.

And we never ask the purpose
of a customer's purchase.

Our mayor.

Oh, mayor!

Doctor.

I'm gonna have a look at you.

All right.

Don't turn your
head away, Reverend.

Being sick ain't nothing
to be ashamed of.

Look at my finger.

I apologize for the smell.

What is it that you smell?

As if I've died.

You emit no such odor.

I smell my flesh rotting.

It isn't rotting, Reverend.

Your flesh does not smell.

You've not died.

You're having
organic changes in your mind

that's making you
believe these things.

Do you understand me?

Formerly, Doctor,

when the Word 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.

All right.

This is God's purpose.

The not-knowing the purpose is...

my portion of suffering.

And is there any pain

competing with the not-knowing?

I'm not in pain.

There are new smells I smell.

And there parts of my body I can't feel,

and His--

and His love.

And you want to continue like this?

As long as He wills,
this must be my part.

To be afraid, as well.

Well, if this is His will, Reverend,

He is a son of a bitch.

Good night.

Good night, Doctor.

Hey, Eddie.

Hey, kid. How'd it go?

All right. And I got me
a four-bit room.

Play your cards right,
I'll tell you where.

Joanie: Hi, Cy.

I was afraid I'd lost you
to the heathens.

How was that meeting?

All right. We were organizing
for annexation

until Eddie cracked his fucking mouth.

What'd it turn to then?

(laughs)

A joint like ours, Joanie,
what are we selling?

Walk through this door,

it's a new start.

"Come on in, try your luck here."

Of course, we know

the percentages being the percentages,
you play long enough

your luck ain't gonna get no better
here than anywheres else.

Maybe it's 'cause
we're in a brand new camp,

but since we arrived, certain people
that are near and dear to me

seem to have bought
into our own fucking line

and now they're trying
to get me to go along.

But I can't.

See, Joanie, 'cause I'm a big boy.

Now I'm ready for...

Eddie and me to have a little chat.

I did look around for places, Cy.

Good, I wanted you to.

I want to go ahead
and do what we talked about.

Good, honey.

With your eyes wide open.

Eddie Sawyer.

Can we keep this short?

Sure, Eddie.

If he finds you a 12-year-old farm boy
to have some fun with,

is that short enough for you?

I never did that and you know it.

All this crap about what is and isn't
natural, whatever does it for a fella

- is what does it, ain't that right?
- I never did that.

But did you ever want to unbutton
some farm boy's Dentons

and get yourself some relaxation?
That's what I'm asking you.

Take that boy you spoke up for
up in Joanie's room the other day.

I spoke up for not torturing that boy.

Cy: What you spoke for and what you
would have wanted to do

if it was just you and that corn-fed
in that room alone

is what I'm inquiring
about the difference between.

- A dry hole, Cy.
- Aw, you could work that out.

You just use some spit on that or lard.

17 fucking years and I never
saw a look on your face

like I saw up there
in that room the other day.

Including when I had
to smack some girl around.

I was never in a room with you before
where you was gonna kill somebody.

I do not make judgments.
I gave that up a long time ago.

All I want is for us
to get along better, Eddie.

So every time you open
your mouth in public,

I don't have to worry about
what the fuck's gonna come out!

So let me get you some fucking kid

to fuck in the ass or mouth
or suck his prick or let him fuck you!

Fuck you, Cy. Fuck you.

Now now.
That's where I draw the line.

Friend or no friend, and us wanting
to get along better or not,

I want you to go up
into Joanie's room, which I--

I gather she don't want to go into no more.

I want you to go up there
and think this thing through.

Imagine yourself up there with that boy

like you were the other day,
only this time it's just him and you.

And I want you to figure out
what it is that you want.

'Cause next time we see each other

I want you clearheaded
and understanding yourself,

the old Eddie that knows
the percentages and how to play 'em.

And whatever a man does away
from the table is his own fucking business.

I want you cheerful and ready
to help me with my work

or I don't want you
coming the fuck out!

Hmm? You finish your shift
and you go up there to Joanie's room,

you think things through.

All right, Eddie Sawyer?!

Do we understand each other?

Why didn't you volunteer
for something at that meeting?

Why didn't you put your hand up?

It would've kept you from being
such an evil cocksucker.

(dog barking)

Say hello to the new Fire Marshal.

I'm getting out.

Goodbye and good luck.

Wait on it until
you ain't exhausted, Jane.

Maybe you'll change your mind.

Direction of this entire camp

makes me sick,

and it bores
the living shit out of me.

Well, working hours
like you've been working

would get anyone out of sorts.

And you helped a lot of people.

Sent a dozen men out
with their plague sores healed

to go back to getting
'em on their johnsons.

I will not be a drunk
where he's buried.

And I cannot stay fucking sober.

So you...

and every human being on earth--

past, present and future

can drink mare's piss.

Believe I'll just have well water.

- Shut up, Charlie.
- All right.

If the subject comes up,

explain to Bill.

All right, Jane.

All right.

Tell them over at livery
I-- I'm good for the mount.

Do not fucking worry about me.

And inform Hostetler
at the fucking livery

you saved his fucking life.

All right.

And do not worry about
getting paid back.

Check the mail, Charlie,

and you will find soon
proper payment.

All right, Jane.

Check with Utter Mail
and Charlie Freight!

All right.

Since last our eyes
were upon each other, lo,

I hope you've earned me $5.

No.

(clears throat)
I-- I gave the lady your note, sir.

She says to come ahead, but to knock
low as the little one's asleep.

Thank you.

Thank you.
Thank you, sir.

(knocks)

Evening.

Good evening, Mr. Bullock.
Sofia's asleep.

So I was told.
Sorry for calling so late.

I'm to see Ellsworth in the morning
and wondered what I should say.

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.

How'd that plan sound to you?

I feel it's exactly the way to proceed.

All right then.

- Won't you sit down?
- Thank you.

Would it improve your opinion of me

if I told you I was commissioner
of the Board of Health?

How wonderful. I suppose.

It's to put the camp's
best foot forward

as far as being taken into the Territory.

A number of men took positions.

- I see.
- Farnum's mayor.

How horrifying.

I wrote to my wife today.

Did you?

About her and my boy
coming to the camp.

You have a son as well?

They're in Michigan
with her people.

My thinking was

with the treaty coming, annexation,

the camp would be settling down,
a safer place.

Yes.

- Any other sons or daughters?
- No, that's it.

My brother was in the cavalry.

He was killed two years ago.

I'm sorry.

Anyways.

I'm glad you got
along with Ellsworth.

Well, thank you for all
your help, Mr. Bullock.

Sure.

And congratulations
on your new post

and the prospect of your family
rejoining you.

Thank you.

Good night, Mrs. Garret.

Good night.

May I ask why you spoke
of your brother?

My wife was his widow.

My boy is their child.

I see.

- Good night.
- Good night.

(piano music playing)

♪ Moy, buddy bone, you can blow
a mean horn there. ♪