Deadwood (2004–2006): Season 3, Episode 8 - Leviathan Smiles - full transcript

- Right there.
- Okay.

Be careful as you walk.

Just leave them here.

23...
four, five, six.

51, 52.

The latest news.

I fail to understand,

if I who am most affected am not
disturbed, why you should be.

Perhaps I'm disturbed by a reason
different from what you believe.

Forgive me then for believing the one
you've given.

I disapprove of changing
from day to day



when the school is
to be relocated.

Speak to the theater
people then.

What disturbs me is your accepting
the uncertainty without quarrel.

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.
- Fine, Martha.

What good would
quarreling with them do?

- Fine.
- 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.

Do please then forgive me,
for Christ's sakes.

Do please forgive me.



Mornin'.

How did Hearst
take the letter?

I don't know. Is the paper
even out yet?

Guess you don't
fuckin' know much.

Do you, Sol?

I guess I don't.

You want to fight?

Whoo! Whoo.

Hold on! Whoa!

Whoa!
Road agents...

ambushed us a couple of
miles out!

Anyone hurt?

Cocksuckers dropped a tree
across the road.

We just come up on it
and they started

shootin' from
the fuckin' ridgeline.

Would have lost the strongbox
sure, Sheriff,

not for them there that laid down
rifle fire as covered us.

Whoo! Fuck me!
Holy fuck.

Holy fuck,
right, Wyatt.

I'd like to buy you
both a fucking drink.

That's a big fucking yes
from the both of us.

You hit anyone?

No, we were just trying to drive 'em
off, Sheriff.

How many
were there?

Two or three.

I heard one of 'em shout like you
winged 'em.

They was dodging behind stumps
and making for cover.

Hey. Why don't you go in there
and get drunk with them,

let the Sheriff
and I finish our talk?

All right.

Little brother's
got me for a hero.

What's your name?

I'm Wyatt, and going in there
to get drunk is Morgan Earp.

I was a lawman
in Dodge City,

before that
in Wichita.

But I ain't looking
for none of that here.

- What are you looking for?
- We got a timber lease.

You and your brother?

What's your name?

Seth Bullock.

How do you do?

There is a fella that wants to buy
you a drink.

Over at The Gem.

All right.

Shall I authorize
a watering and feeding

of these gentlemen's
horses, Sheriff?

As mayor? As a gesture
from the camp?

One at a time...

lest they drag you
to a deserved demise.

Ugh, fuck.

It's me, Jane.

If you want the bed,
I'm leaving.

Don't go nowhere
on my account.

I'm a fuckin' floor
sleeper anyway.

Want to find fruit for
the schoolchildren's morning snack.

Uh, I'm up,
I'm up, I'm up.

I'll get the hell
out of here.

Why not stay?

I got errands
all morning myself.

If you just heard me fart,
excuse me.

Will you come
back later?

Uh...

maybe, maybe.

It's heads or tails where any
fuckin' day will take me.

I'll not have
vile affections

or uncleanness
on these premises!

Find my specific
meaning at

Romans I:24-26...

Fuck yourself

with a fist
punch up your ass

today at
the present moment.

I gotta go.

I'm moving out of
that fucking place.

Not me. Not me.
I never fuckin' moved in.

- and verses
following.

Don't think you was offered a job
here last night.

Gauging the fucking level you'd fucking
presume to was all that was.

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!

I got an errand, then I'm going to
San Francisco.

We will never be equal,
sign or fucking no.

And if I agreed to your name on
the signage,

we would know
the fucking truth still.

Fucking nigger
bastard!

Assuming to leave
without my consent.

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!

Implying what by that
fucking lordly look?

That he'll outflank my tactics buying
a new fucking saddle?

Then I don't suppose you'll mind
the improved fucking strategy

involves you coming
unshod behind.

Now give me
a fucking hoof.

Yeah.

There we go.

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.

Come sneaking up
like an Injun.

Can't wait on your boy
no longer, Miss Lady.

Bow on that money
is the same one you tied.

I'm grateful you waited on him as
long as you did.

It ain't being none of my business
gonna stop me

from asking how your boy's talk
with Hearst went.

Odell gonna meet up
in New York City

with a man works
for Mr. Hearst.

- Go back with him to Liberia.
- Ah.

Odell say if
Mr. Hearst wanted,

he'd harm him here, get to see
the hurt he done.

Well, your water broke open a damn
smart nigger, didn't it, Aunt Lou?

You think there's
sense to that?

More than I've made since
I've learned to talk.

No place I guess you can
hide a child from danger.

If I knew, I'd keep
that spot for myself.

And can I fix you
something to take away?

Something with meat
and heat to it.

Come on, stand
next to me.

Here, let me get
that for you.

Thank you, sir.

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.

So...

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 true,
explains why

I'm fucking interested
in what you're telling.

- So...
- So...

go the fuck ahead
and tell me then.

Me and my brother
happened along

and we balked some
unknown parties

who was having a few
shots at the stage.

That's all.

Ears flat back
to the head,

nose without boils,
fucking modest.

A proper hero, Dan.

How many unknown parties?

Uh, two or maybe three.

At what remove
from you?

- 100 feet and more.
- Describe 'em.

Nah, they broke off.
We returned fire.

Describe 'em.

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.

Drink?

All right.

My opinion,
may come out of vanity,

your tale's
full of shit.

I say, or else
I'd have known of 'em,

there was no road agents.
I say...

to make a hero's
entrance into camp,

you and your friend
kicked up dust,

whooped and hollered and played
all the parts yourselves.

Who is that with you?

It's my brother.

This was my idea.

Any others?

Not brothers, ideas... how to pass your
time in camp.

I got a timber
lease to work.

- Come by how?
- Cards, last night in Custer City.

Small chance
that you want

to explore options
to working your lease,

anyone hires your gun,
you report to me.

I'll double what
they're paying you.

But your story ought
be true, you understand?

I'll test
the sense of it,

that knows more
of this place

and I guess every
other than you do.

If you choose
to fell the timber,

axes, wedges,
block and tackle

sheriff has
at the hardware store.

All right.

You figure Hearst will
take a run at him?

Hmm. Good cooking,
big-hearted fat lady

presiding over my rest,

I wouldn't be headed
for San Francisco.

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.

Wyatt.

Wyatt, this
here's Jen,

whose sister turns out the both
of us have knowed.

Mary Bess from the Yellowbird
in Gunnison.

Even prettier.

I was speaking
to Jen of that $11...

We got to go
acquire them tools.

...that I loaned
her sister.

We was working out the forgiveness
of the debt.

Well, you can work out
her forgiveness later.

I thought we was gonna capitalize
on the good will we created.

Seeing to our
fucking capitalizing

means more than
getting your end wet.

Here.

This will buy the tools
to cut our lumber.

What are you
going to do?

The next fucking
step of my plan.

To capitalize?

You go ahead down to that
hardware place.

I can see to the tree cutting
and more.

Well, only start
with seeing to the trees.

- Or don't you think I'm able?
- Jesus Christ, Morgan.

Now, probably I'll
be in this place.

Well, what did
he want upstairs?

You ain't got time for me
to get into that.

Morning.

Good morning,
Mr. 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?

Assuming my press
stays intact.

Thanks, too, for publishing
Sheriff Bullock's letter of condolence

to the family of that murdered
worker of mine.

Oh, you're welcome.

I suppose I should
have written them myself.

I'd not presumed to suppose in that
regard, Mr. Hearst, one way or another.

Was the sheriff's making his letter part
of the public record

meant to embarrass
or reproach me?

I'd not suppose in
that connection either.

I'm to take you for
majestically neutral?

I'd make the less
exalted claim,

as a journalist, of keeping my opinions
to myself.

You are less majestically
neutral than...

than cloaking your cowardice
in principle?

I can only answer
perhaps, Mr. Hearst.

Events have not yet disclosed to me
all that I am.

Those kind of events could be
in the weather, Merrick.

You might have a second calendar
for them.

The fella all those hats was up
in the air about, Mr. T.

Ah.

Claims he drove off
them road agents.

Elrod Yulham from
Galena, Illinois.

Uh, afraid not.

Oh, I see now. You got more flare about
the nostrils than Elrod.

Uh, this here gentleman's
a hero, Mr. Tolliver.

Thwarted a band of brigands attacking
the stage out of Cheyenne.

Three, craps.

Don't levy the man's
wager, Leon.

His throw got queered
by Con's chatter.

Last was no roll.

Cy Tolliver, sir.
It's a honor to meet you.

Thanks in the name
of us all.

We just happened
to happen by.

That's the first
I hear of a we.

Six is the point.
Point six.

Yeah, well, I come into
camp with my brother.

Who would be where at this
present juncture?

Well, we acquired
a timber lease.

He's out buying tools
for us to work it.

Tools to work
a timber lease.

I guess you're
even more a hero,

guns being out
of your line.

I didn't call them a fully
foreign subject now.

I see.

I see.

Eight.
Point six.

Pay the man, Leon.

But I didn't
make my point.

You did to me.

We ought try...

to cross the road...

today.

The thoroughfare's
a menace.

Ruts, sinkholes...
quicklime.

You're the producer, Jack.

You'll manage.

Forgive my
presumption, sir.

Have you lanceolate
pains hereabouts?

Yes.

Intermittent, but sudden,
sharp in onset,

occasioned by a tilt of a shoulder,
a shift of weight?

I may try
ice-water dousing.

Ah.

A German doctor in Virginia City
urged me to it.

A vogue, if you would
permit me to say,

now quite exploded,

even recognized
as possibly harmful.

- Really?
- Yeah.

The cold causing
too rapid and painful

a contraction of muscles already
knotted in spasm.

- I see.
- I am aware of a certain technique

by whose virtue I was gradually
and by degrees

relieved of a similar suffering
of my own.

You are?

Blessed by my pain's
entire remission

for 15 years,

one month and three days.

I dread the prospect
of ice-water dousing.

Taught me by a former Odabashi
of the Turkish artillery,

come himself
to be afflicted

through chronic lifting of cast-iron
cannonballs.

Can you help me...

who does not
know your name?

- John Langrishe, sir.
- Ah.

Permit me to say

you are known to me.

- George Hearst.
- Yes.

Oh, yes.

Would later today be convenient
to start, George Hearst?

Indeed.

- Better today?
- No better...

nor will be to take
him any day to come.

Be good enough to
inform the artisans

they will not be renovating after
recess at the school.

Prepare his transport.

We are going to show
him the theater.

- Will you help me?
- I've other fucking business.

Seven out.

Motherless whore.

Speaking against the establishment's
interests,

you might leave
with a rosier outlook

still holding
some of our money.

Big winner on the day.

Well, those appear
to have propagated.

He worsens,
Mrs. Bullock,

never to improve,
I'm afraid.

I'm very sorry,
Mr. Langrishe.

Hope having postponed
the old actor's visit

to what will be
our theater,

its abandonment
now argues

- the visit's urgent execution.
- I understand.

Forcing this directness upon me.
When, Mrs. Bullock,

today, will your classes stand
in recess?

How soon could you
have him here?

The logistics
of his transport

and the histrionics
of his porter

may not make it till
late this afternoon.

I'll cancel the session
right after the recess.

Bless you.

And thanks

Oh.
Beautiful.

- I got ammunition left.
- I see that.

I didn't order
any shotgun.

I'm doing you the courtesy of
allowing you

not to think I'm as stupid as
evidently you believe

that girl off who you tore that piece
of pussy off of is.

The girl's sister
owed me money

from the Yellowbird
in Gunnison.

Well, Jen claims you worked that
information from her.

- That her sister owed me money?
- Yeah.

Well, did she tell
you how I did it?

'Cause I'd sure like to remember for
the next time I'm short.

Worked it from her at this very bar
in idle chatter...

having a sister who whored
at the Yellowbird in Gunnison,

and only then alleged
the supposed owed $11.

How long you been wearing
shoes, Counselor?

Did you fuck off
the full 11?

She claims
$5 was owed,

but my inkling is
the right total is seven.

- Thanks.
- Mm-hm.

Where are
the tools, Morgan?

That is a story
in itself.

You say it
weren't an ass fuck,

I believe you.

You buying those
goddamn tools or not?

I wouldn't have chose them not
meaning to buy.

As opposed to leaving
chosen goods

piled in the middle
of the fucking store

for every other piece of business to be
conducted over and around.

It's customary to stand by till
the transaction's finished.

I was called elsewhere.

Elsewhere meaning The Gem.

You wouldn't be doubting my
brother's word?

Pay for the tools
and remove them,

and I'll cease to doubt
your ability to do so.

How's that?

There is no losing in a match like that,
Mr. Hearst.

- Never been much for draws.
- Well, I... I...

I meant to say, let the matter be
joined aright,

whether Bullock or this gunsel
stood at the finish,

there's no losing
in it for you.

What does "joined
aright" mean?

Say Bullock was first provoked
out the public eye,

so his throwing down
in public seemed...

overquick.

There's all kinds of
implications to that,

legal and political too.

Have you
taken steps

to join this
matter aright?

Only steps I took so far,
Mr. Hearst,

was to bring me
into your presence.

As to what steps
will be required

if you give
the go-ahead,

easy as the sheriff sparks,
and cocky look as this kid reads,

the number
should be few.

I would suggest, to keep you
fucking protected,

that the kid should
think I'm at the helm.

Very circumspect.
Very considerate.

There are
the blankets.

Oh, there they are.

You are excused
by age and illness.

I am simply stupid.

Oh, no.

At a minimum,
unforgivably forgetful.

My dear boy,

we are here now.

You and I
and the blankets.

Yes, yes. Um...

I wonder where
the chair would be

in which I'm
to be transported.

Oh that the countess and Claudia
should be wheeling

across the thoroughfare
even as we speak.

We shall swaddle you
like the baby Jesus,

making the most simple and economical
of transactions

to transfer you to
the countess

and Claudia's chair
once they arrive.

All right.

All right.

Is he dying?
Is he dead?

He's in a bad
fucking way.

Here. Take that for
his care and burying.

Let me get my
fucking horse past.

And let the bank know,
someone don't take over this place,

- that loan they made Steve's going bad.
- Why don't you tell them?

'Cause I'm a nigger, Doc,
that don't care what stands or falls.

Hostetler was too.

Hostetler was
taller than me.

Fuck you, Steve.

Fuck you, Hostetler.

And fuck you too!

I can ask
Jane Cannary to...

see to keeping
him comfortable.

See to her bringing
back a bottle while you're at it.

I'll linger, look to these animals
till the bank sends someone over.

That chair is
hotel property.

I will deal with
the bathhouse administrator,

believe you me.

- Shoo. Shoo.
- Where have you been?

Pushing this contraption
through the muck.

To the bathhouse,
it was on loan.

Wait till you see
what they do there.

Stay right
there, Bellegarde.

We're already
knee-deep in shit.

Are those assholes
working for you?

Those heroes that
saved the stage?

That Dority
collected.

Once he confessed
to the stretch

I put the one
on a fucking string.

$200 in merchandise

in the middle of our store like
an interrupted shit.

Commerce. Every hump above
ground's your master.

- Letter was a fucking mistake.
- No.

I'm not waiting on Hearst,
I'll tell you that right now.

I am not on his
fucking timetable,

or at his fucking
beck and call.

Yeah?

A.W. Merrick, Al.

Cheyenne & Black
Hills Telegraph.

Is Sheriff
Bullock inside?

Only briefly.
He's out of sorts

and going downstairs
for a blowjob.

Come in for fuck's sake!

Telegram for
Sheriff Bullock.

What reaction to your publication
of Bullock's letter?

The great man himself
took umbrage.

It was not a mistake,

and we are
waiting on Hearst.

Unless you think those two assholes
are his response.

Not likely.

Uh, the sheriff
is going for blowjob?

Now having paid,

may we leave
our tools here

till we go out
tomorrow to our lease?

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.

I took the badge
off myself once...

without losing my impulse to beat
on certain types.

No, that seems
never to go.

Not now!

Could I come back
soon then, Mr. Hearst?

God damn it.

Come in, Aunt Lou.
Come in now.

Boots are in
the corner.

I'd pay a man three weeks
of my wages, Mr. Hearst.

Rode quick to catch my son
and give him this from his mama.

Searched and searched
before he left.

Come to find it
with him gone.

Lovely garnet.
Does seem a moral law

we find what we
seek only tardily.

Would you send
somebody, sir?

My imagination
resists the approach,

in that however quickly he might
catch Odell,

until he did,
the man would know

he rode in the service
of a colored person.

I'd suggest, having packed the brooch
carefully and securely,

we ship it to New York, where
my man Fitzpatrick

can give it to your son
when he arrives.

All right.

Are you afraid that by his not
receiving today

the token of
your love,

something untoward
might befall Odell?

Are you superstitious
that way, Aunt Lou?

Thanks for
seeing to those.

It's the reason I thought you'd
knocked.

Maybe we should head
out for the lease.

Well, now has the sun rose since
last I looked?

Or more than you let on previous, do you
even know the path we're going?

No, I do not
fucking know.

Second look, he don't seem
such a bad sort, that fucking sheriff.

Maybe we ought to
be fucking deputies,

work our lease on
the fucking side.

Well, did you hear
him offer us work?

Well, then let's kill
him and take his job.

On the other hand, here is a man who
might be about to.

The one that has
a plan for you

that factors into
yours for us?

Do not fucking
turn around, Morgan.

I thought he
didn't show up.

Well, well.

This the hero brother
I heard about?

This is him,
Morgan Earp.

Morgan, meet
Mr. Tolliver,

who operates the joint.

- How do you do, Morgan?
- How do you do?

What a beautiful
fucking joint.

Well, we like
to think so.

Come on,
you fucknut.

Without a day's education,

medical or otherwise,

I vouchsafe this fucking truth:
Those as don't eat

without exception
fail to survive.

Fuck ya.

He's all yours.

Thanks for
your help.

Yup.

You heard
the lady, Steve.

Them that goes on have got to
fucking eat.

Cocksucker.

Cocksucker.

Do for me,
Mr. Hearst,

and much more
for yourself,

this one
important thing.

Breathe, sir.

Breathe deeply,

hungrily,

as if your life
depended on it.

And yet slowly

as with the rhythm

of the waves
of the sea.

The while,
Mr. Hearst,

allowing influx

of my motion's heat.

Do you begin
to feel it, man?

- I think so.
- Hmm?

I said
I think so.

Then too...

begin to
feel this:

One towards
the neck

and one towards
the coccyx.

- Ooh!
- What?

- My God!
- Are you all right?

- I am. How are you?
- Ah.

- Some release in tension?
- Ja.

Yes.

Yes, by God.

Is the pain diminished
in some measure?

It is.

Now lie still, sir.

As your nodals...

settle to
the adjustment.

Try to sleep.

I don't want to sleep.
I'm waiting for something.

Very well,
please yourself.

Ow.

Second look, she may have decided
it didn't suit.

This hasn't said...

anything yet to
spare my feelings.

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 Ami into
this place here.

In other words,

exactly what
she said.

Does it
trouble you,

keeping watch on
a dark place?

No, ma'am,
it does not.

Especially when
I know

there's light
coming to it.

One sorry-ass...

shit eating cocksucker.

Claudia and the countess
have embroidered the tabs in gold:

Thalia and Melpomene.

Big lie...

the masks.

Same damn
thing, Jack...

comedy and tragedy.

The curtain rises.

The stage is
set before us.

What's the rake?

18 to one,
old trouper.

Hmm.

Dost thou know Dover?

There is a cliff

whose high
unbending head

looks fearfully on
the confined deep.

Bring me back
to the brim of it,

and from that place...

I shall no leading need.

Here's the fly tower.

If you mount up,

take firm a rail
in each hand.

I'll boost your
bum, darling.

Here's the place.

How fearful
and dizzy it is

to cast one's
eyes so low.

Set me where
you stand.

Let go my hand.

You're now

within a foot.

Line.

L-line.

Our Father, Which art
in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.

He's gone.

We'll see to him now.

Winner 10!
10 as hard as they come.

That is my big brother,
who I'm going to be assisting

on some very important business for
the man you work for,

and for whom I may put
in a good word for you

depending on how good
you are to me.

Whoo-hoo!

You seem blue, Jack.

That old actor
I spoke of

passed.

Sorry.

Wrapped like a mummy
in blankets,

drowning in
his own fluids.

Perhaps, Al, given the sleigh
ride which ensues,

the best connection
to Leviathan

may not be
by harpoon.

Explain yourself.

I mean the inimical
Mr. Hearst

suffering with discomfort
at his back,

the wiles of a bullshitter
such as oneself

may have use as a feint to
occupy him.

How?

Campaign
towards relief

protracted,
punctuated by

Pentecostal whoops

and manual pushes
and prods while

invoking arcane
authorities...

the host's
unhealthy soul

reliable to sustain
his symptoms.

You were good to try a net on
that cocksucker, Jack,

on such a sorry day.

Mr. Hearst!

Are we still in
a state of respite?

The odd twinge, Mr. Langrishe,
but overall much improved.

A winning skirmish

in a long campaign!

Mr. Swearengen.

Mr. Hearst.

Old friends!

Don't imbibe overmuch
the evening chill.

Waiting for something.

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.

Thank you
for telling me.

Without quarrel.

And you acknowledge
your lack of sweetness

on retiring
last evening?

I do,

being uneasy about my letter's
publication.

And Mr. Hearst's
reaction.

Perhaps tonight
will be twice as sweet.

Sweet mother
of Jesus.

Hi-ya!

Take them amateurs off
the fucking sugar tit.

Mr. Hearst brought
the pros to town.

Leviathan
fucking smiles.