Episode
15: “New Money”
Click here for DVD audio commentary by David Milch (54 MB)
(Open in Al’s office. Al is lying on the floor,
covered in sweat and groaning, shivering. In the Gem, the whores are hanging
over the upstairs railing looking at Dan down below)
Dan: You
want to know when we’re gonna open, Tess?
(She nods) Well we’re gonna
open when me and Johnny fuckin’ say so!
And you three, hoverin’ around like buzzards outside Al’s door, will not
hasten the situation. (to Johnny) It was fucking sun up before Al called it
quits. Now, he has earned a
sleepin’ in.
Johnny: He locks the door, Dan, when he leaves his office. Al does not lock the door when he’s
inside.
Dan: That’s
just the exception that proves the fuckin’ rule.
Johnny: I
suppose.
(In the street, a stagecoach has arrived, men are
unloading the baggage as E.B. greets the new arrival.)
EB: May I
ask, Mr. Wolcott, what purpose draws you to our hills?
Wolcott:
Gold.
EB:
Gold? I see. (Charlie walks past, does a double take at
Wolcott) Morning, Mr. Utter.
Charlie:
Morning.
EB:
Frequents my buffet religiously.
Wolcott:
Yes, I hope to locate and secure an assortment of claims.
EB: An
assortment? Shrewd hedging—which
makes me think this is not your first foray.
Wolcott:
If it was, I don’t suppose I’d admit it to you. (He touches E.B. on the arm, as he says
this. He then walks over to his
luggage, stacked nearby.)
EB: Only
confirming my original impression.
(Richardson comes out onto the porch, leaning between
the two to toss a bucket of rubbish.
E.B. grabs him by the arm…)
EB: Get
his luggage. (To Wolcott) My staff will install your
possessions.
Wolcott:
I thank you. (He turns to enter the hotel, E.B.
follows)
(Bullock house, Martha is pouring Seth his
coffee. He’s standing in the
kitchen…)
Seth:
You bought provisions.
Martha:
During the night…while I was waiting for you to come home.
Seth: It’s a
24-hour camp.
Martha:
So I saw.
Seth: (Pauses) Certain things I said
yesterday, I regret. I‘ll be
grateful if you’d not rely on them.
Martha: All right.
Seth:
Representations I made as to
letters I’d written—I didn’t.
Martha:
I’ll be grateful then if you not rely on my – assurance that I got them.
Seth: All
right.
Martha:
I’ll
hold my deepest gratitude, Mr. Bullock, for what will let us live as we are
now.
(Grand Central dining room, Mr. Wolcott is looking
over the fare)
Wolcott : This oatmeal looks old.
EB: It
does, doesn’t it? Richardson,
Goddamn you! The oatmeal is
clotted.
Richardson:
Well, it’s 45 minutes yet till the three hours.
EB: Stop
spouting gibberish and replace the damned oatmeal.
Wolcott:
I’ll make do with the bacon. (sniffs his plate)
EB: A
camp like this, one draws one’s menials from a small and brackish
pool.
(We see Maddie and Joanie across the room, having
breakfast. Maddie recognizes
Wolcott)
EB: Once
the pig is digested, perhaps we could pursue a possibility that’s come to
mind.
Wolcott:
If the spirit still moves in you, sure.
EB: Maybe
we could do it now?
Wolcott: No.
Let’s let your mind ripen and mature the possibly first.
Maddie:
The creature I saw outside our place last night, who you said is the camp’s
mayor, now perches like a vulture over that man at
breakfast.
EB: Of
course, Certainly.
Joanie:
Farnum. He owns the
hotel.
Maddie:
Have you affection for Mayor Farnum?
Joanie:
(shaking her head)
None.
Maddie: Good.
Because the man the mayor expects to digest is going to toy and play with
Mr. Farnum from camouflage for as long as he finds it amusing. And then make him a meal of his
own.
Joanie:
Who is the man?
Maddie: A
trick. A specialist. Who asks to be called Mr.
W.
(At the Gem, EB is knocking on the locked front
door)
EB: E.B.
Farnum demanding entry.
(Johnny looks to Dan, shaking his head about E.B.,
Dan nods to the bartender, seated at a table by the door, to let the EB inside.)
EB: Summon Al.
Johnny:
He’s not summonable.
EB: For
the news I bear, he’ll be plenty summonable.
Dan: Why
don’t you go on up and summon him yourself, E.B?
EB:
Happily. (He walks to the stairs)
Dan: He’s
behind lock and key.
EB: (stops) You’re certain he’s
within?
Johnny: Called out to my knock, said, “Get the fuck
away.”
EB:
Fornication demanding discretion or a bribe.
Dan: He’s
fuckin’ alone, and he’s gonna stay that way until he chooses to be
otherwise.
Johnny: I
think he’s fuckin’ poorly. (E.B. strokes his chin) His voice has
got a gravelly timbre.
Dan: Want to leave a
message?
EB: In
fact, I do. Yes. “Al,
if you’re not dead and already molderin’, I send news to revive you. A fish to rival the fabled leviathan has
swum into our waters. Get well soon
and we will land the cocksucker together.
Your Friend, E.B.” (He nods, happy
with his message, starts to leave…he stops, turns back to the guys…) You
might add as a postscript, “I also have the news you dispatched me to secure of
the newly arrived cunt.” Please. (He leaves)
(Outside the Bullock house, William is talking to a
red-headed boy. He’s on one side of
the footbridge, the boy on the other side.)
Boy:
You just move
here?
William:
Just yesterday.
Boy: I
watched the Sheriff build this house.
William:
Mr. Bullock’s my Pa’s brother, that married my mom when my Pa got killed. So now he’s my Pa and my Uncle.
Boy: (Points down the creek) Big Trout lives
in that deep part down there.
Boy’s Dad:
Damon!
Damon:
Coming! My Pa and me are going to
grow apples in Oregon.
William:
Will you come back?
Damon: (Backing down the steps, toward his father’s
wagon…) Pa says we ain’t never coming back. Keep your eye on that rainbow. I call him Jumbo.
(Damon leaves and hops in his father’s wagon. William walks a few steps to the end of
the footbridge…Seth comes outside)
Seth:
Morning, William.
(William steps up to Seth and shakes his
hand.)
William: Morning Mr. Bullock. You got your gun and badge
back.
Seth: I
did. I put ‘em in that basket for
you to see.
William: Did you fight that man again?
Seth: (Shakes his head) No.
We didn’t have to fight.
William:
(Nods his head towards Damon’s wagon)
That boy is going to Oregon.
Seth: (Looks at Damon’s wagon leaving town, Damon
is still looking back…) There’s a trout that loiters just downstream
there.
William:
The boy called him Jumbo.
(Seth walks across the footbridge, down the steps,
turns back to William…)
Seth:
Maybe after work we can make
him pay for his slothful ways.
(William nods his head in agreement, Seth turns and
leaves.)
(Alma’s claim, she and Ellsworth are touring the
site. There is a roar of stamp mills.)
Alma:
(loudly) Does the scope of the find, Mr. Ellsworth, warrant
more than the five-stamp mill we operate with now?
Ellsworth: (loudly)
Oh, no question, Ma’am. Your holdings justify 25 stamps
easy. Just a matter of waiting till
the legalities get resolved.
Alma:
(loudly) And why would the purchase of a larger machine await
legal resolution?
Ellsworth: (loudly)
Well, Ma’am, ‘cause without title,
you wouldn’t own no quartz for your 25-stamp machine to
crush.
(Seth is standing in the entryway of the hotel,
Richardson presents Miss Isringhausen & Sophia to him as they come down the
stairs…)
Miss Isringhausen: Good morning, Mr. Bullock.
Seth: (Takes off his hat) Good morning. Good morning,
Sophia.
Sophia: Good morning.
Miss Isringhausen: Mrs. Garret has gone to see her
claim.
Seth: (Looking up at the door to Alma’s room)
Has she?
Miss Isringhausen: Yes, with Mr. Ellsworth.
Seth: I
see.
Miss Isringhausen: She asked if I saw you, please to give you this
back. (She holds out his pocket watch.)
Sophia can learn on another watch.
Seth: (Quickly grabs the watch from her hand,
looking at Sophia, puts it in his pocket) All Right. When opportunity permits, you might
inquire of Mrs. Garret, as few children as are in the
camp—
Miss Isringhausen: I take your meaning, Mr.
Bullock.
Seth: If she
decided it was appropriate, other parties would be delighted and
grateful.
Miss Isringhausen: Yes, well, she will have to decide
that.
Seth:
Yes.
(Miss Isringhausen and Sophia turn, walking back
upstairs. Seth puts his hat back on
and leaves. E.B., carrying in Mr.
Wolcott’s bags, passes him in the entryway.)
(Maddie & Joanie walk along the
thoroughfare)
Maddie: Fond as I am of you, Joanie, I wouldn’t have brought
my girls and my own tired ass out here on just your kind
invitation.
Joanie:
The trick sweetened the prospect of Mr. W?
(We see Wolcott being shown to his room by E.B.)
Maddie: He offered on one of my girls to bring her out
here. Being as Mr. W is chief
lookout for George Hearst—that struck biggest in the Comstock and Mexico—I knew
he’d just endorse the camp’s future.
(As E.B. helps settle Mr. W into
his room…) Short side, Mr. W enjoys being cranky with his women. (They reach the Chez Amie) But sometimes
when disappointed his crankiness runs away with him.
Joanie:
(looking up at Maddie) What’s gonna
disappoint him?
Maddie: Devious sort that I am, I’ve got the girl he’s
interested in on ice.
(Back in the hotel room, E.B. hands Wolcott his
key…)
Wolcott: Thank you.
EB: (sitting down) Mr. Wolcott I’m the
custodian—note I do not say owner—of Wild Bill Hickok’s final earthly
communication. (Takes the letter from his
inside jacket pocket, hands it to Wolcott…)
Wolcott:
It’s damp. (Shakes it)
EB: Mr.
Wolcott, (grabs the letter) not an
hour before giving me the letter, Bill confided to me, having come upon a quartz
deposit promising in Bill’s own words “Wealth beyond counting.” How much wealth is that? I don’t know, Mr. Wolcott. I don’t know how high Bill could
count.
Wolcott:
How much do you want me to
pay?
(E.B. laughs, gets up from the bed where he was
seated, retrieves another bag from the hall…)
EB: I’d
hardly expect you to pay
anything. Imagining rather I will
pay you your cost (strains as he brings
in a bag) to see the letter delivered to it’s proper recipient. Plus $100…set against whatever profits
you may generate. Should delivery prove impossible…from the information the
letter contains.
Wolcott:
(stroking his beard) So, this set-off
against profits I might gain in the event that this letter, proving
undeliverable, contains such valuable information, have you an amount in
mind?
EB: Mmmm.
$10,000.
Wolcott:
Less the $100 you would pay me?
EB:
Correct.
Wolcott:
$9,900 net then, me to you.
EB:
Yes.
Wolcott:
And I would pay you that now before attempting the letter’s
delivery?
EB: Oh,
yes. Once you have the letter, all
my connection to it is severed.
Wolcott:
I see.
EB: To
deliver it or not, or whatever the hell you want to do.
Wolcott:
(standing up) Well, you will have my
decision shortly.
EB: Fine
then.
Wolcott:
Uh, for the luggage. (Offers E.B. a
tip)
EB: Oh
no. I wouldn’t hear of it. It was my great pleasure. (turns to leave) I trust I will, uh,
hear from you soon. (nods, leaves.)
(At the
hardware store, Trixie is pulling up her stockings and lacing her boots as Sol
lays in bed…)
Sol: I
see now what it takes to bring you back
into my life.
Trixie:
Just passing through, Mr. Star.
Sol: Even
so, (getting up) it makes a man glad
he has three limbs left to be damaged.
Seth: (Enters the store…)
Morning.
(He closes the door and heads to the back. Trixie gives Sol an anxious
look)
Trixie: A man can
get me in his life with five bucks.
$2 if he just needs a handshake.
Seth: (Clears his throat) Good
morning.
Sol: Morning.
Seth:
Morning.
(Trixie starts to leave)
Sol: Trixie! (She
stops & looks at him) Many thanks. (He stands, holds out his hand, she takes
it, he shakes it) Ah.
(They smile, Trixie leaves. Sol sits back down, Seth pulls up a
chair, sitting across from Sol. We
hear the door shut.)
Seth:How
bad does that pain?
Sol: It’s all right.
Seth:I’m
in my house, Sol.
Sol: With Martha and the
boy?
Seth:Chose not to put ‘em in the thoroughfare. (Sol raises his eyebrows) Or, I see what
you’re asking. Far as her having a
different opinion, possibly, once I showed up--no, she chose to
stay.
Sol: Well, good. (Seth stands) Anyways, could you open
up?
Seth:
Sure, glad to. Any help with your
person?
Sol: No, I’m all right.
Seth:(Walking to the front) Swearengen said
the county commissioners are all from Yankton.
Sol: When was this?
Seth:Just
before we hit the mud. It’s wrong the
hills get no representation.
Sol: Even
in an Eden like this, wrongs sometimes occur.
Seth: (Walks to the back) I meant maybe we
should try to do something about it.
Sol: I’m with you.
(Doc, outside of Al’s
door…)
Doc: God damn it, Al! Such as they are, my arts cannot be
practiced at this remove. (He knocks –
listens a moment, hears nothing.) Stop being a baby! (Still hears nothing. He speaks softly…)
Any secrets that you feel need keeping will not be betrayed by me. (Trixie
approaches)
Trixie:
Doc.
Doc:
Trixie. (loudly to the door) Rest,
uninterrupted. No visits, no
exception. (Shakes his head and approaches Trixie.)
Trixie:
From his fray with Bullock he’s
poorly, or his trouble with his prick?
Doc: (whispers) If you can get him to grant
you entry, maybe you’ll confide that to me?
(Doc leaves to go downstairs, Trixie approaches Al’s
door, knocks softly)
Trixie: It’s Trixie – that’s overheard the Doc’s
instruction. So let me just shout
my information from here. (We see Al, in the same, shaking position on
the floor he was before…) Nobody’s dead. Bullock’s gone to that house he
built. Star is on his feet, more or
less. (Al is writhing in pain)
Anyways, I’m gonna stay on the ear over to the hardware
store.
Al: (strained) Yeah.
Trixie: (Pauses)
Fucking telegraph poles, Al, are the
next thing to landed in the fucking thoroughfare. Next leap of the creature, they’ll be
here. (She pauses, still hearing nothing)
All right, Al.
(Al whimpers in pain. Trixie strides downstairs,
determined. She approaches Dan at
the bar...)
Trixie: Where’s fucking Dolly?
Dan: Fuckin’.
Trixie:
When was she last with him?
Dan: Daybreak, just before he give
Bullock back his iron.
Johnny:
We’ve seen him after she did.
Trixie:
(To Johnny) You brew him my fucking
tea. Put it on a tray, take it up
to him and make him fucking drink it.
Johnny: All right.
Trixie:
(To Dan) If he don’t present himself
in a few hours, kick down the door and get the fucking Doc in there.
(She downs a shot and
leaves.)
(Wolcott enters the Bella Union, Cy nods to Lila to
greet him, she stands and grabs his elbow)
Lila:
I’m Lila. Welcome to the Bella Union. (She strokes his
hand)
Wolcott:
And I’m Frances Wolcott, which I
would be grateful if you would tell your employer.
Lila: (Escorts Wolcott over to Cy, standing at the
bar…) This is Frances Wolcott, Cy.
Cy: Cy
Tolliver, Mr. Wolcott. How do you
do, and what’ll you drink?
Wolcott:
Kentucky Bourbon if you got it.
Cy: Pour
Mr. Wolcott a bourbon, Jack, and tell him it’s from
Kentucky.
Jack:
Kentucky Bourbon. Straight
up?
Wolcott:
Please.
Cy: Shall
we have Lila drink with us, or would you like to drink with Lila
alone?
Wolcott:
I would rather we two converse privately.
(Cy motions with a nod of his head, for Lila to
leave. She walks to the other end
of the bar…)
Cy:
Just talk now, sir? I’m not that
kind of fella.
Wolcott:
Maybe you’re just waiting for the right offer. (drinks)
Cy
It’s late in the game, but I
suppose anything is possible. (drinks)
Wolcott:
Will you take the
air?
Cy: If
I’m to lose my virtue, I’d as soon do it outside these
walls.
(They walk outside, Cy puffing on his
cigar…)
Wolcott: You’ve approached a group in San Francisco that does
business with my employer.
Cy: That group and employer bullshit
really quickens me with fuckin’ trust.
Wolcott:
That group you’ve approached is a fraternal Chinese
organization.
Cy:
“Tong” is not a clever enough word?
Wolcott:
You offered them a contract to send members to this camp. That organization has a pre-existing
arrangement with my employer.
Cy: So
you work for who, Wolcott? The
railroads, some mining combination that brings those slant-eyes in by the
boatload?
Wolcott:
No, sir. I work for one
man.
Cy: Jesus
Christ. Doesn’t every one of
us?
Wolcott:
George Hearst.
Cy: (Cy immediately straightens up) I meant
no disrespect of any kind to you or Mr. Hearst by any word I’ve said from the
moment we have met.
Wolcott:
I understand that.
Cy: I
have nothing but respect for Mr. Hearst.
He’s in the Comstock of Montana, every other place he’s ever operated,
without jape or jest.
Wolcott:
And the overture you made to the group in San Francisco showed imagination and
foresight and a tolerance for risk that was impressive to Mr. Hearst. We want to work with you
here.
Cy: (Blinks) You do?
Wolcott:
Yes, we do.
(Cy smiles, nods over to Con Stapleton &
Leon)
Cy: Con
Stapleton! Leon! (They begin to approach) Get over here
and meet a fucking gentleman! Those
two work for me now among the Celestials, setting up that (nods to Mr. Wu, glaring over at him)
miserable cocksucker to get knocked off his high horse. Con, Leon. (They’ve just about arrived behind
Wolcott)
Wolcott:
I don’t want to meet
them.
Cy: (pauses) Go inside. (Leon eyes Wolcott, Con looks expectantly at
Cy.) Meet me inside.
Con:
Yes,
sir.
Leon: Yes, sir, Mr.
Tolliver.
Cy: Just
go on in, fellas. (They do.)
Wolcott:
My only contact’s with
you.
Cy: As
far as they’re concerned, you and Mr. Hearst don’t even
exist.
Wolcott:
As far as you’re concerned, Cy, (Wu
glares) in the tasks you’ll be performing for him, Mr. Hearst doesn’t
either.
Cy: (smirks) Who?
(In Charlie’s freight building, he opens a jail cell
door, we see Jane, bare footed, sleeping on a cot under a fur
coat)
Charlie: Wake up.
Take account you’re indoors.
(He pours a glass of water while
Jane stirs…) Here. (Offers her the cup, she sits up, to take a
sip…) That’s water now.
Jane: Oh, get it the
fuck away from me then.
Charlie:
Drink it and don’t be stupid.
Jane: (Takes a sip, looks around) Oh, Christ,
are we arrested?
Charlie: I explained all this to you, Jane, that I’m the
fucking Deputy, and I fixed the overflow cell in case you come
back.
Jane: Shut up then.
(She lays back down.)
Charlie:
And you replied I was boring the
shit out of you ‘cus Doc already told you all about it.
Jane: Well,
evidently, I don’t remember fuck-all.
Charlie:
No, ‘cause after every other fucking think we went through last night, you got
to make us stop at that new joint across from Nuttall’s.
Jane: Would
you kindly shut your fucking mouth?
(Charlie stands up) Hey, what
the fuck’s Bill’s coat doing here? (She
sits up, in awe and confusion.)
Charlie:
Well, he wouldn’t have seen it
useless or a souvenir. I figured
I’d give it work keeping the bed warm.
Jane: Uh, where is
it headed now I’m the occupant?
Charlie:
It ain’t going anywheres.
Jane: (She smiles, looks at the coat, lays back
down) Thank you, Charlie.
(Charlie smiles and
leaves.)
(Chez Amie, the whores are lounging
around.)
Joanie: It’s cool.
Sit outside. (She opens the door and the girls stand,
exiting…) Wide knees. (She shuts the door behind
them.)
Maddie:
Are we gonna
argue?
Joanie:
We’re partners, ain’t we, Maddie?
Ain’t that a lot of planning and thinking to not let your partner in
on?
Maddie:
Not sharing it before I even knew the trick was in camp—don’t put me wrong,
Joanie.
Joanie:
It don’t put you right, far as an atmosphere of trust.
Maddie:
Joanie, was there any odds when me and my girls got out here that you might have
told us you’d changed your mind?
Joanie: I
guess there was a chance.
Maddie:
Or I’d have found you dead or moved along?
Joanie:
No chance on moved along.
Maddie:
Only
way to guarantee an outcome, Honey, is contracting to be fucked. Everything else is a chance – including
me letting you down. But if I do,
using my head won’t be the tip-off. (She
sits)
Joanie: How will you bring the girl in to
it?
Maddie: At the trick’s fierce
insistence.
Joanie: What’s our split?
Maddie: 50-50 (She
lounges back in the chair.)
Joanie: What’s the girl’s end?
Maddie: I wouldn’t rule out a wooden
box. (Joanie looks
surprised.)
(Hardware store, Seth lays a pick axe down on the
counter for a customer…)
Seth:
Timely purchase. That’s our last in stock. (The customer nods, takes the pick axe and
leaves.)
Sol:
Goddamn out-thinking
myself—resupplying in smaller orders.
Seth:
You’ve been dealing with a few uncertainties.
Sol:If
the claims get allowed or they don’t, or Yankton stacks the commissioners or
not, we’re either in business, or we ain’t, and if we are, you reduce costs
buying in volume.
Seth: Your old
man?
Sol: On
his death bed in fucking Vienna.
(Seth chuckles, Charlie enters, holding a
box.)
Charlie: Fellas. (To
Sol) On the mend?
Sol:
Doing better, thank you. Hope you
are too.
Charlie: (To Seth)
We was gonna thin these inquiries
yesterday before that trouble with Bummer Dan. (Holds up the
box.)
Seth: We’ve been gonna thin them for several
weeks.
Charlie: Is Farnum’s slop-house okay? Jane is sleeping a load
off in my place. (Sol looks to
Seth.)
Seth: (To Sol) Inquiries from other jurisdictions, we’ve
been somewhat remiss.
Charlie: Whose that fella said “Never put off till tomorrow
what’ll wait till the day after?”
Sol: Not
my old man.
(Seth turns and smiles, leaves, Charlie follows with
a smile…)
(Grand Central, Wolcott places an envelope of money
on the desk)
Wolcott: To buy the Hickok letter.
EB:
Wonderful.
(E.B. puts his hand on the envelope, Wolcott does as
well, stopping
him…)
Wolcott: Uh, I’ll have a bill of sale.
EB: Well, certainly,
sir. Of course. Uh…(Picks up his notebook, dips his quill in
ink and starts writing.) For reasons of legal nicety, we’ll say you’re
purchasing the right to deliver.
(Jewel & Doc are at Al’s door, She
knocks…)
Jewel: You gotta let me get to your piss-pot, Al. (Dan & Johnny watch from below.)
Otherwise, when your mood changes, you’re fucking gonna yell at me for not
doing it. (Doc nods to her) I think I
should get the Doc, Al. You need to
let the Doc in. You need to let him
see to you. When I was sick, the
Doc helped me. And you ain’t
fucking yelled since then my foot’s dragging. (She pounds the door, turns to Doc…)
Fuck this, right, Doc?
Doc: (nodding) Fuck it.
Jewel: (Screeches to Dan)
Dan! You need to fucking break the door
down.
Dan:
(yelling) Now?
Jewel: Isn’t that what I just fucking
said?
(Dan runs up the stairs, Johnny following, tripping
over himself and the others on the stairs as he tries to keep up with
Dan.)
Dan: (yelling)
Al!
Jewel: If
I was you, Doc, I would get out of the fucking way!
(Dan charges the door with his shoulder, he slams
into it…)
Dan: Ow!
Jesus fucking Christ! Uh. (Kicks
down the door, grabbing his shoulder…)
(Doc runs in, Dan’s clutching his shoulder, Johnny
leans toward him…)
Johnny: You all right?
Dan: Mm…I think I broke my fucking
shoulder.
(Doc steps over to Al, still laying on the floor,
writhing in pain.)
Doc: (To Jewel)
Would you open up my case? (Jewel kneels down and opens Doc’s medical
bag…) Al? (Al twitches) Al, Al?
(He probes Al’s belly, Al doubles up in pain. Johnny watches with his hand over his
mouth, not sure what to do, Dan’s still clutching his
shoulder.)
Jewel: Do
we need to get him laudanum?
Doc: Please. (Johnny looks to Dan & back…Jewel gets
out a bottle of laudanum…) All right, Al. (Holds Al’s forehead) All right, It’s all right.
(Seth &
Charlie are sitting in E.B’s restaurant, Seth’s reading from a
letter…)
Seth: “Please don’t let up on the Stackpole case, as I’m
sure he’s out there.”
(Seth looks
up at Charlie, Charlie looks back with a blank face.)
Charlie:
No idea.
Seth: I never
hear of it either.
Charlie:
All the portions you had on your plate, I hesitated to fucking
inquire.
Seth: I
couldn’t have helped if you had.
Charlie:
Fuck the Stackpole case then, and the letter from Arapaho County concerning
it. Which goes in the fucked-case
file. (He tosses the letter under his
hat, laying on the table.)
(Alma &
Ellsworth are traveling back from the claim, the wagon bumping
along…)
Alma: I’d
like to buy Mr. Farnum’s hotel.
Ellsworth: To do what with, Mrs. Garret?
Alma:To
renovate and make my residence.
Ellsworth: I can think of better locations, Ma’am. With friendlier
views.
Alma:None
that would offer the further pleasure of putting Mr. Farnum in the
thoroughfare.
Ellsworth:
I expect a man like Farnum finds
quarters pretty easy.
Alma: I would expect
even with his venality satisfied, a man like Farnum would feel himself
dispossessed and unanchored. I
think he’d be very sad, and I would like to see him in that
condition.
Ellsworth: I
guess most of us got enough luck to be too broke to act on them type
ideas. (The wagon stops in front of the hotel,
Ellsworth gets up to climb out.)
Alma: What type ideas do you refer
to?
Ellsworth:
The type the lowborn would say we
get when we’re pissed off. (Ellsworth
steps out of the wagon) Although…my own aristocratic lineage causes me to
use the term “sore-disappointed.”
(He helps her
down.)
Alma: I am pissed off.
Ellsworth: Well, last turns the wheels took for you, Ma’am,
I’d say you’ve come by it honest.
If punching somebody in the nose would help, I’ll volunteer one that’s
well broke in.
(They enter the hotel, Alma turns her head toward the restaurant and sees Seth. Their eyes meet. Alma continues upstairs…)
EB:
Safely returned.
(Alma
stops, takes a deep breath, grabs her skirts and walks
upstairs.)
(Trixie enters the hardware store and closes the
door.)
Trixie: Is he here too?
Sol: No.
(Trixie approaches Sol) He’s my
friend, Trixie.
Trixie:
Among other fucking things. (She smokes a cigarette, pacing.)
Anyways…I wonder could you teach me to do accounts?
Sol: All
right.
Trixie: I’ll pay you.
Or you can take it out in cunt.
Sol: I
won’t teach you if you keep that up.
Trixie:
Fuck
every fucking one of you. I wish I
was a fucking tree.
(She leaves…Sol staring after
her…)
(E.B. is at his ledger…Wolcott
approaches)
EB:
Mr. Wolcott.
Wolcott:
Mr. Farnum. The contents of that
letter are a deep disappointment. Not a word of any find or promising
location.
EB: You
opened it then?
Wolcott:
Are
you trifling with me?
EB: It
occurs to me, sir, this conversation were best had elsewhere. (He puts the cashbox behind the
desk.)
Wolcott:
But not
postponed?
EB: Not
postponed, Mr. Wolcott, no. (E.B. puts on
his hat & walks out from behind the desk.) We are men, sir. When we disagree, we come to resolution
promptly.
Wolcott: Where are we going?
(E.B. places his hand on Wolcott’s shoulder, leading
him outside…)
EB: The
Gem Saloon. It’s just over
there.
Wolcott:
Please take your hand off my shoulder.
(E.B. quickly does as told, they walk across the
thoroughfare towards the Gem…)
EB: Some
ancient Italian maxim fits our situation, whose particulars escape
me.
Wolcott:
Is the gist that I’m shit outta luck?
EB: Did
they speak that way then?
(They enter the Gem, Wolcott removes his hat…We hear
Dan screaming at the top of his lungs from a whore’s
room…)
Dan: (yelling)
Oh for the love of
God!
(The patrons turn around to see where the yell came
from, we see Doc leaving the room carrying a large leather sling of the sort
used to re-loacate dislocated shoulders)
EB: Please, won’t you sit down?
Wolcott:
So you would have me take the experience then as a lesson dearly
purchased?
(They sit, Dan stumbles out of the back room into the
bar. As Wolcott watches him, he holds his arm stiffly by his
side…)
EB: I
should tell you, Mr. Wolcott, I have seen men in this very camp, (Wolcott eyes Dan) feeling themselves
victimized, seek redress in fashions I thought imprudent.
Wolcott:
Violently, you mean?
EB: Thus,
at the lesson, dearly bought as you would have it, is where I would leave this
business.
Wolcott:
In any case, I was an intermediary in this transaction.
EB: Ah,
then, having been a pupil, it falls to you now to instruct your principal. I wonder, Mr. Wolcott, if some second
letter couldn’t be drafted to put some sharper point on the lesson, maybe
remunerative to both of us.
Wolcott:
So, your idea would be that we fuck Mr. Hearst twice?
EB: I
missed the name, sir, but I can aver as a general principle, (Dan is lifting his arm up onto the bar to
support it) My days of fucking anyone are long in the past, whomever you
represent.
Wolcott: George Hearst of the Ophir find in the
Comstock.
EB: Of
course I know George Hearst. (He shifts
uncomfortably in his seat.)
Wolcott: Oh, you know him personally?
EB:
I do not know him personally, I do
not know him personally.
Wolcott:
Oh.
EB: But
of course I know of George Hearst,
and his reputation and accomplishments and wealth, and his power and
reputation. And I would say, as
well, most importantly, I have nothing to teach that man. George Hearst need learn no lesson from
me. Nor would I permit him entrance
into a lesson, either inadvertently or by accident, I wouldn’t subsequently and
immediately cancel him back out of.
Or his agent or intermediary.
Wolcott:
Mr. Hearst doesn’t renege on contracts.
EB: (pauses ) Then what am I to do? What am I to do, Mr. Wolcott, (stands up to move to the chair next to
Wolcott) but to admit a terrible and tragic miscalculation and supplicate
myself and beg mercy (EB sits down now in
the new chair, Wolcott moves his hat out of E.B’s way…) and understanding
and forgiveness? (He puts his hand on Wolcott’s arm) And
to offer, if you would contemplate, any separate or side transaction or
understanding.
Wolcott:
Remove your hand from my forearm. (E.B.
jumps to obey) Do not touch me again.
EB: (He clasps his hands, looking down @ the
table) I look poor, but that is a cultivated pose and posture. I am not poor and I am not stingy when
fundamental interests are at stake—(he
leans over and spits on the floor) as a complete
aside.
Wolcott:
(studies EB) There is a service you
could do Mr. Hearst that would set off exactly against the funds he might
otherwise believe you fleeced him of.
EB:
Anything, Sir.
Wolcott:
This service would enlist you and one or two others, circulating certain rumors
about the future of the camp. In
particular, about the validity of the present titles to the
claims.
EB: (considers this) Done. Consider me enlisted. Consider the validity called into
question.
Wolcott:
(hushed) I also wish to know the
location of your highest-end brothel.
EB: As it
happens, a whorehouse succeeding to that title has just
opened.
Wolcott:
(leans in to E.B.) Nothing just
happens, Mr. Farnum. (He puts on his hat,
sits back in his chair) Do you
think this hat makes my head look big?
EB: No, Sir. It makes your head look the perfect
size.
Wolcott:
(looks off into the distance) Thank
you.
(Bella Union, Cy is showing the door to a group of
customers, quickly shutting door behind them. He strides up stairs, looking down upon
his employees, who are gathered)
Cy: (sighs)
You’re gonna find out somethin’ now
about yourselves and your fellow man, how you handle adversity—or rumors of
adversity—or ill fortune, or turns of luck. And I’m not going to further rumor or be
a party to that bullshit. Do you
what to know where I stand? You
just look the fuck where I’m standing.
You’ll find out all you need to know. I ain’t going anywhere! And if anyone else wants to, two weeks
fuckin’ severance is waiting for you right fuckin’ now. You step the fuck up! Step right the fuck up! (They all look around at each other) Now
that shows me somethin’. But any
time, day or night, anyone wants to fuckin’ waver or fuckin’ change their minds,
you just step right the fuck up and get your severance. (pauses) Let’s open the fuck up and get
it while we can, all right?
Leon:
(turns to the rest) Open up!
Con: Open up!
You heard him! Let’s
go!
(As the rest ready the Bella Union for opening, Con
and Leon confer with each other…)
(Al’s room, Doc is holding a probe – with a curved
end – by a pair of tongs.)
Trixie: What are you going to do to
him?
Doc: Pass this instrument through his penis
into his bladder. If he has stones,
it will click against the metal instrument. Assuming I can hear the clicks above his
screams, I will have identified the cause of his
obstruction.
Trixie:
To what fucking end?
Doc: To the end that if I think he will die
otherwise of cutting him open above the pubis and taking out the stones. (He traces on his body where he
means)
Trixie:
Which will probably kill him
anyways.
Doc: (steps closer to her) What shall I say
to you, Trixie, that I’m sure of a happy outcome for Al and every one of
us?
(Cy is sitting in his office, there’s a knock at the
door)
Leon:
Minute for us, Mr.
Tolliver?
Cy: What
is it? Come in and shut the door. (They
enter, Leon closes the door, they look expectantly at Cy.) What the fuck is
it?
Con:
Anything you want to tell us, Mr. T?
Cy: I
told you all I want to tell you outside.
Con:
Well, believe me, uh, you don’t have waverers standing in front of you, or
doubters or, uh, anyone looking for fucking severance.
Leon: Just the
opposite.
Cy:
What‘s that mean? You lookin’ for a
raise?
(They stare at Cy)
Con: Uh, well, what’s going on, I suppose is Leon’s
question, Mr.
Tolliver.
(Cy and Con both look at Leon, he is
uncomfortable.)
Leon:
The truth is, my questions is
answered 90%. And as for the rest,
I’m gonna get good and fuckin’ loaded (Cy
picks at his ear) and let the devil take the hindmost.
Con: If you fuckin’ walk out of here, us
two are gonna have words. (Cy is still
picking in his ear) And more than words at my first opportunity, because
this was 90% his idea to come in
here.
Cy:
Somebody better turn over a hole card.
Leon: (They both approach closer) Both of us
took a real positive impression, Sir, of the talk you give us just recently here
in your office.
Con: Yeah, relative to this talk you just
concluded.
Cy:
And?
Con:
And, uh, I guess you’d say a wonderment with us
is if we mistook the tone of one talk or the other, and if so,
which?
Cy: (stands) I dispute that one fuckin’
thing changed between those two talks as to my attitude and
resolve.
Leon:
(nods) Did the facts of the camp situation
change?
Cy: (mulls this
over) Not to my certain
knowledge. But if you’re asking in
the interim, have I been privy to a rumor far as claims being invalidated, all
titles thrown out, the answer is yes.
Con: Well, that would account for
it.
Cy: But
the only goddamn fact that I’m aware of is I never knew any man ate a rumor or
clothed himself with one or secured himself a piece of
pussy.
Con: Well, rumors are not
facts.
Cy: So if
any gutless cocksucker tumbles to what‘s going on and decides he wants to cut
and run, sell his fucking holdings, you tell him to come see me. Just say Cy Tolliver will buy whatever
he’s fuckin’ selling if he has that little faith in the camp, or rumors of
judicial invalidation, or the panic that‘ll ensue from that. (He sighs, waves them away) Go ahead,
boys. Go on outside and do your
jobs. That’s all we can fuckin’ do right now. And not waver.
(They leave the office.)
(Jane and Trixie are standing on the boardwalk,
across from the Gem, each drinking what looks like bottled
beer)
Jane:
(Takes a long drink, belches) Ah. Now that’s fucking
progress.
Trixie:
(drunk) Cocksucker upstairs, across the way, whorehouse where
I work—
Jane: He is a
fucking cocksucker.
Trixie:
Locks the fucking door so people can’t get to help him. (yelling) Fucking ashamed to be
sick!
Jane: You know he
had a design to murder that little one.
Trixie:
(looks at Jane) No, I didn’t.
Jane:
Hell, yes, he had a
design. Charlie and me spirited her
from camp, forced him to a second victim more suitable to his cocksucker’s
purpose.
Trixie:
Think they’re any different if they’d had their fucking dicks cut on? They ain’t no fucking different. You gotta like their friends or they
won’t teach you numbers or every other fucking regulation they
set!
Jane: (eyes Trixie, confused)
Anyways.
Trixie: Far as it fucking goes, he also brought the cripple
from that orphanage.
Jane: Uh—what
orphanage?
Trixie:
And don’t buy his bullshit about the 9 cent trick.
Jane: (more
confused) What cripple?
Trixie:
Jewel—that he says he’s got around against some hooplehead only having 9 cents
and wanting a piece of pussy. That
ain’t it. Why she’s around is…it’s
his sick fucking way of protectin’ her.
Jane: (pauses, looks at Trixie) I’m gonna get
whiskey.
Trixie: There’s entries on both sides of the fucking ledger
is the fucking point, as I already talk like a fucking
Jew!
Jane: (pauses again—really not sure what Trixie is
talking about) Shaping up to be a nice cool evening. (pauses, looks at Trixie, who is staring
angrily up at the balcony) Maybe he has a good side to him too that I
entirely fucking missed. It’s
always fucking possible, drunk as I am fucking continuously (She smiles at Trixie, steps away, waving)
It’s nice to see you.
(Alma and Miss Isringhausen are seated on the bed in
Alma’s room…)
Alma:
You returned his
timepiece.
Miss Isringhausen: Yes.
(She nods and smiles) I
thought I had told you.
Alma: You
did, Miss Isringhausen. I’m
recurring to the topic, hoping you will be more expansive.
Miss Isringhausen: He accepted the timepiece, Ma’am, and raised
another subject you and I ought pursue at some different
moment.
Alma: Must I
credit the right of that “ought,” Miss Isringhausen, or may I suspect—you enjoy
setting terms.
Miss Isringhausen: Terms, Ma’am?
Alma: Playing
arbiter of the when and why of things.
Miss Isringhausen: Pursuing the second subject Mr. Bullock raised,
Mrs. Garret, might upset a person now present, junior to you and
me.
Alma: (looking at
Sophia) I cannot imagine how such a pursuit could be any more
upsetting than the atmosphere of relentless disapproval that you so consistently
generate. (Miss Isringhausen looks at her, mouth
agape) I’ve no further need of your services, Miss Isringhausen. (Alma stands up and goes over to
Sophia.)
Miss Isringhausen:
I’ll say goodnight then to you and
Sophia.
Alma: My preference
is your saying goodbye.
(Miss Isringhausen pauses, stunned. Sophia looks at
her…)
Miss Isringhausen: I wonder, Ma’am…if having made so many decisions so
quickly, your patience may be short just now. And I’d appeal you to reconsider your
preferences in the morning.
Alma: In any case,
you’ll want to retire to your room.
Miss Isringhausen: I hope you’ll recall that I’ve traveled from
Chicago to enter your employ and have no emergent
prospects.
Alma: We’ll
come to some arrangement.
Miss Isringhausen: All right. (nods in resignation) I’ll say goodnight
then. (She turns to
leave.)
Alma: As is
your custom –(Miss Isringhausen turns
back) without having spared one affectionate look for my
child.
Miss Isringhausen: My training, Ma’am, is that being engaged to see to
the child’s education, my soliciting her affections would intrude on the
mother’s province.
Alma: (Alma pauses and steps closer) And I
would call that a logical distinction, Miss Isringhausen, having nothing to do
with the way people live.
(Miss Isringhausen turns and leaves. Alma stares after her, looking surprised
at herself)
(Cy’s room, Cy and Lila are reclining in
bed)
Lila: The
people downstairs are scared.
Cy: Are
they?
Lila: Off
your talk. They think you believe
the camp’s in jeopardy.
Cy: I
ain’t answerable for misinterpretations.
The truth is, Lila, the weather’s gettin’ better, and it looks to stay
mild a spell. (laughing) Old Cy has
outlasted the cocksuckers one more time.
If it was in me to kid myself, I’d take this for proving God loves me.(laughs)
Lila:
I believe he loves
us.
Cy: Do
you, sweetheart? Did his hand lead
me buyin’ and turnin’ you out?
That’s a lovely thought.
Next you’re in touch, would you put the good word
in?
Lila: I
do. I pray for you every
night.
Cy: (pauses) All right, stupid, time to shut
your fuckin’ mouth. Shut your
fuckin’ mouth now and turn over and close your eyes.
(Lila does as told)
(Chez Amie, the girls are dressed and posing at
various places around the room.
Maddie is evaluating them.)
Maddie: Lift your leg. (To one whore) Languid and open for
adventure. (She turns, looks at the whore in the corner
– Doris? – moves on to the whore in the chair) In your case, Atlantis,
present the tits a little more. (She
pushes against Atlantis’ back, making her sit up more.) Can you hold that
for half an hour?
Atlantis:
I’ve been holding this my whole fuckin’ life.
(Wolcott enters)
Maddie: Mr. W.
Wolcott:
Hello.
Maddie:
You jumped the gun on our opening by half an hour, but I believe we can make an
exception. (Joanie enters) My partner,
Joanie.
Joanie: How do you do?
Wolcott:
How do you do? (He paces, looking
around)
Maddie:
Our caller fancies Basil’s Bourbon,
Joanie, which is hid beneath the floorboard at the bar.
Joanie:
All right.
Maddie:
Won’t you sit?
Wolcott:
I don’t know that I will. Where is
she?
Maddie:
Carrie’s been detained.
Wolcott:
Detained?
Maddie:
You don’t need me telling you Carrie’s mind’s her own. We hit Cheyenne and she stopped to see a
relative. (Wolcott
nods)
Joanie: Basil Hayden hid beneath the floorboards as
advertised. (She hands him the bourbon,
he sniffs it, points to the whore in front of the
bar…)
Wolcott:
Would you get out of my sight,
please? (The whore moves) How close a relative
is she fucking in Cheyenne?
Maddie: She’s coming soon, Mr. W.
Wolcott:
Is her arrival imminent?
Maddie: A
matter of days.
Wolcott:
How many days are in a matter?
Joanie:
Would fucking something else fill the time?
Wolcott: Yeah, how much you cost?
Joanie: I
ain’t for sale, sir. But I would
fuck you for free.
Wolcott:
I have to say you ain’t my type.
Joanie:
Do you stand there, Mr. W., saying you’re dead solid sure you’ll not ever again
be surprised till you’ve completed your earthly course? Ain’t that presumptuous, Sir? And ain’t our quoted fee, to surprise
you, fair and just?
Wolcott:
I
always pay for pussy.
Joanie:
Well, I may let you then, if you go ahead and twist my arm. (She holds her arm out for him.) You pay
extra for that? (Takes him by the arm and
leads him to a back room.)
Wolcott: Do unhand me.
Joanie:
I, Mr. W—who I just unhanded—and Mr.
Basil Hayden (Holds up the bottle of
bourbon) do no wish to be disturbed.
(She lifts the flap of her corset
to reveal a small gun to the others, turns & shuts the
door).
Whore: You want me back where I was?
Maddie:
She kills that fucking cocksucker,
I’m gonna be working for the rest of my life. (Maddie angry)
(Richardson is wiping down a table in the dining
room)
EB: Richardson,
Richardson, Richardson. When will
come the quiet hours of our declining years? (Richardson continues cleaning without
looking up) I’m talking to you, dimwit.
Richardson: I wasn’t
lis’nin’.
EB:
Richardson, won’t you sit yourself?
Allow me to take up your labors, (Richardson sits and looks up at E.B) I
am confiding that turbulence, (shifts the
bucket on the table) upheaval of the most violent sort, (lifts the bucket and swirls it)
churning seas, waves of a scale and force to make the most seasoned seafarer
vomit—bleah (fakes vomiting into the
bucket, sets the bucket down – speaks calmer, ) Are in prospect for this
camp. And, We, Richardson, you, I,
and tragically others—(picks up the scrub
brush inside the bucket and starts to scrub the table) so very many others
who journeyed to the hills to stake their claims, and with those claims their
hopes for the future—are but pawns of the savage sea (throws the brush in the bucket, picks up
the bucket) and playthings of the fucking deep. (He sets the bucket down, sits on the table)
Not for us, apparently, the placid harbor, on which voyages, near complete
to bob and rot, bob and rot, (he rocks
back and forth, whispering that) be calmed. For us, to the very end, (yelling, stands up-grabs the bucket and
sloshes it back and forth) the dizzying surges of the storm and it’s
crashing descents! (He slams the bucket
on the table) Do you understand me, you repulsive
lout?
Richardson:
No.
EB: (Grabs Richardson’s shoulders) The
claims, Richardson. They’re being
overturned. (He starts scrubbing again)
Save those few who dispose of their holdings before word circulates. Destitution looms!
Richardson: Oh
dear.
EB: Yes,
yes. Even you now recognize the
situation. Ah well. Take the rest of the night off,
Richardson.
Richardson: (stands up) Thank you, Sir. (He quickly
leaves)
EB:
But confide in no one! (Richardson pauses, then exits) About
the claims!
(Joanie’s room at the Chez Amie, Wolcott is seated in
a chair looking at Joanie, who is laying on her stomach on the bed, propped up
by her elbows, head in hands…)
Joanie: Would we have even more fun naked? Or I could, and you could stay
dressed. Or the
opposite.
Wolcott:
Who am I?
Joanie:
You’re Mr. W. Your boss struck
bigger than anyone in the Comstock and Mexico. So you bein’ here puts a shine to this
camp’s prospects.
Wolcott:
(He pauses, pulls at his cravat)
Unbutton my shirt.
Joanie:
Yes, sir. (She gets up, kneels in front
of Wolcott…)
Wolcott:
Do not look at my
face.
Joanie: No, sirree. (Begins unbuttoning his
shirt)
Wolcott:
Shall I tell you who I work
for?
Joanie: As you wish.
If you do, how shall I occupy myself while you’re doing
it?
Wolcott:
The same as if I don’t.
Joanie:
(She looks up at him) For me to
judge?
Wolcott:
As you wish.
Joanie:
Your shirt buttons are your big interest?
Or shall we advance to these buttons here? (She begins to unbutton his pants ) And shall I hazard an approach I
rarely find ill-received?
Wolcott:
(pauses) No.
Joanie:
(takes her hands away from him) Shall
I hazard an approach on myself, I never remember refusing? And will you supervise closely? (He breathes heavily, almost a sigh of
resignation) Mr. W., I am gonna take that as a yes.
(She stands up, goes over to the bed, lays back,
lifts her skirts and feigns touching herself.. Wolcott sits back, looks down and starts
rebuttoning.)
Wolcott: No. Take
it as a no.
Joanie: (sighs –
throws her skirts over her legs) Nuts!
Wolcott:
(laughs) What a tiny corner of
operation for such an amusing mind. (stands) I’ll promise as I sojourn here
to bring you stories of the world of men.
Joanie:
I’ll
just be here in my girl’s world diddling myself.
Wolcott:
(still buttoning) I admire you coming
armed.
(Al is laying in bed, he looks half dead. He raises his eyebrows at Doc, holding
the probe.)
Doc: Hmm. (Nods to
Dan, Al is panting, Dan throws his hat to the side, approaches the bed.) I’m
‘onna pass this through your penis up into your bladder, Al, and I’m ‘onna say
this to you once—I’m sorry for how it hurts. (Dan kneels on the bed next to Al and holds
him still, Johnny looks on, Doc inserts the probe, Al struggles) Goddamnit,
hold him still!
Al: (screaming) Mother of God! (Trixie looks up from the thoroughfare,
Johnny winces…walks out to the balcony) Help me! Mother of
God!
Trixie: (yelling up
to Johnny) Fuck you, Johnny! Get in there and fucking help
him!
Johnny: What am I supposed to do? (E.B. steps outside and dumps his bucket)
Trixie:
Put your hand in his mouth! Let him
bite your fucking hand! (Johnny, pained with grief, goes back
inside.)
Doc:
Alright, Al. I’m in your bladder. I can hear the fucking stone. I’m gonna try now to move the stone to
release your water, so you push now if you can, son.
Al: (gags, straining…yelling) Oh God! Mother, take me!
Doc: Push
now if you can. Get your water
flowing.
Al: I’m
trying! Help me. Christ! (Al screams, the whole camp seeming to hear)
Dan: I’ll fucking kill you, Doc! You take it out of
him!
Doc: Shut
up!
(At the Bullock house, Al’s scream is faintly
audible. Seth and Martha are having a meal)
(Back at Al’s room, there’s blood and urine dripping
from the end of the probe in Al’s bladder)
Doc: All
right. I can see some fucking urine
with the blood. Good for
you.
Johnny:
(near tears) Is he all right
now? Is he cured
now?
Doc: It’s
fucking something, anyway.
Dan: Is
that something anyway, Doc? (motioning
with his head to Al, Al’s face seems to relax a bit.)
Doc: All
right, Al, I’m ‘onna take it out of you. You hold on and it won’t hurt so
bad.
(Doc slides it out. We hear another blood curdling
scream. Johnny steps
outside.)
Johnny: (to Trixie)
He put something out of himself,
Trixie. Now, that’s something
anyway.
Trixie: Is it out of him?
Johnny:
Well, that instrument’s out of him.
Trixie:
And what of the fucking stone?
Johnny: I
didn’t see no fucking stone come out.
(Trixie throws her cigarette down, turns, sighs – pushing her hair back- she walks away. Johnny is still on the balcony, distressed.)
The End
Click here to hear the closing credits music
Written
by: Elizabeth Sarnoff
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 |
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 |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
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