Episode
11
“Jewel’s
Boot is Made for Walking”
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(Al’s bedroom, Trixie is looking out
window)
Al: A slob mick cop in Chicago gonna take me
off for 35 dollars. Just because he
thinks he can. ‘cause when he comes
around for his free fuckin’ meal and to have his prick sucked and collect his
weekly 20 fuckin’ dollars from the woman that runs the whorehouse, I’m there
buying girls to bring out to the camps.
I knifed the tub of guts.
That’s what this cunt of a magistrate’s shaking me down over. Having already taken $5,000 to have the
warrant lifted.
Trixie: Can you
do business with his bag man?
Al: I’ll fuckin’ find that out shortly. Or if you’re never gonna be able to
fuckin’ operate in peace. What
should I know?
Trixie: Bullock’s
rode out with that Hostetler from the livery. Farnum’s slithered his way across
here. Jewel just
left.
Al: Where the fuck is Jewel
goin’?
Trixie: I don’t
know.
Al: Take half a day off if you feel like. Go
see that child. Well, venture
out.
Sally
fuckin’ forth, hmm?
Trixie: Maybe I
will.
Al: But
now come back to bed.
(Jewel is
walking in the muck, carrying a large book)
Horse
rider: Hey!
Get outta the way!
Asshole: (mimicking Jewel)
Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh (laughing)
(Jewel
walks on…falls in the muck)
Guy: Watch yourself
there.
(She gets up, brushes herself off, fixes her hair and finally makes it to Doc’s, knocks on Doc’s door)
Doc: Who’s sick? What’s he doin’ makin’ you walk to tell
me?
Jewel: I came
here on my own, Doc. I got
something I want to show you. It’s
a book.
Doc: Oh no. I don’t read goddamn books on the civil
war. No.
Jewel: Look!
Doc: I don’t need to look. I was goddamn
there.
Jewel: But it’ll
help me walk better.
Doc: Okay, you’re referring to the brace
on his leg.
Jewel:
Yes.
Doc: For your information, Jewel, that boy in the drawing
was goddamn able-bodied before he got his leg shot up, not born with
difficulties and hardships that got no cure and took from you the coordination a
brace like that would require.
Jewel: I—I was
just lookin’ at the picture, and draggin’ my leg really makes Al
crazy.
Doc: Fuck Al.
Everybody’s got limits. You
draggin’ you leg is yours.
Jewel:
I’m sorry.
Doc: What do you apologize for? Don’t – Don’t apologize to me. Lemme—let me hold onto this for a
while.
Jewel: Thank
You.
(In the
street a stage coach has pulled up and packages are being unloaded. Merrick runs up to the stage with
excitement. He’s making sure that
the package he is awaiting is handled carefully)
Merrick:
Ha, ha, ha, momentous! The
long-awaited day! Oh, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes! Oh God, Oh God, Oh,
yes, yes. Uh, careful, careful,
careful, careful! Now sir, we must
confirm the contents of this precious cargo. Oh God, Philistine. Ah, Joseph, what you see here is an
American Optical back focus single swing with a Meyer-Gorlitz trio plan 210
millimeter lens. The finest
photographic apparatus manufactured in this country. What William Henry Fox Talbot could have
achieved in service of this fine apparatus. Ah, God! Agh! Yo, God, Yes, careful,
careful.
(Grand
Central dining room)
Guy
(To Charlie Utter): Good Day, sir.
Utter: Ow,
damn.
Joanie:
What’s wrong?
Utter: Uh, bit my
d—
Alma: Oh. (bumps into Utter)
Utter: Leaned forward
to give that fella passage and bit my damn tongue. Knocked off my chewin’
angle.
Joanie:
Is it bleeding?
Utter: Now, I don’t
want to look. Might upset the
child.
Joanie:
Anyways, maybe a different way’s opened up, Charlie, as far as me getting
backing for my brothel.
Utter: Uh-huh. I understood the question was location,
but glad to hear the backin’ problem’s solved.
Joanie: I
think uh, I’ve been finicky over the location ‘cause I wasn’t comfortable with
the backing.
Utter:
I’ll tell you one thing, I
ain’t makin’ too many friends in this camp in my capacity as fire
marshal.
Ellsworth: We’re through the easy pickin’ on that outcrop,
ma’am. I’ll wade around that creek
as long as you like. But, uh you
wanna make your claim show it’s
colors, you’re gonna need to sink a few shafts.
Alma: I’m close to
suggesting that we proceed.
Ellsworth: Meaning my use to you’s near a
finish.
Alma:
No.
Ellsworth: I told you Mrs. Garrett, such as it is, my expertise
ain’t underground.
Alma: I want you
still to supervise. I trust you,
Ellsworth, as an honorable man. I
take great pleasure in your company.
(Sophia
looks at Alma’s hand touching Ellsworth’s and back to
Alma)
Ellsworth: I feel the same. I look forward to our breakfasts, and
I’ll just say once, I know I’m too damn old for ya.
(A fancy man enters the dining room and singles out
Alma)
Otis: Button.
Alma: Oh my
goodness.
(Otis
kisses Alma)
Alma: (laughing) I can’t
b-
Otis: (to Ellsworth) I take a father’s
liberty.
Alma: Uh, Mr.
Ellsworth, Mr. Russell.
Ellsworth:
How do you do,
sir.
Otis: How
do you do.
Alma: Uh, and this
is Sophia.
Otis: Hello, Sophia.
Sophia:
Hello.
Otis: (To Ellsworth) Your daughter?
Alma: My
ward.
Ellsworth: Any rate, pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m honored to be in your daughter’s
employ. And with your permission,
ma’am, I will take my leave.
Alma: Uh, of
course.
Ellsworth: And my plate…and my coffee…and my hat. (sticks
tongue out at Sophia – she sticks her tongue out at
Ellsworth)
Otis: Fine manners.
(Cut to the pest tent and Rev Smith, the tent is
being torn down)
Andy: Reverend
Smith.
Rev: How are you,
sir.
Andy: Andy Cramed,
Reverend.
Rev: Mr. Cramed, you returned to the
setting of your recovery.
Andy: Uh-huh.
Rev: How have you fared
since?
Andy: I’ve been
trying out the other camps.
Rev: To what
effect?
Andy: No good
effect, Reverend.
Rev: I see.
Andy: How you
feelin’?
Rev: Uh, as you see, uh, the tent, as
you see is in the process of being dismantled. Our last tenant took his leave
yesterday.
Andy:
Upright?
Rev: He was upright, yes. His name escapes me. Doctor Cochran, I believe, uh, is
expected shortly, I believe. I was
asked to uh, to see to the packing of uh, certain liniments and
uh…medicines.
Andy: Are you not
well, minister?
Rev: Sometimes I’m very well, indeed. My energy will return, or even an excess
of energy. At other times, I’m not
well, or an excess of energy. How
are you Mr. Cramed?
Andy: Well, I
backslid in the other camps. At
Gayville, I had the best intentions and I wound up at
dice.
Rev: Oh, Yes.
Andy: At
Elizabethtown, I wound up at dice…
Rev: Oh, Yes.
Andy: Thought I’d
try to work here where I’d been good, but you’re putting the tent
down.
Rev: Ask God’s help Mr. Cramed. Wherever you find yourself, he will show
you the path.
Andy: Could you help
me to pray?
Rev: Oh…Lord, grant that I may seek
rather to comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to
love than to be loved…and the rest, I forget.
(The Rev
Smith turns and wanders away)
(Cut to Gem
saloon)
Dan:
“
Why don’t you get a haircut, Adams?
Looks like your mama fucked a monkey.”
Johnny:
Just that affectionate?
Dan: Yeah, I’ve never seen Al warm up to
anybody so quick.
EB: Which should persuade you then
of what?
Dan: Well, you think it’s just
tactics?
EB: The magistrate Al counted on
to be his advocate in Yankton turned Judas. Adams is the magistrate’s bag man. Al is merely probing Adams’ willingness
to betray the magistrate. In turn,
his warmth is counterfeit.
(Al is on
balcony – sees Adams and goes inside)
Al: (To
Jewel) Where the fuck were
you?
Jewel: At
the Doc.
Al: Fix me a cup of
coffee.
(Silas
Adams enters, EB stands up and smiles like a puppy, Al struts toward him, looks
at
Silas:
Mornin’
Al: Shorn and groomed to a fuckin’
fare-thee-well. She’d never
recognize you. Have to smell you
all over to know you was hers.
Silas: My monkey
mother.
Al: Let’s take a table out of the traffic,
huh?
Johnny:
(To EB) Just
that affectionate.
EB: (To Silas) I trust you found your accommodations
satisfactory, Mr. Adams…Silas. If
not, they could always be changed.
Al: (To
Jewel) Uh, let me fuckin’ pour.
He’s gotta make some distance before sunset. What was your purpose at the
Doc’s?
Jewel: I’m
knocked up.
Silas: What message
should I take to the magistrate?
Al: No envelopes and to fuck himself. I’m glad we had occasion last night to
spend some time together, so, when he asks if this is tactics or true position
you’ll know what to say.
Silas: I’ll
know.
Al: You travel safe.
Silas: They believe
you’re the man to deal with.
Yankton.
Al: I am.
Silas: It’s just the
magistrate looking to earn off that warrant. But no one else even knows it’s out on
you.
Al: Maybe the magistrate needs to
die.
Silas: Maybe he
does.
Al: He won’t come back here without a
resolution. He’ll know what’s
waitin’ for him.
Silas: Maybe he needs
to die there.
Al: Maybe he should. And the person who did it would only be
at the beginning of his usefulness to me.
Silas: That person
didn’t come back with a warrant on you quashed would be a fool not to think he’d
be the next one killed.
Al: That’s why he’d be so useful to me
thinking that far ahead.
Silas: Make your
offer.
Al: A thousand for the cocksucker proved dead,
a thousand for the warrant proved lifted.
Silas: A thousand and
a thousand. Think I am a fuckin’
monkey?
Al: You thought there would be twenty in
it?
Silas: Kill Claggett
and get you out from under that warrant?
You’re fuckin’ right there’s twenty.
Al: Do it for two. You’ve got to believe the job would open
the door to your future, and you gotta believe you’d make your ass hundreds of
thousands back and forth between here and Yankton.
Silas:
2,000.
(Holds two
fingers up…spits in his hand and Al spits in his – they shake – pan to
EB)
EB: (nervous) I put him in a room
above the privy.
(Alma’s
room at the Grand Central…)
Otis: I always
thought it was gonna end like this, button. A rooming house in a mining camp on
Indian Territory, you caring for a Norwegian fondling and operating a bonanza
gold claim.
Alma: (chuckling) And you, Daddy?
Otis: Always a
little sketchy about me. I hope I’m
here to help.
(knocking)
Otis: Uh,
that would be my room key.
Sophia? (Hands Sophia a
coin)
Richardson: Room
7.
Otis: Thank you,
sir.
Sophia:
Thank you.
Richardson: You’re welcome, little
one.
(Closes
door)
Otis: Oh
my goodness, what’s that behind your ear?
Don’t you ever clean behind your ear?
(Pulls coin
out – Sophia walks to Alma and shows her the coin.)
Alma: mmm.
Otis: Does
caring for Sophia please you?
Alma: More with each
day.
Otis: And
do you have any of the gold?
Alma: As it
happens…(pulls gold out of doll basket)
Otis: The
well-mannered Mr. Ellsworth says these abound?
Alma:
Yes.
Otis: There’s some talk that you did Brom
in.
Alma: From his
parents?
Otis: They have raised the
possibility.
Alma: As it happens,
I was not present when Brom fell.
Otis: You
have to admit, it’s a suspicious sequence.
Alma: The man who
was is in the camp.
Otis: Given their view of the
marriage.
Alma: I doubt he
tells the true story of how Brom died, but he would verify that I wasn’t
there.
Otis: I
didn’t mean to upset you. It’s
always about the money, button.
Alma: In certain
circles.
Otis: But
not here, hmm?
Alma: I suppose
here, as well. In certain
circles.
Otis: Mr.
Ellsworth being the exception?
Alma: Mr. Ellsworth
was engaged by a Mr. Seth Bullock, who’s been steadfast and
kind.
Otis: And
when did your path cross Mr. Bullock’s?
Before Brom’s accident or after?
Alma: Mr. Bullock
was asked to look to my interest by Wild Bill Hickok.
Otis: Who, if I recall your reading
habits, has been an acquaintance of yours since childhood. (Chuckling) I would very much like to meet this Mr.
Bullock. Nearly as much as I’d like
to wash. (Gets up and walks toward the door, still
has the gold nugget in his hand)
Alma:
Daddy.
Otis: Ah. (Hands back the gold) I’m glad to see
you.
(Nuttall’s
#10, Charlie is performing a fire safety inspection…)
Utter:
Stovepipe directly into wood,
no clearance or sheet iron in between.
Nuttall:
What’s the significance?
Utter: Joint’s like
to burn to cinders.
Nuttall:
Well, then why ain’t it yet?
Utter: Dumb luck,
Tom. Which you hadn’t ought to
push, camp bein’ situated like it is, everyone ass to elbow. Hazard to one’s a hazard to
all.
Nuttall:
Why, ain’t you startin’ to talk like a goddamn government
official.
Utter: I’m Charlie
Utter. That attended the same
fuckin’ meetin’ you did. And bein’
they pinned fire marshal on me, I ain’t seein’ the camp burn to the ground. So either cure your stovepipe violation
or prepare to get levied a fine.
Nuttall:
Well
I’ll lick a bear’s ass before I’d pay a fine to E.B.
Farnum.
Utter: Then separate
your goddamn stovepipes from the goddamn wall!
Nuttall:
Well, I—I’ll send one of my boys over to pick up the iron.
Utter: This ain’t the
goddamn day of judgment, Tom. (leaves)
Nuttall:
Jesus Christ Almighty! That’s the
kind of shit that ran me out of Wilkes-Barre.
Stapleton: Where the camp’s headed, Tom.
Nuttall:
Maybe I’ll just fuckin’ move along.
Stapleton: Why is there no sheriff in this
camp?
Nuttall:
What?
Stapleton: All these official positions, why is there no
sheriff?
Nuttall:
Because Al Swearengen don’t want one.
Stapleton: Well, what if a sheriff took office that Al could
trust not to bother him? And you
could lay head to pillow nights knowin’ he was your friend. Type of man who’d go up to a fire
marshal, say, and tell him and his so-called sheet iron violation that hadn’t
proven to be dangerous uh, for, what, goin’ on two months now, should be
waived? And whose ear’d be first to
the ground when any violence created maybe business opportunities? And who’d remember who got him
started.
Nuttall:
I never thought of you as the type to be sheriff.
Stapleton: Nah, I’d be out of the mold, but uh, fit for the
camp. My problem, Tom, is
uh…whereas he has a soft spot for you as a fellow pioneer, Swearengen hates my
fuckin’ guts. So knowin’ how
grateful I’d be and all’s, I’d un, show it to ya, wonder if you’d put in a
word?
(Tolliver’s
office – knocking)
Cy: Yeah!
Leon: Mr.
Tolliver.
Cy: Leon, come on in. Your habit get the best of you a while,
son?
Leon: It got the
fuckin’ upper hand.
Cy: How’s your sight,
Leon?
Leon: Whole left
eye’s perfect and the right’s comin’ back.
Have I still got a job, sir?
Cy: I’d dig to hear more from you, what
you been up to, who the fuck with.
That kind of thing.
Leon: Aw, you
probably know everything about everything already.
Cy: Be that as it
may….
Leon: Well…me and
Jimmy Irons, we stole the china man’s dope. Chinaman’s courier, he lost his
life. We slammed dope for a series
of days, and Al Swearengen’s tough captured us. And in the bathhouse, we drew straws and
– and Jimmy irons drowned.
Cy: Does that about cover
it?
Leon: If you ask me
specifics, I may be able to come up with some more
details.
Cy: Was Al Swearengen holding the
straws, Leon?
Leon: Yes, sir. He said to tell you what I
seen.
Cy: And now is he holdin’ the strings on
you?
Leon:
Sir?
Cy: Are you here on his
instruction?
Leon: I’m telling
you what I seen, because you asked me to.
Cy: What’d they do with Jimmy
Irons? They give him to the china
man?
Leon: I guess they
did. They wrapped him up and took
him out. Swearengen turned me
loose, but he’d just give me this, (points to eye) so I stayed in the tub
until I got my bearings.
Cy: That’s a hell of a way to treat a
white man, ain’t it, Leon?
Leon: Bein’ fair,
I’d have to say, I gave Mr. Swearengen provocation. He traffics in dope so I—I guess you
could say that I’d stole his property and fucked his action
up.
Cy: I’m talking about Jimmy Irons. In connection with getting’ delivered to
a chink, regardless of his fuckin’ transgression.
Leon: Oh, I
see.
Cy: And in that connection, I’m sayin’
it’s a hell of a way to treat a white man.
Leon: I
see.
Cy: You agree with me?
Leon: (considers)
Yes?
Cy: So it’s your own opinion,
too?
Leon: Yes,
sir.
Cy: Well, that’s your new fuckin’
job. Expressin’ your own fuckin’
opinion.
Leon: I can do
that.
Cy: With conviction,
Leon.
(Leon
Laughs)
Cy: Your job is to voice your opinion
with some oomph and some character behind it…or you’ll wish you’d got drowned in
that bathhouse.
Leon:
Alright.
(They shake
hands)
Cy: Welcome back, Son.
(Al’s office, Nuttall is
visiting)
Nuttall:
Oh, uh, well, uh, no, thanks, Al. I uh –or well, uh eh, yes, I
will.
(Drinks a
shot of whiskey)
Al: What’s going on, Tom?
Nuttall:
Well, I—I thought you could uh, make Con Stapleton uh, sheriff, uh, bein’ it’s
inevitable anyway.
Al: How the fuck did that get to be
inevitable? I wouldn’t appoint that
cocksucker to empty my spittoons.
Nuttall:
What I’m sayin’ is somebody’s gotta be sheriff, Al. Stapleton’s got points in his
favor.
Al: I hope one’s not gettin’ to recover the
bribe he paid you when I don’t give him the fuckin’ job.
Nuttall:
Who’s your candidate, Al?
Al: Nobody.
Nuttall:
Well that’s just postponin’ the inevitable.
Al: Tom, nothin’ Stapleton’s got on you can’t
be solved by Dan Dority.
Nuttall:
Well, uh, um…fill me up.
Al: Jesus Christ.
Nuttall:
The – the truth is I—I feel like the – the camp’s gettin’ away from me, Al. I got a fire commissioner who’s about to
condemn my building, and we’re still on Indian land.
Al: How does Stapleton becoming sheriff keep the
camp from gettin’ away from you?
Nuttall:
Well, I know him. Uh, he’d know I
put in a word with you.
Al: What the fuck good is that to you, Tom,
when the cocksucker can be bought for two pieces of day old
bread.
Nuttall:
Well well well that’s right.
That-that all makes sense.
It, uh…eh, when you just come up to this camp and hung your sign up for
nickel booze and 50 cent pussy…
Al: Them was get acquainted
prices.
Nuttall:
But the point is, I seen your fuckin’ tent. I walked over and I – I said uh,
“Hello.” I didn’t tell you—you gotta sheet iron your fuckin’
stovepipe.
Al: I didn’t have a stovepipe. And you had your knife at the ready if I
didn’t make a good impression.
Nuttall:
Well that’s true enough, uh, but you didn’t.
Al: And Dority made a hell of a one on
ya.
Nuttall:
Uh, that – that, too, is – is true enough.
Now, I just, uh…I feel like I know the guy, Al.
Al: Stapleton.
Nuttall:
Well, I don’t feel like I know anybody no more.
Al: Yeah, he can be sheriff for all I
care.
Nuttall:
Thank you, Al.
Al: Don’t count on him to be loyal,
Tom.
Nuttall:
N—No, no. Uh, just a familiar
face.
Al: And no fucking
paperwork.
Nuttall:
Well, I don’t even know if he can write.
(Al laughs,
Nuttall gets up to leave – walks to door, gets to threshold, turns
back)
Nuttall:
Could he be sworn in here, Al?
Al: Oh, for chrissake,
Tom!
Nuttall:
Well, he feels you don’t like him.
Al: He’s fuckin’ right as
rain.
Nuttall:
But it’d be a comfort to him, say, if he was sworn in under your
roof.
(Al sees
Trixie leaving the Gem)
Al: Let Farnum swear him the fuck in here
then. But press your luck no
further. Do not expect me to
fuckin’ attend.
Nuttall:
Awful grateful, Al.
(Trixie has walked to the hardware
store)
Trixie: Mr.
Star.
Sol: Miss Trixie, pleased to see
you.
Trixie:
I threatened to pay a
visit.
Sol: You spoke of lookin’ out for some
building implements.
Trixie:
I spoke of looking out for an
ax and a saw, and if I got ‘em, they wouldn’t be applied to buildin’
nothin’. Anyways, would you want a
free fuck?
Sol: Why would you say
that?
Trixie: To know
the answer.
Sol: Why would you say it that
way?
Trixie: For
chrissakes, Mr. Star, my cherry is obstructing my work. Sir…would you take it from me,
free?
(Sol closes
door, take’s Trixie by the hand and leads her to the back of the store behind
some crates. The 2 of them are busy when the door opens and Seth
enters.)
Trixie: Uh…
Sol: Seth, you remember
Trixie.
Seth: Oh,
yes. Well, I just stopped for a
moment.
(Seth picks
up a tool)
Sol: Oh yes.
Seth: I’ll lock up?
Sol: Oh, yes.
(They
continue where they left off…Sol tries to kiss Trixie)
Trixie: Kiss my
neck or my tits if you have to kiss somethin’.
Sol: Let me kiss
you.
Trixie: Well you’re a
goddamn Jew fool.
(They
kiss)
(Gem Saloon, the swearing in ceremony for Sheriff
Stapleton. Merrick is trying out his new camera for the
occasion)
EB: Do you swear before this
witness to uphold whatever laws may be put in force
subsequently?
Stapleton: Yeah, if I can, yeah.
Nuttall:
And don’t forget who your friends are.
Stapleton: Always.
Merrick:
Gentlemen, uh, hold still. Take a
breath, don’t move. One, two,
three. Very good.
(Dan rubs
his eyes in the background)
Merrick:
Uh, gentlemen, Tom, I – I wondered
if a second one might be appropriate without that putrid apron around your
midsection.
Nuttall:
No. Uh, Let’s
drink.
EB: (To Stapleton) Our health
commissioner.
Seth: Whiskey.
EB: You’ve just missed my swearing
in of the camp’s new sheriff.
Stapleton: Con Stapleton, sir. I’m not sure we’ve actually
met.
Seth: You were
at the table when Hickok was killed.
Stapleton: Indeed, I was.
A horrified bystander.
Seth: We
weren’t to have a sheriff.
Nuttall:
Well, that’s been reconsidered as inevitable.
EB: Had you designs on the post,
Bullock?
Seth: I don’t
want the post.
Stapleton: Well, no hard feelin’s then. Consider me, at your
service.
Seth: My wife
and child are to join me from Michigan.
Is Al in his office?
EB: Seems to be sequestered. He missed the swearin’ in,
too.
Nuttall:
He did want us over here though ain’t that absolutely
correct?
Stapleton: Well, then why the fuck didn’t eh come
down?
Nuttall:
Well, why didn’t he come down?
That’s unclear.
EB: To let you know exactly, I
would guess, at whose mysterious pleasure you serve.
(Flash)
Merrick: A candid
moment.
(Al is on
his balcony watching the street. The Rev. Smith is preaching to an
ox)
Rev: Circumcision…is indeed profiteth if thou keepest the
law, but if, uh…if thou are a transgressor of the law, thy circumcision become
uncircumcision. Therefore, if uh,
thy uncircumcision uh, keeps the uh, the righteousness of the lay, shall not his
uncircumcision that is by nature fulfilling his lay shall judge thee, who by—by
letter and uh, circumcision transgresses the law.
(knocking)
Al: Yeah!
Seth: It’s
Seth Bullock. (enters) Why’d you let Stapleton
have a badge?
Al: They sworn the cocksucker in
yet?
Seth: Hurry
down and toast him. Maybe
Merrick’ll put his camera back up.
Al: No, I prefer to watch the fucking Reverend
Smith preach to the oxen and the horses.
Seth: It ain’t
right for the camp. My wife and
child are comin’.
Al: Bullock, it’s a ceremonial position to
give comfort to Tom Nuttall, who feels the camp’s leavin’ him behind. Putting a badge on Stapleton makes him
feel he’s got friends in high places.
Seth: That job
shouldn’t go to a shitheel.
Al: Oh, as my feeling would be, it should go
to a shitheel as it’s shitheel’s work.
Seth: Doesn’t
have to be.
Al: No? Mr. Bullock, would you—would you sit down
a second? I want to tell you
somethin’ about the law.
Please. Please, take a
seat. Separate from all the bribes
we put up, I paid 5,000 dollars to avoid being the object of fireside ditties
about a man that fled a murder warrant then worked very hard to get his camp
annexed by the territory, only to have them serve the warrant of him and to face
the magistrate’s pocket. The money
goes, after which he sends a message.
The 5,000’ll need company if I’m to be off the hook. I give you the
law.
Seth: It
doesn’t have to be like that.
Al: Now, if you were fuckin’ sheriff and you
said “Do this, do that,” I’d consider it ‘cause you’re not a fuckin’
whore.
Seth: I have
personal responsibilities.
Al: I’d go downstairs for that fuckin’
swearin’ in. And I’d follow your
career, ‘cause you’re one of those pains in the balls who think the law can be
honest.
Seth: I don’t
want it.
Al: Well, I do lots of things I don’t want to
do.
Seth: You
think you’re the only one?
Al: Well you should have been here when Tom
Nuttall was pissin’ in my ear. I
think you’d be alright as sheriff.
Seth: Listen,
I’m only talkin’ to you ‘cause my partner’s fuckin’ that whore.
(Al freezes
for a minute)
Seth:
Anyway…
(Seth
leaves Al’s office and is coming down the stairs when Trixie comes back in and
starts to head up the stairs)
Trixie: It’s back open.
Nuttall:
How was your talk with Al?
Seth: (To Stapleton)
Congratulations.
EB: Good sportsmanship,
Bullock.
(Al is back
on balcony, watching the Rev.)
Rev: Who—who shall separate us from the
love of Christ? Shall, shall
affliction or distress or – or persecution or—
(Looks to
Seth)
Rev: or hunger or nakedness?
(Looks
directly at Seth)
Rev: Or—or peril or
sword?
(Walks past
Seth)
Rev: Yea, in all these things, we more
than conquer through him that hath loved us. I am-I am persuaded that, uh, that
neither life nor death, nor—nor angels, nor—nor—nor principalities, nor powers,
nor things present or things to come, or—nor heights, nor depths, nor any other
creature, from the love of—of God!
And—and Jesus Christ our Lord.
(Hardware
store, Seth returns…)
Sol: Seth
Seth:
Sol
Sol: She wasn’t here in a professional
capacity.
Seth: We have
an agreement with Swearengen as to the use we put this establishment
to.
Sol: She came lookin’ for goods and
things took a turn.
Seth: That can
happen.
Sol: Not twice, though, at this
location.
Seth:
Yeah. Maybe I’m not the only
one who should be looking for a place.
Gonna make an offer on that piece on the western
slope.
Sol: Did you have another
look?
Seth: Go ahead
and get to buildin’ if Hostetler takes the offer.
Sol: Maybe have a leg up when Martha and
your boy arrive.
(Otis walks into the store)
Otis: Good afternoon,
sir.
Sol: Good
afternoon.
Otis: I
am Otis Russell. Uh, would you be
Mr. Bullock?
Sol: I’m Sol Star.
Otis: Oh. How do you do Mr.
Star?
Sol: Very well.
Seth: I’m Seth
Bullock.
Otis: Mr. Bullock. I am Alma Garrett’s father.
Seth: How do
you do, sir?
Otis: How
do you do? I’m very grateful for
the kindness that you’ve shown my daughter. I wonder if you would join us for dinner
tonight.
Seth: I’d be happy to.
Otis: Oh,
Mr. Star, will you join us?
Sol: Thanks, but I
can’t.
Otis: Regrettable. Would six at the hotel be
convenient? My daughter says
that the dinner hour is early.
Seth: Six is
fine.
Otis: Just months that this camp came
together, huh?
Sol: Yes, sir.
Otis:
Remarkable.
(Jewel is
in the Gem whore’s quarter sweeping, the Doc walks in)
Jewel: Hi,
Doc.
Doc: First thing to say, I regret the
tone I had with you earlier.
Jewel: Okay.
Doc: If we hold with the Greeks that
we’re made of humors, uh, I guess my bile was in it’s
ascendin’.
Jewel:
Okay.
Doc: Sit down. Another thing…that the Greeks say –
except I learned this in Latin is “Primum Non Nocere.” And that means “First, do no harm.” And this has been a great concern to me
in your case. To interfere, even
with the best of intentions and have you misjudge your capacities ‘cause you
rely on some mechanical contraption and wind up hurting yourself, would be a
poor use, indeed, of my very limited skills. You can get around now, Jewel. I can only imagine with what a
difficulty and exertion and pain, but the moving around you can do is precious
to you. I do not want to fuck you
up.
Jewel: No, we
wouldn’t want that.
Doc: Having said that, and different from
the…harness type attachments in that civil war book, I thought we might try
something like this.
Jewel:
Let’s.
(In the
saloon, Al runs into Trixie…)
Al: How was your visit, Trixie? How was the child?
Trixie:
Had a good
visit.
Al: Is the child conversant? Moving along from saying her
name?
Trixie: Anyways,
I better take my turn.
Al: No, you look good having gone out. You’re more relieved, more relaxed. We can’t work all the time, can we? We all need some type of relaxation,
companionship or the like?
Trixie: Yes.
Al: You get away from me now. Hey Doc, how long were you planning on
taking before you told me what the fuck was wrong with
Jewel?
Doc: Nothin’ nothin’ she wasn’t born
with.
Al: mmm…I mean, she told me she was knocked
up, but I assumed that was he gimp sense of humor.
Doc: She wants me to brace her leg. So her draggin’ it doesn’t drive you
crazy.
Al: So what’d you tell
her?
Doc: Not to worry about your moods, that you
generate those yourself and then find your excuse for havin’
‘em.
Al: Saucy words, Doc. Good thing you’re handy with the
snatch.
Doc: I had an idea for a boot and just
now measured her for it.
Al: If you treat her as successfully as you did the
minister, she’ll be kickin’ up her heels in no fuckin’
time.
Doc: I will leave you now to pursue another
excuse.
Al: (To
Johnny who is walking in the door) Get that Jew over
here
(Johnny turns and goes back out the door)
(Grand
Central dining room, the entire room is roped off with a “private dinner” sign
in place. Otis, Alma, Seth and Sophia are seated)
Otis: My
daughter tells me that before his murder, Wild Bill Hickok asked you to look to
her interests.
Seth: Yes,
sir.
Otis: Had
you ridden with, uh, Hickok on the plains?
Seth: I met
him in the camp. I only knew him a
few days.
Otis: And
impressed him at once as being trustworthy.
Alma: They rescued a
child in the wilderness and brought to justice one of the men who murdered her
family.
Otis: And
um, how was justice meted out?
Seth: We shot
him.
(EB and
Richardson Enter)
EB: Slab of beef off the
chuck. Bought whole carrots and
little brown potatoes. Fresh baked
bread and rhubarb pie to come. Your
repast awaits your mouths.
Alma: Thank you.
EB: Postprandial cigars for the
men folk?
Otis: Oh,
no, no, we have our own smokes.
EB: I hope you have brought
ravenous appetites.
Alma: Thank
you, Mr. Farnum.
(EB and
Richardson leave)
Alma: (To Otis) He had something to do with
it.
Otis: Would you prefer, Mr. Bullock, that
Alma stay in the camp?
Alma: In any
case, I’ve decided to stay.
Otis: As her advisor, I mean?
Seth: It’s
Mrs. Garrett’s affair. If she
wanted to go back east, her interest here could be seen
to.
Alma:
But I don’t.
Otis: Well, and it would show her in a
better light should title be contested.
Seth: The
custom is if you give a claim your efforts and staked it or bought it fair
someone would have to go some to take it away. And we’ve taken steps to demonstrate her
activity.
Otis: And
of course, if the New York courts had jurisdiction they’d sell the holdings to
the highest bidder.
Seth: Not many
here would give a damn what a New York court held or didn’t. (Turns to Alma) Excuse my language.
Alma: On the contrary, Mr. Bullock, Thank
you for acknowledging my presence.
Otis: I
thought, button, that you were our entire preoccupation.
(EB and
Richardson watch the dinners from behind a screen)
EB: The
man’s a charlatan, Richardson, a cheat, a broad tosser and a clip. I only wonder if the daughter’s been in
it with him, or she’s his pigeon.
Richardson: May I
look, Mr. Farnum?
EB: Yes, when you’ve grown a full
head of hair. The brass that would
be, to gull your own flesh and blood.
(At the
Gem, Sol has arrived to meet with Al…)
Sol: Mr.
Swearengen.
Al: You own me
five dollars. If you ass-fucked
her, you own me seven.
Sol: No.
Al: You didn’t ass-fuck her?
Sol: I’m not paying you. It wasn’t to do with you, it wasn’t
business.
Al: Trixie! Don’t you think I don’t understand. I
mean, what can anyone of us ever really fuckin’ hope for, huh?
Except for a moment here and there with a person who doesn’t want to rob,
steal or murder us? At night, it
may happen. Sun-up, one person
against the fuckin’ wall, the other may hop on the fuckin’ bed trusting each
other enough to tell half the fucking truth. Everybody needs that. Becomes precious to ‘em. They don’t want to see it fucked
with.
Sol: I won’t pay.
Al: You pay…or she pays. No home visits. Do your visiting on the premises, 5,
(Sol slides 5 coins across the
bar) 7 for an ass-fuck.. (Sol leaves) (To Trixie) You get back to work. You sleep tonight amongst your own. Another fuckin’
bottle.
(Alma’s
room)
Alma: (Looking out window at Seth and
Otis) If we had a kitchen, Sophia, after
supper we’d have retired to it, to chores and gossip on the most minute domestic
matters, while the men walked and smoked and argued more important matters. And, incidentally, decided our
fates.
(In the
street, Otis and Seth are enjoying a cigar and walking
along)
Otis: Understandable, her late husband was
so taken with my daughter. I didn’t
know him very well, but I certainly recognized his doting
infatuation.
Seth: I didn’t
know him at all.
Otis: I
admit that I had hoped she might find a man who would dote on her and more,
perhaps had a surer sense of what the world was. And, apparently, I’m entitled to hope
that again.
Seth: My wife
and son will be joining me soon.
Otis: I’m
long past judgment, Mr. Bullock, and I’ve learned that, no matter what people
say, or how civil they seem, their passions rule. I see no reason why your wife and son’s
arrival need alter my hopes for my daughter’s happiness or security or the
security of her holdings.
Seth: I’ll say
goodnight, Mr. Russell. With
thanks, for dinner.
Otis: That will disappoint Alma. I’m sure she didn’t think she was saying
goodnight when we left for our walk.
Seth: She’ll
be alright.
Otis: If
I have offended you Mr. Bullock, I’ve accomplished the opposite of my
intentions, which would not be an unprecedented result.
Seth: I just
want to say goodnight.
Otis: Of
course. Goodnight Mr.
Bullock.
Seth:
Goodnight then.
Otis: Trust me to explain to Alma, I’m a
practiced and inveterate liar.
Alma: (Looking
out the window at her father) If we didn’t hate them too much to be
curious about the world, we’d wonder what they’d had to
say.
(At the
Bella Union…)
Cy: Craps! Loser! Line away. You’d better not need them fingers,
hoss, if you spill that drink on my goddamn felt, too.
Eddie: Hand that
stick to a Captain of the floating table, Cy.
Cy: Eddie Sawyer.
Eddie: Back in
action if you’ll have me.
Cy: Well, alright.
Eddie: You need
to take it back about that boy, Cy.
Me bein’ interested that way.
Cy: Aw, hell, Eddie, you know me. I get in a brown study, I’ll say any
goddamn thing that comes to mind – withdrawn, with
apologies.
Eddie: Comin’
out. New
Shooter.
Leon: (Loudly) Are we that far west that we’ve
wound up in fuckin’ China? Where a
white man kowtows to a celestial like that arrogant cocksucker
Wu!
Cy: Take it easy,
Leon.
Leon: Sticks in my
craw, Mr. Tolliver. Do I have my
weaknesses? Yes. But I will not have a fuckin’ chink
courier rob me blind and have my friend Jimmy Irons robbed blind in the course
of feedin’ off our fuckin’ weaknesses or have that courier’s fuckin’ chink
boss—issue an order to Al Swearengen that’s supposed to be so fuckin’ tough to
turn one of us over! Swearengen
kowtows and turns one of us over to be eaten by the fuckin’ Chinese pigs! This fuckin’ gets to me. I can’t put it out of my fuckin’
mind.
Cy: Leon, Leon, Leon. Thin it out, Leon. Prune the patter down,
hmm?
Eddie: For the
winner, pay the field.
Joanie:
Hi, Eddie.
Eddie: Hi,
Kitten.
Joanie:
You and Cy reconciled?
Eddie: Thick as
thieves. And if I weren’t as good
at what I did you’d see I just palmed 80 in chips for the Joanie Stubbs
construction fund. (Thumbs nose)
Joanie:
Hi, Cy.
Cy: Hi, Joanie. What are you doin’ givin’ Joanie the
office, Eddie?
Eddie: Sayin’
“Welcome Home.”
Cy: Are you home,
honey?
Joanie: I
gave up waiting for that search party you didn’t send, Cy.
Cy: Mind if I show Joanie my peacock,
Eddie? Find land for your plot
yet?
Joanie:
I’m still looking. I see the pest
tent’s coming down.
Cy: Ah, it’s too far off ‘til the camp
expands. You’d want a more central
plot, say frontin’ Cochran’s Alley.
Joanie:
Well, those all seem took by the Chinese.
Cy: Well, you never know how that shit’s
gonna shake out.
Leon: Those Chinese
cocksuckers!
Eddie: A
new shooter comin’ out!
(Seth
arrives back at the hardware store…)
Seth: That
man’s not here to help his daughter.
He’s lookin’ to root at her claim.
You went to see that whore again?
Sol: I guess she had to account for her
bein’ outside and Swearengen sent for me to pay him his fee. I guess she’d told him where she’d
been.
Seth: It might
have been me he found out from, Sol.
‘Cause I’m sometimes that stupid.
Sol: You think it could have been
you?
Seth: I’m sure
it was, speakin’ without thinkin’, justifying being in this
place.
Sol: Bein’ you’d been ousted from your
own.
Seth: I was
hot, seein’ that tinhorn Stapleton gettin’ installed as sheriff, and I used poor
fuckin’ judgment.
Sol: Sorry Mrs. Garrett’s Pa turns out a
shitheel.
Seth: Cold
enough world without gettin’ gone against by your own.
(Al’s room, Al has an unfamiliar whore with
him)
Al: Now, I see what the fuck’s in front of me,
and I don’t pretend it’s somethin’ else.
I was fuckin’ her and now I’m gonna fuck you, if you don’t piss me off or
open your yap at the wrong fuckin’ time.
The only time you’re to open - you’re supposed to open your yap is so I
can put my fuckin’ prick in it.
Otherwise, you shut the fuck up.
Now, hold onto that, huh? (Hands
bottle over) Point is, the
minister’s gotta fuckin’ die. I
mean, that’s the—that’s the fuckin’ point.
He’s gonna die sooner or later I mean, he’s makin’ a fuckin’ jerk of
himself, and, I mean, well, why—why go on with that? Who’s—who’s gonna benefit from that,
huh? No, you just gotta kill it and
put an end to it. You -- you don’t linger on about it, you don’t
fuckin’ go around weepin’ about it, and you don’t, you know, behave like a kid
with a sore thumb, you know, a loco suckin’ it, now “mmm, my poor fucking
thumb!” I mean, you—you gotta behave like a grown fuckin’ man, huh? You gotta shut the fuck up. Don’t be sorry, don’t look fuckin’ back,
because, believe me, no one gives a fuck. You understand?
Whore:
Yeah.
Al: You shut the fuck up, huh? Gimme that! (Grabs bottle) Hey, you suck my dick and
shut the fuck up, huh? Come
here. Come on. Now then, here. The place where I found you, huh, is
where this warrant’s from. Could
you believe that I may have stuck a knife in someone’s guts 12 hours before you
got on the wagon we headed out for fuckin’ Laramie in? No! Because I don’t look fuckin’
backwards. I do what I have to do
and go on. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, what? You got a
stagecoach to catch or somethin’, huh?
Slow the fuck up. Did you
know the orphanage part of the building you lived in, behind it, she ran a
whorehouse, huh? Oh, so you
knew? So, so what are you fuckin’
lookin’ at then, huh? God. Now, I’ll tell you somethin’ you don’t
know. Before she ran a girls
orphanage, fat Mrs. Fucking Anderson ran the boys orphanage on fucking Euclid
avenue, as I would see her fat ass waddling out the boys dormitory at 5 o’clock
in the fucking mornin’, every fuckin’ morning she blew her stupid fuckin’
cowbell and woke us all the fuck up.
And my fuckin’ mother dropped me the fuck off there with 7 dollars and 60
some odd fuckin’ cents on her way to suckin’ cock in…in Georgia. And I didn’t get to count the fuckin’
cents before the fuckin’ door opened, and there, Mrs. Fat Ass Fuckin’ Anderson,
who sold you to me. I had to give
her 7 dollars and 60 odd fuckin’ cents that my mother shoved in my fuckin’ hand
before she hammered 1,2,3,4 times on the fuckin’ door and scurried off down
fuckin’ Euclid Avenue , probably 30 fuckin’ years before you were fuckin’
born. Then around Cape Horn and up
to San Francisco, where she probably became Mayor or some other type success
story, unless by some fucking chance she wound up as a ditch for fuckin’
cum. Now, fucking go faster, hmm?
(grunting) Okay, go ahead and spit it
out. You don’t need to
swallow. You just spit it out. Mmm. Anyways.
Written
by Ricky Jay
Directed
by Steve Shill
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 |
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
Rev. Smith: Ray McKinnon
Mr. Wu: Keone Young
Joanie Stubbs: Kim Dickens
Con Stapleton: Peter Jason
Eddie Sawyer: Ricky Jay
Otis Russell: William Russ |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
Deadwood transcription from
www.CalamityDan.com These transcriptions are the property of
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