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(Open with Al walking the street in the early
morning, drinking coffee. He smells something foul and notices a plume of smoke
coming from behind some buildings.)
(Chink’s alley, we see Mr Lee motioning his men to
toss the body of a dead Chinese whore onto a fire. Mr Wu sees this and runs
over, appearing disgusted and upset. Wu scolds Lee and his men in Chinese,
there’s an exchange of words and Lee’s men throw Wu to the ground. Wu gets up
and leaves with his men, cursing Lee on his way out’)
(Al sees Seth who is finishing a small casket for
William, and approaches him)
Al: Sorry, Bullock.
(Al offers Seth a handkerchief for his bloody
knuckles, but Seth seems indifferent. Seth lifts the casket to his shoulder and
starts down the street.)
Al: Can
you abide me beside you— (Seth
stops)—20 paces or so? (Seth nods and
continues) Yankton’s man is among us.
Even under the circumstances, he may try you to confirm we’re
allied. If he does…your nod’d
advance the cause.
Seth: All
right.
(Al stops and watches Seth carry the casket to his
home. He looks down, turns and
walks back towards Gem.)
(Chez Amie, Mose is lying on the floor more or less
where he was when Doc operated on him. Mose coughs, Jane and Joanie look
on.)
Jane: Yeah, you fat fuck, you’re
alive.
Mose: (barely
audible) Let me
die.
Jane: What,
is that “Thank you” in whale talk?
(He coughs as Jane smiles at
Joanie. She kneels down next to
Mose) Drink this. (She offers him
water.)
Mose:
No.
Jane: (threatening) Drink it!
(He lifts his head a bit and Jane pours some water in
his mouth. We hear a faint snore
and see Leon and Con sleeping. Jane
walks over, Joanie kneels next to Mose, taking his hand. Jane kicks Leon’s
foot.)
Jane:
Get up, get the Doc, and tell
him he’s got a live one! Tell him,
too, his rupture patient left here to convalesce at his own fuckin’ place, you
give him a shoulder to lean on as he was gettin’ the fuck out. (Leon gets up and grabs Con. Jane walks over to Mose, smiling at
Joanie.) Next time he opens his eyes, he’s gonna think he died and went to
heaven.
(Con and Leon leave)
(Bullock’s kitchen. William is laid out on the
kitchen table as Martha washes his body. Seth knocks on the front door and opens
it, then brings in the casket, setting it on a pair of saw horses in the front
room. Martha is now brushing Wm’s
hair. Seth walks into the bedroom.
He sees Martha’s bags laid out on the bed with her clothes hastily throw
into them. He walks over to the
washbasin and cleans his bloodied hand.)
(Al’s office.
Mr. Wu is drawing pictures and explaining to Al. Dan, Johnny and Silas
look on)
MrWu: Cocksucka!
Al: Yeah,
San Francisco cocksucker, Wu. Your
mortal fuckin’ enemy, huh?
MrWu:
Swedgin.
Al:
Wu.
MrWu:
Swedgin. (Changes
pages.)
Al:
Yeah, I make these as burned-up
whores that I smelled on the char this mornin’ with your San Francisco rival
turnin’ the fuckin’ spit. Swedgin
fuckin’ knows.
MrWu:
Swedgin know.
Al: I
know about the burned-up whores, I know about the San Francisco cocksucker
settin’ a match to ‘em. Now, here’s
the part you gotta listen to, Wu.
(Mr. Wu pulls out a square bone-china plate with the
map of China on it.)
MrWu: Chung Kwo.
Al: It’s
China.
MrWu:
Chung Kwo.
China.
Al: Yeah,
Chung Kwo, China. (Sets the plate down.)
Celestial whores in the fire.
What? They-they-their
spirits are fuckin’ nothin’ if their bones don’t get back home? Is that it? And do you come to me to back your move
against your San Francisco cocksucker rival? Am I gettin’ the fuckin’ drift here,
Wu?
MrWu:
Swedgin!
Al:
Swedgin fuckin’ gets it. Swedgin
doesn’t give a fuck! Back to
Chink’s Alley, Wu. Fall to your
fuckin’ prayers. (Wu is stunned, he gathers his things and
starts to leave. Dan, Johnny and Silas all look uncomforatable and look away
from Wu.) I can use the plate if you want to leave
that.
(Mr. Wu looks another moment and storms out of Al’s
office. Al pulls shotglasses out
for him, Dan, Johnny and Silas they gather in front of
Al’s)
Al: Why
don’t I back him?
Dan:
‘Cause Hearst is in the other chink’s corner.
Johnny:
Meanin’ Wu has to lose.
Al: (Grabs a glass and stands) It wouldn’t
be the worst thing…backing a loser to Hearst. Let him pick me up from the canvas
after, dust me the fuck off. I
raise the great man’s hand, murmur best as I can through split lips, “Your man
beat my man’s balls off, Mr. Hearst.” (drinks) But Hearst’s chink bossin’ that
alley ain’t to my fuckin’ taste. (He pours another) So what if something
delays the battle of the chinks?
Say durin’ that interval I get to show my ass a few times to Mr.
Hearst. Meanwhile, that pain in the
balls Wu is sketching up a storm, drawin’ fuckin’ little pictures of himself
brandishin’ the lash, drivin’ from a delivery ship a quota of chinks to be blown
to pieces by dynamite working in the mines for Hearst, at half the fee per chink that Hearst is
paying the San Francisco cocksucker.
Now, by this time Hearst has seen my ass so many times, he knows I’m no
long-term threat, so some brief opposition of our interests ain’t gonna make him
feel like he needs to engage me in a death struggle, say, by opposin’ local
elections. Those circumstances, we
can risk backing Wu, and the great man figures, “I am damaged by neither
outcome. Why not retire to a neutral corner, and test my import against the
locals?”
Silas: What delays Wu going after the other
chink?
Al: Or
the other chink goin’ after Wu?
Silas:
That too.
Al: Well,
if the other chink can be dissuaded, Wu we can put on ice.
Johnny:
Well, how do we dissuade the other chink?
Al: I
suppose layin’ eyes on him would be the first step. (Dan bangs his fist on the table and gets
up, Johnny does the same.) My only question is push come to shove, wearing
them Chinese dresses, how well can you ladies fight? (Dan smiles at Al and they all start out)
You’re stayin’, Adams.
(Silas sits and grabs the whiskey
bottle.)
(Grand Central Hotel, Blazanov stands in the
entryway.)
Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company. Telegrams for
delivery.
EB: Mr.
Blazanov. (Holding a wreath) On our day of grief.
(Sets it aside and motions for Blazanov
to come over to him.) Our acquaintance is established, Blazanov, and for my
part, our friendship.
Blazanov:
Thank you.
EB: You
needn’t announce yourself every mornin’ and your purpose. May I suggest as well that rather than
you deliverin’ your telegrams upstairs, interrupting the rest or secret
depravities of well-armed guests, I could distribute them in these pigeonholes
to be collected by the guests at their leisure?
Blazanov:
I am not permitted.
EB: A man
must put bread on his table, Mr. Blazanov, I well understand. Suppose, to compensate you for lost
gratuities, I were to pay you $5 a day?
(He straightens up as Trixie
enters and goes upstairs.)
Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company requires
personal delivery by Blazanov. I am
not permitted. (He bows his head to E.B.
and goes upstairs.)
EB:
Yet
avarice is numbered among the sins, and stupidity
omitted.
(Alma’s room, Trixie is looking out the
window.)
Trixie: No Gem whores at the railings
today.
Alma: Why
not?
Trixie:
Al won’t permit ‘em on the balcony.
He lets them on, they’ll be leapin’ off. Very dramatic we get at the passin’ of
the fuckin’ young.
Alma:
Yesterday was a terrible day.
Trixie:
Do not even fuckin’ ask me to account for my comin’ here advising you how to
answer Ellsworth.
Alma: You
haven’t changed your opinion, have you, Trixie, as to my accepting Ellsworth’s
marriage proposal?
Trixie:
My
new opinion is, few choices as are ours to make, others should stay the fuck
out of the process. (She looks over at
Sofia) Quiet like that since the boys accident?
(Trixie crosses and takes a glass of water from
Alma’s hand, sniffing it. She puts
it back in Alma’s hand and smiles, touching Alma’s free hand. She walks over to Sofia and kisses the
top of her head, and leaves. Alma
gets up and joins Sofia)
(Blazanov has knocked on Wolcott’s
door.)
Blazanov: Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph. Telegram for Mr. Wolcott. (Wolcott takes the telegram and gives
Blazanov a tip.)
Wolcott:
How are you today, Mr. Blazanov?
Blazanov:
Thank you.
(Wolcott shuts the door in Blazanov’s face and turns
to read the telegram with interest.
( Blazanov knocks on the next door, Jarry opens
it.)
Blazanov: Telegram for Mr. Jarry.
Hugo: Yes, I am
he. (Takes the telegram and slams the
door.)
Blazanov: Thank you.
(Blazanov throws his hand up and
leaves.)
(Bullock house, Seth is watching out the front window
and sees Sol “standing guard” outside. He turns and approaches Marth in the
kitchen)
Seth: You’ve packed your things. Thrown them, it looks
like.
Martha:
(Turns) What is it you wish to
say?
Seth: That I’d hope in the throes of this day you’d not
make any final decision.
Martha: I
can’t bear to stay.
(There’s a knock at the door, Sol opens the door,
Andy Cramed standing behind him. He
takes off his hat.)
Sol: The
minister’s here to discuss the service.
(They gather in the front room,
near William’s coffin.)
Seth:
Reverend.
Andy: Mrs. Bullock,
my deep sympathies which I conveyed to your husband last
evening.
Martha:
Thank you. You wish to discuss
William’s service.
Andy: I
suggested to Mr. Bullock that we hold service in front of the
house.
Martha:
That would be fine.
(Seth looks to Sol, Sol indicates that he will leave,
Seth nods and Sol walks out quietly)
Andy:
As to the substance of the
service, do you wish psalms, a-a reading, my words, uh—hymns chosen, speakers in
memoriam, (Martha turns to Seth) a
second reading?
Seth: Let
the service be brief.
Martha:
Yes.
Andy:
Certainly. Uh, do you wish
to provide me a detail or two of William?
Martha: I
don’t want that.
Andy: Do
you have a favorite reading? Did
he? (Martha flusters)
Seth:
You choose
somethin’.
Andy:
Certainly…
Seth: And
you’ll announce that the burial is private.
Andy: I
will. Um…oh…(turning to the casket) will there then
be a passing-by of the casket after the service?
Martha:
(sobs) No!
Andy: Certainly.
Seth:
Thank you, Reverend.
(Andy leaves, Martha walks back to the kitchen
window. Seth watches Andy leave
through the front window. He
notices Jarry coming up the street and quickly steps outside to head him off. As
Jarry is starting up the steps, Seth is going down, and forces Jarry to back
down the steps)
Hugo: My
condolences, Sheriff. My deepest
sympathies.
Seth: The
answer is yes, Commissioner—what you want to know. (Seth continues walking,
forcing Jarry to follow)
Hugo: Having to do with Mr. Swearengen speaking with your
voice?
Seth:
Yes. That’s all
now.
Hugo: My
reluctance to intrude nearly kept me from coming at all. (He leaves)
(Seth nods to Sol who is standing on the boardwalk
nearby.)
(Leon enters the Bella Union. Cy is sitting alone at a table. Leon, clearly in withdrawal, ,
approaches him.)
Leon:
Mose Manuel made it
through.
Cy: Thank
heavens. (Jarry enters)
Leon: Doc
fixed Con’s rupture too. (He is antsy)
Cy:
Go shoot some
dope.
Leon:
Thank you, sir. It’s been a hell of
a trying evenin’.
Hugo: I
have a check for $50,000 (sets it down)
I’d like to cash with you.
Cy: I
show that courtesy to people who gamble in my joint. (Pushes it back.)
Hugo: I
wish to afford you, Mr. Tolliver, a chance to show my colleagues in Yankton that
you are not blinded by parochial rivalry as to what the greater good
requires.
Cy: You’d
deliver the 50 to Swearengen? (Holds the check
book.)
Hugo: Who’d no doubt prefer the check, to have the bribe on
record.
Cy: So
this ain’t you just bein’ a twitch who likes rubbing people’s noses in their
losses.
Hugo: Shall we
transact our business in the cage, Mr. Tolliver, where I was attacked the other
day and you failed to come to my aid?
(Cy cocks his head at Jarry, slaps the checkbook on
the table and gets up.)
(Trixie enters the Gem. Al is alone at the bar. We hear the whores
sobbing.)
Al: I see
you made it through the fuckin’ night.
(Whores
cry)
Trixie:
Oh, Jesus fuckin’
Christ.
Al: Oh,
this is gonna be a pleasant fucking day, them wailin’ and gnashin’ their
teeth.
Trixie:
Will they be allowed to pay their respects?
Al: By
who?
Trixie:
By you, most importantly, as always.
And should you in your greatness consent, will he let them in his fuckin’
house?
Al: I
won’t object, but it’s yours to keep them she-apes from disgracing me. As to Bullock’s feelings, get the Jew to
find them out.
Trixie:
Should I, um, ask about you
also?
Al: What
the fuck would I want to go there for?
(He picks up his coffee and drinks
it. Trixie turns and leaves. We
hear some whores wailing again) Shut
the fuck up!
(Chez Amie.
We see Jane in her filthy long-johns preparing to get into a bath tub of
water. She tests the water with her toes)
Jane: Hot! (Shouts) Hot! (Joanie enters) I mean, I know it’s
supposed to be, but I ain’t fuckin’ used to it.
Joanie:
Well, maybe wait a little.
Jane:
Yeah, I’ll wait a little bit before I fuckin’ get in. (Contemplates the tub) Did
it ever occur to you strange, bathin’ in a tub you’ve dirtied, comin’ out
thinkin’ you’re clean?
Joanie:
(sighs) You need a bath,
Jane.
Jane: And
I’m gonna fucking take it! I’m
raising the general fuckin’ question.
Joanie:
(Takes a pair of boots from the hallway
and sets them inside) If you want boots different from your regular—(Sets them down)
Jane:
No, I do not. I will clean my fuckin’ regular
boots.
Joanie:
Should you do that before you bath?
Jane:
No! Turn around! (Joanie turns) Don’t go!
(Joanie sets the boots outside the door and closes
it. Jane watches Joanie’s back as
she unbuttons her long johns and steps out of them.)
Jane:
Dumb fucking luck it must
have been me living this long without your fuckin’
guidance.
Joanie: I
don’t like new boots either.
Jane: I
ain’t afraida newness…(She tentatively
steps into the bath) It’s the blisters give me pause. (She slowly lowers herself into the till her
butt hits the water) Ow! I burned my fuckin’ snatch! (She jumps up)
Joanie: Or funerals.
Jane: Or
funerals what?
Joanie:
Any more ‘an I like new boots. I
don’t like funerals.
Jane: I do! I do! I can’t get to enough of
‘em!
(She lowers herself slowly into the tub,
pouting. Once she’s in, she slumps
down into the water to her neck.)
(Hardware store, Sol is opening the door to
Trixie.)
Sol: Trixie.
Trixie:
He’d have me ask might the whores…pay the dead boy their
respects?
Sol: The
service is outside the home. All in
the camp are welcome.
Trixie:
They’d be sure to keep to their place.
Sol: Why
did you go to him?
Trixie:
(She pauses, takes his hand and sets it
on the counter, holding it.) Now, hold to this counter as I reveal this, Mr.
Star. I’ve lived most of my life a
whore, and as much as he’s her misery, the pimp’s a whore’s familiar, so the
sudden strange or violent draws her to him. Not that I wouldn’t learn another
way.
(Jarry enters the Gem. Al and Silas are at the
bar.)
Al: (To Silas)
Look fucking
mournful.
Silas: (Lowering
his head) Even
more?
Hugo: Sad
day, gentlemen, on which commerce must intrude.
Al: Says
who that it must?
Hugo: Because
of the death of the Sheriff’s son.
Al: You
need to ask, you don’t deserve an answer.
Hugo: I should
say that even in his hour of grief, Sheriff Bullock conveyed to me his reliance
on you as his proxy.
Al: And
as his proxy, I don’t do business on the day (turns back) of my godson’s
passing.
Hugo: I’m compelled to wonder, Mr. Swearengen, if this show
of grief is a pretext to some other purpose. (Silas straightens up, Al
turns.)
Al:
What a type you must consort with,
that you not fear beating for such an insult.
Hugo: If
Montana, for example, had sweetened the terms in annexing this camp, and you’d
delay the closing of our business not for piety, but to pursue your other
negotiations—
Al: Leave
here with your sick fucking ghoulish thinking!
Hugo: (Grabbing
his bag) I’ll have further
instructions within the day. If not
honor, practicality dictates granting Yankton further
counter.
Al: You
come back here offering one more dollar than that 50, you’ll find yourself face
down in the horseshit.
Hugo: But
you would entertain enhancement of the offer other than
cash?
Al: I do
not discuss business on this day. (turns)
Silas.
Silas: (Stands,
advancing on Jarry, pushing him back) You’re buyin’ yourself a fuckin’ bum’s rush,
Commissioner. When Mr. Swearengen
says go, he means it.
Hugo: All right.
All right. I’m not without
imagination. A counter without
currency is in the offing.
(Al lifts his eyebrows, his back still to the
Commissioner.)
(Andy enters the Bella Union, followed by two of Cy’s
cappers. Cy whispers to Tess and
sends her away)
Cy: You
do remember me, Andy? (Puts his hand on Andy’s shoulder) Three
times we’ve worked together—Memphis, and on the river and in Kansas City. (Chuckles) And we were meant to here,
but you fell ill.
Andy: I’ve changed.
You’re bound to resent my presence in the camp.
Cy: Well,
see, I haven’t changed, or changed the rules, which against your havin’ gone
soft-headed, are fuckin’ inviolate against you running a game in my territory
without prior arrangement, and on my fuckin’ terms set and agreed in
advance.
Andy: I’m
not runnin’ a game, Cy.
Cy: (laughs) I fuckin’ schooled you, Andy
Cramed, to the variety that can be played.
Andy: I
don’t practice deception anymore.
Cy: (Chuckles, puts his hands on Andy’s
shoulders) The opening pronouncement of a dozen we both can
name.
Andy: I
was nursed last fall in the plague tent and saved to be born anew and preach the
risen Lord.
Cy: (Takes one
hand off Andy’s shoulder and raps him hard on the head) The Lord risen, or the wheel or the shell and pea—in
this camp, (raps him again) for you,
it’s by my leave.
Andy: I
will suffer any indignity—
Cy: Which
I still have not heard you solicit. (raps
again)
Andy: Interference with God’s work, I will not
suffer.
Cy: Then
you had best be movin’ along, Andy, (grabs Andy byb the front of the pants and
starts dragging him to the door) ‘cause absent tribute, even as his
employee… you don’t get to fuckin’
operate. Don’t let me find you
tryin’, Andy…(drags him onto the porch)
or it’s into the woods once more, only this time, left nailed to a
tree.
(Cy grabs Andy with both hands and tosses him onto
the street. Andy staggers a moment,
but remains upright.)
(Al’s office, he is talking to Mr
Lee)
Al: I
don’t know what you will understand of my speech and I don’t give a fuck, or
what terrorizin’ them human bonfires this morning intend towards the chinks
still under your thumb. A white
man’s son is dead that you will be doing business with. On the day of his son’s burial, the
smell of burnin’ flesh ought not offend his nose. The only showin’ you need make that
you’ve understood our chat is a stop to them fuckin’ fires. And you might want to put off other
violence while you’re at it, as a decency to the day, you heathen fucking
cocksucker. Jesus fucking
Christ! There will be no violence
between you and Wu while the grievin’ goes on.
My God,
act civilized even if you ain’t.
Lee: I am
a civirized person.
Al: Then
take your civilization and get the fuck outta here! (Mr. Lee nods and leaves. Dan shuts the door behind him. Johnny nods, pleased.) He got the fucking message. (sits) Wait on Wu if you
want.
Johnny:
Wait until what?
Al: You
want to go to the fucking service or fucking not?
Johnny:
Don’t have to ask us twice. (Dan and Johnny leave, Al pours a
drink.)
Al: (alone
now) What the fuck I want to go for?
(drinks)
(Grand Central, Wolcott descends the main stairs and
approaches the front desk.)
Wolcott: What price will you take for your hotel, Mr.
Farnum?
EB: Why
do you ask?
Wolcott:
Because I want to buy it.
EB: Do
you, Sir? I presume as agent for
other parties?
Wolcott:
Presume away.
EB: (Twitches) Is it warm in here? (Fans himself)
Wolcott:
To me it seems chilly.
EB:
Chilly is it? Richardson, Mr.
Wolcott finds it chilly! (Wolcott is impatient) Not around. I’ll
see to it, Sir. If you are chilly
in 10 minutes time, pray for my
immortal soul, because some fatal mishap will have befallen me. (Opensback room door.) Short of which, I
will not fail to dispel the chill now afflicting you. (He goes inside the back room and shuts the
door panicked) Cocksuckers.
Think they can take away everything. Oh,
cocksucker.
(Gem saloon, Dan is brushing his boots at the
bar. Johnny holds up a dead bird in
his palm.)
Johnny: Found it outside dead under the
winda.
Dan:
Well, why’d you bring it inside?
Johnny:
Poor little finch. (Petting
it)
Dan:
Throw it out and wipe your
hands.
Johnny:
(Walking to the door) If a bird taps on a winda or crashes inta
one, that means that there has been a death! (Tosses the bird out into the
street)
Dan:
We know there’s been a
death.
Johnny:
We know now, but that bird crashed into the window and died a while ago, before
we knew…for all we know.
Dan: I’ve
shined me and Al’s, but I ain’t doin’ yours.
Johnny:
Oh, well, I-I got me some new boots.
They pinch bad, but –uh- they got that factory shine
still.
Dan:
Johnny, you-you can’t wear nothin’ new to a funeral, especially not new
footwear.
Johnny:
Oh—I ain’t never heard that.
Dan:
Maybe ‘cause when they was tellin’ it to you, you was too busy listenin’ to that
bullshit about birds flyin’ into windas.
(Trixie carries a wooden box up to the bar as Dan
picks up the boots he’s shined from the floor and sets them aside on top of the
bar.)
Trixie: To be kept till after the after-funeral fuck rush is
over—(lifts the lid, we see dope-shooting
materials) fucking confiscated paraphernalia. (Shuts the lid, Dan puts it away) Boots
on a bar? What is the fucking
matter with you, Dan? Give me a
fucking whiskey bottle. (Dan moves the boots and gives Trixie a
bottle.) I’m sprinklin’ it…at the fucking doorways. (Sprinkles the front doorway) Or would
you rather evil traipse past this fuckin’ threshold? (Dan shakes his
head)
Johnny:
Must have brought that from the
other side.
(Alma’s room, she and Sophia are sitting against a
wall on a sofa.)
Alma:
I’ve wished sometimes only to
play checkers or to occupy myself some other way than having to see and feel so
much sadness…or feel every moment how difficult things are to understand…or to
live with. I’ve sometimes felt I
couldn’t live with them, but I find I can, Sofia. I’ve found I am…even when I think I’m
not or that I can’t. (She reaches out and holds Sofia’s hand)
Can you look to me now, Sofia? Can you try? (Sofia looks up) I will be so grateful
if you will trust me with your sadness, and I will trust you with mine, so that
even when we are sad…we will be grateful for how much we love each other, and
know that we are in the world as much in our pain as in our happiness. (Sofia crawls to Alma and kisses her cheek,
hugging her. A tear falls down her
face.) Thank you, honey. Shall
we dress now and say goodbye to William Bullock?
(Gem hallway, Trixie has the whores lined up, along
with Jewel beside her)
Trixie: Let no one that’s turned in a needle try eatin’ the
dope or shovin’ it up theirselves, as I will be checkin’ eyes for signs before
we fuckin’ leave. And no bein’
drunk either, Jenn. (She grabs Jenn’s cheeks and sniffs her
breath) Go wash
your fuckin’ mouth. You got seven
kinds of cock breath.
(Jenn breathes into her hand, sniffing her
breath. The whores exit, Trixie
knocks on Al’s door.)
Al: Yeah.
(door opens) Under arms clean, cunts
braided?
Trixie:
They’re ready.
Al: You
are accountable.
Trixie:
Why not come, make them accountable to you?
Al: Shut
the fuckin’ door behind you.
(Trixie leaves, Al looks up at the
door.)
(Outside the Bullock house, a large crowd is
gathering. Seth and Martha are on the steps looking up at Andy
)
Andy: William Bullock…beloved son of Martha and Seth,
called to God age 11 years, as we are called by his passing. Let us bow our
heads. From psalm number 23, “The
Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still
waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness for his name’s sake.”
(Al steps onto the balcony and
casually walks to the end and looks up toward the Bullock house.) “O, that
my words were now written that they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the
rock forever. For I know that my
redeemer liveth, and he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my skin, worms destroy
this body, Yet in my flesh I shall see God: Whom I shall see for myself, (Martha breaks down and starts up toward the
house through the mud.) And my eyes shall behold…(Martha slips and falls, Tom Nuttal sees
this and looks away nervously) And not another.” (Martha bursts into the house and runs,
sobbing, to William’s coffin which is open)
Andy: From psalm 121.
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. (Martha slowly comes back out of the house,
Seth goes up to meet her.) My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven
and earth…The Lord is they keeper…
The Lord is thy shade upon the right hand. (Seth helps Martha back through the crowd
the their place below Andy) The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the
moon by night. The Lord shall
preserve thee from all evil: He
shall preserve thy soul.”
Martha:
(softly to Seth) Let the people come and say goodbye to
William.
Andy: “The Lord
shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even
forevermore.” (Seth approaches) At the request of the
family, the burial is private. On
their behalf, at their request, I thank you all for
coming.
Seth: (Softly) Let them see him. (Steps back, Andy smiles a
little)
Andy: Those who wish to pay final respects to the corpse of
William Bullock are invited now into the Bullock home.
(Silas approaches Dan, Dan nods and leaves, Silas
cocks his head for Johnny to join them.
Andy smiles as Martha & Seth head up the steps. He steps back to get out of their way
and steps off the bridge into the creek.
Seth shakes his hand.
In the crowd, Sophia has broughr some flowers and
Alma hands these to Jane.
Jane looks at Sofia. Seth
and Martha have taken position on the front porch as the people start to file
past. The people start to enter the house, snaking around the casket as they pay
their respects. Tom gets in line
behind the Gem girls, with a wooden memorial to William from the No.
10.)
(Cut to Doc at the Chez Amie, he is checking Mose’s
wounds carefully)
(Cut to the Gem balcony, Al sees the guys coming and slips
quickly back inside. He then steps
back outside as if for the first time and nods to the
boys.)
Dan: (shouts)
The girls are gonna be a
while!
Johnny: They’re viewing the corpse.
Silas:
Get Wu now?
Al:
Please.
Johnny:
At the ice house how should we set up the shifts?
Al: What
does he mean?
Johnny:
You know, guardin’ Wu.
Al: Bring
Wu here. Put him in one of the
whore’s rooms, huh? (Al goes in, the boys
turn around.)
Johnny:
Didn’t make sense when he said
it. That’s the first place Wu’s
people would look.
Dan: “Put
him on ice,” it’s a figure of speech, Johnny.
Silas:
Like “Got you by the balls.”
(Alma,
Sofia and Ellsworth enter the hotel.)
Ellsworth: Up you go, little lady. (He picks Sofia up, they go
upstairs.)
Sofia:
We picked flowers in William’s
graveyard.
Ellsworth: Mmm?
Sofia: Me
and Trixie.
Ellsworth: “Trixie and I” is how that’s supposed to go, I
think.
Alma:
Yes, Ellsworth. (They stop at the top of
the stairs.) Yes to the question you’ve asked me.
(Ellsworth looks a bit
flustered.)
(Cut to Jane, setting Sofia’s flowers down by
William’s casket)
Cut to Alma again, she touches Ellsworth’s hand and
they smile. Alma proceeds to the
room, Ellsworth and Sofia stick their tongues out at each
other.)
(Mr. Wu is raking out the pig sty. One of his helpers approaches
him.)
MrWu: (speaking
Chinese) (Dan and the guys approach)
Dan: Swedgin.
(Pointing his thumb towards the
Gem)
MrWu:
Swedgin! (Points to the ground and continues
raking.)
Silas:
No, Wu. Swedgin. (Points)
MrWu:
Ha ha ha! Swedgin. (Points to the
ground)
Johnny:
Uh, Mr. Wu, why don’t you just come
with us like a gentleman?
MrWu: Wa?
(Chinese cursing) (Dan and Silas
lift Wu by the arms, Johnny gets his feet and they start walking.)(Wu motions
and speaks to his helper that it’s OK).
(Cut to Trixie outside the hardware store, she is
chain-smoking)
(Cut to the Bella Union bar. Wolcott is standing, Cy
approaches)
Cy: Seems
to me, Wolcott, last your eyes had that unsettled look, matters got grave for
some young girls. What does it? Do
you know? Or does the water just
come on you
quick?
Andy: (Bursting
in the front door) “Be ye afraid of
the sword!”
Cy: Jesus
fuckin’ Christ!
Andy: “For wrath bringeth the punishments of the
sword!”
Cy: Get
him the fuck outta here! (Two cappers grab Andy and carry Trixie looks
on.)
Wolcott:
You’re a desperate man, aren’t you, Tolliver? Desperate. You feel your position weakening.
Cy: And
what I do, situation like that insteada murderin’ helpless women, I get on my
hind legs and fight.
Hugo: Mr.
Wolcott. (approaches) I have nourished a
suspicion that we might pass each other in the telegraph office. I, of course, would be communicating
with Yankton. I wonder, would your
messages be sent to Helena?
Wolcott: Mr. Hearst is not a partisan in territorial
rivalries, Commissioner.
Hugo:
Oh God, I want to believe
that.
Wolcott:
The great man himself will allay your doubts. (Cy looks over) He joins us within the
week.
Cy: Does
he for a fact?
Hugo: I
would hope, Sir, that by that time, Yankton’s answer to my telegram would
authorize me to offer, and I would have heard accepted, terms of annexation of
this camp such that a huge banner would be hung across the
thoroughfare—“Welcome, George Hearst, to Deadwood of Dakota
Territory.”
Cy: I
don’t envy you the interval, Commissioner.
(Looking at Wolcott) Ain’t it the idle hours that try us? Ain’t they what lead us sometimes to the
cliff, sometimes fuckin’ over? I
may have to ask Mr. Hearst if that’s his experience too, or of any of those that
he may know.
(He wanders away, glaring at Wolcott’s
back.)
(Trixie, still outside, watches as Sol passes by in
the wagon with Seth and Martha.
They’re eyes meet. Sols nods to her with a faint smile, she goes inside
the hardware store.)
(Al’s sitting in a chair, getting a blow job from
Dolly. He lifts her head
up.)
Al: Let
me ask you somethin’. You think
you’re givin’ me a treat—droolin’ on my fuckin’ nuts? Because I happen not to enjoy
it.
Dolly:
Sorry.
Al: It’s
a strange fuckin’ sensation.
Distracts me from my hard-on. (He
puts her head back down and takes a drink from a bottle.) Fuckin’
caskets…bring out the dunce in the entire fuckin’ community. I took some fuckin’ beatin’ after my
brother’s fuckin’ funeral. (sighs) Smacks comin’ from every fuckin’
angle. Still dizzy from the smack
from the left, here comes a smack from the right. Brain can’t bounce around fast
enough. Headache I fuckin’ had for
three fuckin’ weeks. (drinks) The
fuck fault is it of mine if my fuckin’ brother croaks? Ain’t even my fuckin’ brother. Fuckin’ people take me in, I didn’t ask
‘em to fuckin’ take me in. Huh. (drinks) Fuckin’ floppin’ like a fish on
the dock, my brother the perch.
Huh. Fuckin’ fallin’
sickness. Let the old man beat you
because he’s sad and he has hid load on.
I did better in the orphanage, if that fat-ass Mrs. Anderson hadn’t
turned out a fuckin’ pimp.
Anyways…(lifting Dolly’s head up)
How was the funeral? Did you
carry on, disgrace yourself?
Dolly:
No.
Al:
Everyone was sad, I expect.
Dolly: But it was
pretty too.
Al: Shut
up. (He puts her head down, petting her
hair.) Did you dye your hair?
(She nods without lifting her
head.)
(Martha is straightening the clothes she threw in her
trunk earlier. Seth watches, steps
forward. Martha clutches some
clothes to her chest and stands.)
Seth:
Whatever will let us
live…
(She looks at Seth, walks to the bed and sits. He stands in front of her and takes her
hands in his.)
Seth:
As we are
now.
(She looks up at him—he pulls her hands to his chest
and holds them there in a sort of embrace.)
Click here for the music from the credits
Written
by: Bryan McDonald
Directed by: Gregg Fienberg
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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