Deadwood (2004–2006): Season 2, Episode 5 - Complications - full transcript

{\move(10,10,190,230,100,400)\fad(0,1000)\fscx25\fscy25\t(0,6000,\fscx125\fscy125)\c&H000000&\3c&H00FFFF&}anoXmous

(Alma retching)

(wheezing)

Psst!

(wheezing continues)

Al: Boys.

How are you?

Did you fuck me
while I was out?

Hell no.

Well, quit looking at me like that.

(laughs)



Except for talking
a little cockeyed,

Al is back
to his accustomed self.

And what that is, speech--

crisis he went through,
Al's body parts are showing

they're healing at different rates.

Well, you talk cockeyed, boss,

all you want, long as you want,

just so you're miserable and mean.

How cockeyed do I look?

Doc: Appropriately cockeyed

for one who's been
through what you have,

and then the fall you took.

Bullock look worse?

Naming your adversary
shows your memory is intact.



You're gonna have to gather
all your fucking wiles, Al,

'cause they's developments
that need interpretating on every front.

Al is out of the development interpretation
business for the short time being.

Wu's got a big tall Celestial
that's haunting him.

He's invisible.

- Wu's convinced he's from San Francisco.
- God damn it, Dan,

will you shut the fuck up and let
this man harbor his resources?

You look in Chink's Alley?

You see any big unfamiliar Chinks?

Well, there ain't nothing to it, Al.

I just told you for a giggle.

I mean, you know?
Excitable Wu.

So what else is new?

Nothing special--

Not a goddamn thing that can't
wait till you get well, boss.

There is a bell...

behind the bar.

- Absolutely.
- I know there is a bell.

I'm telling you
I want it brought up here.

Absolutely, Al.

Uh, I-I best help.

If there's anybody can fuck up
the gathering of a bell, it's Johnny.

You want some water?

Yeah. Fucking water.

Don't be a fucking jerk.

Your right eye is filled with blood.

Can you use your right arm at all?

Put your nose between my fingers,

you'll find how much
I can use my fucking arm.

That's good.
That is a good sign, Al.

Don't bullshit me.

I won't.

I think you've had a small stroke,

guessing maybe from the strain
of that stone.

You keep bullshitting them.

- I will.
- This gets out,

I'll slit your fucking throat.

I wield a blade good with my left.

It won't get out.

If I need it, you will fucking kill me.

- You stop that.
- You find me no better,

you will wish to hell
I was fucking worse,

'cause I wield a blade
good with my left.

Don't you put
a fucking clock on this.

Madam, in the chambers of my heart

beats a love for every crooked timber

of this shitbox of a structure,
this building.

This building,
its warped floorboards and--

- (plates crash)
- Richardson: Fie!

Why, even in Richardson, my chef,

my eyes see a beloved household pet
somehow walking upright.

...see in Richardson...

a half-witted child,
nonetheless adored.

Oh, Mrs. Garret.

Uh, the very subject
of my thoughts.

May I borrow Richardson,
please, Mr. Farnum,

to escort me on an errand?

Would you prefer
other company, ma'am?

Less mysterious?

No, Mr. Farnum.

Richardson!

I saved a lot.

I'll mop the rest in a moment.

- Go with Mrs. Garret.
- Thank you, Mr. Farnum.

Eyes down!

Therefore, madam, as to your
generous offer to purchase my hotel,

I must gratefully decline.

I take you for the man in charge.

AW Merrick, sir, owner,
publisher, editor-in-chief

and for the moment, sole reporter.

Hugo Jarry, County Commissioner
appointed by Governor Pennington.

Of-- of this county?

Yes.

Has our county a name?

Lawrence County.

Ah, well! Well, thank you
for that information,

and congratulations. Lawrence--

Lawrence County.

My father was a newspaperman.

"Lowell Sentinel-Bee."

I was raised among
these contraptions.

Were you?

Great respect for the fourth estate.

Here's a statement to be printed.

"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.

The statement continues.

(sighs)

"New title will be awarded on claims

to which title is denied
at set prices via lottery

as conducted
by the County Commissioner."

I would be grateful if that
gets in your next edition.

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.

I didn't realize that was a bar
the statement had to hurdle.

Uh, without an accompanying
explanation, sir,

this statement may work
an unsettling effect.

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.

Front page.

Trixie's to the hardware store,

the big one said.

May we go there then,
Richardson?

- Have you time?
- Yes.

I only have stew to mop
before lunch.

I like you.

Thank you, Richardson.

You're purdy.

Thank you very much.

And probably that's all either of us
needs to say on that subject ever again.

I'm uncertain how long I may be,

so I'll send you back to the hotel.

Would you be so kind as to return this

to the pile outside The Gem?

(coins jingle)

Thank you, Richardson.

Goodbye.

Oh cunt!

Alma: Good morning.

Trixie: Morning.

May we have a private word?

Trixie:
Don't flee, don't flee.

I'm going outside for a smoke.

Gentlemen.

You knocked up?

Why would you ask?

You wouldn't have come here first,

which means first you went to The Gem,
which you've never yet stepped foot in.

I sent in Richardson.

Meaning first you crossed
the thoroughfare with him,

opening the possibility you're only
puking from the company you keep.

I think I'm pregnant.

We make tea--

pennyroyal and cohosh,

if that's what you come to find out.

- I might very well die in delivering.
- Holy cow!

I meant to say more likely
than other women, I might die,

because an ailment when I was little
shaped me for difficulty in childbirth.

Why not take your tale
of woe to the doc?

I feel that Dr. Cochran judges me.

Lucky then you come to me

that takes you to my bosom
and smoothes your hair

and tells you all will be well.

I can tell you this much, Mrs. Garret...

if you take the tea,

lay plenty of dope in.

'Cause I've killed seven,

and every bleeding out

I laced-on good and tight
and for a long fucking while after.

I want children of my own.

Let me finish up
my Jewish lessons here,

then come find you.

Thank you very much.

- Thank you, Trixie.
- All right.

- My name's Alma.
- I know your name.

(sighs)

Miss Isringhausen.

Mr. Adams.

May I collect a change of clothes?

Of course.

I hope you slept well.

- I'm mortified to say I did.
- Mortified?

Having done so
at the cost of your comfort.

I'll sleep anywhere, ma'am.

I'm like a dog in that regard.

We don't want you
murdered in your bed.

Perhaps it was irrational,
my being so afraid.

That ain't a test fear's got to pass.

I know she's had others done for.

So you've said.

- Anyways--
- May I know your given name?

Silas-- if I remember correct.

You have shown charity
to one among strangers, Silas...

giving her great solace.

Thank you.

Or you're welcome, I guess.

Thank you, Silas.

And you're welcome.

Hostetler.
It's the Nigger General Fields.

Now you was to had
this horse one week.

Shit, old Nugget here
is sound and spoiled.

He's been living on
peppermints and apples

in the private stables of
a San Francisco dry-goods big shot.

Making you owing
17 weeks additional!

I was delivering
emerald earrings to Mrs. Big Shot,

and a diamond bracelet
and matching choker

to Mr. Big Shot's mistress.

$4 a week

times 17...

- is--
- Here, cipher the result against this 100.

$100 take away 68...

Put the balance toward
our future trade.

Owing General Nigger--

Nigger General.

--$32 credit.

Being you was away,
maybe now you got a chance

to take off this half-ass uniform.

Then who's gonna know
I'm the Nigger General?

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.

Well, I keep missing the place
where it would be a good time.

Must be my goddamn foolishness.

You wouldn't suppose
they'd be salting the fucking find

over there, now would you, Doris?

I don't understand.

I was wondering if maybe
your new bosses Maddie and Joanie

are sending me more
than my proper share,

give me a false fucking impression
of how their pussy's selling.

I don't know.

'Cause this is--

this is fucking heavy action
for an operation ahead of itself

far as decor and location
and every other fucking aspect!

It's mostly from just the one trick.

Which is who?

I don't know his name.

They call him Mr. W.

What does he look like?

I wouldn't know how to say.

Oh, you fucking mutt.

- Is he tall or short?
- Tall.

- Thin or fat?
- Thin.

Good looking, I guess.

- Clean-shaved or bearded?
- Bearded.

He threw me into a wall last night.

Huh.

Don't tell me.

On what pretext, sweetheart?

I looked at him.

And that was against
his instructions?

He had all the girls facing the wall.

And you peeked?

Now was this more or less
a push to the wall,

or did he fucking fling you, violent-like,
with more of the same in mind?

Violent-like.

Huh.

Well, that's a man
with a problem, ain't it, Doris?

Mr. W.

Jesus Christ,
can I be that fucking lucky?

- (knocks at door)
- (door opens)

- Warm it up?
- Thank you.

How did you sleep, Carrie?

All right, I guess.

How did you sleep?

All right.

Are you guessing?

I guess I'm guessing.

Do your back?

Yes, thank you.

My trick got you upset.

I was in with him the night before.

I guessed he took to watching.

How did that work out?

I guess he don't.

Or anyway, not that night.

Or maybe just not me.

Do you want to know
what I do with him?

If you want to say.

I get him off through his pants.

Ah.

Acting like my hand's my snatch.

Reaching around behind you?

Behind me
and between my legs.

- Through his pants?
- Yes.

You don't put your hand inside?

(whispers)
No.

Are you naked?

Dressed.

Except for my stockings
and my bloomers.

Do you talk any special way?

I remind him not to hit me.

Do you want to be writing this down?

(chuckles)

Congratulations, Doc,
on your high and holy bullshit.

It's water off a duck to some,

but others still got feelings.

Of whom are we fucking speaking?

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.

I'll call on her.

Under some other fucking pretext.

- All right.
- Mighty fucking big of you, Doc.

You have about as miserable
a disposition as your employer.

I ain't exclusive to him no more.

(door slams)

Hey now, Miss Lady.

How much do you want
for that bottle?

What the fuck are
you supposed to be?

Currency still spends, ma'am.

Is that some dilapidated-type
fucking uniform?

I scouted for fucking Custer.

A great man who would have
wanted you to sell me that bottle.

He was no great fucking man!

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.

You're a short nigger, aren't you?

For a fact.

My name's Jane.

I'm the Nigger General Fields.

Want a drink?

I want to buy that bottle,
that's what I want.

Well, you ain't buying it,
but you can have a fucking drink.

Thanks.

Don't fucking look around!

I don't care who sees a nigger
drinking with me

or drinking from the same bottle

or how... stupid his fucking outfit is.

This here is the epaulet
of a Union Army general.

Oh.

And this here is the ass
of a drunken shitbird.

(chuckling)

Finish this with me...

if you can sit beside someone

and not stink or fart.

I've been known
to cut the odd fart...

but they've never stunk.

I've got the self-same gift.

If I took advantage, I apologize.

You took no more advantage
of me, Silas,

than the Samaritan did
the traveler from Jerusalem.

Good.

I should tell you, Silas,

that the Mr. Swearengen
I've heard you say you work for

is named by Mrs. Garret as her instrument
in her husband's murder.

- Named by Mrs. Garret?
- Yes.

- As her instrument?
- Yes.

Jesus Christ.

- What's your first name?
- Alice.

Alice, your story don't get
less strange the more of it you tell.

Because Mr. Swearengen
wouldn't do such a thing?

Generates a fucking strangeness
is her saying he was her hire.

I see.

Yeah, well, that makes
fucking one of us.

Would you introduce me
to Mr. Swearengen?

You're asking me to?

- You want to meet him?
- Please.

Why do I feel lucky we didn't
meet across a poker table?

Anyways, he ain't
up to chatting just now.

Silas?

Her bearing gives you suspicions
as to her health?

No, not at all.

My notes indicate that it had been
a year since her last exam,

and with the day-long lull
between gunfights,

I thought I'd have a look.

I see.

And she seems to be
coming along beautifully.

Excuse us, darling.

Since I have cared for you as well,

can I ask after your health?

I continue relieved of the weakness
you treated me for.

And you have nothing else to report?

Thank you for examining Sofia.

Folk wisdom and remedies
known to others in the camp

are often quite adequate
to the requirements of health.

Trixie, for example,

is a stalwart and a reliable
source of these.

However, I do have some
particular competence

as to the implications
of anatomical anomalies,

congenital or consequent
of previous illness,

and I would hope that you would
avail yourself of this,

notwithstanding my idiosyncrasies

and-and-- and my defects of character.

(sighs)

Please.

Cy:
In my experience, Mr. Wolcott,

come to making restitution
for others' outlays, the rich can be tardy.

I'm just satisfying myself that my
employer's getting what he's paying for.

Bills of sale drawn good and legal,

signatures genuine and witnessed.

Ah, join us, Commissioner.

Jarry:
Gentlemen.

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.

Was he looking for a bribe?

No no. He was not.
I have a nose for that.

In any case, he's manageable.

I quite stared him down.
(laughs)

We're just chewing the fat in here,
Leon, barge the fuck amongst us.

Mr. Merrick posted that statement
outside his office, Mr. Tolliver.

- Put out an extra, did he?
- No edition of the paper at all.

Just the statement on the outside wall,
and people are fucking riled.

- Riled or frightened?
- Riled, sir.

That's the type of unsettlement
we ain't necessarily after.

Wanting to know where he's at
and who the fuck he thinks he is.

You want to manage this,
Commissioner, or shall I?

You go on, Tolliver.

Maybe take another bath.

What in fuck's that word
supposed to mean?

Uh, "mitigating,"
as applied to a presumption,

would mean to lessen
or soften strength or rigor.

I ought to punch you
in the fucking nose.

(laughs)
Why would you punch me?

You had him here, didn't you?

To give him your fucking words
to print on your fucking machine!

Ah, which is short of saying

I should have forced him
to some purpose of my own?

Prospector:
Show me where the cocksucker's at.

I won't fall short of force!

Cy:
Who convened the meeting, boys?

Prospector: New county commissioner.
Give Merrick a statement

mitigating us into an ass-fucking.

Ouch.

And then I yelled,
"Break the fucking door down, Dan!"

- (sighs)
- (knocks at door)

Doc said only what would jolly you, Al,

but I do believe Mr. Merrick
might be in the fucking soup.

You have got one yawning
fucking chasm of mouth on you.

Fucking county commissioner
made Mr. Merrick post notice--

titles of claims
to be decided case by case.

The county commissioner's in the camp?

And that hoople-head Steve is about
to punch Merrick for posting the notice,

and I know that you got a liking for Merrick.

I want you to stop
thinking now, Johnny, and only

- answer the question I'm gonna ask you.
- Yes, sir.

Where's the commissioner now?

The commissioner or Mr. Merrick?

The commissioner, Johnny.
Where's the commissioner?

He's at Bella Union.
He moved over there.

Jesus fucking Christ!

Get Bullock.

- Bullock?
- Bullock! Get Bullock.

Yes, sir.

May call the sheriff in, huh?
Fisticuffs between Merrick and Steve!

Shut the fuck up, Johnny.
Help me get situated.

It reads to me they're inclining
toward the present titleholders.

But then they start to fucking mitigate!

(sighs)

Yeah, they do get to mitigating
this last part here.

I guess my question is
who of us here didn't know

what government was before we came?

Wasn't half our purpose coming
to get shed of the cocksucker?

And here it catches up to us again,

to do what's in its nature-- to lie to us

and confuse us and steal
what we come to by toil

and being lucky just once
in our fucking lives.

(snorts)

And are we gonna be
surprised by that, boys,

government being government?
Will we next be shocked

by rivers running or trees
casting fucking shade?

Look, I have said before

and I still fucking say

those of a mind
make a price on your claims.

Get out from under uncertainty.

And that's from no fucking
goodness on my part

and no fucking charity either.

I am past picking up again.

This spot might be wrong,

but here's where
I'm making my stand!

And I'll also say,

for being a fucking commissioner,

this Jarry don't seem such a bad sort,

under the limits of what he is.

Wait a minute.

Does that mean you've been
fucking talking to him?

When in fuck did I say I wasn't?

I am asking you
where the fuck he is,

and if he's at your fucking joint!?

And I am telling you yes,

and making no fucking apologies.

And saying
one more question in that tone

will collect you a broken jaw.

I don't need
another fucking question,

'cause I've located the fact
that I was seeking,

which is the whereabouts
of the fucking commissioner.

And whoever wants can come with me!

Dangerous turn, Mr. Tolliver.

Yes.

Temper loosened my tongue.

(chuckles)
You've got gall--

coming before me prettier than ever.

Are you all right?

On the fucking mend,
that's all to say on that.

What do you know
of this new commissioner?

His notice on the claims
has people pissed off.

I wouldn't want
the cocksucker harmed.

- I don't intend him any.
- Don't be fucking clever with me.

He's allied with Tolliver.
Are you aware of that?

No.

Bedridden I know more than you.

The point is, if their man's
allied with Tolliver

and fucking harm comes to him,
between the hoople-heads and me,

who will Yankton put it on?

- You.
- Yeah.

Do they understand

how most of what happens
is people being drunk and stupid

and trying to find
something else to blame

besides that that makes their lives
totally fucked? No, they don't.

- Yankton.
- Yankton, exactly.

They're too busy stealing
to study human nature.

- (knocks)
- Did you ring, Al?

That's the sound of that fucking bell
being rung. Did you hear that sound?

- No.
- No. Then get the fuck out.

And both of you being
government officials...

you ought to fucking look out
for each other...

Sheriff.

Had you vision as well as sight,

you would recognize
within me not only a man,

but an institution
and the future as well.

Fuck you, fuck the institution
and fuck the future!

You cannot fuck the future, sir.
The future fucks you.

Come out from that cage,
you billiard-ball-looking cocksucker!

I do not take orders from hooligans.

Come out! We'll see if them cappers
choose you to look at

or Tolliver's fucking money!

- It's a chancy call.
- 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!

Is he asking to suck my prick?

Why don't you explain
your fucking statement, Commissioner,

as far as us keeping title
to our claims!?

Jarry:
I explain nothing under duress.

Steve: Have you ever lived
a day in your fucking life?

Pitch, Commissioner,
burning off the top your fucking head!

- Is that vision or sight?!
- (Jarry screaming)

Cunt or duress!?

(screaming)

- Steve: Son of a bitch!
- What the fuck, Tolliver?

The mob is an ungodly creature, Sheriff.

Steve: Come on.

Stand away or be shot!
He's under protection of the law.

You've got their fucking attention.

- Fuck them anyway.
- Jane: Don't get me started.

Do not get me started,
little Nigger General.

If something got to go
in front of "Nigger"--

and don't it always?
I prefer "short" to "little."

"Short Nigger" is a deal.

And I am a girl who keeps a bargain.

Or I could just call you
plain "Nigger General."

- Call me "Just Plain Nigger."
- "Short Plains Nigger."

"Nigger of the High Desert."

(chuckles)

Thanks for the conversating,
Miss Jane, and the whiskey.

I am going blind as a fucking bat.

Who is that, the fucking sheriff?

Flanked by some assholes?

I feel no less manhandled by you, sir.

If they still had you,

by now you would be feeling worse.

I need the lock-up.

Wait till I take out Bill's robe.

And now to jail, as wretched
indignity accumulates.

A beating short of murder

might have done you
considerable good.

The commissioner meets
his constituents.

A man has to work some dogs
to learn how the world's tail wags.

Not coming to his aid,
you mean to build his character.

We all ain't sound like you, sir.

Many could use
some construction work.

Fellas like yourself,
that's hard to understand.

Your foundation's sunk deep.

Framework's first rate,
your mason-work.

Nothing unfinished in you,
or rotten or damaged.

Or sick.

Five long years talking to nobody.

"Hostetler, you got enough
problems of your own.

You don't need other bodies,

especially a fool!

A fool.

Hostetler, a fool!"

(panting)

I hope you fucking strangle under there.

Fields:
Mark us even on that $100.

If you don't get your fucking thumb down,
I'm gonna run this pitchfork through it.

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.

Well, suppose Bullock
comes out shooting?

Or we could just grab the nigger.

Your pelvic girdle does show

the effects of your childhood illness.

Your labor may be difficult.

When you say "difficult"...

I have counseled patients
on the basis of their anatomy

against taking pregnancies to term.

I do not make that argument with you.

Do you distinguish between
difficult and dangerous?

Yes.

Your shape does not add danger

to the delivery
such as to justify, for instance,

the risks of a Caesarian procedure.

It adds pain, difficult in that sense?

Especially since you might
be reluctant to mollify

the difficulty's effects with opiates.

I've been told it wasn't an alternative
for me even to contemplate, so--

- this is new information.
- I see.

And now that the choice
is within your province,

do you incline in one direction
or another?

To be honest, Doctor, I'm living
into the thought that I've any choice at all.

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)

Steve: What else did they
teach you, Hostetler--

at that school where you
learned how to write?

(screams)
What else?

He's back up in the stall up
under the hay.

They taught you good.

Come on, you gutless cunts!

(mob yelling)

- Man: Grab that nigger.
- Man #2: Come on, nigger.

Steve: Come on, boy!

- They grabbed up a nigger.
- When did a fucking nigger come into this?

Hooples got him from the livery.

What about Bullock
and the commissioner?

Reckon they're still upstairs.

You've told me nothing.
You've added a fucking irrelevancy.

It wasn't Hostetler. It--

it was some little nigger.

(quiet growl)

I'll give you $20 if you'll let me
use that as my bedroll.

You got a better chance
waking up looking normal.

- Jane: Hi, Charlie.
- Is the Nigger General back to camp?

Yes, he is.

Don't act like you know, Jane,
just 'cause you're already drunk.

You are an ignorant cocksucker.

- He come over winter when you was gone.
- That's ignorant. I met him today.

Why do you ask about him, Charlie?

It looked like
he was gonna get done for.

I mean, I couldn't see to be sure.

I'm thirsty.

Lie on your back,
take aim and piss.

How did I wrong
you choice gentlemen?

You want to start
with me getting drafted

so my cousin got
the fucking confectionery?

(groans)

And that's why you're going
to vulcanize me?

- Steve: Shut your fucking mouth!
- Fields: Your cousin, trapped East,

allows you to come here
to strike it rich. Ain't that so, sir?

Get him the fuck up!

(grunting)

(yells)
Get him the fuck up!

You stole my look at riches,
you and your fucking monkey cousins!

(screams)

- You motherfucker!
- (gunshot)

Disperse this riotous assembly!

- Let go of the Nigger General.
- That monkey just motherfucked me!

I'll motherfuck you
and blow your head off.

(whimpering)

(Trixie shouts)
Cunt!

May I please go over
those columns with you?

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!

God help me for enjoying you out there,
even only to abuse me.

Although I also wouldn't
mind getting fucked.

A last try at twinning these columns,

then you'll have your fucking wish.

The correct answer in each instance

is $127.49.

(chuckles)
You fuck.

(knocks)

Good evening, Trixie.

I was coming to you once I'd done
these columns and fucked a friend.

Anyone else look in on you today?

I did have another visitor, yes.

I'm gonna light
a fucking cigarette in here.

- Fuck anyone who doesn't like it!
- Please, do smoke.

Thank you so much.

So how did the other visitor's visit go?

I am as we thought.

And?

And he expects
an uneventful course,

though not without difficulties.

I love how they fucking put it.

Well, that's my formulation.

Does "formulation" mean plan?

My plan...

at the moment, is to watch

and wait.

"I couldn't help noticing, Trixie,

you're occupied now
at the hardware store."

Yes, Alma, I am.

I'm spending time at Bullock & Star's
learning to do accounts.

I'm so delighted.

Though I'm also fucking
one of the owners.

(laughing)
Well.

I'm delighted by that as well.

Trixie, can I have a puff
of your cigarette?

You ever smoked before?

No.

(coughs)

(coughs)
Thank you.

Sure.

Good night.

Congratulations.

(footsteps approaching)

Hello there.

$127.49,

both columns separate verified.

Lying with aplomb,

you've got the true calling.

What you heard otherwise
is none of your business.

I didn't hear anything else.

Let me work on your column now.

"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.

We must report him
so he'll be punished.

"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.

Is it a very long letter?

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."

Goodbye goodbye goodbye.

"JB Hickok, Wild Bill."

Goodbye, Wild Bill.

There's a postscript.

Is it a very long postscript?

"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 other shore."

Are you a man who needs
his trousers rubbed?

I am a man...

who needs his trousers taken off.

I can do that.

Doc: Seems to me

there's reabsorption
of the hemorrhage.

What the fuck good is less blood in my eye?
I want use of my fucking limbs.

- I understand.
- I have spent my last day abed

hearing secondhand news
from imbeciles.

It strike you as overweening, Al,

- setting nature to a schedule?
- I'm not setting terms for nature.

- I'm setting them for myself.
- Who has dominion over nature?

Al Swearengen, owner and proprietor.

As to when he takes his leave,
you're A-1 fucking right.

(knocks at door)

(silent)

Well, I don't understand.

- (Al sighs)
- Bullock?

Why the fuck do you whisper?

(shouts)
Bullock!

I could have said you was asleep.

Doc.

Sheriff.

Pithy and civil.

The commissioner's all right.

You wipe the rim of that bottle,

I'll knock you out
from my present vantage.

They're coming against us.

Posting notice like that,

not award even one commissioner

of the three to local citizenry.

I'll guarantee you this too...

politicians ain't got balls

for this type unsupported move.

(sighs)

Someone's backing their play

or they would be here
bending over for us.

Is it Tolliver?

Tolliver is us.

They ain't gonna pick Tolliver
over me this early in the game.

I see.

There's a nigger in the fucking
woodpile somewhere,

someone from outside the camp.

Anyways.

That nigger the hooples grabbed,
did they kill him?

- Tarred his shoulder.
- What stopped them at that?

Me.

I get back on my fucking feet,

I'll carry my share of the water.

My money's on you.

Here comes some pain for you.

(groans)

You ever think of screaming instead
of biting through your own fucking flesh?

(sighs)

It's my fucking pain.

And I am suggesting
an improved way of dealing with it,

which is how progress occurs.

Jarry:
Will you two be quiet?

Not only will we not be quiet,
you frog-faced fuck...

I'm gonna take this stick

and drag it back and forth
across the bars of your cell.

I am not a prisoner.

I am in protective custody.

In care of a deputy deputized
by the deputy sheriff,

who orders you
to shut the fuck up!

You know Hostetler?

He runs the livery?

- Taller than me.
- I know him.

I'd be glad if he heard

I'd have done just what he did,

only quicker.

I guess he'll
understand that if I don't.

He'll understand.

I'd tell him myself except--

(sighs)
I'm keeping indoors tonight.

(panting)

Here comes some more pain.

(Fields groaning)

♪ You've got to cry a little ♪

♪ Die a little ♪

♪ Well, and sometime you've got to ♪

♪ Lie a little, whoa-oa ♪

♪ Life is like that ♪

♪ Well, that's what you've got to do ♪

♪ Well, and if you don't understand ♪

♪ Peoples, I'm sorry for you ♪

♪ Sometimes you'll be held up ♪

♪ Sometimes held down ♪

♪ Well, and sometimes your best friend ♪

♪ Don't even want you around ♪

♪ You know, life is like that ♪

♪ Peoples, that's what
you've got to do ♪

♪ Well, and if you don't understand ♪

♪ Well, peoples, I'm sorry for you. ♪