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(Open in Al’s room, Al is sitting on
the edge of the bed Doc is examining him)
Doc: You,
Al, are an object lesson in the healing powers of obstinacy and a hostile
disposition.
Al: My leg and arm are waxing.
Doc: How they feel to you is not the relevant
measure. I judge objectively the
way they respond to stimuli, and they are much fucking improved. In the overall, Sir, I call you a
miracle.
(Al rings the bell, still in his office. Downstairs, Dan and Johnny are busy at
the bar, they look up at the sound of the bell. The door to his office opens and Doc
steps out…)
Doc: Ready to meet the world. (Johnny smiles)
(Outside the Bella Union, Cy and Wolcott
talking)
Cy: How
much longer you suppose I’ll be buying claims, Mr.
Wolcott?
Wolcott:
We’re close to the end.
Cy:
Otherwise, I’ll need to start dancin’ out here in long johns or bayin’ at the
moon—give people some idea of why I’m going against logic.
Wolcott:
This phase is nearly over, even as another begins. (He gestures toward a wagon arriving with a
large tarp covering it’s contents.)
(Alma’s room at the Grand Central, she is seated next
to Ellsworth, sipping tea, across from Sol Star…)
Alma:
I propose formation of a
bank, Mr. Star, with yourself as Chief Officer, my holdings in the camp standing
surety, and Mr. Ellsworth as overseer of my interests.
Sol: I
see.
Alma: (looks at Ellsworth) Not quite a rousing
endorsement.
Sol: It’s
just what’s needed, Mrs. Garret. I
don’t know that I should be part of it.
Alma: Why, Mr.
Star?
Sol:
Other obligations.
Alma: Oughtn’t you,
or anyone urging such connections as disqualifying you, think of the good of the
camp? We all have…(pauses, appears nervous) complicating
obligations. (Alma jumps up and goes to a
basin to puke, Ellsworth and Sol exchange looks)
(The covered wagon has stopped in Chink’s Alley, Mr.
Wu grabs a knife, looks over at Mr. Lee and his henchman that drove the wagon,
disgusted, he starts cutting away the tarp covering the contents of the
wagon…)
Wu: Daio! (Chinese whores reach out desperately through the cages
they are being held in, squinting at the sunlight.)
Cy: Might
those be my new employees? (Mr. Wu looks
at Mr. Lee, disgusted.)
Wolcott:
There’s a combat in prospect between those two, (Mr. Wu looks back again, distressed and
disgusted.) As equal as the Sioux with the whites.
(Mr. Wu glares at Mr. Lee, turns and walks away. Mr. Lee and second approach the wagon as
Doc passes by – looking at the women reaching, gasping, and straining inside the
cage. Doc looks over at Cy with
disgust, Cy smiles)
(Al’s office, he’s dressed and sitting at his desk,
straightening himself up)
Al: All
right?
Dan:
Well, you—left upright, about half a cunt hair.
Al: Well,
bring me fucking straight then.
Johnny: I
got him, Dan. (Johnny walks behind Al,
thumbs to his left…) Hmm? (Dan nods,
Johnny shifts Al to the left.)
Dan:
Whoa. (Throws up a hand.) Right,
there you go. Straight as a
string.
Al: Stand
back then, Johnny. Any drool, first
fucking fleck, you give me this. (Tugs
ear.)
Johnny:
(Shaking his head) Uh, you never
showed no fucking spittle, Al.
Al: Do as
I fucking say.
Johnny:
Yes, Sir. (tugs ear.)
(Dan opens the
door, EB, Trixie, Nuttall, Miss I and Silas are all lined up on the balcony
waiting to see Al.)
Trixie: I’m going in.
EB: Then
why am I in first chair?
Trixie:
Anyone
else suck his prick?
(E.B. says nothing. Mr. Wu smiles, Trixie goes in, Johnny
& Dan stand guard at the door.)
(Hugo Jarry is carrying his bags down the stairs of
the Bella Union, he looks at Cy, who is calmly sipping a cup of
tea.)
Hugo: You washed your hands of me, Mr. Tolliver, when I was
beset amid that rabble, no less contemptibly than Pontius
Pilate.
Cy: Sometimes
the shadow’s cast by the sheltering hand.
Hugo: Meaning the
rabble was under your control?
Cy: No,
Sir. Wouldn’t have ‘em. I am attuned, though, to the workings of
what passes for their minds. This
morning we see the result—more claims offered for sale and prices pressed
downward. You suppose the owners
fear you might visit your ire on their titles?
Hugo: I want to get
out of here.
Cy: I
understand. (He looks over at Tess and
another whore, lounging…) Will you have a quick wind of your timepiece
before you go?
Hugo: No. No, Sir. I will not. I feel the earth washing away from
beneath me. I want to go away. (Wolcott looks
on.)
Cy: We’ll
fucking miss ya.
Hugo: (Walks past Cy, addressing Mr. Wolcott)
And you, Mr. Wolcott, I find you the most severe disappointment of
all.
Wolcott:
(Not looking up from his paperwork)
Often to myself as well. (Hugo
leaves.) What impressions do we expect he’ll take to
Yankton?
Cy: That
your money spends, and I’m a dangerous man with whom to disagree. You put us together, don’t that make us
the very image of Mr. Hearst as he’d want Yankton to thinka
him?
(Al’s office, with Trixie)
Al: How’s
the Jew-fucking going?
Trixie:
(smoking) It’s
alright.
Al: What
does it add to my understanding?
Trixie:
He’s meetin’ with the widow this morning—spoke to the other of formin’ a bank,
and of her in that connection.
Al: Who’s
the fucking “other”?
Trixie:
Fucking Bullock.
Al: My
sensibilities do not need coddlin’ either.
Trixie:
(shaking head) It’s no concern for
you. I don’t like naming the
cocksucker. Anyways, that may be
it’s purpose, his sittin’ down with the widow.
Al: The
Jew? (Trixie nods) I hope you’re
getting paid for the pussy. Don’t
put a price to it, you’ll lose their respect.
Trixie:
He’s teachin’ me accounts.
Al:
That’s all right then. Learnin’ is
like currency to them.
Trixie:
(Widens her eyes) He stares in my
eyes when he fucks me, longing-like.
Al: Jesus
Christ.
Trixie:
(Studies Al) You don’t look so
bad.
Al: Yeah,
next thing to up and about.
(In the street, a stage has arrived. A woman starts to get out – taking
Hugo’s hand. He uses it to pull
himself inside. Merrick comes out
of his office)
Merrick: Uh, Ma’am, may I? (Extending a hand, she takes it – getting
out) A.W. Merrick, Ma’am, of “The Black Hills Pioneer,” making bold to
introduce himself.
Mary: I am Mary
Stokes, Mr. Merrick.
Merrick:
(Excitedly) I thought so! I—uh, I hoped so. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,
Ma’am. (Hugo holds her hand bag out the
coach window) And-and for the camp’s children, whom you will edify. (Hugo shakes the bag at Merrick – Merrick
takes it.) Uh…is this yours?
Mary:
Yes.
Merrick:
And your bags, your bags. Let’s
see, are they up here?
(Trixie leaves Al’s office, E.B. & Tom Nuttall
looking up. She smiles at Johnny,
strolls over to E.B., imitates a blow job with her hand. She leans over in front of E.B…)
Trixie: Liar.
(Silas and Mr. Wu watch her walk past, E.B. gets up
to enter Al’s office. Downstairs,
Ellsworth is looking around as Trixie walks down the
stairs.)
Ellsworth: Miss Trixie.
Trixie:
What is this now?
Ellsworth: Nothing nefarious. I was looking for you. My nerves have had a
shock.
Trixie: How
so?
Ellsworth: Miz Garret took poorly.
Trixie: At the
meetin’ with Mr. Star?
Ellsworth: (nods)
Blech. (Pretends to puke)
Trixie:
Hmm…(Whispering) Come here.
(She pulls on his lapel, turning him around, leading
him to a back room. A whore is
passed out on the couch, Trixie pries a whiskey bottle from the whore’s
hand. She wipes it off and takes a
drink.)
Ellsworth: I’ll add that…she hasn’t looked well the last few
weeks, especially in the morning.
Pale.
Trixie:
What are you fucking hintin’ at? (Hands
him the bottle)
Ellsworth: Nothin’.
Trixie: Nothin’? She ain’t looked well mornin’s opposed
to the rest of the day, pale? (They sit)
Ellsworth: How does sharing observations make me liable to
rebuke?
Trixie:
You got her knocked up, in other words.
Ellsworth: Me?! I
ain’t got her in any way at all, Trixie.
Trixie: In your
opinion, I’m saying – she’s in the way.
Ellsworth: I work for the woman in her fucking employ. (Takes a drink)
Trixie: I
understand that.
Ellsworth: And that is the sole fucking full extent of
it.
Trixie:
Would you do the right thing?
Ellsworth: I was
not involved.
Trixie: We’re fuckin’
past that. I know you wasn’t
fuckin’ involved.
Ellsworth: Who was
involved too, (drinks) far as
that fuckin’ goes?
Trixie: Would
you?
Ellsworth: Would I fuckin’ what?
Trixie: Do the right
fuckin’ thing in that fuckin’ situation?
Ellsworth: What’s
the situation? Explain
it.
Trixie: If she wanted
the child—how a woman wants one that ain’t certain she’s made to bear many,
willin’ even to bear it outta wedlock but for the hurt she’d do another and the
humiliation she’d do, and to that other woman’s little boy. Would you do it
then?
Ellsworth: (incredulous) Do?
Trixie: The right
fuckin’ thing. Don’t get fuckin’
coy with me.
Ellsworth: Marry her, you’re sayin’? (Trixie nods) And the child in the eyes
of others—the issue of my
loins.
Trixie: As much as
they care to see. This is only a
passin’ glance. So the come’s true
author ain’t thrown in their fuckin’ face. Or the true author’s wife’s face,
or the face of that little fuckin’ boy.
Well?
Ellsworth: (pausing)
Would—would she fuckin’ have me?
Trixie: I’d work on
that next.
(Merrick is helping Mary Stokes with her luggage,
unloading a heavy trunk from the stage.)
Mary:
Books.
Merrick: Ah, wonderful.
Mary: I parted with
several boxes in Bismarck.
Merrick:
(struggling with the trunk) I’m sure
to Bismarck’s betterment.
Mary: Mostly
for the sake of the children.
Merrick:
The other few, might I suspect for the sake of certain childhood memories of
your own?
Mary: You
may, and be in the right.
Merrick:
Uh, when-when you’re situated, Miss Stokes, (stammering) may I take you on a tour of
the camp?
Mary: I would
be grateful.
Merrick:
No more than I, Miss Stokes, I assure you.
(Al’s office, EB is up)
EB: Oh, a
man’s come to camp, Wolcott. Agent
for the Hearst’s interest. (He gets up,
puts on his hat – he’s nervous) I believe he’s made calls with Tolliver and
Yankton.
Al:
That’s why Yankton’s suddenly got balls.
EB: I
made him think I was trying to gull him, (sits) and that he had turned the tables
on me.
Al: How
much did he buy you for?
EB: I
kept Dan apprised while you convalesced, in abbreviated
fashion.
Al: How
much.
EB: Oh,
$10,000. (He stands back up, biting his
nail, pacing, not able to look Al in the eye.) Enlisting me, so he thought,
to spread rumors about rescission of the claims.
Al:
Tolliver’s the front, hmm?
EB: (nods) Buying from the panicked sellers,
engaged by this Wolcott.
Al: This
agent for George Hearst?
EB:
That’s it in a nutshell. (He sits, chuckles, looks at Al – who is
staring thoughtfully at him. E.B –
uncomfortable – stands back up) I meant you no disloyalty,
Al.
Al: You
looked out for yourself against the chance I’d die.
EB: I
never wished for that outcome. But I am a born follower. In any case, here we are, if tactically
disadvantaged, exactly as before in strength. (Makes a “huzzah” with is arms, moves to
leave, Al rings the bell, E.B. turns back to Al, shutting the door,
nervous. Al waves him off.) Oh,
sure. Thank you,
Sir.
(Hardware store, Seth looks out the door and smiles,
walking to the desk. Sol
enters.)
Sol: Morning.
Seth: Morning, Sol.
Sol: (Hangs up
his hat, removes his coat) Thanks
for opening.
Seth: You
were out.
Sol: (Pauses – turns) Yes. Yes, I paid a call and then I’ve been
walking. (Pauses – apprehensive) The call was on
Mrs. Garret.
Seth: We
agreed – that wasn’t gonna happen.
Sol: Our
agreement was to not solicit her
investment in a bank. The call I
paid was at her invitation.
Seth: (Angry – walks out from behind the desk,
approaching Sol) I don’t give a fuck
who invited who, Sol.
Sol: That’s your
position.
Seth: Was
the bank the subject of the meeting? (A
customer walks in) Get out! (The
customer stops, turns, leaving)
Sol: (To the customer ) Uh, excuse us a
little while, please. (Turns back to
Seth) She invited me,
Seth.
Seth: To
talk of forming a bank, came here and invited you?
Sol: Sent
Ellsworth that works for her.
Seth: You
told me none of
it.
Sol:
Suspecting maybe you mightn’t act rational.
Seth: (Smirking) But
I bet you told the whore.
Sol: We’re done talking about this for now. (Turning)
Seth: No!
(Following Sol)
Sol: Yes,
Seth. We’re done talking about
this. If you keep it up, we’re
going to fight, and you’ll have to work by yourself while I convalesce.
(Seth grabs his hat,
leaves.)
(Al’s office,Silas and Miss I are
up)
Alice: Until late, Mr. Swearengen, I was employed by Alma
Garret, as tutor to her orphan ward.
Silas:
Sacked two days ago.
Al: Let
her tell it.
Alice: In
the course of my employment, I frequently saw Mrs. Garret under the influence of
opiates. In this state, she
admitted to me having commissioned the murder of her
husband.
Al: What
a world.
Alice: She named you
as her instrument.
Al: Said
I killed him.
Alice:
She never specified you had actually killed him.
Al: Left
it vague-like.
Alice:
Exactly.
Al: That
I was her instrument?
Alice: Yes.
Al: So we
could pin it on someone else, or I could take the fall—confess, supportin’ your
version.
Alice: Yes.
Al: In
writin’ and then subsequently escape.
Alice:
Such has been known to occur.
Al:
Leaving the widow lonely at the bar of justice.
Alice: Better one than none at all.
Al: (Slowly
looking at Alice full-on.) Who
do you work for?
Alice: People of means.
Al: The
people you work for were hired by people of means. Don’t get cagey, Miss
Isringhausen.
Alice: Let me suggest, Mr. Swearengen, you do not get
distracted from your opportunity.
Not who I work for should concern you, but the amount you’ll be paid and
the surety of its delivery.
Al: Too
fucking true. Why I pray fervently
it ain’t the Pinkerton’s whose pay you’re in, and that her dead husband’s people
hired to steal her gold. I got
unrelated reasons to hate those cocksuckers.
Alice:
$50,000.
Al: I’m
hard-pressed to think who the fuck else it would be.
Alice:
$50,000, Mr. Swearengen. Separate
from pay to your subordinates.
Al: Your
pockets, not mine?
Alice:
Yes.
Al: Would
it go against his (points to Silas)
for the pussy? (points to
Alice)
Alice: No
charge for the pussy. (Silas pauses mid breathe – looking at
Alice.)
Al: (leaning
forward) Mind if I take the
day?
Alice: Not at all.
Al: I’ve
got a lot on my plate just now, and I’m feeling less than my full fucking
self.
Alice:
You seem quite formidable to me. In
any case, I’ll wait to hear from Silas.
Al:
Do. (Sitting back) That’d be grand. (Rings the bell.)
(Silas and Alice walk out onto the street, Silas is angry.)
Silas:
I guess if I called you a
cunt, I needn’t expect you to faint?
Alice:
No.
Silas: Gettin’ struck
be a first?
Alice: How have I
injured your interests?
Silas: You think he’s
upstairs considering me for promotion?
Anyway, (stopping on the porch of
the hotel, he gestures upstairs) clear out of my room.
Alice: Come
up and fuck me, why don’t you?
Silas: Simple as
that? (She nods) I’d fear
snakebite.
Alice: Come up and
fuck me, and I’ll answer every one you want to ask.
(She turns to go upstairs, Silas looks after her,
stunned)
(Steve is at the No. 10 Saloon, drinking heavy.
Bullock walks past, turns and looks inside the No. 10 and sees Steve. He walks inside the
saloon.)
Nuttall: Morning, Sheriff.
(Steve looks up at Bullock, inhales deeply and looks
back down at his shotglass. Seth
leans over him)
Seth: You
sober enough to listen? (Steve looks up at him, raises his brows,
turns and spits) Did you just intend to insult me?
Steve:
Excuse me, Sheriff.
Seth: I
know, you face bidness reverses.
Steve:
Like losing my fuckin’ claim!
Seth: People
angry at their difficulties often act like fuckin’ idiots, but there’ll be
no murderin’ people in this camp of any color, or assaults on officials of any
stripe.
Steve:
Even Yankton thieves who are in league with God knows fucking
who?
Seth: (Angrily) Officials from Yankton or
otherwise, or thieves or not. (Stands upright) If you can’t live with
that, get out of this fucking camp.
Steve: I
can live with it. You have to keep
rubbing my fucking nose in it?
Seth: (Punches Steve in the face, Steve goes
over) Do
not misconduct yourself again in this camp. (He leaves, Steve struggles to get
up.)
Rutherford:
Must
he take what the Sheriff just fucking give him?
Nuttall:
Apparently so.
Rutherford: He needn’t.
Not by custom, not by fucking law.
Steve: (sits) Name my remedy
then.
Rutherford: Outside every county courthouse in the land is the
lady blindfolded.
Nuttall:
True, far as it goes…
Rutherford: To ignore how them scales she carries sometimes gets
balanced out…
Nuttall:
There, I take no position.
Steve: I
could take a leather punch and stab the bastard’s horse in the fucking
ass.
Rutherford: You could, and you’d be in the
right.
Steve:
Carve on its coat, “Bullock, I fucked your horse,” and square the fucking
scales.
Rutherford: And if the blindfold was down, see the lady
a’winking, while she told you--you done it like a man.
Steve:
And if I carve “Fuck,” I will have
fucked the horse beforehand.
Rutherford: Preachin’ to the choir.
Steve: (Gets up, grabs his bottle, heading out)
Thanks.
Rutherford: Sure. (Steve leaves, Nuttall clears the table he
was at.) Mingle the shit somewhat….
Nuttall:
You ought to take up whittling.
(Bella Union, Cy is signing papers, Wolcott sitting
across from him. Cy blows his
signature dry. Wolcott is looking
down, busy.)
Cy: Ready
to receive currency, Captain, in exchange for titles.
Wolcott:
Yes. (Tosses down a thick billfold, still not
looking up.)
Cy: And
as I’ve learned to sustain discourse while counting, I’m gonna ask you to take
counsel with me.
Wolcott:
In what regard?
Cy: Well,
first, let’s agree them chink whores make a poor
appearance.
Wolcott:
Yes.
Cy: And
as far as locales for fucking, them cribs they’re in lack
allure.
Wolcott:
They might attract the intended clientele.
Cy: Now
that’s an attitude right there I want us to counsel on. Smart-alecky sorta attitude and almost
with a quality of…fucking anger to it.
I-I-I don’t find exact fucking words for it, but it fucking disturbs and
concerns me.
Wolcott:
By my lights, I feel I manage well.
Cy: Well,
you can say that, Mr. Wolcott, yet I hear accounts that you’re a dangerous lay,
(Wolcott looks up at Cy) and that
adds to my feeling of disturbed. Are
you inclined, Sir, every so often to…ride one off the cliff? Girls, I mean?
Wolcott:
I am disturbed at my private conduct being spoken of.
Cy: Well,
I should think you fucking would be.
And to think of Mr. Hearst’s disturbance if he was to fucking know. Because…that’s a dangerous habit to
indulge when you’re not among friends.
Wolcott:
Are you my friend, Mr. Tolliver?
Cy: (laughst) And as someone past surprise
at habits or inclination, or turns of events, and who don’t confuse himself far
as sitting in judgment with our Lord in fucking heaven.
Wolcott:
I see.
Cy: And
who would never tattle to your employer or jeopardize what’s gotta be a handsome
fucking income. Goddamn right, I am
your friend, Mr. Wolcott. All I
can’t provide for the party is the cliff.
Wolcott:
Believing
yourself past surprise does not commend you to me as a friend. A man inadequately sophisticated, or
merely ignorant or simply stupid, may believe himself past surprise, then be
surprised to discover, for example, that Mr. Hearst already knows of my
inclinations and finds them immaterial.
Suggesting, as a corollary, that your skills for blackmail and
manipulation no longer are assets to you, and for your fatuous belief in their
efficacy, in fact have become liabilities.
In short, you’ve overplayed your hand. Now I should think in consequence, now
recognizing yourself as a man past his time, that during this last transitional
period you would devote yourself with grateful and quiet diligence to such uses
as others may still find you suitable.
Cy: Oh,
you bet I’m grateful. A man like
yourself, warmed at Mr. Hearst’s bosom, secure in his confidence and trust,
taking the time and spending the energy to persuade a relic like
me.
(Wolcott gets up, pushes in his chair, takes the
claim papers and leaves, slamming the door. Cy takes the cash and puts it in his
pocket.)
(Silas’ room, he and Miss I are relaxing in
bed)
Alice:
She’d placed adverts for a
tutor in Chicago, Boston and New York.
The interests that employ me saw.
Silas: What was you
doing at the time?
Alice: Piloting a
steamboat.
Silas: Was Al right
who hired you people to fuck her up?
Alice: That’s not
something I’m told.
Silas: Must be the
dead husband’s parents if they want to hang that murder off her
neck.
Alice: That would
make sense. (pauses) Why does Swearengen hate the
Pinkertons?
Silas: Beats me, a
stalwart organization like ‘at. (pause)
Did you help send them miners up the fucking scaffold in
Pennsylvania?
Alice: (indifferent)
I was busy on the Mississip’.
(Silas looks sideways at Alice, eyebrows
raised)
(Wolcott is walking the thoroughfare…talking to
himself, we see his anger increase the farther he
walks)
Wolcott: Past
hope. Past kindness or
consideration. Past justice.
Past satisfaction. Past
warmth or cold or comfort. Past
love. But past surprise? What an endlessly unfolding tedium life
would then become. No, Doris…we
must not let you be past surprise.
(He arrives at the Chez Amie, enters, slamming the
door behind him. Maddie is sitting
in a chair, Doris sits
nearby)
Maddie: Carrie’s napping. I’ll awaken her.
Wolcott:
You needn’t. (Crossing the room to Doris)
I would like to see this young lady just now.
Maddie:
All right.
Doris?
(Doris gets up from the desk, she looks scared. Wolcott grabs her arm and escorts her
into a room.)
(Merrick and the schoolteacher are walking the
camp…)
Merrick: Ah, teachers one remembers. The thrilling kindness of the extra
moment taken, the extra word of encouragement offered. “You,
young man”—or woman as the case might have been—“have an interesting turn of
mind.”
Mary: (chuckling) Yes. And to take that extra moment in turn.
(Merrick takes her hand, guiding her
through the muck)
Merrick:
Oh, Miss Stokes, to alter a life’s course with a word—(he gazes upon her) how I revere
your…your profession.
Mary: Well,
thank you, Mr. Merrick.
Merrick:
No, thank you, Miss Stokes, and all teachers in you. (Pausing –releasing her hand - looking ahead) Um, there before you
is the Bullock house. It was
recently constructed by Mr. Bullock. (groans) Ah, these streets. (He guides her through the
muck.)
(Al’s office, Wu is up. He and Al are studying one of
Wu’s drawings.It’s a drawing of the San Francisco
cocksucker)
MrWu: (clenched teeth)
cocksucka!
Al: San
Francisco cocksucker, I have got to meet him.
MrWu:
Swedgin, San Francisco cocksucka meet!
Al: San
Francisco cocksucker and Swedgin
gotta meet. (slowly) I’ve got to meet him, Wu. I’ve gotta see how much juice he’s
got.
MrWu:
“Jews?” (Rubbing fingers
together)
Al: Yeah,
I’ve got to see how much juice San Francisco cocksucker’s got, hmm? (Mr. Wu stands, goes to
window.)
MrWu:
Jew Gwai? Jew Gwai? (pointing out window – shouting)
Jew? Jew? (Pantomimes a large
nose.)
Al:
No. N-no no, Wu. No no no no
Jews.
MrWu:
Jew?
Al: No
Jew. Forget Juice - forget
juice.
MrWu: No
Jew?
Al:
Forget juice, huh?
MrWu: No
Swedgin, no San Francisco cocksucker. No Jew. Swedgin, Wu. (Crosses fingers) Hang
Dai!
Al:
Wu and Swedgin—Hang Dai. (Crosses fingers)
(Chez Amie, Joanie enters, Maddie quickly grabs a
magazine and starts reading.)
Maddie: Where are the other girls?
Joanie: Mooning over a dress at that store. What is it?
Maddie: (pauses)
He’s in a room with Doris –
Wolcott.
Joanie: Why is he with Doris?
Maddie: I
don’t know.
Joanie: Well, why ain’t he with Carrie?
Maddie: Carrie’s napping. I can’t imagine what—Carrie might have
told Wolcott about Doris to make him wanna fuck her.
Joanie: Maybe that she reports to Cy Tolliver? To keep Wolcott from bouncing Doris off
more walls? Look up from your
fucking magazine, Maddie. (Maddie looks
up, Wolcott comes out of the room.)
Wolcott:
I would like to see Carrie now.
(Maddie stands slowly, she looks very
nervous)
(Bella Union, Cy with Con and
Leon)
Cy: Assist me in a flight of fancy, Gentlemen. (They take the glasses from him. Leon looks
confused.)
Con:
Well, don’t make me think of Leon in
a dress, Mr. T. (Cy chuckles.)
Leon: Or me of him anything but fully
clothed.
Cy: (Turns around) Mr. Merrick appears
before you. “Somebody’s fucked with
my newspaper office,” He says. “My
presses are a mess. My vowel trays
are overturned” or the like. How do
you respond?
Leon:
“Go fuck
yourself.”
Con: “We
don’t know anything about it.”
Leon: If you ain’t here to fuck or be fleeced, get on your merry way.
Cy:
Good. Now, how about, “Referee’s
the only neutral in a prize fight, Merrick, and you ain’t one of
those.”
Con: (Mulls this over) We could say
that.
Leon:
What would we mean?
Cy: Tch.
I don’t know, fellas. I do not
fucking know.
Con:
Well, if you don’t, we don’t have to
either.
Cy: I am
saying, far as I’m concerned, your initiative and leadership abilities and
stick-fucking-to-itiveness are all in fucking question. And, was I either or both of you, I’d
consider this a fucking test.
Leon: When do you
suppose he’ll show up?
Con: Once
we’ve paid a visit to his place, Leon.
Leon: Oh! (As in “No shit,
Sherlock.”)
Con: And
aftermath, when Merrick’s path crosses ours, he’ll here of the “neutral” and the
“prize fight.” (Con looks to Cy, Cy
smiles.)
Leon:
In no uncertain
terms.
Con:
And know the import of that fucking
parable.
Cy: All
right then.
Leon: Got any
sledgehammers?
Cy: (chuckling) Always. (They drink)
(Chez Amie, Joanie and Maddie are sitting,
nervous.)
Joanie: I’m going in there.
Maddie: No, you aren’t.
Joanie: He ain’t the type to be with two
women.
Maddie: I
never took his full history.
Joanie: I’m saying he ain’t!
(Inside the room, we see Carrie sitting, crying and
clearly frightened. Wolcott is
behind her.)
Wolcott: What are we to do here, Carrie?
Carrie:
Get rid of her. (We see Doris on the bed
with her throat slashed, dead.) They’ll let you.
Wolcott:
I suppose they will, but that won’t dispose of the
problem.
Carrie:
What’s the problem?
Wolcott:
I don’t know. I can’t say. I don’t want you to have seen
me.
Carrie: I
don’t care you killed her. She must
have done something to you.
Wolcott:
I mean something different. I don’t
want to have been seen.
Carrie:
(long pause, she’s crying, nose running)
Then you’re fucking crazy. (pause)
And you’re gonna kill me in this fucking shithole. (Wolcott puts his arm out, resting it on a
chair behind her, we see the flash of his razor. Carrie is resigned, gazing at
the bloody Doris.) Do you know how to make it not hurt?
(He pauses, seems touched by the remark, we see the
glint of the blade behind Carrie. She jumps up to bolt out of the room He catches her, putting a hand over her
mouth and slitting her throat with the other. He guides her down into a chair with
him, gazing at her face – we hear him emit a low
groan.)
Wolcott: Now, I could cut off my arm.(He lifts her head gently and takes his arm out from under it. He kisses her forehead. Sitting alone, he fingers his razor.)
(Back to the outer room)
Joanie: I’m going in. (She walks to her desk, Maddie pulls out a
gun, stands, pointing it at Joanie.)
Maddie:
Your gun isn’t there! (gasps) I’ve got it. (Joanie silently walks away from the desk,
making her way to the front door, looking back at the closed bedroom door, back
to Maddie) Go on, get out!
(Joanie leaves.
Maddie – trembling & sobbing, lowers the gun. Joanie is walking down the street,
sobbing.. Charlie spots her and
tips his hat to her.)
Charlie: Miss Stubbs.
Joanie:
Mr. Utter. (She continues without stopping, he watches her go, concerned)
(Wolcott comes out of the room. He turns to Maddie, she is now sitting.)
Maddie: What did you do, Mr. W?
Wolcott:
(pauses, seems confused) Something—very
expensive.
Maddie:
(Stands, suddenly pointing the gun at
him.) 100,000. For now. (Advancing) And more when I want it for
as many years as I live! For all
the years of my life. Do you
understand!? (She has the gun in his face now, waving it.
He grabs the gun hand, and in a single fluid move with the other hand he slashes
her neck She gasps for air as he eases her – still holding her hand – to the
floor. He sits, looking at Maddie
as the blood pours out of her.)
(Joanie has arrived at the Bella Union and approaches
Cy.)
Joanie: There’s trouble at my place,
Cy.
Cy: (He turns to face her smiling) Where is
Sheriff Bullock when he’s needed?
Joanie: Her last report to you, did Doris speak of gettin’
beat on? (He stares) That’s the man
making the trouble.
Cy: (Sets down his drink, serious now) Don’t
you fuckin’ follow me. (He
leaves)
Joanie: (Turns to
the bartender, Lila comes up behind her.) How much money you got, Jack?
Jack:
Don’t put me in the fucking
middle, Joanie.
Joanie:
No, I wouldn’t!
Jack:
1400.
Joanie:
(turns to Lila) Can you run to Mr.
Utter? Lila – tell him to ready a
wagon.
Lila: Sure, Joanie. (She leaves.)
Joanie: (Turns
back to Jack) Go get your fucking
money, Jack!
(Jack leaves the bar, Joanie is by herself, quietly
crying.)
(Mr Lee is in Al’s office. Dan tosses a large bag of
gold dust onto the desk in front of Lee. Lee looks calmly at Al and shakes his
head “no”)
Al: Again.
(Dan grabs another sack from the
safe and sets it next to the other.
Lee looks amused.) Open the fucking bag for him, verify it’s fucking
gold. (Dan reaches for the
sack.)
MrLee:
I know. I don’t want it.
Al: (looks surprised) Anyways, good meetin’
ya.
(Mr. Lee turns and leaves without another word. Dan closes the door behind him and nods
to the bedroom door, Al nods. Dan
opens the door where Wu has been hiding.)
Dan: Come
on out, Wu.
MrWu: (Walks over
to Al’s desk) Juice? (Rubs his fingers together. He nods to the
door that Lee just left through.)
Al:
If 20 don’t get tempt him to
converse, you’re fucking-a-right.
Maybe you and me should be working for him.
MrWu: Wu
(one finger) Swedgin (another finger, he crosses
them)
Al: Alright, Wu, it’s been a long fucking day,
huh?
Wu:
No San Francisco
cocksucker.
Dan: Come
on, Wu. Al’s
tired.
(Mr. Wu leaves, Al pulls out a shot glass and pours
himself some whiskey. Dan puts the
gold sacks back in the safe.)
Al: Hearst.
Dan: What
about him?
Al: San
Francisco.
Dan: You
think Hearst and the chink’s connected?
Al: You
think he was born--lookin’ down his nose at 20,000?
( Chez Amie, Cy is looking over the bloody room
and the 2 dead whores, he gags a little and turns to Wolcott who is still
sitting next to Maddie’s body)
Cy: The
chief fact is, no witnesses are extant.
Wolcott: The other madam was here – once when I came out. Uh, Joanie Stubbs.
Cy:
Before you did this? (Waves the
handkerchief, motioning to Maddie’s body)
Wolcott:
Yes. When I came back out, she was
gone.
Cy: Was
she ever in the bedroom?
Wolcott:
No.
(Cy tucks the handkerchief in his coat pocket, pulls
up a chair, sitting backwards in it , facing Wolcott.)
Cy: Don’t
worry about the other madam. Go to
the hotel. Eat, if you can stand
the food. (Wolcott looks at Cy.) This
will all be took care of. I told
you, Mr. Wolcott, all’s I can’t provide is the cliff. (Wolcott looks down.) Go on now, get
outta here.
(Cy looks down at Maddie.)
(Hardware store, Seth stands in front of
Sol.)
Seth: I
apologize for bringing Trixie into it, and calling her what I
did.
Sol: That
wasn’t new information to me.
Seth: (Smiles a bit) After you and me talked,
I searched that idiot Steve out to rebuke him and smack him in the face for
being who he was. (taps his head) The
Sheriff. (Sol nods) Tell me about
your meetin’ with Mrs. Garret.
Sol: She
never once mentioned your name. She
wants to form the bank to better the camp.
Seth: And
asked you to be involved?
Sol: To
serve as Chief Officer.
Seth:
You’d be a good one. (Smiles)
Sol:
I got the impression that she might
be with child.
(Seth stares at Sol,
clenched)
(Evening, Merrick is escorting the schoolteacher
across the street into his office)
Merrick: Lot, before God, could make no case for that
food.
Mary: Lot’s wife may
have been in that
food.
Merrick:
Over salted as it
was.
Mary:
Mm-hmm.
Merrick:
(laughs) I took that to be your
meaning.
(He opens the door, his jaw drops as he sees that his
shop has been ransacked. She covers her face with a handkerchief and backs out
of the office)
(The livery, Hostetler is dozing on a stool and is
awaken by a sound. He looks around and sees Steve standing behind Bullock’s
horse. He grabs a shovel and starts to sneak up behind
Steve.)
Steve: Aw, shit. (grunts) Stay still, God damn it…while I
come on your fucking leg. You’re
lucky I’m not fucking you. (groaning)
Ooh! (He sighs, pats the horses’
haunch, a smile on his face.)
You tell the Sheriff how that fucking felt, me coming on your fucking
leg…or that I saved you from an ass fucking.
Hostetler: (leaning in behind Steve and speaking softly
into his ear) What
else did you learn at dat school dat teached you dat?
(Cy, on the boardwalk, passes in front of
Merrick’s)
Merrick: Mr. Tolliver! (Cy stops) My office has been torn
apart.
Cy: Hard
luck.
Merrick: My press has been damaged, my vowel tray beyond
repair. And the newly arrived
school teacher, Miss Stokes, has been badly frightened and has retreated to her
hotel. (Gestures across the street, Cy
turns and looks.)
Cy:
Do we blame unsavory
elements?
Merrick:
I regard this incident as postscript to the visit by county Commissioner
Jarry.
Cy:
Interesting.
Merrick:
Retribution for my refusal to associate my newspaper with Yankton’s notice on
title to the claims.
Cy: For
pinning the notice, you mean, on a wall instead of printing it under your
masthead?
Merrick:
That is my meaning exactly.
Disassociating “The Deadwood Pioneer” from what I took to be the opposite
of an effort to inform.
Cy: Maybe
if you had done your part, calmed the fucking waters a little, instead of
treeing the county commissioner, the hooples would have gone and got their loads
on and been waiting for your next edition.
Merrick:
No, we-we differ, Mr. Tolliver, on the function of the
press.
Cy: Ain’t
the lesson for you in this, Merrick, that with fucked up machinery, the press
cannot function at all?
Merrick:
And is that the vandalism’s purpose, Sir?
And of the dog defecating in my office, with ruffians dispatched by you
as the lesson’s author?
Cy: I
doubt they had a dog with ‘em.
(Cy leaves, Merrick is
agape.)
(At the livery, Hostetler is sitting on a stool
across from Steve, who is securely tied to an anvil)
Fields: (entering)
Hostetler, what the hell are you
doing? (Sits)
Hostetler: He was in here fucking a
horse.
Steve: I did not
fuck that horse.
Fields:
I’m asking you what you’re
doing.
Hostetler: I’m gonna go get a shoeing tool, and I’m gonna hit
this bastard right here, (touching the
center of his forehead) and I’m gonna drop him like a piece of
beef.
Steve: I
never fucking harmed you.
Fields:
Guess he ain’t talking to me.
Steve: I didn’t
kill you like he’s fucking fixing to kill me.
Hostetler: You need to die, Steve.
Fields:
Hard as you worked, (carries over the
chalkboard) as much shit as you had to eat, only way it makes any sense to
kill him is if you sign everything you got across to me first. ‘Cause then I could see the
logic.
Hostetler: I’m gonna kill him, then I’m fucking gonna come
back and kill you. And this isn’t
my will. (erases the
board)
Fields: (To Steve)
Do you believe that God can act
through a nigger?
Steve: God does not want you to kill.
Fields:
Do you believe that God would let me
feel mercy toward you that tarred
me and fucked his horse?
Steve: I
do. But I did not fuck the horse.
Fields:
Would you go hence in gratitude, if
you received mercy (looks at Hostetler)
in this stable?
Steve: I
would.
Fields:
Write out “I fucked the Sheriff’s horse.”
Then we’re gonna have him sign it.
Steve: I
didn’t fuck the horse.
Hostetler: (writing)
“I fucked—“
Steve: I jerked
off. I came on his
leg.
Fields:
Would you sign off on that slight exaggeration to keep from getting your fucking
head smashed in?
Steve: Yes.
Fields:
Would you bless colored folk and God that’s father to us
all?
Steve: I would
and go hence in gratitude.
(Hostetler stands and retrieves his shovel, ready.
Fields stands and cuts the ties that bind Steve. Steve walks on his knees over to the
chalkboard and signs it.)
Fields: Go hence now, Steve, go on.
Hostetler: Now go!
Fields:
And if your gratitude ebbs, remember, we got your
signature.
Steve: I’ll
go, and I’ll remember.
(Steve leaves, Fields tosses the chalkboard to the
ground, Hostetler the shovel.
Fields sits and they both sigh.)
Hostetler: I took a drink of liquor and it put me to sleep—how
he got in, how I got beside myself.
I ain’t took a drink…in 17 years.
Fields:
(swallows) Yeah, well, you’re over
that now. (offers the
bottle)
Hostetler: I don’t want any.
Fields:
(puts the bottle away) That tomboy
get you that message?
Hostetler: I know.
When they come for you like they did before, you would have did like I
did.
Fields:
Only quicker.
Hostetler: I appreciated the message.
Fields:
So be it henceforth.
(Bullock house, the dinner table. Seth sits with William and Martha, he seems distracted)
Martha: Was it a difficult day?
Seth:
No.
William:
Momma met the new school teacher and very much liked her.
Martha:
Mr. Merrick brought her to call.
Seth: (smiles) Good.
Martha: (smiling)
I liked her very much. I’m delighted she’s finally
arrived.
Seth:
Good.
(He sits quietly, Martha is watching
him)
(Al’s bedroom, he’s sitting, Johnny next to him, Doc
and Dan across…)
Al: I
lack my accustomed stamina.
Dan:
Bullshit, Doc. They’ve been comin’
at Al in waves, and he stood them all the fuck off.
Johnny:
(nodding) He’da stopped Sherman shy
of the sea.
Al: Without the use of a leg, would they have fired me
from a fucking cannon?
Doc: Well, I find you in excellent
fettle.
Al:
Relative to my former wreckage, hmm?
Doc:
Relatively speaking, yes. All
conditions are fucking relative.
Al: So
how is this? (moving arm) Hmm? Relatively
speaking?
Doc:
Better than this morning.
Al:
Alright, thanks. Poke a girl before
you go, Doc? Hmm? Well, change off rummaging their
twats.
Doc: I
hope you ain’t connected with them new Chinese
prostitutes.
Al: I
ain’t. But I did try to make
friends with their pimp.
Doc:
Yeah. (turns and leaves)
Al:
We need to muscle
up.
Dan:
Local?
Al: Don’t
know who’s been bought.
Johnny:
Well, send me to Cheyenne.
Al: You
go. (nodding at Dan, grabs Johnny) I want
you close. I think I’ll take a look
outside. (Uses his grip on Johnny’s arm
to hoist himself to standing. Dan
goes to his other side and the three make their way to the balcony.) What
about that forest fucking type you used to maraud with before you met
me?
Dan: Crop
ear?
Al: Yeah,
lacked the used of a fucking horn. (pokes
his finger in Johnny’s ear)
Dan:
He ain’t
available.
Johnny:
Yeah, didn’t I hear lately, Dan, Crop Ear’s been marauding
elsewhere’s?
Dan: Yep.
(He opens the balcony
door.)
Al: Uh,
let’s not appear as fucking triplets, huh?
(Johnny takes Al’s arm off his
shoulder, Al hops out onto the balcony, leaning against the doorframe…) Go back down, both of you. (They leave, Al situates himself and hops to
the balcony railing and addresses his leg.) Took some fucking portion of the
relative fucking weight.
(In the street, Joanie is helping 3 whores into a
wagon that’s covered by a tarp.)
Joanie: (whispers)
Come on, come
on.
(They all climb under the tarp, Charlie holds it up
for them. Charlie shoos away a nosey passer-by. Joanie is at the side of the wagon, her
back to it)
Joanie: Someone put a hand out. (Several hands reach out, Joanie puts money
into one) Who got it?
Whore:
Enid.
Joanie:
Split it three ways, Enid.
Enid: Thanks,
Joanie.
(Joanie walks to the front of the wagon, Charlie
lifts himself up to the seat next to his driver.)
Joanie: Thank you very much.
Charlie:
Certainly.
Joanie:
(to the girls under the tarp) It’s $1400. Split it three ways. Never come back!
(As the wagon pulls away, Joanie starts walking up
the street slowly, looking around. Al is on his balcony watching all this. Their
gazes meet and he nods slightly to her)
The End
Click here to
hear the closing credits music
Written by Steve
Shill
Directed by Steve
Shill
Al Swearengen: Ian McShane Dan Dority: W Earl Brown
Seth Bullock: Timothy Olyphant
Alma Garret: Molly Parker
Ellsworth: Jim Beaver
Doc Cochran: Brad Dourif
Sol Star: John Hawkes
Trixie: Paula Malcomson
Tom Nuttall: Leon Rippy
Cy Tolliver: Powers Boothe
Leon: Larry Cedar
Sophia: Bree Seanna Wall
Silas Adams: Titus Welliver
Martha Bullock: Anna Gunn
Maddie: Alice Krige
Hugo Jarry: Stephen Toblowsky
Steve: Michael Harney |
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 |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
Deadwood transcription from www.CalamityDan.com These transcriptions are the property of CalamityDan.com, and are intended solely for entertainment purposes. No copying or public distribution without express consent is permitted. Possession or use by anyone other than authorized members of CalamityDan.com is cause for cuttin' some throat. |