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(Open at Al’s office. Al is sitting at his desk,
scratching his bandaged hand, which appears to be missing it’s middle finger.
There’s a knock at the door.)
Al: Yeah. (Trixie enters)
Trixie: When did you turn recluse?
Al: You
and the Jew settled in?
Trixie: The Jew’s a born fuckin’ householder. Scouts furniture in the fucking
catalogues mornin’ and night. The
Mrs. Ellsworth’s a 10-day miracle.
Up and about and up and fucking doing. Meets with fucking Hearst today, her and
fucking Ellsworth, that I’d have thought would have steered her fucking
clear.
Al:
Hearst’s invite?
Trixie:
Lady’s bright idea. I’ve pretext
enough if you’d have me call to dissuade her.
Al: Don’t
you get in the fucking middle. (He gets up and walks to the
window.)
Trixie:
Jesus fucking Christ, Al. She might
as well set herself afire. (pauses) I can’t imagine that cocksucker got to
you. (Al looks at her) Or you’re
folding your fucking tent. The last
shot ain’t yet fired.
Al: Stage
is coming, (He opens the balcony door and they go
outside to watch the stagecoach arrive. Attop the stage sits Wu and a very large
black woman. Wu is wearing a new suit, one that doesn’t fit very
well)
Trixie: My God, look at Wu. Lost his mind in San
Francisco.
Al: You
think he married the nigger?
Trixie:
I’m talking about his suit.
Merrick:
(On the street, approaching the stage)
Mr.
Blazanov!
Blazanov: (Stepping
from the stage) Merrick!
(Al looks up the street, and spots a group of coaches approaching. The wagons and horses are adorned with advertising: “Langrishe’s Troupe” Al looks this over and seems to recognize it)
Al: Oh
God.
Jack Langrishe: (Pointing up
at Al from the custom coach) I
am barely speaking to you.
Trixie: Who the fuck is that?
Jack: A
shabby, shabby exit from Virginia City.
No “Farewell, Jack.” No “By your leave.” Nothing.
Al: (to Jack) Did you notice I was being
pursued?
Blonde Actress: Is that us over there?
Jack: That is we,
my dear, yes. I will install us momentarily. (to a second woman)
Countess.
Countess:
I stay till the costumes come down.
Jack:
Admirable. Only the most
minimal of civilities. “Hello, how
are you?” “A bit warmer today than Tuesday.” That last may be too forgiving. (Al watches the troupe walk
away.)
(Hearst has come out of the hotel, and greets the
black woman)
Hearst:
Aunt Lou!
Lou:
Hey.
Hearst:
(laughs) Good to see you. (They hug)
Trixie:
Hearst’s meals are about to improve.
Hearst:
Come on in.
Lou:
Okay. (Merrick helps a woman in red down from the
stage coach)
Al:
(to Trixie) Go away. Stay
close to the Jew. If it’s Ellsworth
apprising you of the widow, let him fucking continue and do likewise for
me.
Trixie:
That’s more fucking like it.
(Doc’s cabin, Alma is seated on a table, buttoning
up)
Doc:
Very considerate of you to come to
me when I thought I was coming to you.
Alma: As
I was feeling well, I thought you’d agree the exercise might be beneficial. Does your examination confirm my
suspicions – as to how I’m feeling?
Doc: It
does. You seem fully
recovered.
Alma: I’m
delighted to be recovered. And to find
my own judgments reliable.
Doc: (coughs) I would, however, advise
against rushing back into things.
Alma: (Putting on
her hat) Would any meeting between us be complete,
Doctor, until I’d had your counsel against something? (Alma is being
unusually perky)
Doc: Have
you finished taking the medicine I gave you?
Alma:
Implying what, Dr. Cochran?
Doc: I’m
implying nothing, Mrs. Ellsworth.
I’m putting a question to you.
Alma: (putting on her gloves) I disposed of
the medicine you gave me, Dr. Cochran, knowing I had a weakness for it, without
having finished taking it.
Doc: I
see.
Alma: You
seem incapable of crediting me as a full and normal person.
Doc: I
credit you as exactly that, Madam, which is to say as having limits like the
rest of us, and to urge upon you the humility of not asking more of yourself
than is reasonable. And I’d add my
observation that refusal to make such adjustment sometimes is symptom in women
of an inadequate recovery from the rigors you’ve just
endured.
Alma: You
say this as my physician?
Doc:
Yes.
Alma: Not
my reprover or rebuker?
Doc:
No.
Alma: (smiling) Then thank you, Doctor, and
good morning.
(Hearst’s room, Lou is straightening up the
room.)
Lou: You
ain’t getting’ no cobbler, Mr. Hearst,
till I get my hands on them boots.
Hearst:
(Untying his boots quickly) Uh, here
they come. Here they
come.
Lou: Not
one spoonful till I got ‘em clean. (Pulls
off one boot, shakes it out and sighs) Filthy.
Hearst:
It’s frontier living out here, Aunt Lou.
Lou:
Where I go, ain’t no frontier. I
bring some standards with me. (pulls off the second
boot.)
Hearst:
Ah…I miss Missouri yet, Aunt Lou.
Wasn’t the world peak of ripe back then? Didn’t even the birds seem to sing
different?
Lou:
(rolls her eyes slightly) More like they meant it. (She’s heard this
before)
Hearst:
More like they meant it. You
understand.
Lou: I
don’t suppose you operate another pair in secret.
Hearst:
You know I wouldn’t fib.
Lou: Then
I’ll brush ‘em up directly.
Hearst: I
got you living right here in the building, Aunt Lou. I wouldn’t even think about any other
arrangements.
Lou:
(Again rolling her eyes) Mightly generous, Mr. Hearst. Mighty brave.
Hearst:
Will you take a walk, see the camp?
Lou:
I’ll take a walk as far as my
kitchen.
Hearst:
(chuckles) I should have known you’d say that.
Lou: You
want that peach cobbler, don’t you?
Hearst: I
do for a fact. And they know
downstairs, who’s boss.
Lou: Is
this here a rich place, Mr. Hearst?
Hearst:
Oh, very, very rich, Aunt Lou. For
pure scale, maybe the richest find I’ve seen.
Lou:
Guess we can live without them birds then.
(Hearst chuckles, Aunt Lou walks
out. Hearst lays back in his
bed.
(Al’s office, Al opens the door to Mr
Wu)
Al: The
high points of the fucking high points of your trip, Wu. (Mr. Wu sits at the desk and starts to
sketch. Al shuts the door.) ‘Cause I won’t be able to follow you
anyway.
Mr Wu:
Wu. San
Francisco.
Al: You
look like a fucking idiot, if no one has yet conveyed to you the
truth.
Mr Wu:
Wu, San Francisco, Hearst.
Al: Yeah,
you in San Francisco, collecting workers for Hearst.
Mr Wu:
Ho.
Al: How
soon, fucking Wu? (Mr. Wu frowns at Al, not understanding)
The many Chinks in Hearst’s
employ?
Mr Wu:
Huh? (Confusion again. Al walks to the door and opens It, he
pantomimes welcoming many chinks)
Al:
“Hello, hello, hello, hello!” The many chinks here, huh? (pulls out a pocket watch) How soon?
Mr Wu:
Ah! (holds up both hands) 10 Day.
Al:
“10-Day, Wu.” (smiles) Clever cocksucker. You come back with more fucking
English.
Mr Wu: (smiles with pride)
Ho.
Al: (Sitting
down across from Wu) Now once I get
my ducks in order, you will give your information to Hearst in a dit-down, so we
can gauge his attitude toward me.
Mr Wu: Wu, Hearst, “Swedgin.”
Al: And
“Swedgin” must act as translator, as he is the only one in camp versed in both
languages.
Mr Wu:
Ho. (Al takes out the Chinese plate that Wu gave
him in Season 2, points to the map of China on it)
Al: Chung
Kuo. Am I right or am I fucking
wrong?
Mr Wu:
Chung-Kuo.
Al:
Chung-Kuo, Heng-Dai.
Mr Wu: (standing)
Heng-Dai
Al: Heng-Dai, Chung Kuo. And I’ll tell you when the meeting is,
huh? (He pats him on the back and walks
to the door, opening it. Mr. Wu
gathers his papers and walks to the door, pausing in front of Al.) Welcome home, Wu. (He smiles)
Mr Wu;
Mmm. (Bows his head and
leaves)
(Ellsworth house, Sofia is alone in the middle of the
living room floor with a doll. We hear an argument from
upstairs)
Ellsworth: It’s arrogance, nothing more to Goddamn
less.
Alma: Do not use
profanity, please, speaking to me.
Ellsworth: For goodness sake. Apologizing for my language, I ask you
consider my meaning.
Alma: It hardly
seems arrogant to me to seek an equitable and mutually beneficial resolution
with Mr. Hearst.
Ellsworth: Then spare him that paper with your pretty
ideas. Tell him your price for how
much you’ll sell, because Hearst don’t let his partners set policy.
Alma: I hadn’t
realized you were so intimate with his business methods.
Ellsworth: Please don’t be smart with me. Not about this.
Alma: “This,” Mr.
Ellsworth, being the question of my mine?
Ellsworth: Well, what in the hell else would it be?! (Sofia is listening downstairs, look sad)
Excuse me.
Alma: I will meet
with Mr. Hearst. I’ll be delighted if you should choose to accompany me.
Ellsworth: Oh,
I ain’t one to miss a train wreck.
Alma: (standing up) Though if you cannot
forbear from patronizing me, I’d prefer you didn’t come at all. (walks past
him)
Ellsworth: All right, Mrs. Ellsworth, all right.
(Gem saloon, Al is behind the bar. Davey hands him a
bottle. Merrick is at the bar)
Davey: Empty. You sure you don’t want me to work behind
here, boss?
Al: If I
wanted you working behind here, you’d be fucking working behind here. Fucking work over there.
Merrick:
It occurs to me, Al, as you and he are so evidently well-acquainted, the decent
interval that Mr. Langrishe is owed to make his domestic arrangements I might
spend hearing you talk of him.
Al: Ever
wonder if you expressed yourself more directly, Merrick, you might fucking weigh
less?
Merrick:
I see no logic in that whatever.
Al: I
don’t want to talk of Langrishe. He
makes me fucking nervous.
Merrick:
On what account?
Al: I
can’t say on what account. That
type, the type you don’t know exactly how you feel about him is who you’re made
nervous by. (Langrishe enters)
Jack:
Young man! (Looking around the room) Keeping the wolf away, I see. (Merrick grins at
Langrishe)
Al:
Jack.
Jack:
(To Merrick) John Langrishe, sir.
The operator has the manners of a pig.
Merrick:
(chuckles) A. W. Merrick, Mr.
Langrishe, publisher of “The Deadwood Pioneer.”
Jack: Ah!
Accounted for the halo I see above you.
Al: Shit
blizzard’s early today.
Jack: He takes
his tone with you as a familiar.
Merrick:
Oh, we’re well-acquainted, Mr. Swearengen and I.
Jack:
(nodding to Merrick) Mmm, new friends, (nodding to Al) old
campaigners.
Al: The
infrequent bloody win.
Jack: Always
superfluous, bloodshed. The deeper
damage is best. (drinks) Ahh! (Merrick laughs)
(Grand Central, Richardson and E.B are behind the
counter)
EB: Candidly, Richardson, as I imagine you foraging for
berries and grubs, and flicking at insects with your sticky tongue, I feel a
certain dismay.
Richardson: What
are you talking about?
EB: You
are to be discharged, fool. As, I
suspect in a wink of time, once some stage from a different direction arrives
with my replacement, am I.
Richardson: What did we do wrong?
EB: Your
error, surprisingly enough, is not to be a grotesque of inconceivable stupidity,
but that you are white and male and not repulsively obese. As for my own, I wonder if it lies in an
excessive courtesy and eagerness to please. (Hearst descends the stairs) Shoo,
skunk. Shoo. Go, go. (Richardson exits to the back room.)
Mr. Hearst.
Hearst:
Farnum, have you a moment for us to talk?
EB: I
do. I’d ask only that you be brief
and forbear from false camaraderie.
(EB is feigning disinterest by
examining the desk very closely. Hearst looks at him in wonder) Come,
Hearst. I’ve seen the Ethiope. Who
indeed could miss her? And even as
she supplants Richardson, what person, I wonder, of what depraved exotic origin
have you engaged to take my place?
Hearst: I
hadn’t thought of replacing you. Do
you want me to? (E.B. freezes)
EB: The
world begins to dance before my eyes.
Hearst:
As for Richardson, Aunt Lou will be taking his position, but he can keep doing
whatever else it is that he does with no reduction in wage.
EB: What
a surprising and gratifying turn.
(Two guests walk down the stairs
and out the door.) Paid through Tuesday. That one’s paid through Thursday.
Hearst:
Having secured your approval as to my hiring plans, I wonder now if I might
elicit the information I came for, which is in regard to Mrs. Ellsworth.
EB: I am
abjectly at your disposal.
Hearst:
For some time, without the unseemliness of approaching her directly, I have
sought without success to generate a connection with Mrs.
Ellsworth.
EB: A
haughty cunt. Formerly weak for
dope. Most fundamentally a sexual
peccant, though I’m sworn against providing specifics.
Hearst:
(pauses) Now, as it seems of her own volition, Mrs. Ellsworth appoints to
meet with me, leading me to wonder what change in her situation prompts her
approach.
EB: I
will look into that, Sir, vigorously and immediately.
Hearst:
(under his breath) You don’t know.
EB: I do
not know at present.
Hearst:
Just send her up when she gets here.
EB: I can
seek the knowledge out. I can
pursue it as a first priority.
Hearst:
(walking up the stairs) Just send her the fuck up.
EB: All
right, Sir. And may I say…(Richardson
opens the door) how delighted I am our relation is to continue?
(E.B. gives Richardson a thumbs up. Richardson returns it with a double
thumbs up and a smile. )
(Gem saloon, Langrishe is showing Merrick a few moves
with is feet, he laughs. Al looks
on)
Al: (to Merrick)
Why don’t you see to your
type?
Merrick:
Excuse me?
Al:
Type. Don’t you use type to print
out your words?
Merrick:
Uh, well, I’d hoped to secure from Mr. Langrishe—
Jack: I
want copious discourse between us, Mr. Merrick. Where shall I find you
soon?
Merrick:
Well, we could speak now if you wish.
Jack: No,
not now, young man. Not
immediately. But soon. Very, very soon. Where is your lair, that I may beard
you?
Merrick:
(chuckles) My lair adjoins the
Gem.
Jack: Wonderful.
Merrick:
I can be bearded there most hours.
Jack:
Fine.(They both laugh)
Merrick:
Uh,uh, Thank you very much. Thank,
uh, very nice to meet you, Sir.
Jack: Ah,
the camp is lucky to have you.
Merrick:
Uh, no way, actually, you would know that.
Al: Go on
there, Merrick. Get away.
Merrick:
Oh, incessant and unrelenting, exactly that type of banter. I’ll just go out the front. You know, I could go out that way (looks up), but I—I’ll—(clears throat and exits through the front.)
Al: You’re looking fucking well, Jack.
Jack:
It’s the learning fucking nothing, Al, that keeps me young.
(Hearst’s room, he is opening the door to the
Ellsworths.)
Hearst: Please.
I hope you’ll forgive the disarray.
I seem to feel a greater priority about making space for myself than
adorning the space I’ve made. (Alma nods)
Refreshments?
Ellsworth: No.
Hearst: I
must say I feel less the grown man just now than a boy from Missouri. My Aunt Lou Marchbanks has come to
camp.
Alma: Is your Aunt’s
visit a surprise?
Hearst:
No. Heavens no, no. I—expecting my stay to be brief, I left
her at other diggings.
Alma: Your Aunt Lou
prospects, too?
Hearst:
My Aunt’s my nigger cook.
Alma: I
see.
Hearst:
Wonderful, wonderful cook. And a
tyrant, of course, as the best ones always are. I quite quake before her.
Alma: Do
you?
Hearst:
About our conversation too, wanting so awfully much we come to an
agreement.
Ellsworth: Don’t disappoint him, being as he’s 12 with his Aunt
in camp.
Hearst:
I’ve learned that we shared time in
the Comstock, Mr. Ellsworth. I’m
sorry we didn’t meeti.
Ellsworth: Whatever’s toward what he wants. Not a flying fuck if it’s true or how
fucking soaked in blood.
Alma:
That talk serves no purpose.
Ellsworth: What talk to a murderer does?
Hearst:
I’d
not be insulted in my own rooms, Mr. Ellsworth.
Ellsworth: Where shall we go for me to do it?
Alma: Will you be in
this afternoon, Mr. Hearst?
(Ellsworth gets
up)
Ellsworth: There’s bodies in here.
Hearst: I
certainly can be. (Alma nods)
Ellsworth: The walls are down to make room for ‘em. I see every fucking one! (Alma gets up, Hearst stands as well.)
Alma: Perhaps we
could speak later then.
Hearst:
I will look forward to that.
Ellsworth:
You don’t look forward to nothing
far as her, you murdering cocksucker.
You hear me?
Hearst: (putting
out his hand to Alma) I’m very glad
to have met you.
(They shake hands, Ellsworth in a rage. Alma pushes him out the door and they
leave)
(In the street, Alma turns to
Ellsworth.)
Alma: I
recognize, perhaps as I never fully recognized before, how profoundly you feel
about him.
Ellsworth:
I know him.
Alma: I
will present my offer to him.
Ellsworth:
You will not. I will not permit it.
Alma:
You behave in his rooms as virtually
a maniac and now assert your superior prerogative?
Ellsworth: I forbid you, yes. (She turns her back to him, takes a deep
breath, turns back around)
Alma: Well, I
suppose that settles it. (She turns and walks off, he follows)
Ellsworth: I know him.
Alma: May I ask you
to collect Sofia once you’ve seen me home?
Ellsworth: Do you understand? In ways you can’t.
Alma: Mr. Ellsworth,
you hardly need explain yourself to me, your wife, in the thoroughfare, having
once laid down the law.
(Utter Freight/Jail house Two Cornishmen are sitting in the cell
with Bullock talking to them. One of them was present at the murder of the
Cornishman in the Gem. Charlie is across the room talking to the 2 men who
witnessed the murder of Hearst’s henchmen at the Gem. The familiar Cornishman is crying and
telling a story in Cornish to the other, while he interprets to Seth. The men
with Charlie are watching the Cornish)
Charlie: Hey.
Look at me! Talk to
me.
Interpreter: (To Seth) He said they come up in cage. The guard was behind Jory. The guard wait for air change. First
breath from above, he push Jory to the wall, catch his legs and cut them
off.
Seth: He
saw it?
Interpreter: Jory was organizing. That’s why they push him to the
wall. (The foremen are escorted outside by
Charlie, one turns to the crying Cornishman and addresses
him.)
Foreman:
We’re awful sorry.
Seth: Get
the fuck away from him!
Charlie:
Get out of here go ahead. Get
on. (looks at Seth) Accident. (The Cornishman continues to cry.)
Interpreter: Another friend, he says, was shot days ago in bar.
Seth: At
the Gem.
Interpreter: The friend talked union too. Jory and him were in the bar when he was
shot. Now they’re dead. Pasco says he’ll be next. (They both cry. Seth walks over to Charlie, who hands
him the foremen’s statements.)
Seth:
Tell them they can go when they’re done crying. Make them understand I was only talking
to him.
(Gem saloon, Al and Jack are exiting via the back
door)
Al: Hole
in the building’s front wall. He
can pop out at any moment.
Jack:
Hearst.
Al: I’d
not have him see us together.
Jack:
Prudent. (Al holds up his bandaged hand and looks at
it)
(Jack approaches the pigpen.) Ah, bacon.
Al: Might
have a bit of a human aftertaste. (Jack looks
amused.)
Jack:
Lurid with Chinese.
Al: No
one suggests a theater here.
Jack:
Only observing, turning you outward.
Mr Wu: (shouting
at two men in Chinese)
Al: Boss
of the neighborhood. Won a war to
take over. (Jack bows slightly to Mr. Wu. Mr. Wu returns the gesture.)
Jack: One
hopes you are his backer and not his tailor. (Al holds up his bandaged hand again,
showing it to Jack.)
Al:
You’re the first I’ve fucking revealed this to. Fucking throbs all the way
up.
Jack:
Goes with me to the grave. (Al blows on the
hand.)
Al:
Yeah. (They walk on, Jack tips his hat to a
passerby) You fucking tip your hat to everybody?
Jack:
Everybody.
(Hardware store, Sol is intently studying a furniture
catalogue. He quickly conceals it when Seth enters)
Sol:
Morning. (Seth nods) We’re low on our hardware,
just doing the order.
Seth:
Dogs. For him to laugh at while we
chase our tails. (Sol nods) I’m gonna write it up anyway. Hearst’s phony fucking accident, I’m
gonna present it to him and put him on notice. (Sol looks bewildered, and looks back down
to his catalogue.)
(Doc’s place, he’s talking with
Trixie.)
Doc: I’m
concerned about Mrs. Ellsworth, Trixie.
Trixie: If concerned means “Is she using?”… (lights a cigarette) I don’t think she
is.
Doc: I
don’t either.
Trixie:
Then why’d you ask if she was?
Doc: I
didn’t. You just took me for asking
that. (He coughs and tries to clear his
throat)
Trixie: Ask the one you want to then.
Doc: (sighs) I’m
concerned that her temperament is—(stifling a cough) is labile. (coughs)
Trixie: (confused, laughs and seems concerned about
Doc) I guess that means she’s talking through her
cunt?
Doc: Her
moods seem inappropriately variable. (serious coughing)
Trixie:
Saying “variable,” I don’t
disagree. I said so myself this
morning to somebody else. (Doc coughs heavily) Did I fucking
embarrass you, Doc, that you go so fucking red? (continues coughing) Don’t throw a fit,
Doc. Look, I’ll put it out.
(She stamps out the cigarette. Doc coughs up some bloody phlegm,
catching it in his hands, Trixie is
horrified. He waves her out, and
she leaves.)
(In the street, Al and Jack continue their tour of
the camp., They approach the Ellsworth house)
Al: This
is new. This entire area is
recent. The Ellsworth house, the
richest claim nest to Hearst, that woman.
Jack:
What sort of plays does she favor?
Al: Oh,
Christ, she told me and I fucking forgot.
Goes
through her men like Sherman to the fucking sea. This—can’t remember who this fucking
belongs to.
Jack: And
who does this fucking belong to? (He waves to a large open area between the
buildings, sort of a circle in the middle of the
street)
Al: Well,
I guess this belongs to fucking everybody.
(Jack nods, they continue their
walk.) The Bullock house. Fucking Sheriff. Insane fucking person.
(Back at the Hardware Store, Seth is done writing up
his notice and starts to leave)
Seth: The
one at Swearengen’s, too, I’ll put him on notice about. (Trixie walks in, she looks at Sol and steps
to the side.) I’m gonna put him on notice about it all. (Seth leaves)
Trixie:
(angry) Wouldn’t be looking for anyone coming through the wall to deal
with your Johnson. (She starts to roll up a cigarette) And
don’t you try fucking coming to my side either, or your Jew head will be wearing that
fucking dresser as a tiara.
Sol: All
right.
Trixie: We’re supposed to read your mind, understand what you
fucking mean.
Sol: I
mean… all right.
Trixie: Shut
the fuck up. “Please don’t smoke”
means “I’m at death’s fucking door.”
Sol: You
can smoke. (She lights up her cigarette)
I’d prefer…if you did it outside.
Trixie: You’re a fucking idiot, anyways. (She flicks the cigarette to the floor and
leaves.)
(Al and Jack continue their
walk.)
Al: (looking at his hand)
Pus is a deeper yellow. Aw, cocksucker. What are you staring at? (looks at a hoople on the
boardwalk) Fucking boot fits,
huh? (They approach the Grand Central. Merrick
steps out from his newspaper office, he spies them and looks very anxious for
them to come his way)
Jack:
Home base, young man.
Al:
There’s the whole fucking area on the other side.
Jack: I’m
quite worn out.
Al: I
fucking started this job, I’ll fucking finish it. (He points up to the roof of the Grand
Central) This motherfucker.
Jack:
Al…(waves to all the hooples watching him
from the street) It’s not the first impression I’d make. (He steps up to the porch of the Grand
Central and turns to Al.) Heartfelt thanks. (Al rubs his bandages, and walks away. Jack starts to turn into the hotel but
instead steps past the doorway, continuing on by himself. Merrick is watching and looks
disappointed)
(Hearst’s room, Seth is there. Seth stands as Hearst reads the
reports)
Hearst: With such disagreement among the statements, Mr.
Bullock, on what basis could an inquiry justifiably go
forward?
Seth: I
put you on notice, Mr. Hearst. I
identify a pattern in these events.
(Hearst taps the table and stands
up)
Hearst: Unless some law is broken, Mr. Bullock, whose
sanctions you have power to apply, why in fuck should I care what pattern you
identify or don’t?
Seth:
There is a sanction against murder.
Hearst:
The man lost his legs in a shaft.
It happens quite often.
Seth: I
now learn that your worker who died in the Gem last week was killed by two of
your guards.
Hearst: I
defy you to prove that event, about which the two of us have spoken, was
murder. Whereas, in the same saloon
nine days ago, two guards of mine, giving no provocation, had their throats cut with two others of
my guards as witness. Certainly,
the guards who survive are capable of naming the killers. Shall I have them make complaint? (He drinks a shot and slams the shot glass
on the table, looking up at Seth.) I put you on notice. Hearst turns away and goes to his desk in
the next “room”, then stis with his back to Seth)
(Telegraph office, Blazanov is working on some new
equipment as Merrick watches)
Blazanov: Many new people are in the camp, Mr. Merrick.
Merrick:
And a very eventful time we had during your absence, Mr. Blazanov. You and I will have much to discuss in
our evening perambulations. (A spark jumps from one of the instruments
that Blazanov has just touched, Merrick jumps.) Oh
God.
Blazanov:
Okay. Main line coil, artificial
line coil,…(tapping) new armature
lever, separate battery, supplementaries.
All new contrivances I was instructed about in Chicago. Without this many innovations,
differential duplex would no be possible.
Merrick:
Differential duplex? (confused)
Blazanov:
Can you speakin a high voice, Mr. Merrick?
Merrick:
I can speak in a low voice.
Blazanov: (high
voice) Blazanov then will speak in
high voice. (Merrick looks more confused) Keep
speaking on in your low voice while Blazanov, at the same time, speaks highly.
(Merrick starts to speak) his is
duplex telegraphy.
Merrick: (low voice)
From this point on, I shall speak in
my low voice.
Blazanov: (high
voice) Both messages sent at the
same time…from the same office at different voltages.
Merrick: (low voice)
Excuse me, but I can’t understand
you when we both talk at once.
Blazanov: (high
voice) And recorded elsewhere by
instruments with appropriate sensitivities.
Merrick: (still does
not understand) Well, I—I won’t keep
you from your work. (Blazanov seems surprised)
Blazanov:
Mr. Merrick?
Merrick:
Hmm?
Blazanov:
I met a girl in Chicago.
Merrick:
Oh, yes? (very interested)
Blazanov:
Also for our…perambulations.
Merrick:
Hmm. Yeah. (he turns and
leaves)
(Bella Union, Cy’s disheveled room. Hearst is addressing a sitting Cy)
Hearst: Seeing you on your balcony the other night, Mr.
Tolliver, taking in the life of the camp, I thought maybe it was time we had a
talk.
Cy: I
regret we have to meet in this environment, Sir.
Hearst:
Not at all.
Cy: No.
Changes that have gone on here, (taps his chest) it’s not the place I’d
be seen in by you.
Hearst:
I’m sure whatever changes you allude to,
Mr. Tolliver, will come clear from your behavior.
Cy: Fresh
start. (chuckles) How many men would be grateful for that
opportunity? (Puts his hand on his Bible,
ceremoniously.)
Hearst:
(nodding to the bible) Do you have more you wish to do with that, or
shall I state my business?
Cy:
Please, state your business.
Hearst:
Your letter from Mr. Wolcott naming me as having knowledge of his misdeeds.
Cy: A
letter I mentioned to you, yes, in a conversation I
regret.
Hearst:
5% of my holdings I recall as your demand, or you would circulate the letter’s
contents.
Cy:
Exactly what I regret and now find reprehensible and why I thank God that you
take a new look at me.
Hearst:
To this point, Mr. Tolliver, you make no materially different impression. Still lying, still bullshitting.
Cy: I
hope I’m not, Sir, but I—I can certainly understand why that would be your
material second impression.
Hearst:
Shall I show you the letter from Mr. Wolcott that I have in my
possession?
Cy:
That’s not necessary from my point of view. You tell me you’ve got it, I believe
you.
Hearst: Here it is. (pulls a letter from his jacket)
Will you compare it to your
letter? Verify its
authenticity?
Cy: It’s
not necessary.
Hearst:
Shall I read to you certain pertinent sections on Wolcott’s assay of your
nature and likely behavior after
his death? (Cy closes his eyes and folds his hands
under his chin as if to pray) His detailing your complicitous participation
in the aftermath of his crimes—disposing of the bodies and so forth? You have no letter from Wolcott, Mr.
Tolliver. (Cy lowers his hands and opens
his eyes.)
Cy: Let’s
say that’s the case.
Heasrst: I just did.
Let’s hear you say it.
Cy: I
have no letter from Mr. Wolcott.
Hearst:
Never did.
Cy: I
never did have one.
Hearst:
You’re
a lying, blackmailing sack of shit.
Cy: What
do you want?
Hearst: I
want you to go to work for me.
(Gem saloon, Al is at the bar, Johnny and Dan look
on.)
Johnny: (clears
throat) How was your
walk?
Al: I
seemed to get around adequately.
Dan:
Seemed to get along with that dandy.
Al: Yeah,
he’s all right. (Dan looks at
Johnny)
Johnny:
Theater fella, huh? Langrishe?
Al: (looking straight at them) He’s a
fucking promoter of the first fucking quality, I can tell you that. I don’t go to plays so I can’t speak to
his worth as an actor. (drinks)
Ahh—Tuesdays…he’ll tend to have amateur nights. Been to plenty of those.
Virginia City. Guy farted
seemed near an hour. (Seth enters through
the back door)
Johnny: (softly to
Dan) Well,
that don’t sound like no amateur. (giggles)
Al:
Bullock.
Seth:
Tell that Chinaman when I want admission to his meat locker, it behooves him to
fucking cooperate.
Al: What
did he do instead?
Seth:
Said “Swedgin” and barred my way.
Al: Had
you eyes to select your own cut?
Seth: Are
you gonna fuck with me? (Al tilts his head to Seth, beside him at
the bar) I had eyes for the Cornishman killed in here last week. I explained it to him, and he Goddamn
understood me.
Dan: Did
he mosey over to a corner, lift up a fucking tarp?
Seth:
Yeah, he went to the tarp.
Al:
That’s what the croaker was under.
Johnny:
That’s our nook in Wu’s structure.
(Al points to the bar in front of
Seth, Johnny slides a shot glass down and Al pours a
drink.)
Al:
Why Wu delayed cooperating, he
hadn’t known the croaker was under there.
His stupid suit so overcome me, it slipped my mind to tell him.
Seth:
I want that body. (drinks)
Al:
I’ll see Wu hands it
over.
Seth: Hearst just had another Cornish killed at his
diggings for trying to organize.
They’re calling that one an accident. (Dan and Johnny exchange
looks)
Al: What
makes you think any good will come of confronting Hearst
now?
Seth: Now
is when he’s killing people.
Al: What,
you feel he’ll leave off soon?
Seth: Tactics and timing ain’t the
issue.
Al: The
hell you say. (drinks)
Seth: If
his pigs get that body, Wu is their next fucking meal. You make him understand . (Seth leaves)
(On the street, Seth spies Alma, who’s heading to the
Grand Central. She sees him and they exchange smiles)
(Chez Amie. We see Joanie with a watering can,
watering the children’s garden in front of the building. Jack is now looking
around the camp on his own, and is studying the
building)
Jack: (reading
signs) “Chez Ami” “Cooperage” Well,
well.
Joanie: I’m watering these kids’ vegetables. We don’t do the other
anymore.
Jack:
Very good. Lovely building. Sturdy?
Joanie:
(nervous at the attention) Get away now.
(He nods and tips his hat to her, walking away)
(Hearst’s room, he is opening the door to
Alma)
Alma:
I apologize for the
awkwardness between you and my husband.
Hearst:
Ah. My dear Phoebe, Mrs. Hearst,
like your Mr. Ellsworth, while pleasantly conversable on most subjects, finds
others not to suit her at all. (He gestures for her to have a seat, he
pulls out a chair for her, and as she sits he leans in to smell her rather
inappropriately. She does not notice. Hearst sits across from her at the table)
Alma: Will you hear
my offer, Mr. Hearst?
Hearst:
Of course.
Alma: (pulling out her paper) I am willing to
sell to you a 49% ownership in my claim, in return for—and here…of course, I am
out of my depth—but for the sake of beginning a negotiation, I’ll say 5% of your
holdings in the hills. You would
have an easement through my holdings for the transport of your ore, unqualified
in any regard except that it not impede my mining operation. Naturally, at a separate fee, I would
wish access to transport for my own ore.
Hearst: (As Alma speaks, Hearst
is growing more and more irritated) Have you finished?
Alma: I have,
yes.
Hearst:
(struggles to remain civil) Your proposal is thoughtful, but I’m afraid I
lack the qualities that minority participations require.
Alma: As I said,
these are the most preliminary thoughts.
Hearst:
(now starting to show his anger) A vulgar man would ask before preceding
any further if you would require him to produce his jackknife and make himself a
capon before you.
Alma: (taken aback) What in my ideas do you find
emasculating?
Hearst: (raising his voice,
talking down to her) I can offer no
inside explanations, Mrs. Ellsworth, as I am not a capon, which details offend
me and why your proposal offends completely. It mistakes my nature absolutely. (Alma nods)
Alma:
(embarrassed and a little frightened All
right.
Hearst:
Will you hear my counterproposal?
Alma: I think not,
Sir. (standing up)
Hearst:
(quickly stands) Do hear it, Mrs. Ellsworth. Let me name an amount to buy you
out.
Alma: I will not
hear it, Mr. Hearst. (She takes a step to
the door, he blocks her) Let me out.
Shall I scream?
Hearst:
(moves towards her) The hour makes the thoroughfare uncertain. Will you have an escort until your dear
home’s lights appear before you?
(Alma shakes her head) No.
Hearst: (He steps in
very close. She turns her head away from him but does not back up. He is looking
at her with a certain amount of lust and speaking directly into her ear) You
are reckless, madam. (inhales) You
indulge yourself. (he seems very close to grabbing her, then steps away and
she leaves quickly looking very frightened)
(Hardware store Seth leans in the doorway, Sol is
sweeping the entryway. Pausing when he gets to where Seth is
standing.)
Sol: Stand your watch. I’ll—I’ll get this part
later.
(Seth glances at Sol, then back to the street. He
sees Alma coming from the Grand Central. She is moving erratically in the
crowded street, looking frightened and confused. He looks concerned and steps
out into the street into her path. She looks at him for a moment, then walks
past him. Seeing she is upset, he turns around and looks up at Hearst’s rooms
with anger)
(Grand Central dining room. Lou is standing over a
table where the 2 women from the Troupe are dining. Richardson is hovering
behind Lou. Jack enters the dining room from the
street)
Lou: Everything fixed to your liking,
folks?
Blonde:
Wonderful. Thank
you.
Jack: (entering) Have you supped
sumptuously?
Blonde: Actually, we have.
Jack: I’m
delighted.
Countess?
Countess:
Costumes were damp.
Jack: Oh
dear. Are you drying them? (She raises her eyebrows at him) You
are, of course. I am tedious beyond
bearing to ask. (Blazanov enters)
EB:
(nodding to Blazanov’s hat) A newly rakish tilt.
Blazanov:
Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company. Telegram for
Mr…”Langinshire.”
Jack:
Langrishe!
Balzanov:
Langrishe.
Jack: I
am he.
Blazanov:
(Handing him the telegram)
Telegram.
Jack: Yes. (Blazanov
averts his eyes, waiting for his tip. The Countess shakes her head in
disapproval at Jack. Blazanov
starts to leave.)
Countess:
Wait. (She hands him a coin, he bows to
her.)
Blazanov:
Thank you.
Jack:
Very welcome. (Blazanov pauses in confusion and leaves.)
What did you give?
Countess:
A dollar.
Jack: Too
much. (She shrugs) Chesterton and Bellegae are in
transit from Cheyenne.
Blond: (mockingly) Having
suffered the tortures of the damned?
Jack: “Endured
indescribabe inconvenience.”
Countess:
“The damned” was from Fort Kearney.
(Blond
laughs)
Jack: I
shall take the air.
Blond: Shall I accompany you?
Jack: My
destination is beneath you.
Delta:
At least something
would be.
Jack:
Good evening. (Leaving) Good
evening. (The woman in red, from the stage, comes
down the stairs into the dining room) Madam.
Woman in red: Sir.
Jack: (turning with a flourish) Wonderful
food! (Aunt Lou nods at him and he leaves The woman in red sits and Aunt Lou
approaches her with Richardson.)
Lou:
We got fish and we got ham, and
don’t pay no attention to the menu. (nods to the wall)
(Aunt Lou takes Richardson’s hands and leads him back
into the kitchen. E.B. watches with
interest)
(Ellsworth
house, Alma and Whitney are again at her desk upstairs)
Alma:
The thought I’d put into it,
all the time I took to write it out and put it by and look again. (sighs) I began to read to him my
proposal, but I--I was more and more afraid I was only chanting sounds. Finally, I made myself look to him to
confirm that I was speaking intelligently and being understood.
Ellsworth: Now you know.
Alma: He grinned at
me like a jackal.
Ellsworth: This is what I would have spared
you.
Alma: He scorned my
offer. He said I mistook his nature
absolutely.
Ellsworth: You did.
Alma:
Yes.
Ellsworth: And was there more? After the jackal
smiled?
Alma: It seemed very
possible that there could be, but finally he let me go.
Ellsworth: He had restrained you?
Alma: (sniffles) I was very afraid. I can’t say with any certainty exactly
what was happening.
Ellsworth: What the hell do you mean? Did you try to leave, and did he
prevent you?
Alma: Don’t use that
tone of voice with me.
Ellsworth: Well, I guess I know what that
means.
Alma: Oh, do you,
Mr. Ellsworth?
Ellsworth: (angry) That you’re a Goddamn fool who almost
got what she deserved.
Alma: And what would
that have been? And why would I have deserved it?
Ellsworth: (turning to leave, sadly) I only wanted to
protect you.
Alma: (mockingly)
You can’t.
(Kitchen of the Grand
Central.)
Lou: I
wish you’d eat that outside, Mr. Hearst.
Hearst: I
wanted to be sure you have all you need.
Lou: And
more besides. (looking over her
things) And now you done seen for yourself.
Hearst: I
really don’t care what others think of me, Aunt Lou. And you need only care what I
think. God, I hate these
camps. All this deferring and
adjusting to other’s wrong-headed stupidities.
Lou: I
must have missed where they were better in San Francisco.
Hearst:
They’re not. They’re worse. Can’t bear San Francisco.
Lou:
Don’t let Mrs. Hearst hear you saying that.
Hearst:
Aw, she knows, she knows. She knows why I always leave so quickly. Goddamn truth is I’d rather be off by
myself, Aunt Lou. Free to do my
work.
“Boy-the-Earth-Talks-To.”
Lou:
(rolling her eyes slightly) That’s your Indian name. (She seems a little
anxious for him to be gone)
Hearst:
That’s right. You remember. Only
Goddamn conversation I care to have.
Her telling me where to dig into her. (He finishes his cobbler and holds up the
plate to her.) Wonderful.
Lou:
Thank you, Sir.
(Bullock house. Charlie and Sol are having dinner
with the Bullocks.)
Charlie: Haven’t ate potatoes quite that smooth. I don’t know
if I ever had ‘em that smooth. (chuckles)
Seth:
(looks to be stewing over something) These elections can’t be a
joke. More tail-chasing for him to
laugh at us about.
Charlie:
Hearst.
Seth: The
offices have to count for something.
Charlie:
(pauses, looks curious) How will you work that?
Sol:
Laws.
Charlie:
Jesus Christ! Excuse me. Seems like one way more for his kind to
run us. Laws do. (Charlie crosses his arms,
frustrated.)
Martha:
(sort of shrugs, seems interested in this exchange) Who will have
strawberries?
(Seth looks up at her, we see a look of affection
cross over him).
(Hearst’s room, Cy is standing, wearing his good
suit. Hearst is sitting)
Cy: I
hope you’ll take it as measure of my keenness, Sir, and
curiosity.
Hearst: (irritated)
Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Tolliver. You wish to know your duties in my
service.
Cy: Well,
I make my way through the muck to learn the details.
Hearst: (pauses) Your duties will be to answer like a dog when I
call.
Cy: Like
a dog?
Hearst: Complications of intention on your part in dealings
with me, or duplicity or indirection. Behavior, in short, which displeases me
will bring you a smack on the snout.
Cy: Ouch.
Hearst: When administered by a practiced hand such a blow can
be more painful and grievous even than your recent
sufferings.
Cy: I
don’t doubt the hand would be practiced.
Hearst:
Mr. Swearengen recently discovered as much.
Cy: I
gather it cost him a finger.
Hearst:
(pauses, seems a little disgusted at this thought. His tone now changes to
one of being a little amazed at himself.) But I should say too that in these
rooms just this afternoon such displeasure brought me near to murdering the
Sheriff and raping Mrs. Ellsworth. I have learned through time, Mr. Tolliver,
and as repeatedly seem to forget, that whatever temporary comfort relieving my displeasure brings me, my
long-term interests suffer. My
proper traffic is with the earth. In my dealings with people, I ought solely
have to do with niggers and whites who obey me like dogs.
Cy:
(grinning) If
he hadn’t meant me to wag it, sir, why would the Lord give me a
tail?
(Cut to chink’s alley. We see Aunt Lou sitting at a
gamming table with several Chinese.)
Lou: So I
make you my second deputy, you clever little heathen monkey tongue. (laughs. We see Richardson stand to her rear
with his antlers, he is watching her with some admiration) You stand there,
Richardson. You’re lucky for Aunt
Lou. ( They all shuffle the mah johng tiles and
set up a new hand.) Don’t shy
away from a little noise now. Ah
chung ow chi. See I speak your
stuff.. You savvy? Clatter them Goddamn sparrows.
(mocking Hearst now) “I love
your cobbler like sunset, Lou.” And
back-broke niggers in the fields.
(snickers) George Hearst…he do
love his nose in a hole more, and ass in the air, and back legs kickin’ out
little lumps of gold like a fucking badger. No more use for them nuggets,
either. Past counting them up, and
saying that big number to astonish niggers to remind us we in the world. (She sticks a cigar in her mouth and one of
the players puts down a tile. Aunt
Lou grabs it up.) Hah! I seem to have won. That’s the 13 orphans natural. (laughs) Shall we clatter them
motherfuckers again? (laughs)
(Gem balcony, Al and Jack are drinking and leaning on
the rail)
Jack: Strange affectations your devil friend has. Shabby appearance, derelict
hotel.
Al: Put
the hole through that wall just before he worked on my
hand.
Jack: Americans…it
never occurs to them to try the window.
Al: I’ll
tell you the truth. I begin to wonder if I mightn’t be fucking
queer.
Jack: You
see more to admire in the male asshole than you’d…realized
hitherto?
Al: That
I haven’t gone yet for Hearst’s throat.
Jack: Ambition
and the blessed simplicities of action don’t always quarter in
comfort.
Al: I’ve
no fucking ambition past trading to my favor and coming…once a
day.
Jack: Bullshit!
A thing of this order you’d as soon not see ruined or in
cinders.
Al: I
will if I fucking have to. Avoiding
it if I could.
Jack:
Good night, Al.
Al: Good
night.
Jack:
(stands up and starts to leave, crossing behind Al Few enough I find
tolerable. Lucky our paths have
crossed again. (He gives Al an affectionate pat on the butt
as he leaves) Don’t misinterpret that.
Al: All
right, Jack.
(Close with Al watching over the
camp)
Click
here to listen to the music from the
credits
Written by: Regina Corrado
and Ted Mann
Directed by: Gregg
Fienberg
Al Swearengen: Ian McShane Dan Dority: W Earl Brown
Seth Bullock: Timothy Olyphant
Alma Garret: Molly Parker
Ellsworth: Jim Beaver
Doc Cochran: Brad Dourif
Sol Star: John Hawkes
Trixie: Paula Malcomson
Tom Nuttall: Leon Rippy
Cy Tolliver: Powers Boothe
Leon: Larry Cedar
Sophia: Bree Seanna Wall
Silas Adams: Titus Welliver
Martha Bullock: Anna Gunn
Hugo Jarry: Stephen Toblowsky
Richardson: Ralph Richeson |
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
Mose Manual: Pruitt Taylor Vince
Mr. Wu: Keone Young
Joanie Stubbs: Kim Dickens
Con Stapleton: Peter Jason
Blazanov: Pavel Lychnikoff
Steve: Michael Harney
Jack Langrishe: Brian Cox
Aunt Lou Marchbanks: Cleo King
Harry Manning: Brent Sexton |
Transcription last updated on 02/06/2007 | |
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