Episode 16: “Requiem for a
Gleet”
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(Open at the Bullock house, Seth and Martha are
waking up in their bedroom)
Martha: Let me light the lamp.
Seth:
I’ve misplaced my
boots.
Martha: I
put them downstairs by the kitchen door.
Seth:
(looking tired) I was asleep…when you took ‘em and did
that.
Martha: Yes.
Would you rather I not?
Seth: No.
No. Only I had intended to be awake
last night so we could talk, which, what with how it’s been, we have not done in
the peace of the evening as I would like, since your
arrival.
Martha: I
would enjoy to converse in the stillness, after the day, like
that.
Seth: Tonight,
I will have two cups of coffee, and I will not fall
asleep.
Martha:
In the morning…(reaches her hand behind
her, rests it on the center of the bed between them, their backs still facing
each other) in
the quiet before we each take up our work, is also a pleasant occasion for such
intercourse. (Seth slowly starts to
turn his head around to look at Martha.)
Seth:
Yes.
Martha:
Would you like to start a discussion this morning?
Seth: (pauses) I wouldn’t…want to – disturb
the boy.
Martha: William sleeps soundly. If you will see to the bedroom door…Mr.
Bullock?
(Seth stands and closes the
door)
(Al’s room, Trixie and Dolly are sponge- bathing
Al…)
Dolly:
Have I killed
‘im?
Trixie:
First, the dead don’t shiver. And
next, you just done what he asked. (Al
shivers and shakes, delirious) Ain’t it more likely what turned him worse is
his underlyin’ woe than a thumb up his ass attemptin’ his fucking relief? Go on, get the fuck out of here. (To Al) It’s alright,
Honey.
(At Alma’s mine, we see all the mill equipment
working loudly. Wolcott is standing and observing the workings. Ellsworth spots
him from a distance and quickly approaches him)
Wolcott: Hello.
Ellsworth: What’s your business?
Wolcott:
I’m Francis Wolcott.
Ellsworth:
(approaches closer) My name’s
Ellsworth, Mr. Francis Wolcott. Can
you hear me?
Wolcott:
Yes, sir. How do you
do?
Ellsworth: I’m well.
Glad you make me out.
Wolcott: Yes, sir.
Ellsworth: Because them as poke around Miz Garret’s workings
without a by your-leave ain’t welcome, Mr. Wolcott, and you ought not to repeat
your fuckin’ mistake.
Wolcott:Well, that’s an uncivil response to an innocent
error.
Ellsworth:Did you work in the Comstock when you was
beardless?
Wolcott:I
did.
Ellsworth: For Mr. George Hearst, as a keen eye for the
color?
Wolcott:
As a geologist for Mr. Hearst.
Well, you have the advantage of me, Mr. Ellsworth.
Ellsworth: That ain’t a possibility, Wolcott. No more than an error of yours would be
innocent.
Wolcott:
I do dimly recall an Ellsworth—superintended the consolidated Virginia
operations.
Ellsworth: I don’t give a fuck what you recall.
Wolcott:
A hero. Dug a week without respite to save three
poor souls from a cave-in.
Ellsworth: And 46 corpses in a fucking hole that ought never to
have been dug.
Wolcott:
Always a choice…to count the saved or the lost.
Ellsworth: Get
off this property.
Wolcott:
Just as a man opposed to inevitable change needn’t invariably be called a
luddite, another choice might be simply to describe him as slow in his
processes.
Ellsworth: You tell that cocksucker you work for the next
surrogate he sends oughtn’t to be bloodied from the
Comstock.
Wolcott:
(Looks at the mill, turns back to
Ellsworth…) The noise is terrible, isn’t it, Mr. Ellsworth? Like fate.
(Alma’s room. Sophia is seated on the bed, reading
from her book. Alma sits next to
the bed in a chair, reading her own book…)
Sophia: “Ox, Box, Fox.”
(There is a knock at the door. Alma looks up from her book, points to
one of the dolls…)
Alma:
Nora’s attentions are
wandering. If I were you, (pulls out a stick of green rock candy)
I’d bribe her with candy.
(Alma stands and walks to the door, its Miss
Isringhausen.)
Miss Isringhausen:
Good
Morning.
Alma: Please come
in, Miss Isringhausen. Will you have a seat? (They sit.)
Miss Isringhausen: Do you
remain of a mind, Ma’am, to dispense with my services?
Alma: (Sophia watches from the bed) I have
immense respect for your training and intelligence, Miss Isringhausen, and
gratitude for your efforts toward Sophia’s education. I am ill suited temperamentally to
collaborate with you as women in our positions must do.
Miss Isringhausen: I
see.
Alma: I
propose to pay you six months’ wages severance and an additional $200 against
the expense for your journey here and return to Chicago. While you’re making your arrangements, I
will also continue to pay for your room here at the hotel.
Miss Isringhausen: As to those terms, Mrs. Garret, your behavior is very
fair.
Alma: Miss
Isringhausen, Cotton Mather would have found hard and joyless the standards you
so resolutely apply to me and Sophia, and of course to yourself. (They stand, Alma produces a stack of money)
I wish you very well. (Hands over the
cash.)
Miss Isringhausen: Thank you, Madam.
Alma: Would you—(Turns head to the bedroom where Sophia is)
Miss Isringhausen: I will not say goodbye to Sophia, to spare her
upset. (She leaves.)
(The Gem, Dan stands behind the bar, he looks nervous
as he stares up at Al’s door. E.B. approaches the
bar…)
EB: Dan.
Dan: E.B.
Coffee?
EB:
Please. (Dan reaches behind the bar and
pulls out a cup. He shakily pours
E.B. some coffee. E.B. looks up
towards Al’s door and back to Dan.) I’ll be candid, Dan. I did not sleep well last night. I heard screaming from Al’s
room.
Dan:
Happens up ‘ere many a fuckin’ evenin’.
EB: Well,
Al was fuckin’ screamin’, Dan. And
I’m wondering how he’s feeling this morning. And you dancin’ around the pole ain’t
allayin’ my fucking anxieties.
Dan:
Well, do you hear any screams from him now?
EB: Silence ain’t proof either way.
Dan: Take
no tongue with me, E.B., (Louder –
pointing) or I’ll slap you fuckin’ silly! (They pause) He’s on the mend, and he
ain’t fuckin’ receiving.
EB: Well,
that’s all I was fuckin’ askin’.
Dan: Then
that’s your fuckin’ answer.
EB:
Convey my joy. (They drink their coffee)
And tell him numerous scores await.
(EB leaves, and as he does, a very scruffy looking
man enters and approaches Dan. Dan seems to know him. As the man gets closer, we
see he has no ears)
Eamon: Soft-fuckin’ day, Dan.
Dan:
Morning, Crop Ear.
Oh—sorry—Eamon.
Eamon: (Strokes
his head) Take a good look. Ain’t growin’ back. (loudly) Is he
about?
Johnny: (Coming
downstairs) Uh…Al’s out early. Look at a place in
Gayville.
Eamon: Oh, yeah? You must seize fortune by the forelock,
Dan. That’s why I’m here, to put a
matter before him. You know I’ll
not waste the man’s time.
Dan: No,
you won’t.
Eamon:
That’s some fuckin’ way you have about you, Dan.
Dan: Now,
you could either say your piece to me and Johnny, or you can-get-the-fuck-outta
here.
Eamon:
I’ll say it gladly, and hope you’ll commend my words to him (nods his head towards Al’s office)
who’s in Gayville at the earliest opportunity. I contemplate a piece of activity. I
need to organize some reliable fellows, locate a right place to waylay that
metal.
Dan: (nodding) Well, I’ll let him know. (nods)
Eamon: 25%. One
full quarter of the proceeds in total go to (raises his arms and looks to the heavens)
Al Swearengen, (looks at Dan) the
Gem Saloon, (pointing) or you and
Johnny as the fucking case may be.
Dan: You
may need to clean the wax out of your holes, because I said I will let him
know.
Eamon:
When do you suppose I could expect the favor of a
response?
Dan:
Tomorrow afternoon.
Eamon:
He’s overnight in Gayville then? (Dan
nods) Then tomorrow afternoon it is. (knocks on the bar, turns and leaves. Dan
watches him leave with a look of hatred)
Johnny:
Gettin’ particular of where he was
gone, I realize now, it was a fuckin’ mistake, which happened because I’m so
fuckin’ upset.
Dan: From
this point forward, I’ll handle that earless cunt.
(In the the stage arrives and a well-dressed man
exits)
Driver:
Top two bags. (He taps a suitcase, another man climbs up
to retrieve the luggage. A man is
helping a woman out of the coach who appears to be a whore. E.B. steps out onto the porch. The woman looks around, and Wolcott
approaches her…)
Wolcott:
May I help you with your bags,
Miss?
Carrie:
No, you can’t. Or look at me or
talk to me until I’ve took a bath.
Wolcott:
(Points to the Chez Amie) Well,
follow the quagmire then, Ma’am.
The establishment you want is the last on the right. (To a man unloading the coach, holding out a
tip) Take this lady’s luggage to the Chez Amie.
Man: Yes,
sir.
Wolcott:
Do not look at her or talk to her until she’s bathed. (Carrie follows the man up the
thoroughfare. Wolcott heads to the
hotel…)
EB:
Mr. Wolcott. (Wolcott stops and looks out on the town
next to E.B. – speaking loudly) Deceptively fair weather given the
devastating rumors.
Wolcott:Less volume, Mr. Farnum. More conviction.
EB: Yes.
(Wolcott steps away. The well-dressed man approaches the
hotel.)
Hugo:
Your
hotel?
EB: Yes,
it is, sir. (Hugo steps up to the porch)
Your luggage?
Hugo: Yes.
EB: May I
install it in one of our better rooms?
Hugo: Please. Uh, direct me to the Bella
Union.
EB: Not
50 yards as the bird flies, or a man is lead on by his prick, or needing to test
his luck. To whom shall I assign
the room?
Hugo: Hugo
Jarry.
EB: E.B
Farnum, owner-proprietor. Also
mayor, though that position is largely ceremonial.
Hugo: Lawrence
County Commissioner. The position
is real.
(He nods and turns away from E.B, heading to the
Bella Union. Silas is waiting at
the end of the walk for him)
Silas: Hello, Jarry.
Commissioner Jarry. (They walk)
Hugo:
Commissioner Jarry now, yes, as of the last five days. Delighted to find you here,
Adams.
Silas:
You could have known my next whereabouts if you had talked to me in Yankton,
where I sat outside your office for half a fuckin’ day.
Hugo: It seemed (they stop) to many of us in Yankton
that in the aftermath of Magistrate Clagett’s disappearances, you chose
different companions. (He tries to
proceed, Silas blocks him)
Silas:
Last I saw Clagett, he rode
in here with General Crook. I
figured he left with him, too.
Hugo: And
perhaps was plucked up subsequently from amidst the troops by savages? Yes, such moonlight treachery being
their stealthy hallmark.
Silas: Maybe he took
a bribe from someone, didn’t hold up his end, got his just
desserts.
Hugo:
(Looking into the distance) That’s of no personal interest to me (We see Wolcott talking to Mr. Lee.) or
anyone in Yankton, any more than your choice of
companions.
Silas:
If you’re trying to freeze
out Swearengen before the Governor makes his play, (we see Mr. Wu, glaring at Mr. Lee) You
are bettin’ the wrong way.
Hugo: (eyeing Mr. Wu) Someone certainly
is.
Silas:
Anyways, I’ll tell him I saw
you.
Hugo: I have a close
schedule, otherwise, I’d pay the respects myself. (Eyes Silas) I wonder if you will let me
pass. (Silas steps out of the way. Hugo continues looking in Mr. Wu’s
direction.)
(Bella Union, Con is counting out gold coins, Cy is
seated at a table…)
Cy: I
only hope, Marvin, you ain’t privy to information that I ain’t.
Marvin:
$600 U.S. Dollars, Mr. Tolliver.
Claim 16 above Discovery.
Cy: That
ain’t responsive to my previous fuckin’ statement, young
man.
Marvin: I
tell you what, sir. It’s the
fuckin’ altitude that’s got to me.
Cy: I
see.
Marvin:
Nosebleeds and every fucking thing else.
Cy: Well,
your health’s got to come first.
Leon! (Leon picks up a piece of
paper, pen and ink) Light as my kit’s got, we can go ahead and say done. (He and Marvin spit in their hands and shake
as Leon sets down the paper, pen and ink.)
Cy:
$600, Con.
Con:
Right here, sir. (Cy wipes his hands with
a handkerchief…Hugo Jarry enters and eyes Cy…Con sets down to stack of coins in
front of Cy)
Cy:
Jesus Christ, don’t pay it to me,
Marvin here will shoot us both!
Con: (nods,
grabs the coins and sets them in front of Marvin) Here you go, Marvin.
Cy: You
lettered, Marvin?
Marvin:
I’m up to making my “X”, Sir.
Cy: Con
you sign as witness. (Stands)
Con:
Will do, Sir. (Stands over Marvin’s
shoulder)
Marvin:
Don’t be
lookin’ over my shoulder when I’m signin’ my fuckin’
X!
(Maddie is seated at a desk in the front room of the
Chez Amie)
Maddie: Don’t ever say that to me again. You surprised yourself.
(Joanie is seated at a desk in the middle of the
room, her back to Maddie)
Joanie: It’s what happened.
Maddie: I
don’t want to hear it spoken of, because it darkens my
thoughts.
Joanie:
(looks up, turns her head back to Maddie)
About who you’re partnered with?
Maddie: Exactly. (2
whores are watching this exchange with interest) They
get led by their dicks. Our cunts
lead us, we lose our only edge.
Joanie:
That wasn’t what was going on.
Maddie:
Was it worse? Were you angry at
him, Joanie? (Doris watches) Was that what surprised
you, (Doris exits, the other whores leave
as well) How angry you were that George Hearst’s second was a cruel and evil
man? (Stands up & approaches Joanie)
Did you think maybe you’d shoot him to get us little people even? (Joanie looks back up from her books)
Joanie: I
took that gun into the room with me
to protect myself.
Maddie:
(loudly) Who fuckin’ asked you to go
into the room with him? Nobody gets
even. We get dead. And before I go, I intend a long and
comfortable retirement, and that cocksucker’s gonna pay the
freight.
Joanie: Something terrible is going to happen
here.
Maddie:
(Turns away) You don’t even know the
girl—he wants to harm. (Turns back to
Joanie) You stay the fuck out of it. (The door opens)
Carrie: (to the
man outside) He tipped you! (She enters in a huffe) This
whole place smells like shit. (Throws
her bags down.)
(Grand Central, Richardson is preparing a stew or
something, EB is behind him)
EB: It
is no disloyalty to be a realist, Richardson, we are mortal. One hopes for the best. One perseveres. One reevaluates constantly. One is an asshole if one doesn’t. (rubs his neck, still pacing) Loyalty
expanded is not loyalty betrayed. (Richardson sniffs some questionable food,
tosses it into the pot) I contemplate no disloyalty to Al Swearengen. (bites his hand, sits) I feel
exposed. I don’t like being weak,
and I know that I am. I yearn to
rely on a stronger will. I fear
what I’m capable of in it’s absence. (E.B. rubs his face, pausing, Richardson is
snapping carrots and tossing them into the pot. E.B. looks on, sadly.) Whereas you,
Richardson, (stands up, angry) know
nothing of yourself. (Richardson looks back at E.B.) Are you
shitting or going blind? Or on foot
or horseback? You vile (grabs a frying pan and swings it at
Richardson) fucking lump! (Richardson flinches, goes back to what he
was doing…E.B. grabs a pan meat and hands it to Richardson.) Bury that offal
in the Shepherd’s Pie.
(Gem saloon, Dan is leaning on the bar – yawning –
Silas enters.)
Dan:
(Sees Silas – mutters) Oh, God damn it. (Pounds the bar lightly, stands up and faces
Silas – sighs)
Silas:
May I go up today?
Dan:
Unh-uh.
Silas: How long is my fuckin’
sentence?
Dan: Any
messages?
Silas: Is
there any fuckin’ chance you and me don’t end up in blood?
Dan: Any
of you realizin’ that the sun don’t rise and set on me and
you?
Silas:
What the fuck does that fuckin’ mean?
Dan:
Means there may be other fuckin’ factors factored into my decision-making. Besides the fact that I find you to be a
pain in the balls, personally.
Silas:
Please report – Commissioner Jarry from Yankton has arrived to the camp and
intends to fuck Al up the ass.
Dan: Said
he to you while doin’ the same?
Silas: (quietly) It is important that he hear
that. You do him disservice not to
tell.
Dan:
Listen, Adams. Al is fucked up bad. May be dyin’.
Silas:
Jesus.
Dan:
Goddamn right, Jesus. Them stones have done plumb blocked off
his piss passage.
Silas:
Fuck. Okay,
Alright.
Dan:
It’s all backed up in him. Hey, shit, he’s got piss in his
lungs.
Silas:
Can he talk?
Dan: Fuck
no, he can’t talk. He just lays
there and shivers and stares at nothin’.
Uh, he screams when Doc abuses him with them fuckin’ prick poles of
his.
Silas:
Sorry I broke your balls.
Dan:
Well, I’ll see to it he gets your news if he gets to a point I think he can
understand my meanin’. (Silas starts to
leave) Listen, how uh – how’s your little buddy, the one I put the beatin’
on. ( Dan
smiles.)
Silas:
Hawkeye.
Dan:
Yeah, Hawkeye.
Silas:
He’ll live.
(Dan smiles
as Silas leaves, he looks over and sees Johnny snoozing at the other end of the
bar. He throws a wet rag at
Johnny’s head, hitting him in the face.
Johnny wakes with a start…muttering.)
Johnny:
It’s something anyway. (He looks up at Dan,
confused)
(Alma sits
on a bench by the stairs in the hotel, Ellsworth enters and approaches her. He takes off his
hat…)
Ellsworth:
Mornin’,
Ma’am.
Alma:
Good morning, Mr. Ellsworth.
Ellsworth: I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you spent a restful
night.
Alma: I
did. And you’re forgiven. But this morning, I note an amount of
confusion…and anxiety abound, and words of panic about Yankton’s disposition of
the claims.
Ellsworth: Panic’s easier on the back than the short-handled
shovel.
Alma: I
see.
Ellsworth:
(kneels down next to Alma) The
creator, in his infinite wisdom, Miz Garret, salted his works so that where
gold was, there also you’d find rumor.
Though, he decreed just as firm that the opposite wouldn’t always
hold.
Alma: You
understand I needn’t be comforted at the expense of the
truth.
Ellsworth: I’m
late, Ma’am, over shooin’ a man away from your diggin’s named Frances
Wolcott, that scouts for George Hearst, (Alma cocks her head in interest) who
wouldn’t spare attention for a camp or the sun itself if he didn’t think it
likely to fill his coffers. Nor the
sort’d shrink from a lie, or more than one, to advance his purpose, or be
ignorant or of how to circulate his falsehoods without anyone knowin’ their
source. (Alma smiles tentatively)
And now I come to camp to hear
the waters called muddy and the current quickened, though I see no change in the
creek. And the “Hooples,” certain
sure that flood crest fast approaches, have begun to think keenly, “I’ll get
ahead of the event. Maybe I’ll sell
my claim at discount.” Anything to unharness so they can head for the higher
ground. Myself, Ma’am, I’d be
bettin’ that the levy’ll hold. (Alma smiles)
(Bullock’s
kitchen, Martha is fixing breakfast, William at the table. As they start to
speak, Seth approaches)
William:
Did you speak of it to Mr. Bullock,
Mama?
Martha:
Not yet, William.
William:
Will you speak of it today? Good morning, Mr. Bullock.
Seth: Good
morning.
Martha:
Oatmeal…Seth?
Seth:
Please…Martha.
William:
Mr. Bullock, mother was wantin’ a kitchen garden, which I would have care
of.
Seth: (sitting) Have you chosen a spot
yet?
William:
I paced one out in the back of the
house, sir. Yesterday, I would have
broken the ground, but from wantin’ the tools.
Seth: (looking at Martha, back to William. Martha
seems a bit anxious towards Seth) Would you like to go now and tell Mr. Star
you need shovel, hoe and a rake?
William:
Yes, sir. (Jumps up to leave)
Seth: Do you
recall your way to the hardware store?
William: (Turning
back to Seth) I do, sir. Is it okay if I go now,
mama?
(She nods,
William grabs a handful of oatmeal and runs off. Martha rubs her forehead, turns back to
the kettle.)
(Alma,
surveying the hotel lobby below, from the vantage of the upstairs balcony,
appears to be waiting for something. As EB arrives, she goes
downstairs)
EB:
Mrs. Garret.
Alma: Mr.
Farnum. (She eyes him and sits next to the stairs.
EB approaches)
EB:
Mrs. Garret? What male would not trade our small
superiority of intellect to possess that gift of intuition so bountifully
bestowed on the lesser sex?
Alma: (feigning stupidity)
Mr. Farnum, your meaning is beyond
me.
EB: I
imagine you, Madam, awakening the other morning, suddenly and for no earthly
reason, convinced the camp was at peril.
”My gold should be spirited to Denver,” I imagine you thinking, maybe as
you brushed your hair, (Alma smiles)
and without worrying the conviction or studying upon it, sending the gold
away.
Alma: At peril? Mr. Farnum, the camp? Oh, your meaning is beyond me. (She turns to face the wall, EB moves to sit
under the stairs.)
EB:
Ma’am, if a Nubian genie were at my disposal, I’d see his great nigger fingers
whisk up my hotel and deposit it in Denver, just as you did your
gold.
Alma: (smiling) Because the camp’s at
peril?
EB:
Yes, Madam, yes. Peril. (He leans in…) And worse than
peril.
Alma: (Leaning in to him, hushed tone) Perhaps
you should sell.
EB:
Mrs Garret, had I your intuition,
would I not have done.
Alma:
I’ll buy it.
EB:
(Flustered) Aren’t you wonderful and kind and intuitive and
generous. No, I couldn’t burden you
(Alma leans back) nor impose upon
your generosity, tremendously wealthy as you are.
Alma: (Spits
hand, holding it out) Name your
price, Mr. Farnum. We’ll close the
transaction now.
EB:
Madam, now you unsettle and trifle
with me. (He stands, hitting his head on the stairs)
Ungh—and make me nervous and uncertain.
Alma: (Still holding out her hand) My
intention is quite otherwise, and intuition.
EB:
Oh, your intuition? (He sits)
Alma: Name your price. (He looks at her) How do you males put
it…”Shit or get off the chamber pot?”
EB: (flustered) Oh, Mrs. Garret—shit,
indeed. Oh dear. (Stands again)
Alma: Unless, Mr.
Farnum…(taking out a handkerchief to wipe
her hand)
EB:
Unless, what, Madam? Do you reconsider?
Alma: No,
no.
EB: I’d
understand. It’s your sex’s prerogative
Alma: Unless, I meant to say, you’re lying about the camp’s
peril?
EB:
Lying? I?
Alma: But why would
you do that?
EB:
Exactly.
Alma: (Standing) You will make a price for me
then.
EB:
Let me…consider, Mrs.
Garret.
Alma: Don’t, Mr. Farnum. Trust your instincts. (She leans forward and picks up a ruffle
from his collar) I’ll have you in a dress in no time. (She walks back upstairs, E.B. sits in her
spot, muttering…)
EB:
Miserable,
haughty, cunt. Putting me beyond my
depth.
(Al’s room,
Doc is sitting next to Al, in bed, still shaking and
delirious.)
Doc:
We’ve come to a crisis, Al, and I
have to say my piece. (Dan looks at Al,
then to Doc.) The stones can be
excised surgically in one of two ways…(Dan looks to Johnny – nervously) The
so-called “High Method,” which cuts into the bladder from above your penis, and
the other which enters from below.
Johnny:
Below what, Doc?
Doc: His
balls.
Johnny:
So the “low” entails cutting through his taint.
Doc: Now,
I have seen the high method performed.
I assisted at a closing, afterwards discussed it with the surgeon. Come to it, that is the one that I would
prefer. (Dan looks back and forth from Al to Doc.)
Dan:
Al’s with you.
Doc:
Well, how’d he indicate it?
Dan: A
hard blink for the upper and a scowl for cutting through his
‘tain’t.
Doc: With
a knife in expert hands, two men in 10 survive the procedure we
contemplate. But at what point,
without intervention, will your condition so worsen as to put you beyond
recovery? I believe we have
approached that point. I am not an
expert, but I will give it my best effort, and I ask you now for your consent,
should we need to proceed.
Dan: He’s
with you , Doc. He wants the
upper. Hey, that’s it. That’s the final call. Right, Al? (Dan, shaking his head ‘yes’, with tears in
his eyes, looks at the Doc.) The upper? He wants the upper. Well, I guess you better go make
ready. (Dan gets up)
Doc:
All right. All right. (gets up) Come with me, Johnny. Help me with the
stove.
Johnny:
Sure. Sure, Doc.
(Johnny
grabs Doc’s case and follows him.
Dan goes out onto the balcony, leans on the railing,
crying)
(Bella
Union, Wolcott, Cy and Hugo Jarry are talking.)
Hugo: As to claims filed and worked prior to the new
treaty—in essence from when the hills still belonged to the Sioux—the
presumption of legitimacy will apply, subject to qualification, according to
mitigating facts. In short, with no
controlling principle being invoked, title will be determined on a case-by-case
basis. When claims are overturned,
new title will be awarded at said prices, via lottery, to those submitting
verified offers.
Cy: I
only hope territorial officials will be excluded from
eligibility.
Hugo: Yes.
Cy:
Better tell your friends and relatives to pick their lucky suits out for that
drawing.
Hugo: Only
after Mr. Wolcott’s have picked out theirs. Of course, anticipation of the
forthcoming judicial holding may itself largely cleanse the
market.
Wolcott:
It’s always preferable to allow the
market to operate unimpeded.
Hugo: Would that
argue for allowing word of my presence to circulate a bit before presenting
myself officially?
Cy: Man
might use that time to put some stink on his Johnson.
(Wolcott
looks at Hugo who looks at Cy.)
(Trixie
enters the hardware store…looking around.)
Trixie:
Hello?
Sol: Down
here. Behind the counter. (He slides out behind the counter holding a
book) Taking inventory. (He stands and approaches her,
smiling.)
Trixie:
(Distraught) I can’t do a lesson
today.
Sol:
All right.
Trixie:
(Holding back tears) He’s too
sick. Maybe he’ll fuckin’ die. But I can’t stay. But it’d be smart to stay and learn to
calculate fuckin’ interest on that accommodation paper and those fucking
discount notes and whatever the fuck—
Sol:
Another time. (She starts to really sob, he hugs her)
It’s fine, Trixie. (She grabs his
injured arm)
Trixie:
Did I hurt your
shoulder?
Sol:
No. (They hug, Seth sees them from
outside…Trixie sees him through the window)
Trixie: (softly)
I gotta go. (She leaves.)
Seth: (Enters the store) Want to go out for a bit?
Sol:
She says Swearengen’s bad off. Last night I heard him screaming out
again and again. I guess
he’s…worsened with the day. (Steps to the
window)
Seth:
Thanks for outfittin’ the boy with
garden equipment.
Sol: Oh,
he’s planning to take some prizes come harvest fair. He mentioned corn and squash both. I had some news from Denver…concerning
our proposal on the bank. (Seth starts sweeping) We’d need to find
15% of our proposed capitalization.
Seth: If
we capitalize at the two million we figured on—
Sol:
$300,000 separate from what Denver will underwrite. (pauses) Or they’d credit Mrs. Garret’s
accounts as collateral.
Seth: Not
doing that.
Sol: I
don’t advocate it. I’m informing
you of a communication they volunteered.
Seth: (stops sweeping, looks at Sol) We’re not
doing that.
Sol:
Suppose I’ll have to dip into my own
kit then. (Smiles as he throws down the
paperwork) Even so, it’s back to cutting my own hair.
Seth:
I’ll take the idea around.
Sol:
Swearengen’d put it up.
Seth:
Fucking reputable people.
Sol: If money
had to be clean before it was recirculated, we’d still be living in fucking
caves.
Seth:
Your old man?
Sol:
Me.
(Wolcott
and Cy are seated in Cy’s office, Mr. Lee is standing next to
Wolcott.)
Wolcott:
Mr. Lee will provide opium to you
exclusively for sale to whites in the camp. You will receive 50% of the gaming
proceeds from Celestial’s Alley.
Cy: (looks at Wolcott) My men will add the
take. It will spare Mr. Lee here
explaining how slow business was ‘cause of Buddha’s wedding anniversary. (chuckles)
Wolcott:
Your men add the take—also on proceeds from Celestial prostitutes. How many do you
want?
Cy: How
many can you bring? (Wolcott looks to Mr.
Lee)
MrLee:
How many?
Cy: That-
that sounds like a man with an inexhaustible supply. How much English do you have, my friend?
(Mr. Lee just looks at Cy.) Maybe
when we get to know each other better. (pauses) I’ll take a dozen, and I don’t
want ‘em fucked out. I set the
rates. The upkeep’s on
him.
Wolcott:
And my understanding is the upkeep is quite minimal.
Cy:
Good! Gives him more to spend on
Mah-Jongg. (chuckles) I won’t
question the apparent one-sidedness of our arrangement.
Wolcott:
Uh, the arrangement is not yours and Mr. Lee’s alone.
Cy: Yes,
and in ways that I don’t understand, it must benefit you and the man whose name
I must never say, to have Mr. Lee in camp…and perhaps Mr. Wu out of it, maybe
among the spirits of his ancestors.
But what a blessing for me, finally to reach a point in life where…I
don’t feel I have to know. (He chuckles, puff on his
cigar.)
(Trixie is
seated at a table in the Gem, smoking a cigarette, Dan is behind the bar,
smoking a cigar…)
Dan:
A creature walking ‘round on hind
legs. Just like crop-ear and them
half-dozen bushwhackers out in the forest, ones I’d fall in with or out—whatever
suited my daily purpose. (Trixie looks at Dan) That’s what I was
till I crossed paths with Al.
Trixie:
Well, bang the drum and play the pipes and I’ll rend our fuckin’
garments.
Dan: I
was just sayin’.
Trixie: I ain’t
hearin’ confessions this afternoon. (pauses) Say you’ll burn it down with
me, Dan.
Dan:
What?
Trixie:
This fuckin’ place – before letting
Tolliver take it over.
Dan: (choked up) Done.
(A door
closes upstairs, we see Jewel come out of Al’s office. Trixie stands, looking up at
Jewel.)
Trixie:
Well, open your mouth, Jewel, and
say somethin’ we can’t fuckin’ understand!
Jewel:
He’s asking for you.
Trixie:
(Turning around, looking up behind her to
Al’s door) Don’t die with your fucking secret.
Dan: (To Jewel)
Clean the number three. Dolly said she
bled.
(In a spare
room, Doc is boiling his instruments. Doc is shaking as he’s taking a clamp out
of the pan, he drops it)
Doc:
God damn it.
Johnny:
(looks at Doc) I may get me a
whiskey, Doc. You want a
whiskey?
Doc:
No, I do not want a fucking
whiskey.
Johnny:
Well, maybe as far as steadyin’ the hand.
Doc: (hands on hips) How dare you? You shut your fucking
mouth!
Johnny:
I didn’t mean nothin’ by
it.
Doc: (picks up his clamp) Whiskey does not
steady the hand. It just dulls the
worry over the hand’s unsteadiness. (Shakes as he tries to remove his scalpel
from the boiling water to set it on the tray next to the pot, it drops to the
floor.) Jesus Christ! Jesus
Christ, I do not need to kill another man! (Johnny reaches down to pick up the scalpel
and yelps in pain at the heat and sticks his fingers in his mouth.) (calmly)
Top left corner of my fucking bag.
Johnny:
(mumbling) What?
Doc:
Balm, you fucking idiot, against the
burn you fucking just sustained.
Johnny:
(Still sucking on his fingers)
Thanks, Doc.
Doc: Alright. (Calmer, he takes the clamp and picks up the
scalpel, putting it back in the boiling water.)
(Mr. Wu
enters the Gem – through the back door – striding in,
determined.)
MrWu:
Dahn! (Pointing to Dan)
Dan: (turning)
Go away, Wu.
MrWu:
(pointing) Swedgin.
Dan:
No.
MrWu: (slower, making gestures) Swed-gin! (Points to Al’s
office.)
Dan:
Well, it ain’t gonna
happen.
MrWu: (yelling) Swedgin!
Dan: (loudly)
No, Wu! He’s fucked up. Now, Al can’t talk to you right now, and
I can’t understand you, so you go the fuck back to chink
alley!
MrWu: Diu na Ma ga hai! Nei go Bok Gwai Lo!
Dan: (angry)
Do not start drawing air to talk gibberish to me!
MrWu: (angry,
throws something to the ground.
Takes a deep breath, puts his hand up “wait”. He points to his face, drawing a half
circle around it’s circumference.) Cocksuckah.
Dan: Oh, fer Christ’s
sake.
MrWu: Cocksuckah! (Puts hand up
high)
Dan: It’s wasted on me,
Wu.
MrWu: (He pulls his braid) mmm—cocksuckah! (hands up high again)
Cocksuckah!
Dan: I—I—I don’t get it, Wu. I am not as smart as Al. And there’s too much onour fuckin’ plate
right now to deal with it.
MrWu: (points to himself) Cocksuckah! (Hands up
high again) Cocksuckah! San Francisco.
Dan: Jesus-fucking-Christ. All right, there’s a-there’s an
invisible cocksucker next to you, and he’s from San
Francisco.
MrWu: Hou! (points to himself) Cocksuckah! (Hands up high) San Francisco
cocksuckah!
Dan: (He sees
Doc and Johnny come through and starts to head upstairs with them)
I-I’m going with you. (To Wu) You want me to
tell Al that there’s a cocksucker (pulls
his hair) …he looks like…he looks like you, and he’s from San Francisco and
he’s got your dander up. I’m going
up now. I’ll go tell him. (Hurries up the stairs, Mr. Wu watches hi go
upstairs.)
Johnny: Tell him what?
Dan: Oh, God only
knows.
Johnny: (yelling) Why don’t you learn to talk American! Save us all a lot of fucking
trouble!
MrWu: (enraged)
Wu no Englishee! Bok Gwai Lo! Swedgin!
(Silas’ room at the Grand Central.
There’s a knock at his door…he gets up to answer it. He opens the door to Miss
Isringhausen)
Miss Isringhausen: Mr. Adams? Good day.
Silas: Good day, Miss Isringhausen. (Looks at his door number, it’s #5 if you
care.)
Miss Isringhausen: I can’t imagine what you must be
thinking at the moment.
Silas:
(steps aside) Please, come in.
(He steps back into the room, and pats
the seat, indicating for her to have a seat. She shakes her head ‘no’ – standing by
the door with her hand to her mouth, looking upset)
Silas: I can offer you a whiskey or – water
that I just washed my face in.
Miss Isringhausen: I will have whiskey,
Sir.
Silas:
Sure. (pulls out
a bottle and a glass)
Miss Isringhausen: I’ve just been discharged. Sacked.
Silas: By Mrs. Garret? (pulls the stopper off the bottle and pours
the whiskey)
Miss Isringhausen: As tutor for her ward. (He steps forward, offers her the glass, she
steps back, unsure, clutching her brooch.)
Silas: Well, I hope you punched her in the
nose. (She takes the glass, walks over to the
chair.)
Miss Isringhausen: This is a day of firsts. Dismissal from employment, unchaperoned
presence in a man’s room.
Silas: I’m sorry for your news, Miss
Isringhausen, but if that’s your first taste of liquor, I’m sorry for the hand
you’ve been playing your whole life. (She
drinks the whiskey without a blink) You mind if I drink from the
bottle?
Miss Isringhausen: No, Sir.
(He takes a drink from the bottle, she
starts to sob)
Silas:
Oh boy.
(Sits on the bed) Oh boy.
Miss Isringhausen: I’m sorry (sobbing).
Silas:
You want me to
get outta here?
Miss Isringhausen: It’s your room.
Silas:
That’s
okay. You’re not a thief. Or would you feel better if I shot
myself?
Miss Isringhausen: (she looks up) Why do you say that? (looks to the door and
back)
Silas: I apologize. It-it was just a stupid way of trying to
be funny.
Miss Isringhausen: Because I fear I may be killed.
Silas:
(turns around) What?
Miss Isringhausen: I can’t explain -- It’s
nightmarish. It’s
incomprehensible
Silas: Who’s threatening your
life?
Miss Isringhausen: Mrs. Garret. (She says
with disgust) I know it sounds
impossible, but I can testify to you, Mr. Adams, I would not be the first person
she’s killed.
(Al’s office, Dan is fastening strips
of cloth to Al’s wrists. Doc is
sitting next to Al on the bed Al…)
Dan: You want I should tie him high or tie
him low?
Doc: (nodding) Tie him high.
Trixie: (at the foot of the bed)
Should we go ahead and
put a good fuckin’ hit of dope down him, Doc?
Doc: Yeah, go ahead and get a hit
ready.
Dan: (loudly) Al, I have to secure you for
surgery!
Doc: What is it, Al? (Al shifts his eyes from Dan to
Doc)
Dan: He’s afraid.
Trixie: You afraid, Al?
Dan: Ah—you’ve got a fear of the knife. He wants to try passin’ them stones
natural.
Doc: Are you afraid,
Al?
Trixie: (in the middle of the bed, yelling)
Are you afraid, Al?
(He looks at Trixie & raises his eyebrows at her)
Oh God! I’m on his fucking nuts! (She backs off – Doc goes to his
bag.)
Doc: Goddamn smelling salts is what we’re
goin’ to administer! Do you here
me, Al? (holds the vial to Al’s nose) Here is a fucking dose (Al pushes Dan’s face away – struggling)
of smelling salts to your nose! (Al
groans)
Johnny: What are you doing,
Doc?!
Doc: Be quiet! Sit him up and get him to his goddamn
feet! (They all haul him up) Take his prick out! (Johnny motions to Trixie)
Johnny: Come on! Come on! (They all encourage him, Al begins to pass
blood and puss, then a little urine)
Trixie: There you come, Al! There you come!
Dan: There you go! You’re doin’ it!
Doc: There you go, you ox-minded son of a
gun! Push at it, you bastard! Push at it!
Dan: Come on, Al!
Trixie: You’d do a horse proud with the
strength of that fuckin’ stream!
Doc: Lay him down. Lay Al down on the bed! (They lay
him down) We are gonna take care of
this. I’m gonna put this instrument back inside you and clear that cocksucker
you’ve been making progress with, and we are not gonna cut you! (To Trixie) Bring his knee up to his
chest. (To Dan) You hold him down. Johnny, you…go on out to the
balcony.
Johnny: I have charge of the salts!
(Al groans in pain, Johnny holds the salts to his
nose, Doc inserts the probe)
Doc: Alright—(Al groans) Alright! (clicking
sound) I can feel the fucking click
of the gleet! Alright, now I want
you to milk his prick from top to bottom, and I want you to bring that
cocksucker down. (Trixie nods) That’s
it. Now.
Trixie:
Come on,
Al.
Doc: Alright! Look at it! One gleet chasing
a-fucking-nother! God—(Al moaning, urine dribbling from the end of
the probe) God bless you, Al!
Thank you. (Hugs Al’s head) Thank you for saving me, God…
(Al moans weakly, All of them are now
collapsed onto the bed, surrounding Al)
(Four of the Chez Amie whores are
standing next to each other, facing the wall, dressed in their finest, Wolcott
is addressing the room)
Wolcott: Are you uncomfortable,
Girls?
Maddie: They’re fine. You’re paying them to stand in that
position, Mr. W. They’ll stand in
that position. They’ve been in more
awkward positions before.
Wolcott: Thousands of years ago, in Cyprus,
women went about their own lives only after first spending time as prostitutes
at the temple of Aphrodite. (Maddie & Joanie are sitting and listening to
Wolcott, Carrie is lounging in another chair, looking bored) The tribute to their promiscuity meant to secure for
the island the goddess’ grant of bountiful crops and beautiful weather. (Maddie looks on, Carrie looks annoyed)
Woman’s generative instrument on the altar of the race’s necessities, have
we not come some far piece since then? (He chuckles, Doris and another girl whisper
and Doris peeks at Wolcott) Who, for example, fucks on altars anymore, or
pretends anything can make up the weather’s mind?
Carrie: (Fanning herself) Are you gonna fuck me tonight,
Francis?
Wolcott: I bore Carrie. (He stands and crosses the room, approaches
Doris…) You were peeking. (She looks
at him) I asked you not to look.
Doris: Sorry. (He shoves her to her knees into the corner)
Maddie: Why not just go do what you’re gonna do, Mr.
W.?
Wolcott: Am I on a schedule then?
Joanie: She only meant our educations can
wait.
Wolcott: I quite enjoyed our talk the other
night.
Carrie: Do you want to fuck her?
Wolcott: No. (Grabs
Carrie by her shoulders, sits her back in her chair) Carrie, no. Or I’d say
so. (pauses) The atmosphere of the
room turns against me. A growing
collective impatience, where should be a haven of indulgence. (He takes out a pouchof gold and throws it
to the floor) Won’t you indulge me?
Joanie: (Through
clenched teeth) We’re trying, Mr. W., but you are behaving
badly.
Wolcott: Disappointing, from you who I thought to regale
with details of the myths—gods fornicating with mortals, the endless incest,
fathers upon daughters upon sisters—(Joanie stands up, upset and walks to the
far wall – facing it.)
Maddie:
Take her in or get out,
please.
Wolcott:
Excuse us.
Maddie:
Of course. (Carrie rises)
Wolcott:
Er, be generous. I think I’ve upset her. (Indicating Joanie. He follows Carrie to the
back, Joanie turns and she and Maddie look at each
other.)
(Hugo Jarry is being given a bath upstairs in the
Bella Union. He’s playing with the
bubbles, and blows some of the bubbles onto Tess’
titties)
Tess: Well, whatever were you aimin’
at?
Hugo: Your
titties! (The door opens and Cy
enters. Hugo looks at himself in a
mirror , covered with bubbles)
Cy:
Any chance in here of an imminent
finish, commissioner? My thought
bein’ you might want to deliver our newspaper editor a certain document before
he’s too drunk to make it out.
Hugo:
I think not until my bath is
finished.
Cy: Uh-huh.
And I think a finish would involve (looks at Tess) you blowin’ some of them
bubbles underwater,
Honey.
(She looks at Hugo, puts her head on his lap in the
water. Jarry squeals with delight
Cy looks disgusted and leaves.)
(Gem saloon, Dan is seated and getting a shoulder-rub from a whore. He sees Crop-ear enter and pushes the whore away)
Dan: Eamon.
Eamon: (Sits) Has he per any fuckin’ chance
returned from Gayville, Dan, which he had never been to?
Dan: Al’s
upstairs. Now if you agree to a few
fuckin’ rules, I’ll give you a brief audience with him.
Eamon:
Don’t it feel good to play at “Boss,” Dan?
Dan: (pointing, angry) Unless you want to sit
down here and bust my fuckin’ balls over you never learnin’ to move amongst
civilized people?
Eamon: No, an audience is more
important.
Dan: (nods) Alright. Now, you listen careful while we walk
up. (They rise and start to head
upstairs) You get up ‘er, you propose the robbery. You give him the location, the take that
you are prepared to guarantee, Al’s fee on that take, and then a bonus for
overage. And then, Eamon, you shut
the fuck up. (They stop) Al has had a
tough fucking day. Now, you let him
indicate to you however he fuckin’ chooses as to a yes or a no. Now, that’s fair ain’t
it?
Eamon: (snorts)
You’re a great man, Dan. It’s you that’s the great one. (looks to the
heavens)
Dan:
Don’t bust my fuckin’
balls.
Eamon:
Don’t call me “Crop Ear,” you gutless son of a bitch.
Dan:
Eamon, we live life however we choose.
Eamon:
And you choose life as a cunt standing behind a bar. (He walks on past
Dan.)
Dan:
Just tryin’ to do you a
favor.
Eamon:
I’ll have no favors from you!
Dan: (follows him up, drawing his knife
out) Alright, then. Crop Ear. (Grabs Eamon and slits his throat, drops him
on the balcony) Or whatever the fuck it is you want to be called! (Johnny moves out from behind the bar…Dan
spits on Eamon’s face as he walks away) Trying to gauge Al’s recovery and do
you a fuckin’ favor. (Dan goes downstairs and addresses Johnny) Crop Ears is dyin’ up ‘er. You take him over to the Chinaman’s and
you throw him away.
Johnny: Sure, Dan. (looking confused, concerned) Sure. Yeah, I’ll go get the
sled.
Dan:
(Sits down at the table again) I
don’t have the patience for this fucking bullshit! I have had a tough fucking
day!
(The whore comes back to rub his shoulders, he pushes
her away)
(Chez Amie, Wolcott is seated in a chair, Carrie is
standing nearby, fanning herself.)
Wolcott: Were you seeing a relative, Carrie, or did the madam
withhold you to frustrate me?
Carrie:
(Snaps her fan shut and walks away to sit
at the vanity) She doesn’t tell me why she does
things.
Wolcott: But you’d know if you were seeing a
relative.
Carrie:
Yes. I wasn’t. (She unlaces her
shoes.)
Wolcott:
Were you seeing
anyone?
Carrie: A
wild Indian.(looking in the mirror) I
fucked him and I fucked his horse.
Wolcott:
You hate it here.
Carrie:
(looks at Wolcott) I suppose you
don’t.
Wolcott:
(Shaking his head) I don’t, no. (Carrie stands, walking over to him,
removing her petticoats) The rocks tell me stories. And now I have
you.
Carrie:
Well, I’m not a crazy person, so they don’t talk to me. And I’m with me wherever I am, so I wish
I was in fucking New York. (Sitting on
the bed)
Wolcott:
The rocks don’t “talk” to me, but—still I learn their
stories.
Carrie:
(Taking off her garters and stockings)
Oh, I understand now. Thank you
for saying it like I’m a baby.
Wolcott:
(stammering) Well, uh…these hills are
unimaginably rich.
Carrie:
So what?
Wolcott:
To compel even the vagrant attentions of someone like my
employer.
Carrie: I
won’t stay for any amount.
Wolcott:
For a large amount, will you stay for a little?
Carrie:
(She looks at him) Give me some
now.
Wolcott:
Of course. (Hands her a fat pouch)
It’s more than I gave the madam.
Carrie:
(She sets the pouch down next to her on
the bed, looks back at him) And you musn’t hit me like you do the
others.
Wolcott:
You’ve never displeased me.
Carrie:
(She stands, hikes her skirts and
straddles him) Don’t-fucking-hit me, Francis.
Wolcott:
Done. Agreed.
Carrie:
(She starts to rub her hand, from behind
her, on his lap) I will run away to the Indians.
Wolcott:
You would change the course of history.
Be the first of the women chiefs. (moaning) Oh…(he closes his eyes, she stops, he sighs)
I’m too quick.(He looks up at
her.)
Carrie:
You can’t be too quick for me. (She stands and walks back to the bed) You might try it sometimes with your
prick outside of your pants.
Wolcott:
(pauses) I sense
Miss Stubbs has fucked a relative.
Carrie:
It’s a big club.
(Cut to Al in bed, he is staring up, camera is above
him looking down. He exhales through his lips in apparent relief from the day’s
activity)
Al: Pff-fft.
Click here to hear the closing credits music
Written by: Ted
Mann
Directed by: Alan
Taylor
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
Maddie: Alice Krige
Hugo Jarry: Stephen Toblowsky |
E.B. Farnum: William Sanderson
Calamity Jane: Robin Weigert
Charlie Utter: Dayton Callie Johnny Burns: Sean Bridgers
Andy Cramed: Zach Grenier
Jewel: Geri Jewell
A. W. Merrick: Jeffrey Jones
Rev. Smith: Ray McKinnon
Mr. Wu: Keone Young
Joanie Stubbs: Kim Dickens
Con Stapleton: Peter Jason
Wiliam Bullock: Josh Eriksson
Francis Wolcott: Garret Dillihunt
Carrie: Izabella Miko
Eamon, (Crop Ear): Jeff Cahill |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
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