(Open in the Bullock house. Seth is in the kitchen as
William comes downstairs)
Seth: Good morning, William.
William: Good morning, Mr. Bullock.
Seth: Are
you sometimes permitted coffee?
William: Yes, sir.
Seth: About a third of a cup?
William: Completed with cow’s milk.
Seth: As
to sugar, three spoons? (William nods, we
see Seth is near banking his head on the hanging lamp over the table) Is
this the morning, William, do you suppose, the tip of this lamp, like a Indian
spear, goes into the top of my head?
William: (chuckles)
I don’t know, Sir. (Seth hands him his coffee, he tastes
it.)
Seth:
Does it stand comparison with your
mother’s?
William:
No, Sir. (Sets it
down)
Seth: Stiffened with a further lace of
sugar?
William:
I mean that he would make it, Sir—my father would.
Seth: (pauses) Do you have time to sit a bit?
William: I suppose I might do, having chopped the kindling
last evening.
(Seth motions to a chair, William and he sit as
Martha comes quietly down the stairs, pausing as she hears them
talking.)
Seth: Why
don’t you tell me about your father, William? I didn’t know my brother so well as you
had a chance to. I was nine when
Robert left our home. I think you
knew him longer. You were
11.
William:
I knew him pretty well.
Seth:
What did he like doin’ best? (William
pauses, Martha sits quietly on the stairs, listening.)
William:
Sometimes he’d sing. Not army
songs, but other kinds. He would
make mother laugh. He made the best
duck calls of anyone. He would send
away through the wood, and he taught me comebacks, and feeder calls and
hails.
(Charlie knocks on the door and opens it, nods to
Seth through the mudroom window. Seth nods back and turns back to William, looks
at the boy for a moment, and stands up.)
Seth: Mr.
Utter and I have some camp bidness to see to. (He walks to the mudroom to put on his
coat.) William, are you a good duck caller?
William:
I suppose I’m pretty good. I could
show you, Sir. (Martha comes down the
stairs a bit.)
Seth:
I know of some potholes over Belle
Fourche way that are pretty good for ducks.
William:
All right, Sir. (Seth nods at William,
Martha continues quickly down the stairs.)
Martha:
Goodbye, Mr.
Bullock.
(Seth looks at her, puts on his hat and
leaves.)
(Al’s
office, he’s getting dressed.
There’s a knock at the door…)
EB: E.B.
Farnum, Al.
Al: Come
in, E.B.!
EB: (Opens the door, hissing in pain, touching
his jaw) I’ve been prostrated by the agonies of the
damned.
Al: Judgment is upon us then.
EB: A
molar rotted through.
Al:
Distressing me also, that you are my eyes and ears and a day as eventful as
yesterday should find you indisposed.
(Sits)
EB:
(sniffs-still holding his jaw) Some
solace in knowing I’m missed. (Sitting,
he takes his hat off)
Al:
You missed the advent of the fucking
telegraph operator that had you steered into one of your rooms, you could have
kept tabs on henceforth.
EB: The
pain nearly killed me.
Al: As
you still breathe amongst us, I shall ask you to befriend this fuckin’
Russian.
EB:
Russian?
Al: The
fucking telegraph operator, E.B., is a fuckin’ Russian.
EB: Of
course I’ll befriend him. I’m very
fond of Russians.
Al: And
as the trust between you deepens, we’ll be particularly interested in messages
to and from Yankton. (knocks at door)
Yeah? (Door
opens)
Dan:
Sorry, E.B. (Holding a newspaper) Al, you might
wanna take a gander at that. (Sets the paper down in front of
Al.)
Al:
E.B. is leaving. You won’t miss him. (Takes something out of his drawer, E.B.
stands) He’s livin’ at Merrick’s and looks like the prize at a
carnival.
EB: What
a delightful image to carry away with me!
(E.B. throws his arms up in delight as he
leaves. Al, puts on a pair of
reading glasses, looking up at Dan , Dan leaves.)
(Bella Union, Cy is reading the paper at the bar,
Jack looking on. Tess is coming
down the stairs.)
Cy: Swearengen’s put the paper man’s boat to sea with a
hold full of fuckin’ bullshit.
Tessie:
He wants 5,000 more upstairs.
Cy: Jesus
Christ! (Throws the paper down and pounds
the bar with his fist.) Tell that fat bastard he can come down and get it
hisself!
Tessie:
He says it’s 100 if I bring it up.
Cy: Is
the 5 you already brought him in any kinda action, Tess? (She looks down) It’s just for him to
look at while he fucks ya! So, do I
want my $8.00, Tess, of the $9.00 he pays for the fuck, and my 90 of the 100 he
gives you to bring it up to him, or do I want to give fat boy the opportunity,
if he has to come down to get the other five, to test his luck on the floor here
amongst the games of chance? (Charlie and
Seth enter.)
Tessie:
I see.
Cy: And
don’t mistake me, Honey, I want to
take the time to explain myself to you.
Seth: We’ve come to see Mose Manuel about his brother
gettin’ shot.
Cy: (Snorts,
turns to Tess) Fetch Mose Manual,
Tess. Tell him Sheriff Bullock
wants to pay his condolences here amongst the games of chance. (Cy picks up the paper and taps the front
article.) All these rumors, Sheriff, swirling around you. How do you keep your hat
on?
(Alma’s room, she and Ellsworth are going over
paperwork. Sofia is in the bedroom,
kneeling at the end of the bed, writing.)
Ellsworth: If you’ll sign right here, Ma’am. And give us a “A.G.” in the
corner.
Alma: (Dipping her quill) Is that abbreviation
a term of art in financial transactions?
Ought I acquaint myself with its meaning?
Ellsworth: That abbreviation, Ma’am, is your initials.
Alma: (Nods and signs the paperwork.)
And by asking the whereabouts of the
currency I signed for receiving, do I reveal an even deeper
stupidity?
Ellsworth: The coach from Denver should get in
today.
Alma: And
the safe we’ve purchased? To be
housed in the bank we’re to build?
Ellsworth: It’s inside the coach; as well. Safe’s inside the coach and the currency
is inside the safe is the full picture.
Alma:
There, I did manage to be stupid.
Ellsworth: No, Ma’am.
Alma: And
you will see to the safe’s temporary situation at the Star & Bullock
hardware store?
Ellsworth: Yes, Ma’am.
Alma:
Gaze averted from the awkwardness such a situation
generates.
Ellsworth: Fixin’ my eyes instead on its pluses securing your
money.
Alma: (nodding) Excellent then, Mr. Ellsworth.
(sniffs) May I further impose on you
to convey this letter? (Hands him a
letter)
Ellsworth: Of course. (He reads the envelope) Mr.
Swearengen?
Alma:
Please. (She gets up quickly, holding her
stomach.)
Ellsworth: All right.
Is there anything else for us to discuss?
Alma: Not at this time. (She runs to the bedroom,
puking.)
Ellsworth: (Quickly
gathers up the papers) I’ll be goin’
then.
(He leaves, Alma is
groaning.)
(Chez Amie. Joanie walks to the front door and opens
the blinds. This reveals Jane slumped against the outer door, asleep. Joanie
opens the side door and awakens Jane)
Jane: Who’s that?
Joanie:
It’s Joanie Stubbs. You’re outside
my place.
Jane: (Situates
her gun, groaning) Keepin’
half-assed vigil after the fact.
Joanie: Well, come in and tell me what you
mean.
Jane: (Hawks and spits, Joanie turns her head
away) Nah, that’s all right. (Starts
to get up) Uh, that cocksucker you spoke to me of come from here last night
with a bloody fucking mug.
Joanie: I
gave it to him.
Jane:
Good! (Groans, pulling herself to her
feet) Ahhh…anyways, he told me…at rifle point you was
okay.
Joanie: I
am.
Jane: I knew – if he
was lying you was dead and feared finding you so in the darkness. Uh…(clears throat) Scared that way since I
was small.
Joanie:
Well, come on in, Jane.
Jane: If you was
alive—(laughs) why fuckin’ knock was
my thinkin’. Interfere with you
gettin’ to sleep or—bein’ asleep already—
Joanie:
Jane,
it’s nippy on my twat.
Jane: Alright, then,
see you later! (Turns quickly to leave, Joanie steps onto
the porch.)
Joanie:
Do you remember you were in here
yesterday?
Jane: Yes, I fuckin’
remember.
Joanie:
Well, why not come in again?
Jane: Maybe I just
fuckin’ might. (Horse whinnies)
Fields:
Hey hey hey (He has a wild horse by a rope, pulling
him)
Jane:
Ah…Nigger General’s got a
wild horse on his hands.
(She clears her throat and enters the Chez
Amie.)
(The livery, Hostetler is trying to help
Fields.)
Hostetler: Whoa, boy, whoa whoa.
Fields: I
pity the brute beast who pits his cunning against the Nigger Generals! Whoa,--oh shit! Come here, boy! We can catch the cavalry before they
head south and sell him for $100!
But they want their horses cut!
Hostetler: Where’d you catch him?
Fields: I
sprung a rope fence behind him in a box canyon. (Horse neighs) He’d escaped the
Sioux—but his path crossed an in-season mare’s.
Hostetler: Whoa boy, whoa boy. Now, now I can nut him, but the moon is
wrong, and he’s gonna take it badly.
Fields:
Fuck, I ain’t losing my chance at 100 waiting on no fucking moon! Okay. Don’t put your ass on me. Hey! Hey!
Hostetler: Come on, come on, come on. Wash him so he won’t
fester.
Fields:
Hey, I got him. All right. Come here, boy. Come here. Now, if you want to take it out on
someone, remember it was very dark-skinned white folks that cut on you. They just sounded like niggers to throw
you off.
(Gem saloon, Johnny and a whore are sitting on the
stairs while Johnny tries to teach her to read.)
Johnny: This one’s a “D.” And this one’s a “G.” And what’s
the first one?
Whore:
“D”? (Dan sits at a table and pours
coffee.)
Al: (Coming
down the stairs, reading) “Sheriff
Bullock declines comment on the swirls of rumors that parties in Helena with
whom he has had long association are keenly interested in annexing our camp to
the Montana territories. ‘The
Pioneer’ (sits) also learns of
interest more developed and advanced on the part of
Wyoming.”
Johnny: You knew Cheyenne would be heard
from.
Al: Get
the fuck up off them steps! (Johnny and
the whore jump up) Here’s where it gets really fuckin’ busy. “And of an
offer secretly proffered by certain elements in Washington D.C. to annex to
America these our beloved hills as a separate free-standing territory, with an
eye towards eventual statehood.”
Johnny:
Makin’ Deadwood fuckin’ headquarters!
Al: (Takes off his glasses) Don’t spread
your legs for them just yet, Johnny.
Not with Mexico to be heard from and fucking
France.
(Merrick’s print shop, he presses out a copy of the
paper, removes it from the tray.
Blazanov is unpacking books.
E.B. is snooping around him, looking
interested.)
Merrick: There.
100 extra copies, Gentlemen, to satisfy the widened interest I expect
today’s edition may generate.
EB: (Claps) Wonderful, eh, Mr.
Blazanov? 100 copies
extra.
Blazanov:
Okay.
Merrick:
Shall we walk a bit, my American and Russian friends?
EB: (To Blazanov) Shall we?
Blazanov:
I can’t leave my
apparatus.
Merrick:
Are
not all of us, Mr. Blazanov, tethered in some sense to our labors?
And at some point in our lives, is not acceptance of that tethering
discovery of a path to joy?
Blazanov:
Don’t know, Mr. Merrick.
Merrick:
And does not the very knowing we are tethered allow us in conscience upon
occasion, the rejuvenating pleasures of respite?
EB: Take
your walk alone, A.W., for I confess I’m mesmerized by Mr. Blazanov’s machine
and hope he may explain its workings.
Merrick: Has Al seen “The Pioneer”?
EB: I
don’t know. A mystery you should seek to
solve.
(The door opens, Alice Isringhausen
enters…)
Alice:
Good
day.
Merrick:
Ah, good day, Miss. Uh, A.W.
Merrick of “The Deadwood Pioneer.”
Alice: I wish
to send a telegram.
Merrick:
A telegram, yes, of course. Then
that’s Mr. Blazanov there you seek.
(Alice walks over to Blazanov’s corner. It has a tent-flap opening to the
thoroughfare.)
Blazanov: How do you do?
Blazanov, Cheyenne and Black Hills telegraph
company.
Alice: How do you
do?
EB: Miss
Isringhausen.
Alice: Mr.
Farnum. I wish this message
sent.
Blazanov: Oh, of course.
I have a form for you to write on.
Please. (He holds a chair out for
her, she goes to the desk, E.B. trying to peek at her message. She looks at him, he turns, kicks
something and moans in pain.)
EB:
Hmm. Mmm. (He turns to peek again) You seem
uncowed by Mr. Blazanov’s apparatus.
Are you initiate in its mysteries?
Alice: Fuck
off. (EB looks down, backing off. Blazanov motions to the
desk.)
Blazanov:
Please.
(Merrick enters the Gem from
upstairs.)
Merrick: Ah, Gentlemen! Ah! (Running downstairs, laughing) Oh, Jeez!
(Laughs) Ah, what news? (chuckles) This ink-stained wretch has
just produced an overrun of 100 copies!
Al: (Kicks Dan under the table – Dan stirs from
reading the paper.) Dan, don’t you agree that the truth, if only a pinch,
must season every falsehood, or the palate fuckin’ rebels? (The smile starts to fall from A.W.’s face)
And mustn’t the novice chef be mindful not to ladle out his concoction by
the unseasoned fucking ton, lest before he perfect his art, he lose his
clientele? (Al starts to walk upstairs, Johnny and the
whore watching. Johnny looks
confused. A.W. is
stunned.)
Dan:
I’d like
the ball scores a little more fuckin’ prompt.
Merrick: Excuse me.
(Runs upstairs) Al Swearengen,
I would not go into that office if I were you.
Al: Were
you fuckin’ born yesterday? (Ellsworth enters
downstairs)
Merrick: No, Sir, I was not. I was not born yesterday!
Al: Then
may we please have a conversation as fuckin’ adults?
Merrick:
I think we’d better!
(Al pops the arm of his glasses in his mouth and
opens the office door, looking at Merrick.
Merrick looks at Ellsworth & Dan below, they enter the office, Al
shuts the door.)
Ellsworth : I ain’t waitin’. (Takes the letter out) Give this to
him. Tell him whatever its import,
he’d best not serve the sender ill.
(He tosses the letter on the table in front of Dan,
Dan takes it and Ellsworth leaves.
E.B. enters from above, looking down on Dan &
Johnny.)
Dan: He’s
in with Merrick, E.B.
EB: I
bear news that don’t wanna wait. (He turns, facing the
wall.)
Al:
Every rumor you floated in your
article, Merrick, I believe is a living possibility for this camp, and I want
you to fuckin’ hear that as a compliment. (Pours shots)
Merrick:
If so, it’s the first from your
lips.
Al:
Because all them possibilities called next to accomplished fact in one fuckin’
outgush makes people smell a rat. (Drinks)
Merrick:
Yes, I suppose
so.
Al: These
interests comin’ after us, Merrick, they’re fuckin’ rough. They’re going after our nuts. They’re hypocrite cocksuckers, and the
fuckin’ lyin’ tactics and instruments they use to fuck people up the ass can be
turned against them.
Merrick: My newspaper being such an instrument. (Al pours another
shot)
Al:
But scale, amount, proportion,
seasonin’. Drink that fuckin’
second shot, Merrick!
Merrick: I
like my fuckin’ liquor.
Al: A
trait in you that gave me early hope.
Merrick:
(Sniffs his hand) I like stinkin’ of
fuckin’ ink too. Give it a fuckin’
smell, Al.
Al:
No. So you enjoyed writin’ your fuckin’
article, huh? (They drink) Worse ways
to spend a night, puttin’ shoulder to a fuckin’ idea.
Merrick: Evidently, I put mine to
overmany.
Al: (Pours again) Pursued down overmany
avenues. The camp’s welfare was the
main idea. (E.B. approaches Al’s door and
knocks.)
EB:
Al! Something strange has transpired I need
you to construe.
Al:
What?!
EB: As I
was befriending—
Al: Come
in!
EB: (Enters)
As I was befriending the Russian
operator, that woman tutor came to send a telegram. We jockeyed a bit as I sought a glance
at its contents, (Al leans forward)
and finally, she shouted in so many words—and here is the strangeness in a
tutor, to get the fuck away from her—
Dan: (enters)
Since the private part of this
meetin’s over, (hands Al the letter –
whispers) Ellsworth brung it.
EB: --In
so many words. (Al opens the
letter)
Al:
Where’s the tutor now? (Reads)
EB:
Still with the operator, apparently
waiting for an answer to her message.
Al: (To Merrick) Leave by the front
entrance, huh? Walk around for a
few minutes before you go back to your place. (A.W. walks to the door, pausing. Al looks at him and raises his eyebrows
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” – Merrick leaves. Al addresses Dan, stuffing the letter in
his pocket.) Bring that tutor up here.
The Russian too.
EB: It
felt like something you’d want to construe.
Al: Go
away, E.B.
EB: All
right.
Certainly.
(Al puts away the bottle and wipes the spillage from
his desk.)
(William’s garden—he’s unwrapping a few seeds. He shoves the burlap they were in into
his pocket and kneels down to plant them.
Martha sees him from the window and goes outside to join
him.)
William: It’s the seeds from the sunflower we had in Fort
Quitman, which I had in a jar which broke and mice ate most of. So now I only have these
three.
Martha: I
didn’t know you brought them.
William: Mr. Bullock’s been missing father. I talked to him about it this
morning. As Papa liked the
sunflower, I thought Mr. Bullock might as well.
Martha:
Then shall we plant those together?
William:
Press the soil firmly on them, while I get the watering can. (William gets up, Martha takes his place and
presses the soil. William comes
back with the watering can and Martha stands back. He waters the seeds.) Maybe we
should take Mr. Bullock lunch at his store. (She smiles to
herself)
(Bella Union, Mose is eating breakfast. Seth and Charlie are seated across from
him.)
Mose: An accident befell my brother is the sum of what I
know, and be glad I choose to say it.
(eats)
Seth:
Gutshot, at Nuttall’s No. 10 by his own hand?
Mose: Correct.
Seth: The
day you sell out the claim you two were partnered on?
Mose: Correct, and
fuck yourself, and don’t act entitled to answers.
Charlie:
Why was Charlie handlin’ the gun?
Mose: Fuck
yourself, and don’t act entitled.
Charlie:
Why weren’t you two watchin’ Nuttall’s bike ride?
Mose: (Wipes his mouth, grabs his drink) Fuck
yourself.
Seth:
I want to see his gun and his
remains. Where is Charlie
buried?
Mose: (stammering) My brother is buried
in a secret burial place by his own private instructions!
Cy: Jesus
Christ, Bullock! Put together a
court or don’t! (Wolcott
enters)
Charlie:
Quiet, you!
Cy: Don’t
hush me in my own fucking joint.
And if we take it outside, old man, expect a different outcome from the
other fuckin’ day.
Charlie:
You
best have 5 of your fuckin’ cappers then with, uh, rifles at the
ready.
Cy: I got
5 and 5 behind them, indoors or out.
Wolcott: I too must report to the Sheriff a death, a
Cornishman at theft has been shot in Mr. Hearst’s claim.
Seth:
Killed?
Wolcott:
Yes, in flight.
Charlie:
It’s all fuckin’ amalgamation and capital, ain’t it,
Wolcott?
Wolcott: Mr. Utter, are you a student of Hume? Smith? A disciple of Karl
Marx?
Seth: (Stands) Come on, Charlie. (They head for the
door)
Wolcott:
My employer, Mr. Hearst, has interests and connections in Montana, Sheriff, as
are imputed to you in this mornings “Pioneer.”
Charlie:
(He turns and charges Wolcott, stepping
up on a couch) You shut your fucking mouth!
Cy: Get
him out of here!
Seth:
Down, Charlie! (Grabs him)
Charlie: (As Seth
pushes him out the door) Sure got to
you, didn’t he, Mose? Now he’s got
to get you to die!
Seth:
Come one, Charlie.
(Tess moves up to Mose, putting her hand on his
shoulder. He puts his arm around
her legs.)
Mose: Mm-hm.
Let me, uh…(Puts his hand between
her thighs) get my arm through here so I can secure my
toast.
(She pets his head as he takes a bite of
toast.)
(In the street)
Charlie: You’re gonna lift me one time too fuckin’ many! (Grabbing onto a
post)
Seth:
You don’t go back in there if I let
you go.
Charlie:
Uh-huh. (Seth lets go, Charlie springs
away) I’m leavin’ the whole fuckin’ camp!
Seth:
Going where?
Charlie:
A letter come to hand I need to take to Bill’s missus. Excuse me. (Steps behind a bean & corn stand,
pushing the owner aside) Excuse me. Camp bidness. He wrote just before he got
killed.
Seth: I
see.
Charlie:
And you know who fuckin’ give it to me?
How crazy life got? And
money must buy these bastards any-fuckin’g-thing they want! That cocksucker inside, Mr. Amalgamation
and fuckin’ capital!
Seth: Hearst’s
geologist gave you the letter?
Charlie:
And God knows who he fuckin’ bought it offa…(grabs some produce) or how many hands
it passed through. It fucks me up
thinking Bill’s missus got to handle something that cocksucker
touched.
Seth: Was it
over the letter you beat him the other day?
Charlie:
No no. (To shopkeeper) Excuse me. (Puts coins down) No, I give my word
not—not to say what that was over.
I’d best go, lest Mr. Amalgamation and capital takes one through the
fucking head. (He walks off – Seth calls after
him)
Seth: What’s the import of that
expression?
Charlie:
(Stops) Do I look like I fuckin’
know? (Seth approaches) Some big-shot
eastern magazine reporter interviewin’ Bill said that was what’s changing things
around. (He looks away) Jane. I don’t know what’s gonna come of
fuckin’ Jane.
Seth:
I’ll keep an eye on
her.
Charlie:
You should lock her in that cell and don’t let her fuckin’ drink! And don’t fuck yourself up over Mose
Manuel. He’ll get hisself fleeced
of what is rightfully his and what he got by fuckin’ murder. He’ll be judge on hisself and jury
too. Just like the fuckin’ most of
us. (We see a coach coming down the
thoroughfare.)
Seth: Coach from Denver.
Charlie:
(Turns) Here’s
yours.
Seth:
(Turns and sees William and Martha approaching – he
turns back to Charlie) Good luck,
Charlie! (Charlie waves him off as he leaves. Seth approaches his family.)
Martha:
We’ve brought you and Mr. Star lunch.
Seth:
Thank you.
(She taps William on the shoulder and they turn to go
to the hardware store. Alma watches
the scene from her window and sees the coach arrive.)
(Jane is
passed out on a chair at the Chez Amie.
Joanie comes out of her room, changed and fixing her hair. She bends down to pick up the broken
bottle.)
Jane: I’m
up!
Joanie:
You want the bath?
Jane: I may well get
to that. (Joanie picks up the bottle
fragments and walks across the room to throw them out.) Ample here, ain’t
it?
Joanie:
Yeah.
Jane: Uh, formerly a
cooperage.
Joanie:
My friend Eddie that bought him out said the man had been a season ahead of
himself.
Jane: Well, lovely
as it’s fixed as a brothel, I expect you will reopen soon enough, uh…(chuckles) restock and
reopen.
Joanie:
You’d think so, wouldn’t ya? (Sits, looks
at Jane, Jane eyes her back.) Stay awhile, Jane. Be my guest. Or favor me and
stay.
Jane: (Pauses, considering.) I get top
fuckin’ dollar. (chuckles.)
(We see Jane climbing the stairs of the freight
office up to the lock-up. She
enters. Charlie was fondling Bill’s letter and quickly hides it as she
enters. He stands and packs as they
talk.)
Charlie: New saloon in the camp, Jane?
Jane: I know that’s
some clever opening gambit to culminate in breaking my
balls.
Charlie:
Just sayin’ I checked the usual spots ‘cause I wanted to say goodbye before I
left camp, so incase you go ahead and fucking die—
Jane: Goodbye,
Charlie, goodbye. Have a good
fuckin’ trip. Shut the fuck
up. ‘Cause it so happens when you
return—if
no trees or animals killed you ... you were fucking driving crazy with
criticism—you will find I’ve moved out of this shitbox so I don’t have to
fucking embarrass you or fucking have you hovering over me like the ugliest
fucking nurse in the fucking universe.
(She enters the lock-up, pushing
Charlie aside. He slams the cell door behind her.)
Charlie:
Into where?
Jane: Into where
what?
Charlie:
Into where are you fuckin’ movin’ when you fuckin’ move out of
here?
Jane: Into the
fucking whorehouse down the way, which you fucking sent me to see that woman at,
if needin’ to piss in my ear didn’t crowd out every other thought or
recollection in your head!
Charlie:
How did the two of you get along?
Jane: Did I just
fucking say I was movin’ in there?
Charlie:
Which being it’s a fuckin’ whorehouse could indicate some fuckin’ business
arrangement or some other fuckin’ thing.
Jane: (Comes out of the cell) Yeah, I’m gonna
be Queen Hooker. You’re a keen
fuckin’ student of the human scene, Charlie! (She heads for the door)
Charlie:
Well, good!
Good.
Jane: Where are you
going anyway?
Charlie:
(Tying a bandanna around his neck)
I’ve made a decision not to tell you.
Jane:
If you made a decision not to
tell me, what did you just fuckin’ tell me for?
Charlie:
My decision is not to tell you my specific destination…’cause…I don’t think I
should. And that’s
that.
Jane: Well, have a
safe journey to your unannounced destination and a safe fucking return.
Charlie:
And good luck to you with your new livin’ arrangement. (Jane opens the door – Charlie puts on his
hat) And, uh…my best, please, to, uh, Miss Stubbs.
Jane: And you not
only a fucking pain in the balls, Charlie, but also the strangest fucking person
I ever met.
Charlie: You’ll get no argument here.
Jane: Good!
(She leaves, slamming the door. Charlie puts his bag over his
shoulder.)
(William is watching Trixie do her numbers in the
hardware store.)
William: 3 plus 3 would equal 6.
Trixie:
Well, I sometimes put 9 to amuse myself.
Sol:
Alright, take it up.
Trixie:
(To Martha) Vigilant to detail like
his Pa.
(Martha smiles at Trixie, Ellsworth and Seth pull on
a rope, hauling the safe up while Sol guides it into
place.)
Martha: I’d think Mrs. Garret as the bank’s chief backer
might wish to be present for its opening. (Seth, Sol, Trixie and Ellsworth all look at
her.)
Ellsworth: Well, as far as that, I got her
proxy.
Martha:
Yes, but wouldn’t she wish to be? (They
all pause)
Seth: Perhaps she would.
Ellsworth: I can ask.
(He lets go of the rope and
leaves, the rope gets away from Seth – pulling Seth toward the safe as it thuds
to the floor.)
Trixie:
Excuse me. (She runs outside after Ellsworth, giving a
piercing whistle to get his attention.
He stops.) What the fuck’s going on?
Ellsworth: You as the wrong fella.
Trixie:
The water comes to a boil between them two fuckin’ women, I will fuckin’
guarantee you that much. Have you
proposed to Mrs. Garret as you fuckin’ swore you would?
Ellsworth: Leavin’ aside what I did swear or didn’t, let’s say
I fuckin’ have.
Trixie:
And?
Ellsworth: That’s where the matter stands. She ain’t said yes or
no.
Trixie: How did the
lady incline, fuckin’ Ellsworth?
Ellsworth: I wouldn’t guess, fuckin’ Trixie.
Trixie:
Did you present yourself enthusiastic?
Ellsworth: Well, I didn’t dance a jig if that’s what you’re
asking.
Trixie: Or more
fuckin’ glum-like, next to invitin’ refusal.
Ellsworth: Not glum, not…invitin’ refusal. Straightforward, I’d call
it.
Trixie:
Sincere?
Ellsworth: Yeah.
Trixie: Well, what
the fuck is her fuckin’ problem then?
You’re a worthy enough fuckin’ candidate, given all her fuckin’
givens.
Ellsworth: Warm endorsement. She’d have to state her
reservations.
(Miss I is standing in Al’s office in front of his
desk Al’s produced the letter from Alma.)
Al: Mrs.
Garret writ me a letter saying how yesterday she lost her temper with you
somewhat, and judgment, she tipped she was on to you bein’ a Pinkerton. (He holds the letter out. She doesn’t move. He sets it down.) Oh, bein’ bright,
I expect you concluded it was me must have told her, meanin’ maybe I had sold
over to her, and with my allegiance now in question, I expect you wired the
Pinkerton big-shots, arguing you oughtn’t sign any documents that might be able
to prove that you, the agency and Mrs. Garret’s fuckin’ in-laws hired me to lay
at Mrs. Garret’s doorstep the murder of her husband.
Alice: And further,
Mr. Swearengen, that as to purchase of your allegiance—now in question—they
might wish to keep the bidding open.
Al:
Biddin’s open always on everyone, Miss Isringhausen. (He sips his tea.) But I expect you
understand, knowin’ as I do, should Mrs. Garret lose her claim, rather than
operate it themselves, her cunt in-laws will sell to third-party cocksuckers
inimical to the whole of my interests
in this camp! To buy my allegiance
against myself, in-law cunts and shit-heel operators would have to bid very high
indeed. No, more likely Miss
Isringhausen, I think you’d contemplate changing your allegiance before I would
mine.
Alice: What benefit
would I consider might accrue to me?
Al: I
intercepted your shit-heel boss’s message back to you, through the miracle of
telegraph, and it answers that very question. As I have it here before me, I will read
it to you verbatim. “Miss Isringhausen, as this will save you great pain and
keep you from being killed, sign all documents Mr. Swearengen has drawn. Take the $5,000 and disappear. Yours sincerely, your boss, Pinkerton
shit-heel.”
Alice: The $5,000
alluded to in the invisible telegram, can the money be produced? (Al takes the cash out of the cashbox on his
desk) Without, of course, exposing him to the contents of the document, I
would want the sheriff present at my signature, and as my escort from the
camp.
Al: (Sets the cash down) I bet that can be
arranged. (She
nods)
(Dan is with Blazanov in another room. He is standing, staring at Blazanov
while Blazanov is sitting on a bed.)
Blazanov: I can’t betray the confidence of
messages.
Dan: Don’t
guarantee what you’ll never do, Blazanov, not without imaginin’ your feet
stuck to the fire.
Blazanov:
(sighs) Sir—(Dan clears his throat) I am a person
whose parents have been murdered, and no other family connection and feeling,
and believe in confidence of messages.
Dan: What
the fuck’s all that supposed to mean?
Blazanov:
I hope…feet in the fire would not change me.
(The hardware store, Tom walks
in)
William: Congratulations, Mr. Nuttall.
Tom:Thank
you, young man.
William:
How’s the boneshaker?
Tom:
Unshook. Which would be a fib to
say about me. (He laughs, walks to Seth)
I’ve come, Sheriff, to ask what you’ve learned of the shootin’ yesterday in
my place.
Seth:
Mose Manuel said his brother killed himself by accident.
Tom: Uh,
by accident? Two hours before Mose
sells their claim that Charlie said they’d worked theirselves—lock, stock and
barrel to the Hearst interests?
Seth:
There’s no witnesses, Tom.
Tom: Hurtful, brother against brother, in a
joint that bears my name—the most recent hurtful event. (Brightens) But might I ask William to
assist me in calibrating the boneshaker’s handlebars?
Martha:
(Nods to William, smiling) Go ahead,
William. (William grins and Tom walks to
him.)
William: I don’t know how to calibrate handlebars,
sir.
Tom: Oh,
knowledge is overrated, William.
(Martha looks to Seth)
Uh-diligence is what’s required, and the service of a willing spirit. (He holds his hand out to William, the boy
grabs it and hops off his chair, puts his hat on and they head out. Tom laughs)
Oh oh oh oh easy! Easy, easy,
boy. I use my right hand to
pour. (Tom-laughing, waves goodbye, leading
William across the thoroughfare.)
(Alma’s room, Alma is knitting. Sophia, with the yarn
ball on her lap, is playing with her dolls. Ellsworth stands
nearby)
Ellsworth: And then Miz Bullock said as it’s yours, (Alma looks up) you might want to see
the safe installed.
Alma: Did
she?
Ellsworth: Yes, Ma’am.
Havin’ brought the midday meal as the safe arrived with the money
inside.
Alma: (knitting) And what did Mr. Bullock say
to Mrs. Bullock?
Ellsworth: (Flatly)
He said that might be a good
idea.
Alma:
With enthusiasm equaling
yours as you describe the moment?
Ellsworth: I’d say on Mr. Bullock’s part, about equal
enthusiasm, Mrs. Garret, yes.
Alma: Despite
which Mrs. Bullock persisted?
Ellsworth: Yes.
Alma: Well,
perhaps I oughtn’t to disappoint her.
Ellsworth: (Pauses,
takes a deep breath) Earlier when I asked what else we might have to
discuss, I referred to my proposal.
Alma: I took
that to be your meaning at the time.
Ellsworth: Chose not to respond.
Alma: Not to,
yes, as I hadn’t yet made up my mind.
Ellsworth: Have you now?
Alma: Nor have
I now. (Ellsworth waits) Would you have me
decide now, before I act on Mrs. Bullock’s invitation? Do you put me to those
terms?
Ellsworth: I guess there’s no burning
rush.
Alma: (clears throat) Shall we go for a walk,
Sofia?
(She puts down her knitting and
stands.)
(Hardware store, Martha, Seth and Sol are seated for
lunch. Trixie is at the desk above,
working her numbers.)
Martha: Are you sure you won’t join us?
Trixie: (Shaking her head, smiling) Thank
you. I tend to forego the midday
meal.
Martha:
It occurred to me, Mrs. Garret having reason to be present in any case, that we
might discuss in more formed a fashion, our plans for the children’s schooling,
more constructively than in some previous conversation.
Seth: I’m
delighted.
Sol:
Wonderful. (Motioning to the food as he says this. Johnny enters, clearing his throat. Seth turns.)
Johnny:
Mr. Swearengen asked to see you,
Sheriff.
Seth: Not just
now.
(Johnny nods and backs out, nodding to Trixie and Sol
as he does. Sol nods back, Trixie
watches him go to the porch, where he stands,
waiting.)
(On their way to the No. 10, Tom & William walk
and talk jovially.)
Tom: A man
tying the right rope to the frame and the other end to a thunderhead, could
use the machine to tow clouds. (They
arrive at the bike, William touching the handlebar.)
William:
I wish I was
taller.
Tom: Well, when your legs lengthen, I calculate
you’ll be among the great cloud haulers of the world.
William:
Just to ride like you did yesterday, Mr. Nuttall. You should have seen your
face.
Tom: (Crouching dramatically) The Bella Union
gap was my crucible, William—the fabled mud slick. I shifted shoulders forward—uh, not too
much, and at a sledge-trench, Ho! (Steve
steps outside) Swung my buttocks left, by God, turned the bars just so,
thump! The buried plank, bom! And did I not come through a
treat?
(Steve looks on, smiling, chuckling. William laughs, looking up at
Tom.)
(Alma enters the hardware store with Sofia and
Ellsworth.)
Alma:
Good afternoon. (Sol & Martha
stand)
Sol:
Good
afternoon.
Seth: Good
afternoon. (Stands)
Martha: (Walking
over to Alma) Good afternoon, Mrs.
Garret.
Alma:
Good afternoon, Mrs.
Bullock.
Martha:
(Holding out her hand) Very good
wishes on a venture offering opportunity to so many in the
camp.
(Sol, Seth, Ellsworth and Trixie all wait with
surprised looks)
Alma:
(pauses, stunned)
Thank you.
Martha:
Hope.
Alma: For taking up
the education of the camp’s children, (We
see they are clasping hands as Sofia looks on) my Sofia included, thank
you. As I feel I expressed
inadequately when last we spoke.
Trixie:
Bite of meat, Mrs. Garret?
Alma: No, Thank you.
(nodding to the safe) That
appears to be the safe.
(In the street at the
No.10)
Tom: William, do we dare ride
double?
William:
I do if you do.
Tom: I do! Dauntless then! Courage high to the sticking place, and
honor bright as I mount and circle and consider the best way to swoop you
up. (He laughs, Steve, still looking on
happily.)
William:
Awaiting you here, Sir. (Tom mounts the bike, pushing
off.)
Steve: Great.
Beautiful. (Smiling
big.)
(Tom rides off, laughing.)
(Alma, crouched in front of the safe, she looks up
from the stacks of cash.)
Alma:
This all seems very much in
order.
Trixie: (Takes a
gold nugget from her cleavage.) First depositor.
(She sets it on the scales, Johnny looks in,
impatient, he steps back inside.)
Johnny: Uh, it-it’s to witness some – uh- wrist business,
Sheriff. Al said brief but of
crucial importance.
(Martha looks up, Sofia sitting next to her, she has
cut up a sausage on the plate in front of her. Alma looks
over.)
Seth:
How long will we
be?
Johnny:
Brief, very. And you’d save me a
beatin’. (chuckles)
(Martha looks back to Sofia and continues
cutting.)
Seth: Excuse me.
(He leaves.)
(Bella Union, Tess is on her hands and knees under
Mose Manuel’s table as he plays cards.)
Mose:
Get your head on
it.
Tessie:
(muffled) My head is on it.
Cy: Get
your head on it, Tess!
Tessie:
(muffled) It’s on it, Mr.
Tolliver.
Cy: It
does sound like a girl with a mouthful, Mr. Manuel.
Wolcott:
Jesus Christ!
Mose: Her tongue in
her cheek can achieve the same fuckin’ effect.
Wolcott:
I require a conversation with the Sheriff.
Cy:
Confess a crime.
Mose: (Slams his hand down) You’re fuckin’
cheatin’ me! (Grabs Tess and pushes her
away.) Get the fuck out from under there!
Leon: I ain’t
cheatin’ you, Sir. (We see a capper cock
his gun.)
Cy: Will
you have another dealer, Mr. Manuel?
Mose: Another fuckin’ cheat?
Cy: Hot
and cold’s the way the cards run, Sir, time immemorial.
Mose: (Stands, drawing his gun, another shotgun is
trained on him) I want it back.
Give it back to me!
Cy: Give
him his last wager, Leon. We’ll
call that one no bet.
Leon: Yes, sir, Mr.
Tolliver. (Pushes chips back)
Mose: All of
it.
Everything.
Cy: Now,
I can’t do that Mr. Manuel, as I believe you know. And those rifles are aimed at your
head.
Mose: Everything!
Wolcott:
(Taking off his hat, he steps forward)
Including
youth, Mr. Manuel? And why not
beauty? Not credibly restored,
perhaps, but as a new non-negotiable term?
Would you not have, too, your brother Charlie resurrected? Would you stipulate your envy of him be
purged surely, you’ll insist that Charlie retain certain defects—his ineffable
self-deceptions, for example, which were your joy in life to rebuke, and
purpose, so far as you had one. I
suppose you would see removed those qualities which caused you to love him, and
the obliviousness to danger which allowed you to shed his
blood.
(Mose raises his pistol. The cappers shoot, Wolcott turns his
head from the blast. Mose falls
back into his chair, barely alive.
Wolcott turns and puts his hat on.)
Wolcott: I want to talk to Bullock!
Cy: Get
the fucking Doc! I coulda cooled
that out.
Wolcott:
On my order, Mr. Tolliver, Lee will burn this building, mutilating you before,
during or after as I specify, or when he chooses unless I
forbid.
Cy: Oh,
my full attention is at your disposal.
Wolcott: Tell Sheriff Bullock what transpired here before getting the
Doc.
(Jack leaves, Mose is wheezing,
choking)
(Martha and Sofia are studying with the
sausage.)
Martha: And now how many?
Sofia: Eight. (Martha splits it in half) Two portions
of four.
Alma: Very good,
Sofia.
Sofia: May I have
candy?
Alma: You ask a
reward, Sofia, for doing your numbers?
Where would you get such an idea? (Looks down coyly)
Sol: (Writing
out Trixie’s deposit slip) “Received
from Trixie…”
Trixie: The whore.
(She gasps and puts her hand to
her mouth.)
Alma: May I sign the first receipt?
Sol: Yes,
please do. (He puts the receipt down in
front of Alma and hands her the quill.
Alma signs it, Jack enters.
Alma hands Trixie her receipt.)
Trixie:
Huzzah.
Jack: I’m to
fetch Sheriff Bullock.
Sol:
He’ll be back momentarily.
(Tom is riding his bike around the street. Steve is
waiting with Willima, set to lift him up onto the bike aws it
passes)
Steve: All right, let’s go.
Tom: Ready, ready,
ready!
Steve:
Ready, here we go!
Tom: Up! Up! (William groans as Steve lifts him up and
tries to help him onto the bike.
They miss and laugh.)
William:
We missed.
Steve:
Trial run. No harm done at
all. Hey, swing around,
Tom!
Tom: On
my way!
(At the livery, Hostetler and Fields are readying to
castrate the horse)
Hostetler: Tie off that leg rope.
Fields:
(to the horse) Don’t you want to serve your country as good as they been
to you? I bet you don’t even
vote.
Hostetler: Hold that leg rope! (Pulls a knife out – the horse
whinnies)
Fields:
Whoa, hey, whoa! (The horse bucks and
kicks.)
(Seth watches as Alice considers signing. Al looks at
Seth, shrugging. Alice turns back
to the document, reading…)
(Jack steps out of the hardware store, searching the
thoroughfare. Steve kneels down in
front of William, holding up a coin.)
Steve: That’s between us. Tell no one I give you that. (He tries to put the coin in William’s
pocket, William stops him, pushing his hand away.)
William:
I best now, but thank
you.
Steve:
You keep it a secret, and you won’t get into any trouble. (Puts it in William’s pocket) And if you
told I helped you on the bike, that’s between you and your father.(Tom comes back around on his bicycle)
(the horse bucks in the livery—knocking Hostetler
neck first into a post.)
Fields: Oh shit!
(The horse whinnies and get up and
runs away. Fields runs after it.)
Hey!
(Al’s office, we hear the horse neigh and a woman
scream. Seth steps to the
window. Tom, riding his bike, sees
the wild horse and fear comes over him.
Steve, pinching William’s cheek – looks over and sees the horse coming.
He grabs William’s shoulders and tries to get in front of the horse, turning to
his left – his back to the horse, William in front of him. The horse comes crashing through,
knocking Steve down and throwing William around, landing in a pile of crates as
the horse tramples him Tom jumps
off his bike over to the injured pair.)
( Seth suddenly rushes aout of Al’s office. Alice and Al watch him curiously as he
leaves.)
(Martha
looks out into the street at the commotion. Sol, Trixie, Alma & Ellsworth look
over.)
( We see William spread out in the alley. Steve
climbs to his knees slowly. Tom
rushes over, hovering over William.)
Steve: (holding his back)
I think my back’s
broke.
Click here to hear the closing credits music
Written
by: Elizabeth Sarnoff
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
Mose Manual: Pruitt Taylor Vince |
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
Mr. Wu: Keone Young
Joanie Stubbs: Kim Dickens
Con Stapleton: Peter Jason
Wiliam Bullock: Josh Eriksson
Francis Wolcott: Garret Dillihunt
Blazanov: Pavel Lychnikoff
Steve: Michael Harney
Richardson: Ralph Richeson |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
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