Episode 16: “Requiem for a Gleet”

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(Open at the Bullock house, Seth and Martha are waking up in their bedroom)

Martha: Let me light the lamp.

Seth: I’ve misplaced my boots.

Martha: I put them downstairs by the kitchen door.

Seth: (looking tired) I was asleep…when you took ‘em and did that.

Martha: Yes. Would you rather I not?

Seth: No. No. Only I had intended to be awake last night so we could talk, which, what with how it’s been, we have not done in the peace of the evening as I would like, since your arrival.

Martha: I would enjoy to converse in the stillness, after the day, like that.

Seth: Tonight, I will have two cups of coffee, and I will not fall asleep.

Martha: In the morning…(reaches her hand behind her, rests it on the center of the bed between them, their backs still facing each other) in the quiet before we each take up our work, is also a pleasant occasion for such intercourse. (Seth slowly starts to turn his head around to look at Martha.)

Seth: Yes.

Martha: Would you like to start a discussion this morning?

Seth: (pauses) I wouldn’t…want to – disturb the boy.

Martha: William sleeps soundly. If you will see to the bedroom door…Mr. Bullock?

(Seth stands and closes the door)

(Al’s room, Trixie and Dolly are sponge- bathing Al…)

Dolly: Have I killed ‘im?

Trixie: First, the dead don’t shiver. And next, you just done what he asked. (Al shivers and shakes, delirious) Ain’t it more likely what turned him worse is his underlyin’ woe than a thumb up his ass attemptin’ his fucking relief? Go on, get the fuck out of here. (To Al) It’s alright, Honey.

(At Alma’s mine, we see all the mill equipment working loudly. Wolcott is standing and observing the workings. Ellsworth spots him from a distance and quickly approaches him)

Wolcott: Hello.

Ellsworth: What’s your business?

Wolcott: I’m Francis Wolcott.

Ellsworth: (approaches closer) My name’s Ellsworth, Mr. Francis Wolcott. Can you hear me?

Wolcott: Yes, sir. How do you do?

Ellsworth: I’m well. Glad you make me out.

Wolcott: Yes, sir.

Ellsworth: Because them as poke around Miz Garret’s workings without a by your-leave ain’t welcome, Mr. Wolcott, and you ought not to repeat your fuckin’ mistake.

Wolcott:Well, that’s an uncivil response to an innocent error.

Ellsworth:Did you work in the Comstock when you was beardless?

Wolcott:I did.

Ellsworth: For Mr. George Hearst, as a keen eye for the color?

Wolcott: As a geologist for Mr. Hearst. Well, you have the advantage of me, Mr. Ellsworth.

Ellsworth: That ain’t a possibility, Wolcott. No more than an error of yours would be innocent.

Wolcott: I do dimly recall an Ellsworth—superintended the consolidated Virginia operations.

Ellsworth: I don’t give a fuck what you recall.

Wolcott: A hero. Dug a week without respite to save three poor souls from a cave-in.

Ellsworth: And 46 corpses in a fucking hole that ought never to have been dug.

Wolcott: Always a choice…to count the saved or the lost.

Ellsworth: Get off this property.

Wolcott: Just as a man opposed to inevitable change needn’t invariably be called a luddite, another choice might be simply to describe him as slow in his processes.

Ellsworth: You tell that cocksucker you work for the next surrogate he sends oughtn’t to be bloodied from the Comstock.

Wolcott: (Looks at the mill, turns back to Ellsworth…) The noise is terrible, isn’t it, Mr. Ellsworth? Like fate.

(Alma’s room. Sophia is seated on the bed, reading from her book. Alma sits next to the bed in a chair, reading her own book…)

Sophia: “Ox, Box, Fox.”

(There is a knock at the door. Alma looks up from her book, points to one of the dolls…)

Alma: Nora’s attentions are wandering. If I were you, (pulls out a stick of green rock candy) I’d bribe her with candy.

(Alma stands and walks to the door, its Miss Isringhausen.)

Miss Isringhausen: Good Morning.

Alma: Please come in, Miss Isringhausen. Will you have a seat? (They sit.)

Miss Isringhausen: Do you remain of a mind, Ma’am, to dispense with my services?

Alma: (Sophia watches from the bed) I have immense respect for your training and intelligence, Miss Isringhausen, and gratitude for your efforts toward Sophia’s education. I am ill suited temperamentally to collaborate with you as women in our positions must do.

Miss Isringhausen: I see.

Alma: I propose to pay you six months’ wages severance and an additional $200 against the expense for your journey here and return to Chicago. While you’re making your arrangements, I will also continue to pay for your room here at the hotel.

Miss Isringhausen: As to those terms, Mrs. Garret, your behavior is very fair.

Alma: Miss Isringhausen, Cotton Mather would have found hard and joyless the standards you so resolutely apply to me and Sophia, and of course to yourself. (They stand, Alma produces a stack of money) I wish you very well. (Hands over the cash.)

Miss Isringhausen: Thank you, Madam.

Alma: Would you—(Turns head to the bedroom where Sophia is)

Miss Isringhausen: I will not say goodbye to Sophia, to spare her upset. (She leaves.)

(The Gem, Dan stands behind the bar, he looks nervous as he stares up at Al’s door. E.B. approaches the bar…)

EB: Dan.

Dan: E.B. Coffee?

EB: Please. (Dan reaches behind the bar and pulls out a cup. He shakily pours E.B. some coffee. E.B. looks up towards Al’s door and back to Dan.) I’ll be candid, Dan. I did not sleep well last night. I heard screaming from Al’s room.

Dan: Happens up ‘ere many a fuckin’ evenin’.

EB: Well, Al was fuckin’ screamin’, Dan. And I’m wondering how he’s feeling this morning. And you dancin’ around the pole ain’t allayin’ my fucking anxieties.

Dan: Well, do you hear any screams from him now?

EB: Silence ain’t proof either way.

Dan: Take no tongue with me, E.B., (Louder – pointing) or I’ll slap you fuckin’ silly! (They pause) He’s on the mend, and he ain’t fuckin’ receiving.

EB: Well, that’s all I was fuckin’ askin’.

Dan: Then that’s your fuckin’ answer.

EB: Convey my joy. (They drink their coffee) And tell him numerous scores await.

(EB leaves, and as he does, a very scruffy looking man enters and approaches Dan. Dan seems to know him. As the man gets closer, we see he has no ears)

Eamon: Soft-fuckin’ day, Dan.

Dan: Morning, Crop Ear. Oh—sorry—Eamon.

Eamon: (Strokes his head) Take a good look. Ain’t growin’ back. (loudly) Is he about?

Johnny: (Coming downstairs) Uh…Al’s out early. Look at a place in Gayville.

Eamon: Oh, yeah? You must seize fortune by the forelock, Dan. That’s why I’m here, to put a matter before him. You know I’ll not waste the man’s time.

Dan: No, you won’t.

Eamon: That’s some fuckin’ way you have about you, Dan.

Dan: Now, you could either say your piece to me and Johnny, or you can-get-the-fuck-outta here.

Eamon: I’ll say it gladly, and hope you’ll commend my words to him (nods his head towards Al’s office) who’s in Gayville at the earliest opportunity. I contemplate a piece of activity. I need to organize some reliable fellows, locate a right place to waylay that metal.

Dan: (nodding) Well, I’ll let him know. (nods)

Eamon: 25%. One full quarter of the proceeds in total go to (raises his arms and looks to the heavens) Al Swearengen, (looks at Dan) the Gem Saloon, (pointing) or you and Johnny as the fucking case may be.

Dan: You may need to clean the wax out of your holes, because I said I will let him know.

Eamon: When do you suppose I could expect the favor of a response?

Dan: Tomorrow afternoon.

Eamon: He’s overnight in Gayville then? (Dan nods) Then tomorrow afternoon it is. (knocks on the bar, turns and leaves. Dan watches him leave with a look of hatred)

Johnny: Gettin’ particular of where he was gone, I realize now, it was a fuckin’ mistake, which happened because I’m so fuckin’ upset.

Dan: From this point forward, I’ll handle that earless cunt.

(In the the stage arrives and a well-dressed man exits)

Driver: Top two bags. (He taps a suitcase, another man climbs up to retrieve the luggage. A man is helping a woman out of the coach who appears to be a whore. E.B. steps out onto the porch. The woman looks around, and Wolcott approaches her…)

Wolcott: May I help you with your bags, Miss?

Carrie: No, you can’t. Or look at me or talk to me until I’ve took a bath.

Wolcott: (Points to the Chez Amie) Well, follow the quagmire then, Ma’am. The establishment you want is the last on the right. (To a man unloading the coach, holding out a tip) Take this lady’s luggage to the Chez Amie.

Man: Yes, sir.

Wolcott: Do not look at her or talk to her until she’s bathed. (Carrie follows the man up the thoroughfare. Wolcott heads to the hotel…)

EB: Mr. Wolcott. (Wolcott stops and looks out on the town next to E.B. – speaking loudly) Deceptively fair weather given the devastating rumors.

Wolcott:Less volume, Mr. Farnum. More conviction.

EB: Yes.

(Wolcott steps away. The well-dressed man approaches the hotel.)

Hugo: Your hotel?

EB: Yes, it is, sir. (Hugo steps up to the porch) Your luggage?

Hugo: Yes.

EB: May I install it in one of our better rooms?

Hugo: Please. Uh, direct me to the Bella Union.

EB: Not 50 yards as the bird flies, or a man is lead on by his prick, or needing to test his luck. To whom shall I assign the room?

Hugo: Hugo Jarry.

EB: E.B Farnum, owner-proprietor. Also mayor, though that position is largely ceremonial.

Hugo: Lawrence County Commissioner. The position is real.

(He nods and turns away from E.B, heading to the Bella Union. Silas is waiting at the end of the walk for him)

Silas: Hello, Jarry. Commissioner Jarry. (They walk)

Hugo: Commissioner Jarry now, yes, as of the last five days. Delighted to find you here, Adams.

Silas: You could have known my next whereabouts if you had talked to me in Yankton, where I sat outside your office for half a fuckin’ day.

Hugo: It seemed (they stop) to many of us in Yankton that in the aftermath of Magistrate Clagett’s disappearances, you chose different companions. (He tries to proceed, Silas blocks him)

Silas: Last I saw Clagett, he rode in here with General Crook. I figured he left with him, too.

Hugo: And perhaps was plucked up subsequently from amidst the troops by savages? Yes, such moonlight treachery being their stealthy hallmark.

Silas: Maybe he took a bribe from someone, didn’t hold up his end, got his just desserts.

Hugo: (Looking into the distance) That’s of no personal interest to me (We see Wolcott talking to Mr. Lee.) or anyone in Yankton, any more than your choice of companions.

Silas: If you’re trying to freeze out Swearengen before the Governor makes his play, (we see Mr. Wu, glaring at Mr. Lee) You are bettin’ the wrong way.

Hugo: (eyeing Mr. Wu) Someone certainly is.

Silas: Anyways, I’ll tell him I saw you.

Hugo: I have a close schedule, otherwise, I’d pay the respects myself. (Eyes Silas) I wonder if you will let me pass. (Silas steps out of the way. Hugo continues looking in Mr. Wu’s direction.)

(Bella Union, Con is counting out gold coins, Cy is seated at a table…)

Cy: I only hope, Marvin, you ain’t privy to information that I ain’t.

Marvin: $600 U.S. Dollars, Mr. Tolliver. Claim 16 above Discovery.

Cy: That ain’t responsive to my previous fuckin’ statement, young man.

Marvin: I tell you what, sir. It’s the fuckin’ altitude that’s got to me.

Cy: I see.

Marvin: Nosebleeds and every fucking thing else.

Cy: Well, your health’s got to come first. Leon! (Leon picks up a piece of paper, pen and ink) Light as my kit’s got, we can go ahead and say done. (He and Marvin spit in their hands and shake as Leon sets down the paper, pen and ink.)

Cy: $600, Con.

Con: Right here, sir. (Cy wipes his hands with a handkerchief…Hugo Jarry enters and eyes Cy…Con sets down to stack of coins in front of Cy)

Cy: Jesus Christ, don’t pay it to me, Marvin here will shoot us both!

Con: (nods, grabs the coins and sets them in front of Marvin) Here you go, Marvin.

Cy: You lettered, Marvin?

Marvin: I’m up to making my “X”, Sir.

Cy: Con you sign as witness. (Stands)

Con: Will do, Sir. (Stands over Marvin’s shoulder)

Marvin: Don’t be lookin’ over my shoulder when I’m signin’ my fuckin’ X!

(Maddie is seated at a desk in the front room of the Chez Amie)

Maddie: Don’t ever say that to me again. You surprised yourself.

(Joanie is seated at a desk in the middle of the room, her back to Maddie)

Joanie: It’s what happened.

Maddie: I don’t want to hear it spoken of, because it darkens my thoughts.

Joanie: (looks up, turns her head back to Maddie) About who you’re partnered with?

Maddie: Exactly. (2 whores are watching this exchange with interest) They get led by their dicks. Our cunts lead us, we lose our only edge.

Joanie: That wasn’t what was going on.

Maddie: Was it worse? Were you angry at him, Joanie? (Doris watches) Was that what surprised you, (Doris exits, the other whores leave as well) How angry you were that George Hearst’s second was a cruel and evil man? (Stands up & approaches Joanie) Did you think maybe you’d shoot him to get us little people even? (Joanie looks back up from her books)

Joanie: I took that gun into the room with me to protect myself.

Maddie: (loudly) Who fuckin’ asked you to go into the room with him? Nobody gets even. We get dead. And before I go, I intend a long and comfortable retirement, and that cocksucker’s gonna pay the freight.

Joanie: Something terrible is going to happen here.

Maddie: (Turns away) You don’t even know the girl—he wants to harm. (Turns back to Joanie) You stay the fuck out of it. (The door opens)

Carrie: (to the man outside) He tipped you! (She enters in a huffe) This whole place smells like shit. (Throws her bags down.)

(Grand Central, Richardson is preparing a stew or something, EB is behind him)

EB: It is no disloyalty to be a realist, Richardson, we are mortal. One hopes for the best. One perseveres. One reevaluates constantly. One is an asshole if one doesn’t. (rubs his neck, still pacing) Loyalty expanded is not loyalty betrayed. (Richardson sniffs some questionable food, tosses it into the pot) I contemplate no disloyalty to Al Swearengen. (bites his hand, sits) I feel exposed. I don’t like being weak, and I know that I am. I yearn to rely on a stronger will. I fear what I’m capable of in it’s absence. (E.B. rubs his face, pausing, Richardson is snapping carrots and tossing them into the pot. E.B. looks on, sadly.) Whereas you, Richardson, (stands up, angry) know nothing of yourself. (Richardson looks back at E.B.) Are you shitting or going blind? Or on foot or horseback? You vile (grabs a frying pan and swings it at Richardson) fucking lump! (Richardson flinches, goes back to what he was doing…E.B. grabs a pan meat and hands it to Richardson.) Bury that offal in the Shepherd’s Pie.

(Gem saloon, Dan is leaning on the bar – yawning – Silas enters.)

Dan: (Sees Silas – mutters) Oh, God damn it. (Pounds the bar lightly, stands up and faces Silas – sighs)

Silas: May I go up today?

Dan: Unh-uh.

Silas: How long is my fuckin’ sentence?

Dan: Any messages?

Silas: Is there any fuckin’ chance you and me don’t end up in blood?

Dan: Any of you realizin’ that the sun don’t rise and set on me and you?

Silas: What the fuck does that fuckin’ mean?

Dan: Means there may be other fuckin’ factors factored into my decision-making. Besides the fact that I find you to be a pain in the balls, personally.

Silas: Please report – Commissioner Jarry from Yankton has arrived to the camp and intends to fuck Al up the ass.

Dan: Said he to you while doin’ the same?

Silas: (quietly) It is important that he hear that. You do him disservice not to tell.

Dan: Listen, Adams. Al is fucked up bad. May be dyin’.

Silas: Jesus.

Dan: Goddamn right, Jesus. Them stones have done plumb blocked off his piss passage.

Silas: Fuck. Okay, Alright.

Dan: It’s all backed up in him. Hey, shit, he’s got piss in his lungs.

Silas: Can he talk?

Dan: Fuck no, he can’t talk. He just lays there and shivers and stares at nothin’. Uh, he screams when Doc abuses him with them fuckin’ prick poles of his.

Silas: Sorry I broke your balls.

Dan: Well, I’ll see to it he gets your news if he gets to a point I think he can understand my meanin’. (Silas starts to leave) Listen, how uh – how’s your little buddy, the one I put the beatin’ on. ( Dan smiles.)

Silas: Hawkeye.

Dan: Yeah, Hawkeye.

Silas: He’ll live.

(Dan smiles as Silas leaves, he looks over and sees Johnny snoozing at the other end of the bar. He throws a wet rag at Johnny’s head, hitting him in the face. Johnny wakes with a start…muttering.)

Johnny: It’s something anyway. (He looks up at Dan, confused)

(Alma sits on a bench by the stairs in the hotel, Ellsworth enters and approaches her. He takes off his hat…)

Ellsworth: Mornin’, Ma’am.

Alma: Good morning, Mr. Ellsworth.

Ellsworth: I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you spent a restful night.

Alma: I did. And you’re forgiven. But this morning, I note an amount of confusion…and anxiety abound, and words of panic about Yankton’s disposition of the claims.

Ellsworth: Panic’s easier on the back than the short-handled shovel.

Alma: I see.

Ellsworth: (kneels down next to Alma) The creator, in his infinite wisdom, Miz Garret, salted his works so that where gold was, there also you’d find rumor. Though, he decreed just as firm that the opposite wouldn’t always hold.

Alma: You understand I needn’t be comforted at the expense of the truth.

Ellsworth: I’m late, Ma’am, over shooin’ a man away from your diggin’s named Frances Wolcott, that scouts for George Hearst, (Alma cocks her head in interest) who wouldn’t spare attention for a camp or the sun itself if he didn’t think it likely to fill his coffers. Nor the sort’d shrink from a lie, or more than one, to advance his purpose, or be ignorant or of how to circulate his falsehoods without anyone knowin’ their source. (Alma smiles tentatively) And now I come to camp to hear the waters called muddy and the current quickened, though I see no change in the creek. And the “Hooples,” certain sure that flood crest fast approaches, have begun to think keenly, “I’ll get ahead of the event. Maybe I’ll sell my claim at discount.” Anything to unharness so they can head for the higher ground. Myself, Ma’am, I’d be bettin’ that the levy’ll hold. (Alma smiles)

(Bullock’s kitchen, Martha is fixing breakfast, William at the table. As they start to speak, Seth approaches)

William: Did you speak of it to Mr. Bullock, Mama?

Martha: Not yet, William.

William: Will you speak of it today? Good morning, Mr. Bullock.

Seth: Good morning.

Martha: Oatmeal…Seth?

Seth: Please…Martha.

William: Mr. Bullock, mother was wantin’ a kitchen garden, which I would have care of.

Seth: (sitting) Have you chosen a spot yet?

William: I paced one out in the back of the house, sir. Yesterday, I would have broken the ground, but from wantin’ the tools.

Seth: (looking at Martha, back to William. Martha seems a bit anxious towards Seth) Would you like to go now and tell Mr. Star you need shovel, hoe and a rake?

William: Yes, sir. (Jumps up to leave)

Seth: Do you recall your way to the hardware store?

William: (Turning back to Seth) I do, sir. Is it okay if I go now, mama?

(She nods, William grabs a handful of oatmeal and runs off. Martha rubs her forehead, turns back to the kettle.)

(Alma, surveying the hotel lobby below, from the vantage of the upstairs balcony, appears to be waiting for something. As EB arrives, she goes downstairs)

EB: Mrs. Garret.

Alma: Mr. Farnum. (She eyes him and sits next to the stairs. EB approaches)

EB: Mrs. Garret? What male would not trade our small superiority of intellect to possess that gift of intuition so bountifully bestowed on the lesser sex?

Alma: (feigning stupidity) Mr. Farnum, your meaning is beyond me.

EB: I imagine you, Madam, awakening the other morning, suddenly and for no earthly reason, convinced the camp was at peril. ”My gold should be spirited to Denver,” I imagine you thinking, maybe as you brushed your hair, (Alma smiles) and without worrying the conviction or studying upon it, sending the gold away.

Alma: At peril? Mr. Farnum, the camp? Oh, your meaning is beyond me. (She turns to face the wall, EB moves to sit under the stairs.)

EB: Ma’am, if a Nubian genie were at my disposal, I’d see his great nigger fingers whisk up my hotel and deposit it in Denver, just as you did your gold.

Alma: (smiling) Because the camp’s at peril?

EB: Yes, Madam, yes. Peril. (He leans in…) And worse than peril.

Alma: (Leaning in to him, hushed tone) Perhaps you should sell.

EB: Mrs Garret, had I your intuition, would I not have done.

Alma: I’ll buy it.

EB: (Flustered) Aren’t you wonderful and kind and intuitive and generous. No, I couldn’t burden you (Alma leans back) nor impose upon your generosity, tremendously wealthy as you are.

Alma: (Spits hand, holding it out) Name your price, Mr. Farnum. We’ll close the transaction now.

EB: Madam, now you unsettle and trifle with me. (He stands, hitting his head on the stairs) Ungh—and make me nervous and uncertain.

Alma: (Still holding out her hand) My intention is quite otherwise, and intuition.

EB: Oh, your intuition? (He sits)

Alma: Name your price. (He looks at her) How do you males put it…”Shit or get off the chamber pot?”

EB: (flustered) Oh, Mrs. Garret—shit, indeed. Oh dear. (Stands again)

Alma: Unless, Mr. Farnum…(taking out a handkerchief to wipe her hand)

EB: Unless, what, Madam? Do you reconsider?

Alma: No, no.

EB: I’d understand. It’s your sex’s prerogative

Alma: Unless, I meant to say, you’re lying about the camp’s peril?

EB: Lying? I?

Alma: But why would you do that?

EB: Exactly.

Alma: (Standing) You will make a price for me then.

EB: Let me…consider, Mrs. Garret.

Alma: Don’t, Mr. Farnum. Trust your instincts. (She leans forward and picks up a ruffle from his collar) I’ll have you in a dress in no time. (She walks back upstairs, E.B. sits in her spot, muttering…)

EB: Miserable, haughty, cunt. Putting me beyond my depth.

(Al’s room, Doc is sitting next to Al, in bed, still shaking and delirious.)

Doc: We’ve come to a crisis, Al, and I have to say my piece. (Dan looks at Al, then to Doc.) The stones can be excised surgically in one of two ways…(Dan looks to Johnny – nervously) The so-called “High Method,” which cuts into the bladder from above your penis, and the other which enters from below.

Johnny: Below what, Doc?

Doc: His balls.

Johnny: So the “low” entails cutting through his taint.

Doc: Now, I have seen the high method performed. I assisted at a closing, afterwards discussed it with the surgeon. Come to it, that is the one that I would prefer. (Dan looks back and forth from Al to Doc.)

Dan: Al’s with you.

Doc: Well, how’d he indicate it?

Dan: A hard blink for the upper and a scowl for cutting through his ‘tain’t.

Doc: With a knife in expert hands, two men in 10 survive the procedure we contemplate. But at what point, without intervention, will your condition so worsen as to put you beyond recovery? I believe we have approached that point. I am not an expert, but I will give it my best effort, and I ask you now for your consent, should we need to proceed.

Dan: He’s with you , Doc. He wants the upper. Hey, that’s it. That’s the final call. Right, Al? (Dan, shaking his head ‘yes’, with tears in his eyes, looks at the Doc.) The upper? He wants the upper. Well, I guess you better go make ready. (Dan gets up)

Doc: All right. All right. (gets up) Come with me, Johnny. Help me with the stove.

Johnny: Sure. Sure, Doc.

(Johnny grabs Doc’s case and follows him. Dan goes out onto the balcony, leans on the railing, crying)

(Bella Union, Wolcott, Cy and Hugo Jarry are talking.)

Hugo: As to claims filed and worked prior to the new treaty—in essence from when the hills still belonged to the Sioux—the presumption of legitimacy will apply, subject to qualification, according to mitigating facts. In short, with no controlling principle being invoked, title will be determined on a case-by-case basis. When claims are overturned, new title will be awarded at said prices, via lottery, to those submitting verified offers.

Cy: I only hope territorial officials will be excluded from eligibility.

Hugo: Yes.

Cy: Better tell your friends and relatives to pick their lucky suits out for that drawing.

Hugo: Only after Mr. Wolcott’s have picked out theirs. Of course, anticipation of the forthcoming judicial holding may itself largely cleanse the market.

Wolcott: It’s always preferable to allow the market to operate unimpeded.

Hugo: Would that argue for allowing word of my presence to circulate a bit before presenting myself officially?

Cy: Man might use that time to put some stink on his Johnson.

(Wolcott looks at Hugo who looks at Cy.)

(Trixie enters the hardware store…looking around.)

Trixie: Hello?

Sol: Down here. Behind the counter. (He slides out behind the counter holding a book) Taking inventory. (He stands and approaches her, smiling.)

Trixie: (Distraught) I can’t do a lesson today.

Sol: All right.

Trixie: (Holding back tears) He’s too sick. Maybe he’ll fuckin’ die. But I can’t stay. But it’d be smart to stay and learn to calculate fuckin’ interest on that accommodation paper and those fucking discount notes and whatever the fuck—

Sol: Another time. (She starts to really sob, he hugs her) It’s fine, Trixie. (She grabs his injured arm)

Trixie: Did I hurt your shoulder?

Sol: No. (They hug, Seth sees them from outside…Trixie sees him through the window)

Trixie: (softly) I gotta go. (She leaves.)

Seth: (Enters the store) Want to go out for a bit?

Sol: She says Swearengen’s bad off. Last night I heard him screaming out again and again. I guess he’s…worsened with the day. (Steps to the window)

Seth: Thanks for outfittin’ the boy with garden equipment.

Sol: Oh, he’s planning to take some prizes come harvest fair. He mentioned corn and squash both. I had some news from Denver…concerning our proposal on the bank. (Seth starts sweeping) We’d need to find 15% of our proposed capitalization.

Seth: If we capitalize at the two million we figured on—

Sol: $300,000 separate from what Denver will underwrite. (pauses) Or they’d credit Mrs. Garret’s accounts as collateral.

Seth: Not doing that.

Sol: I don’t advocate it. I’m informing you of a communication they volunteered.

Seth: (stops sweeping, looks at Sol) We’re not doing that.

Sol: Suppose I’ll have to dip into my own kit then. (Smiles as he throws down the paperwork) Even so, it’s back to cutting my own hair.

Seth: I’ll take the idea around.

Sol: Swearengen’d put it up.

Seth: Fucking reputable people.

Sol: If money had to be clean before it was recirculated, we’d still be living in fucking caves.

Seth: Your old man?

Sol: Me.

(Wolcott and Cy are seated in Cy’s office, Mr. Lee is standing next to Wolcott.)

Wolcott: Mr. Lee will provide opium to you exclusively for sale to whites in the camp. You will receive 50% of the gaming proceeds from Celestial’s Alley.

Cy: (looks at Wolcott) My men will add the take. It will spare Mr. Lee here explaining how slow business was ‘cause of Buddha’s wedding anniversary. (chuckles)

Wolcott: Your men add the take—also on proceeds from Celestial prostitutes. How many do you want?

Cy: How many can you bring? (Wolcott looks to Mr. Lee)

MrLee: How many?

Cy: That- that sounds like a man with an inexhaustible supply. How much English do you have, my friend? (Mr. Lee just looks at Cy.) Maybe when we get to know each other better. (pauses) I’ll take a dozen, and I don’t want ‘em fucked out. I set the rates. The upkeep’s on him.

Wolcott: And my understanding is the upkeep is quite minimal.

Cy: Good! Gives him more to spend on Mah-Jongg. (chuckles) I won’t question the apparent one-sidedness of our arrangement.

Wolcott: Uh, the arrangement is not yours and Mr. Lee’s alone.

Cy: Yes, and in ways that I don’t understand, it must benefit you and the man whose name I must never say, to have Mr. Lee in camp…and perhaps Mr. Wu out of it, maybe among the spirits of his ancestors. But what a blessing for me, finally to reach a point in life where…I don’t feel I have to know. (He chuckles, puff on his cigar.)

(Trixie is seated at a table in the Gem, smoking a cigarette, Dan is behind the bar, smoking a cigar…)

Dan: A creature walking ‘round on hind legs. Just like crop-ear and them half-dozen bushwhackers out in the forest, ones I’d fall in with or out—whatever suited my daily purpose. (Trixie looks at Dan) That’s what I was till I crossed paths with Al.

Trixie: Well, bang the drum and play the pipes and I’ll rend our fuckin’ garments.

Dan: I was just sayin’.

Trixie: I ain’t hearin’ confessions this afternoon. (pauses) Say you’ll burn it down with me, Dan.

Dan: What?

Trixie: This fuckin’ place – before letting Tolliver take it over.

Dan: (choked up) Done.

(A door closes upstairs, we see Jewel come out of Al’s office. Trixie stands, looking up at Jewel.)

Trixie: Well, open your mouth, Jewel, and say somethin’ we can’t fuckin’ understand!

Jewel: He’s asking for you.

Trixie: (Turning around, looking up behind her to Al’s door) Don’t die with your fucking secret.

Dan: (To Jewel) Clean the number three. Dolly said she bled.

(In a spare room, Doc is boiling his instruments. Doc is shaking as he’s taking a clamp out of the pan, he drops it)

Doc: God damn it.

Johnny: (looks at Doc) I may get me a whiskey, Doc. You want a whiskey?

Doc: No, I do not want a fucking whiskey.

Johnny: Well, maybe as far as steadyin’ the hand.

Doc: (hands on hips) How dare you? You shut your fucking mouth!

Johnny: I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.

Doc: (picks up his clamp) Whiskey does not steady the hand. It just dulls the worry over the hand’s unsteadiness. (Shakes as he tries to remove his scalpel from the boiling water to set it on the tray next to the pot, it drops to the floor.) Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ, I do not need to kill another man! (Johnny reaches down to pick up the scalpel and yelps in pain at the heat and sticks his fingers in his mouth.) (calmly) Top left corner of my fucking bag.

Johnny: (mumbling) What?

Doc: Balm, you fucking idiot, against the burn you fucking just sustained.

Johnny: (Still sucking on his fingers) Thanks, Doc.

Doc: Alright. (Calmer, he takes the clamp and picks up the scalpel, putting it back in the boiling water.)

(Mr. Wu enters the Gem – through the back door – striding in, determined.)

MrWu: Dahn! (Pointing to Dan)

Dan: (turning) Go away, Wu.

MrWu: (pointing) Swedgin.

Dan: No.

MrWu: (slower, making gestures) Swed-gin! (Points to Al’s office.)

Dan: Well, it ain’t gonna happen.

MrWu: (yelling) Swedgin!

Dan: (loudly) No, Wu! He’s fucked up. Now, Al can’t talk to you right now, and I can’t understand you, so you go the fuck back to chink alley!

MrWu: Diu na Ma ga hai! Nei go Bok Gwai Lo!

Dan: (angry) Do not start drawing air to talk gibberish to me!

MrWu: (angry, throws something to the ground. Takes a deep breath, puts his hand up “wait”. He points to his face, drawing a half circle around it’s circumference.) Cocksuckah.

Dan: Oh, fer Christ’s sake.

MrWu: Cocksuckah! (Puts hand up high)

Dan: It’s wasted on me, Wu.

MrWu: (He pulls his braid) mmm—cocksuckah! (hands up high again) Cocksuckah!

Dan: I—I—I don’t get it, Wu. I am not as smart as Al. And there’s too much onour fuckin’ plate right now to deal with it.

MrWu: (points to himself) Cocksuckah! (Hands up high again) Cocksuckah! San Francisco.

Dan: Jesus-fucking-Christ. All right, there’s a-there’s an invisible cocksucker next to you, and he’s from San Francisco.

MrWu: Hou! (points to himself) Cocksuckah! (Hands up high) San Francisco cocksuckah!

Dan: (He sees Doc and Johnny come through and starts to head upstairs with them) I-I’m going with you. (To Wu) You want me to tell Al that there’s a cocksucker (pulls his hair) …he looks like…he looks like you, and he’s from San Francisco and he’s got your dander up. I’m going up now. I’ll go tell him. (Hurries up the stairs, Mr. Wu watches hi go upstairs.)

Johnny: Tell him what?

Dan: Oh, God only knows.

Johnny: (yelling) Why don’t you learn to talk American! Save us all a lot of fucking trouble!

MrWu: (enraged) Wu no Englishee! Bok Gwai Lo! Swedgin!

(Silas’ room at the Grand Central. There’s a knock at his door…he gets up to answer it. He opens the door to Miss Isringhausen)

Miss Isringhausen: Mr. Adams? Good day.