Episode 25: Tell Your God To Ready For Blood
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(Scene opens with a brilliant pastel sunrise, camera
panning from the sky down to the thoroughfare. We see Al standing on his balcony
looking over the camp. Dan emerges from the front door of the Gem and looks up
at Al.)
Dan: Fixin’ toward a bloody outcome,
boss.
Al: Absenting myself don’t change your fuckin’
instructions.
(Dan looks disappointed, and goes back inside. Cut to a view of hustings being built, apparently for upcoming speeches. It looks a lot like a gallows)
(Cut to a room at the
hotel, we see George Hearst laying on his back on the floor, he is
awake.)
(Cut to the Gem Saloon. There are 3 Cornish standing
at the bar, speaking gibberish. Seated at a table is a man in a dirty suit who
looks a bit like a hired gun. He is taunting the Cornish who at first seem to
ignore him. He continues taunting them. Dan is standing to the side looking
nervous and pissed. Johnny is behind the bar with the shotgun trained on all the
men from under the bar. It’s clear that both Dan and Johnny are just waiting for
the fight to start. Finally one of the Cornish has had enough and he turns to
confront the man. Dan motions to Johnny to hold his fire. After a
brief exchange, the seated man shoots the Cornishman with a concealed gun from
under the table.)
Dan: Hey! (The gunman jumps up and fires again. A second hired gun-type is now visible
and is covering the first man’s back) Hey!
(Cut to Al who turns and heads inside.
(Cut to
Hearst who remains on the floor, but seems to be listening to the gunfire and
does not look surprised)
Dan:Get the fuck out!
Gunman:
He come at me with his foreign gibberish.
Dan: Get
the fuck out while I let you get the fuck out!
(To the Cornishmen…) You too,
you get out that way. (He points to the front door. They move to grab the dead man.)
Leave him be or you’ll be riding the Goddamn sled with him. Get out! (The 2 gunmen still have their guns drawn
and seem to be sizing up Dan)
Either of you cocksuckers want to talk funny at
me?
Gunman:
(Holstering his gun) Good day, Sir.
Gunman2: Good day.
(They leave. Al looks down from the interior
balcony.)
Johnny:
Wu’s out of
camp.
Al: Store him in our corner of the icehouse.
(He returns to his office, slamming the
door behind him.)
(Cut to
Bullock’s house, Seth approaches Martha as she comes down the
stairs.)
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. (Awkward silence.) Shall I gather my
school supplies?
Seth:I’m
much obliged.
(Cut to the
Ellsworth house. Sofia is playing, we hear furniture
moving.)
Alma: That’s better, isn’t it?
Ellsworth: Mmmmmm.
Alma: Over here?
(She points to her left, Ellsworth
drags the settee over.) I will
apologize, Mr. Ellsworth, for what I am about to ask.
Ellsworth:
(To Sofia) She wants to try it on the
ceiling.
Alma: A
coverlet, dark red, is packed with the linens in the gray leather
trunk.
Ellsworth:
Back at the
hotel.
Alma: It’s near time in any case to take Sofia to
school.
Ellsworth:
The
settee is best sited with its spread upon it, would be your mother’s
idea.
Alma: Mr. Ellsworth will help you gather your things,
Darling, for school.
Ellsworth:
Young lady.
Sofia: Goodbye. (She
kisses Alma on the cheek.)
Alma: Bye.
Ellsworth:
Will I bring you back a sandwich or
a glass of milk?
Alma: Just the
coverlet, thank you.
(Seth and
Martha step outside onto the thoroughfare.)
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.
As she watches Ellsworth and Sofia walk away, we see her fall to the
floor passed out.)
(The
Bullocks meet the Ellsworths in the street)
Ellsworth: Morning.
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.
(In front
of the Chez Amie, Mose Manuel is reclining on the porch with coffee. Joanie is leaving the
building.)
Joanie:
Morning.
Mose: Yes,
Ma’am.
(Jane is reclining next door, under a set of stairs.
She appears to have a sort of a bed set up there)
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: (As she turns around and walks away.) Do
not instruct me how to spend my day…or to itemize for you my private
itinerary…you tub of blubber and guts!
Mose: I’ve got 10 minutes yet to be out front!
(Jane walks
into an alleyway and pulls a bottle out of hiding, takes a drink. Al watches the Bullock party on
the street from his office doorway and steps outside.)
Ellsworth:
Might I give over the little one to
you here?
Martha:
Of course.
Ellsworth: When next we meet, young lady, I will be on the eye
for warm bread. (He hands Sofia her lunch
bucket) Wants a coverlet from storage, Mrs. Ellsworth, to consider atop the
day bed. (He rolls his eyes and heads in another
direction. A.W. Merrick is at the
“stage” with his camera, he shouts out to Seth’s back)
Merrick:
Framing of a
dream.
Martha:
(To Seth) He’s saying that to you, Seth. (Seth waves without looking back, Merrick
waves.)
(Grand
Central dining room, Richardson is clearing plates as E.B.
watches.)
EB: Mr. Ellsworth, no doubt on some menial domestic
errand. (Richardson sneaks a bite from the dirty
plate, E.B. swings around, Richardson quickly grabs the plates and returns to
the kitchen.
(Back
outside in the thoroughfare…)
Al: Sheriff!
(To Martha) Forgive my raucous tone.
Martha:
Mr. Swearengen.
Al: (To Seth) 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 and nods,
Martha nods to her.)
(Cut to
Charlie Utter, who has part of a speech written on his palm “Thank you for the
intro Sherif”.)
Utter:
“Thank you…Thank you for the
introduction, Sheriff.” (He looks up and sees Seth, jumps up to meet
him.)
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.
Seth:
Goodbye. Goodbye,
Sofia.
Sofia:
Goodbye.
Utter: Goodbye there,
little one.
Sofia: Goodbye.
Martha:
Thank you.
Sofia: Hi
Dorothy. Good morning, James. (More children join them, Mose gets up to go
to the back of the building.)
James:
Good morning.
Utter: Nice thing,
ain’t it? The children?
(He looks
up and spies Jane, who is standing in an alleyway, she sees him and makes a big
show of giving him the finger.
(Back at
Grand Centralt.)
EB: Will you attend the evening speeches,
Richardson?
Richardson: If you
let me.
EB: Of course I will. How else are you to vote with
intelligence? (chuckles) I intend no lengthy remarks. My tenure as
Mayor speaks for me.
Will they have the Jew merchant instead? Well, let them then and welcome. (He smacks Richardson’s hand) I caught you, Richardson. Stuffin’ spitbacks in your vile
maw. Let tomorrow’s omelets go
empty, is that your fuckin’
attitude?
Richardson: You hurted
me.
EB: Shhh! Wash
and stack, shit monkey. Or ready
yourself for worse. (He tosses the scraps from the plates into a
pan, to be used in the next meal.)
(The
cashier’s cage at the Bella Union)
Leon: Congratulations, Sir.
Con: Congratulations. (Joanie enters and heads upstairs.) Florence
Nightingale.
Leon: Florence
Nightingale is a nurse.
Con: I know that, ya ignorant
cocksucker.
Leon: Joanie Stubbs
is a cocksucker.
Con: I know that, you ignorant fuck. (clears throat) Don’t be sweatin’ all over the
gentleman’s money. (chuckles)
Leon: 1500. (He hands the man at the cage his money,
turns to Con.) And thank you
for that ration of shit.
(Inside the
Schoolhouse/ Chez 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
whore’s room at the Bella Union.
The whores are lounging about in general disarray. Joanie enters the room, and after
closing the door she seems to have smelled something
rotten.)
Joanie:
(sighs) Morning, Tess.
Tess: Morning, Joanie.
Joanie:
Git. (She shoes off a whore from the vanity.)
Tess: I can take him
that.
Joanie: I
got it. (pours water.)
Tess: How’s Cy?
Joanie: I
don’t know yet, Tess. It’s none of
your business anyway. Your only
business is how you start the fucking day.
Tess: I’m
clean.
Joanie:
Before you go to sleep, how are you supposed to start?
Tess: I said I’m
clean.
Joanie:
You answer my Goddamn question.
Tess: My snatch is
clean.
Joanie:
Is the rest of your body clean?
Tess;
Yes.
Joanie:
What’s next?
Tess: The room where
I receive, and that’s fucking clean.
Joanie:
Well what’s next after that?
Tess: God damn you,
Joanie.
(Joanie moves to Lila who is clearly on dope and
looks very bad)
Joanie:
What’s next, Lila, if you ain’t too fucking high? (snaps her fingers in Lila’s
face.)
Lila: Our room where we rest.
Joanie:
Which don’t it fuckin’ stink in
here? It does, Lila, like a
hogwhore’s cunt. And I ain’t loaded
not to smell it. Why don’t you go,
girl? Why don’t you get to the muck
where you’re fuckin’ headed anyway? Go on.
Git. (She shoves Lila into the
hallway and starts to turn around.
Lila sits on a bench, curling up.
Joanie turns back to her.)
What are you doin’ sittin’ back there?
Lila: Oh,
please let me stay. (Joanie slams the door and turns back to the
girls.)
Joanie:
When I come back tonight, you better all be sweet for me to fuck. Or have your damn bags packed, ‘cause
I’ll throw every one of you out.
Move, Tess, move. (She takes the
pitcher and leaves.)
Tess: (To the whores) You know she’s going to let her
stay.
(Con and
Leon watch Joanie come down the stairs, she scowls at them. Con growls at her as
she walks 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. 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.
Joanie:
Well, Tess ain’t pickin’ up the bit.
Cy: Maybe she’s unsure of her place, you in
and out of our lives.
Joanie:
Well, fresh water. (She moves the pitcher
next to the bed)
Cy: You’re not leaving yet, are
you?
Joanie:
Right here, Cy, on the side table.
Cy: Act like a fucking baby, don’t I? (pretend whining) “Oh, don’t go.” Where’s my Good Book,
honey?
Joanie:
It’s just next to you, in the bedfold.
(He grabs and clutches it close to
his chest. Joanie slams the door
behind her and he throws it down.)
(Al’s
office at the Gem, Silas is picking at his nails.)
Silas:
I’ve been scooping out rain
gutters for a month. My fingers are
bloody with sandin’.
Al: You do recall you’re only the transactions
beard? (He gets up and they head downstairs where
Jewel is scrubbing the 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: (To Jewel) 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 leaves and 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. (Gets up) That’s how you clean a
fuckin’ bloodstain, hey.
(Silas
paces at the hardware store/bank, distraught.)
Sol: What if we stretched out the
payments?
Silas:
I cannot fucking make
it. What the fuck was in my head to
sign that note?
Sol: Take it easy.
Trixie: (sarcastic) Take it easy, Mr.
Adams.
Silas: (groans) Take it off me. Can’t you? Ain’t there some way to take it
off?! Oh God! (He leaves upset. Sol watches him go,
confused.)
Trixie: (Leaving behind Silas) I’m
in crisis too, needing awfully to piss. (Catches up with Silas in the street.) Why not cork up and go on stage with
that tragic fuckin’ minstrel turn?
Silas:
Are you alone?
Trixie: Yes, Miss
Bernhardt, I am.
Silas: Al wants Star
to take over that house.
Trixie: Why?
Silas: Keep my ruddy
color not askin’ Al his reasons.
(Joanie is
at a rooming house, renting a room. There are bible quotes posted all around the
outside of the building and a variety of crude signs. She surveys the signs,
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 and
starts to leave, he stops her.)
Uh, 1-F, $2. (She turns back and steps up to him 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.
(At the
Gem, Al tosses the scrub brush into the pail.)
Al: Give that back to the gimp.
(Trixie
enters, gives Dan a “look” Dan, he
looks back at her, questioning what she means. She looks at Al, back at Dan, he turns
and walks away to lean on the bar, nearly falling
asleep.)
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.
Al: Shaunessy being richer by 50 for his
common wall with Star’s home-to-be and the passage he cut through it, so you and
the Jew can fall upon each other away from prying eyes.
Trixie:
Fuck you, Al. Fuck Shaunessey’s. And fuck the passage into Adam’s fuckin’
house.
Al: (Al
looks at Dan and turns back to Trixie as she leaves, holding the paper up as if
nothing happened.) Loopy cunt!
(He puts his glasses on to read,
shaking his head at Trixie as she leaves.)
(At Joanie’s room, Joanie is crying quietly, rocking back and forth on the corner of the bed.)
( Ellsworth
enters the house, finding Alma on the floor, unconscious. He rushes back outside to find the
Doc.)
( Trixie
storms back into the hardware store, Sol perks up as she walks back toward him,
the note in her hand.)
Trixie: (Trixie is pissed off)
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: (screaming now) Who the fuck was I
just talking to?
Sol: I don’t know. You said you’d just gone to
piss.
(Seth
enters the Gem. Al looks up from his paper.)
Al: Man of the hour. Quick prick-suck, Bullock? Sally forth to meet the great man with
unencumbered thoughts?
Seth: What
happened in here this morning?
Charlie Utter says a man was murdered, one of Hearst’s
workers.
Al: I’d spare you the particulars till after
your meeting concludes.
Seth:
Why?
Al: Why ask why? Why not honor the meeting’s
purpose? Speak as a candidate of
your hopes for the camp and its future, confine yourself to generalities. 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 to us, because you will have muddied the fuckin’
waters. Is why I’d hoped you’d
skirt the topic.
Seth: Has the
body been eaten?
Al: The Cornish croaker? Wu’s out of fucking
camp.
Seth: Don’t
let it get eaten.
Al: Oh, absolutely, till your further full
investigation. (Seth turns, leaving) As for your
meeting with Hearst, may I offer a fervent Godspeed and hopes for your fucking
self-control?
(Joanie
rocks back and forth on her bed, crying in the darkened room of Shaunessey’s
Shit-box.)
Joanie:
What am I, Lord, that I’m so
helpless?
(She swings
a purse gun up to her temple. We
see her change her mind several time then look
resigned.)
( Seth
enters the Grand Central, heading upstairs to meet with
Hearst.)
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?
(Seth takes his hand away from the
nose)
Seth: No.
Hearst:
Unfortunate incident this morning at Swearengen’s saloon. Do you know about
it?
Seth: No.
Hearst: One of
my workmen was killed in a drunken shootout.
Seth:
Hmm.
Hearst:
How will you deal with that, Sheriff?
Seth: Depends,
what it was about, who makes complaints…
Hearst:
Mmm. My worker was Cornish. They are a clannish people. I suppose another Cornish might
complain.
Seth: I’d need
to hear what he said then.
Hearst:
He may also indict the sunrise. For
men of that sort, events such as these are as natural.
Seth:
Anyways.
Hearst:
May we speak of your ambitions?
Seth: Another
time.
Hearst: I
would want to support them, you see?
I would want to back you…to thank you for taking her my
message.
Seth: I never
said I’d take her your message.
Hearst:
Are you saying now that you won’t?
Seth: You stay
out of our fuckin’ affairs.
Hearst:
(smirking) Oh…affairs of that sort
are not my interest, Mr. Bullock.
My only passion is the color.
Seth: Excuse me.
(Seth
leaves and descends the staircase, E.B. at the front desk, looking over the
mail.)
EB: Bullock, how did you like Mr. Hearst? (Seth turns and heads straight for E.B.,
grabbing him by the lapels and jerking 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. (Seth begins to administer a beating meant
to kill EB. Richardson appears with his antlers)
EB: Call the law.
(Seth
continues beating E.B. viciously,
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: (Dan and Johnny follow) In the
thoroughfare, if I fucking need you.
Hearst is looking over the landing
rail at the scene below.)
Bullock?
Bulloick…Bullock! (Seth
pauses) Why are you beating Farnum in Mr. Hearst’s hotel? (To Hearst) How are you ,
Sir? (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 backs 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.
Al: Give the poor fuck your shoulders, boys,
huh? (Seth take a step forward to kick E.B.)
Sheriff! (Seth backs off) Much
experienced at the enterprise, Sir.
Hearst: I
haven’t a doubt.
Al: And once he’s situated, may you and me
speak?
Hearst:
Of course.
Al: (turns, and speaks softly to Richardson as he
leaves) You saw fuckin’ nothing.
(Walks with Seth along the
thoroughfare, following Johnny and Dan as they carry E.B. back to the Gem.)
Jesus, Joseph and
Mary.
(At the
Ellsworth house, Doc is holding a glass of liquid as he kneels next to
Alma.)
Doc: Mrs. Ellsworth?
(Holds out the
glass)
Alma:
No.
Doc: You must drink this.
Alma: I will not
awaken that demon, Doctor.
Doc: This has nothing to do with demons, Mrs. Ellsworth.
This has to do with allaying the pain to get you through. Leave the demons to God and trust the
pain to me. (Alma hesitates, nods and takes the glass and drinks it
all down.)
(Chez Amie
/Schoolhouse, 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 a back window) “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 into 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,” 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.”
(The Gem,
Al and Seth speak.)
Seth: I’m pulling out as a candidate.
Al: No, you aren’t.
Seth: He’ll
use knowing to try to control me, have his way in the camp’s affairs. He asked me to get her to
sell.
Al: Oh, best leave the camp entirely as
penance for having a prick.
Seth: You were
right about the killing. He didn’t
want it pursued. (A door closes upstairs, Johnny steps
out.)
Al: Bleeding?
Johnny:
He stopped.
Al:
Put him up on the fucking bed then. No grand gestures, fucking Bullock, till
I’ve had my talk with Hearst. Do no
fucking withdraw. And no more
beating up on Farnum that has to run against Star. (Seth grabs his hat and leaves. Dan approaches Al.) It’s no certainty Hearst knew one Goddamn
thing about Bullock putting it to the widow.
Dan: Hell of a beating for E.B. to take if he’s
innocent.
Al: Oh, he’s still way ahead of the game.
Nonetheless, we must now assume that Hearst does fucking know. As going mad in front of him, Bullock
might have tipped him as to the state of things.
Dan: How are you gonna go at
Hearst?
Al: Don’t
I yearn for the days, a draw across the throat made fucking resolution? (Takes a long swig of the bottle) Why,
Dan, by composing my thoughts, tropes and gambits for the talk between us that
is yet to come. Will you excuse
me?
Dan: (Shrugs) Sure.
(Doc steps
out onto the porch of the Ellsworth house and approaches
Ellsworth.)
Ellsworth:
Is she dying?
Doc: (Putting
his hand on Ellsworth’s shoulder’s to comfort him,) She’s not in imminent
danger.
Ellsworth:
The baby?
Doc: Your wife is still with
child.
Ellsworth: I saw the blood on the floor.
Doc: There wasn’t as much blood as I’m sure it
seemed to you. Mrs. Ellsworth must remain abed, And she must take the medicine
I’ve given her, her fear of it notwithstanding. And you must remain strong at her
side. (Pats Ellsworth on the
shoulder.)
Ellsworth:
I have to collect the child. May I ask you to
st—
Doc: I’ll stay here till you come back, and
then I’ll go collect Trixie to help you.
Ellsworth: Thank you, Doctor.
(Seth
enters Utter freight. There’s a new holding cell sitting in the middle of the
room Charlie is sifting through a
pile of boxes and throws up his hands.)
Utter:
Who
the fuck are all these people?
Seth: Guess
the stages are gonna be crowded.
Utter: Headed to collect the Missus? (Seth hesitates then heads for the open cell, sitting down inside.)
Seth: (sighs) I just beat Farnum. (Takes off his hat) Meeting Hearst, I got the idea
someone had told him bidness of mine.
Utter:
Figured it was Farnum? (Seth nods) If it’d been me, I’da gone
ahead and killed him.
Seth: I wonder
now if I might have mistook—
Utter: Fuck Farnum
anyway.
Seth: If I
tipped Hearst myself, is what I’m wondering now.
Utter:
Ah.
Seth: And of
my temper generally, I’m wondering about—far as running for
office.
Utter: Maybe you just
don’t want to speak tonight.
Seth: I know I don’t want to speak. I’m wondering if I ought to
withdraw.
Utter:
Talking against my own interests being if you pull out, I won’t have to speak
from the audience, far as conversing with your rival, what’s your best fuckin’
experience?
Seth: Harry
Manning?
Utter:
Huh.
Seth: I guess
that once the two of us talked to him.
Utter: When he killed
Bummer Dan by mistake. And that was
high fucking water. So you’d hold
me as fair calling Harry fucking outright dimwitted? You think better than the Sheriff with a
shortish temper, which in certain Sheriffing situations is a plus, camp be
better with Harry?
Seth: (Smiles at Charlie, stands up and puts his
hat back on. Sighs)
Anyways. You gonna have dinner
with us?
Utter:
May be my last fucking meal
if apoplexy takes me or my
nervousness. (chuckles)
(Nuttall’s
No. 10, Steve is talking to Harry Manning.)
Steve: What if you won?
Harry:
I won’t. I’m only in it to make myself
known.
Steve: Say you’re
fucking elected, Harrry, am I entitled to the fucking livery abandoned by the
nigger Hosteteler leaving its stock to starve?
Harry: Well, I
know you’ve took up its care.
Steve: And do
you as Sheriff hold my fucking labor speaks for me, my diligent fuckin’ efforts
the last six fuckin’ weeks?
Harry:
Well, uh, I’d hold with the law, Steve, whatever statute
applied.
Steve: Well, oughtn’t
a “statue” have to do with justice and not just to bait back a fled fucking
nigger looking to steal what a white man’s worked for?
Harry:
Well, Hostetler ain’t come
back. Why think he ever
will?
Steve: Because
it’s my family luck over centuries to get repeatedly fucked up the ass. And here in this fucking camp is where
the chain gets fucking broken. And
I’m askin’ if you as Sheriff will stand with me?!
Harry: (looks at Tom Nuttall and back) Yeah, I
ain’t Sheriff. I got problems
enough today without kiting checks on tomorrow’s.
Steve: That was a wiggle worthy of a fucking reptile,
Harry.
Harry: Bullock
took a position?
Steve: I ain’t asked
Bullock! (Tom looks up) Fool that I am, I figured
I’d give you first crack on the basis of our friendship. But I guess I was mistaken. (spits and walks out)
Tom: I’ve got an idea. Instead of running for office and
tending bar, why don’t you just tend bar and let everybody punch you in the
face?
(Jane peeks
in the Schoolhouse, Martha passes by the door and opens
it.)
Martha:
Hello, Jane.
Jane: (enters) Yeah,
hello.
Martha:
Several of the children’s parents
have told them you scouted for Custer.
Jane: I can’t hear
you!
Martha:
(speaking up) Several of the
children’s parents have told them you scouted for Custer.
Jane: Not
that the arrogant bastard ever heeded others’ counsel.
Martha:
Shall we fashion a story about your experiences, Jane, for the children to
hear?
Jane: Do you talk
this low when you’re teaching the children?
Martha:
(louder) Shall we fashion a story
about your experiences, Jane, for the children to hear?
Jane: Uh,
I best say no. My funds just now
all go for liquor.
Martha: I
see.
Jane: I fine myself
for swearing amongst the young. And
just now, I need all my money for booze.
Martha:
(turning around) We’d tell your story
to avoid those.
Jane: Does that Mose Manuel horrify the
children?
Martha:
No.
Jane: Gives ‘em bad
dreams at night?
Martha:
No, the children like Mose.
Jane: I expect he
pisses you off.
Martha:
No.
Jane: Well, he irritates the hell out of me. (Seth enters, Jane jumps) Oh, I was just going, Sheriff. I thought I left a bottle in here. Must’ve left it in the shitpile
outside. (She leaves
quickly.)
Martha:
Goodbye, Jane.
Seth: Good
afternoon.
Martha:
How was your meeting with Mr. Hearst?
(Seth pauses and rubs his nose)
(Street,
it’s getting dark and men light the torches along the street, Al looks down upon
the preparations for that night’s speeches. Inside the Ellsworth house, Ellsworth
and Sofia are playing cards in front of the fireplace.
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
worried. (Sofia looks down as Ellsworth
turns at the sound of Trixie carrying a tray upstairs to Alma. He turns back to Sofia and smiles at
her. She sticks her tongue out at
him and he does the same. Upstairs,
Trixie kneels down next to Alma.)
Trixie: Do you want to keep it?
Alma: May not be a
matter of my choosing.
Trixie: As I suppose
we both fucking know. I’m asking if
all the way down, you want to bring it into the world.
Alma: I want it very
much.
Trixie: Or if an
accident befalling or fate intervening, or however you want to fucking put it,
might find a small part of you relieved.
Alma: I want my
baby.
Trixie: Then
you’re gonna lay down and be spoiled and put off proving what else you can do
until after you’ve popped out this kid.
(Al’s
bedroom, E.B. is laid out, his face looks like raw
meat.)
EB: (mumbling)
“Voters of the camp, do you see
come before you some swollen and dissolute stranger? Do not mistake—“ (groans, sits up and raises his hands)
“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 know 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’ wounds.
EB: Thank you.
Al: I do not mean here.
EB: All right. Let me collect myself. (slowly sits up )
(Al walks
down the stairs to the bar. The Gem
is busy. Johnny sits at a table
alone, building a match-stick house. Dan is at the bar with
Merrick.)
Merrick:
Say what you have to
say…
Al:
Again for Merrick, Dan. Gratis.
Merrick:
Uh, I’m due no special thanks, Al.
Facilitating presentation of the candidates is the honor and privilege of the
press.
Al:
That’s off, the presentation.
Merrick:
Is Farnum incapable of speech? Does
Star refuse to take advantage?
Al: Other
factors at play.
Merrick:
But surely Bullock and Harry Manning still can take to the
hustings.
Al: I got
to notify the parties.
Merrick:
I’m an interested party too, Al.
And I require explanation.
Al: Jesus
Christ. How interested are you?
Enough to bleed to keep the business from being a fucking puppet
show?
Merrick:
I can imagine bleeding, if first I’ve been made to understand.
Al: No
one asked if you could imagine bleeding, or if you’d have tumbling or
somersaults or cartwheels to bring you into the lists. Drink and fuck on the
house, but do not attempt to detain me.
(Dan pushes a drink across the bar to Merrick, Merrick drinks).
( Joanie
emerges from her room and slams down her key on Shaunessey’s
ledge.)
Shaunessy:
In what
state?
Joanie:
We ain’t in a state, Shaunessy.
Shaunessy:
What condition? The room? How much disarray?
Joanie:
No fucking disarray. But you nearly
had brain on your walls.
Oooh!
(Hearst’s
room, Hearst puts a bottle of Basil Hayden
on the table, and sits across the table from
Al.)
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 general
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: Don’t that lead you to
despair?
Hearst:
No, Sir.
Al: (chuckles) You’re stronger-minded than
I.
Hearst:
Bullock beating Farnum seems more
likely. Some expression of a
private feeling of his own.
Al: That leaves the bloodshed in my bar, Sir.
How do you account for that?
Hearst:
Nor are the Cornish well-loved as a race.
Al:
Oh, not you through the Cornish. Maybe the Cornish themselves were the
object of the violence.
Hearst:
Well, they do tend to aggregate and organize to further their financial
interests.
Al: Unions.
Hearst:
Have you strong feeling on that subject?
Al: I don’t give a fuck about unions, Mr.
Hearst. Nor do I have any objection
to the killing of the Cornish as high-graders, aggregating organizing
cocksuckers But bloodletting on my
premises that I ain’t approved I take as a fucking affront. It puts me off my feed.
Hearst:
How do we know when you are off your feed?
Al: You’ll start to see me tearing things
down. Speeches tonight are
canceled. Unless the insult’s cured
by tomorrow, there’ll be further tearing down. Fuck the fucking elections, and fuck the
agreement with Yankton. Let the
camp return to its former repute: unstable and unsafe for
commerce.
Hearst:
I’m a great believer in those.
Al: Oh, stability, Sir, and commerce? I can fucking imagine. Think of all they’ve helped you
accomplish.
Hearst:
Shall I perceive you then as dangerous to my interests?
Al: As capable of inconvenience and of some
damage and debt to those that would act against my interests, I cannot fucking
argue with dangerous. Different from powerful though, which speaks to potency
longer term. I’d not have myself
called powerful in your company or the Captain’s.
Hearst: Then
I’ll hope that your insult is cured to spare the camp any danger of however
brief a duration.
Al: And to look for one fucking instant out of
the other end of the telescope, once placated, I’m meek as a babe. (He takes the bottle and finishes it off,
setting it down.) Dead. (He leaves.)
Hearst:
(to the captain) You will want to converse with those friends of yours,
Captain Turner, who argue with the Cornish. Perhaps they’d care to pay another visit
to the saloon. I think I’ll want to
hear the talk.
(Al comes
down the stairs Richardson is preying to the antler god on the
landing)
Al: Fucking pagan.
Tell
your God to ready for blood.
(Richardson
turns briefly to look at Al, then goes back to the
antlers.)
(Bullock
house, Charlie, Sol and Seth are
all practicing their speeches at the dining table.)
Utter:
“Thank you, Sheriff
Bullock. Evening. Evening,
everybody.”
Sol: (muttering)
“Citizens…”
Seth: Would you rather I didn’t introduce you from the
audience? Is it all so hard to
remember?
Utter: No, I, uh, I-I
think I got it. Unless you don’t
wanna.
Martha:
Ought we to start soon for the hustings?
Seth: Five
minutes.
Sol: Adams may default on that house. Asks me to assume his
note.
Martha:
That’s a very pleasant house.
Sol: Uh, I-I’d never thought of myself as a
homeowner.
Martha:
It’s very very spacious.
(knock at
the door)
Al: It’s Albert Swearengen. (Sol gets up to open the door.) The speeches are postponed.
Sol: Is Farnum turned for the
worse?
Al: (shakes
his head “no’) I’d borrow the Sheriff a moment.
(Joanie
returns to the Chez Amie, Jane is sleeping inside on the floor, she wakes up and
stands up)
Joanie:
Evening, Jane.
Jane: Mrs. Bullock
asks me to author with her to give the children an account of my scouting for
Custer.
Joanie: I
think I’d like to hear that story myself.
Jane: (picking at her ass) Custer
was a cunt....the end
(Jane notices a puddle of piss on the floor where she was
laying) Must not have seen that
when seating myself.
Joanie:
Why are you drinking so
much?
Jane: I drink what
I’m able. If that comes to much—(sniffs) That’s the day’s affair and
the liquor’s. You returning
to the Bella Union?
Joanie:
Not tonight.
Jane: As residence
and workplace is my meaning.
Joanie:
Those girls need looking out for.
Jane: And who will
look out for you against that gut-stabbed cocksucker, weaving schemes from his
coming to Jesus?
Joanie: I
don’t know.
Jane: Why is
everybody fucking whispering all of a sudden?
Joanie: I
said I don’t know.
Jane: Do you mind…if
I stay here tonight?
Joanie:
I’d be glad if you would. I don’t
know why you started sleeping outside anyway.
Jane: Every
day takes figuring out all over again how to fucking
live.
Joanie:
Night, Jane.
Jane:
Yep.
(Al and
Seth stand outside on the Bullock porch, looking over at the Grand
Central.)
Al: Pain-in-the-balls Hearst. Running his holdings like a despot, I
grant, has a fucking logic. It’s
the way I fucking run mine. It’s
the way I’d run my home if I fucking had one. But there’s no practical need for him to
run the fucking camp. That’s out of
scale. It’s out of proportion, and
it’s a warped unnatural impulse, this fucking cocksucker! Sorry.
Seth: Shall I
go back down with you?
Al: It won’t be just now. He’ll be wanting to marshal his
cutthroats. (starts to leave,
then turns back) Do stay in hailing distance.
(Al walks slowly up the
thoroughfare)
The End
Click
here to hear the closing credits music
Directed by: Mark
Tinker
Written by: David Milch
and Ted Mann
Al Swearengen: Ian McShane Dan Dority: W Earl Brown
Seth Bullock: Timothy Olyphant
Alma Garret: Molly Parker
Ellsworth: Jim Beaver
Doc Cochran: Brad Dourif
Sol Star: John Hawkes
Trixie: Paula Malcomson
Tom Nuttall: Leon Rippy
Cy Tolliver: Powers Boothe
Leon: Larry Cedar
Sophia: Bree Seanna Wall
Silas Adams: Titus Welliver
Martha Bullock: Anna Gunn
Hugo Jarry: Stephen Toblowsky |
E.B. Farnum: William Sanderson
Calamity Jane: Robin Weigert
Charlie Utter: Dayton Callie Johnny Burns: Sean Bridgers
Andy Cramed: Zach Grenier
Jewel: Geri Jewell
A. W. Merrick: Jeffrey Jones
Mose Manual: Pruitt Taylor Vince
Mr. Wu: Keone Young
Joanie Stubbs: Kim Dickens
Con Stapleton: Peter Jason
Blazanov: Pavel Lychnikoff
Steve: Michael Harney
Harry Manning: Brent Sexton
Richardson: Ralph Richeson |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
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