Episode 36: Tell Him Something Pretty

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(Open in early morning, we see Hearst laying on his floor as there’s a loud knock on the door. Hearst looks startled, and slowly starts to rise)

Hearst: Quit your Goddamn knockin’. I’m comin’. (The knocking is persistent, Hearst makes his way to the door, looking a little unsure of whether to open it, then he does. We see Charlie.)

Charlie: Casket’s come with your name on it.

Hearst: Why tell me in the middle of the night?

Charlie: Body’s inside.

Hearst: Evidently not mine.

Charlie: I’d as soon make delivery.

Hearst: You’ll find out where when I decide. Good night. (As he closes the door, Charlie stops it with his foot)

Charlie: I don’t like your tone of voice.

Hearst: Who are you, Mr. Utter, for me to care what you like or don’t?

Charlie: I’m the guy that the next time you see me, you’d better take a different fuckin’ tone with.

Hearst: Given what’s in store, I’m not sure I’ll ever learn what price I’d have paid for not complyin’.

Charlie: Oh, I guess someone lookin’ hard might could find you in there somewheres, peekin’ from under the covers to make a fuckin’ threat.

(Hearst slams the door. We see Charlie exiting the hotel as Lou and Richardson are preparing breakfast. Charlie pauses and tips his hat at Lou, then leaves.)

(Cut to the theater, Jack and Claudia are there.)

Jack: Their quality apart, Claudia, failing reception, our efforts are lost to the void.

Claudia: I understand.

Jack: Don’t say so! Please! I lose my thought. This camp is in mortal danger. The man Hearst is a murderous engine. My friend Swearengen, aware their combat is unequal, feels the appeal of the gory finish. Others I’ve just come to know stand candidates in the elections, whose results they know may be moot. What, one is disposed to ask, in fuck ought a theater man to do? Of a certainty, our debut’s postponement is necessary. But unless of one’s own volition, certain is it too that one would not be canceled. To prevent that, if need be, even off the boards, one would take steps of one’s fuckin’ own! (He sits and looks at Claudia.)

Claudia: Why did you bring me here?

Jack: I don’t know, child.

(Cut to Wu’s meat locker, we see Johnny and Silas leaving with each having a quarter of meat over his shoulder.)

Johnny: What’s the point Al having us leave IOUs when Wu can’t read fuckin’ English?

Silas: Wu gets back, he’ll take Al the IOUs for interpretin’, find out Al did the rightful thing while he was gone.

Johnny: That’s big point with Al, ain’t it?

Silas: When he ain’t lyin’, Al’s the most honorable man you’ll ever meet. (Silas spots Hawkeye in an alley, leaning against a wall) Johnny, balance up against this fuckin’ Chinese sign while I lay my rack on your shoulder.

Johnny: Why?

Silas: Just shut the fuck up. Get this meat inside.

Johnny: What are you gonna do?

Silas: (He heads toward Hawkeye as Johnny leaves) Murder. (Reaching Hawkeye he gives him a kick.) Where the fuck you been? I fuckin’ vouched for you!

Hawkeye: We’re camped up at the Spearfish Meadows, as not to tip Hearst off till Swearengen can deploy us. I mean, I rode into town to tell you, but I fell one saloon short.

Silas: Come on.

Hawkeye: Lots of Chinks in that meadows up there. Is the railroad comin’ to camp?

(Cut to Alma’s house as she is brushing Sophia’s hair. Both of them are dressed in mourning)

Alma: To have kept our claim, we’d have had to leave here, you and I, so that thugs we’d have had to engage could counter Mr. Hearst’s thugs without having the further responsibility of defending us. So…we are to sell, Sofia, so that we may stay. To be fair to Mr. Hearst, which is more than he deserves, the price he is paying assigns a great worth to our holdings, which lacking expertise of our own and others now being absent who might have provided it, as a practical matter makes refusal absurd. But how I hate to give that man what he wants. (She caresses Sophia’s hair.) Your hair has survived my diatribe.

Sofia: If we left, we wouldn’t be able to see Mr. Ellsworth.

Alma: And we are not leaving.

(We see Seth, Sol and Jane waiting in the living room as Alma and Sophia descend the stairs. Sophia is left with Jane, and the others leave. Outside, we see Joanie in her window watching them leave.)

(Cut to an alley-way as Hawkeye is taking a shower, Silas is brushing Hawkeye’s jacket.)

Silas: Your fuckin’ throat’s gonna be at risk, Hawkeye, in case you don’t fuckin’ realize, which wouldn’t bother me except mine’s gonna be too.

(Cut to Hearst’s room as he is signing some papers. Alma, Seth and Sol are there, as is the Pinkerton.)

Hearst: Advancing your interests, Mrs. Ellsworth, mine and all others, what we do here seems natural and proper. Mr. Newman, I ask you to ready payment to the officers of Mrs. Ellsworth’s bank.

Seth: We’ll receive it where we can put it in her safe.

Hearst: May I hope, Madam, you do not subscribe to this insulting and juvenile precaution?

Alma: I do not find the precaution juvenile, so many having been murdered with whom you’ve had dealings in this camp.

Hearst: At least you acknowledge the insult.

Alma: I acknowledge the pretense to civility, in a man so brutally vicious, as vapid and grotesque.

Hearst: Have the gold seen to her bank, Newman. Have its purity assayed. Let her or her seconds choose the man. When that tedium is completed, have the documents witnessed as though we were all of us Jews. And bring the business back to me. (He turns to Sol) Excuse my absence, Mr. Star, as I hope you’ll forgive my thoughtless aspersion on your race. (Sol nods) You stand for local office, but some contests being countywide, I await wires from the other camps. (He holds the door open and Alma turns to leave. Hearst sniffs at her as she passes.) You’ve changed your scent.

Seth: Can’t shut up! Every bully I ever met can’t shut his fuckin’ mouth…except when he’s afraid.

Hearst: You mistake for fear, Mr. Bullock, what is in fact preoccupation. I’m having a conversation you cannot hear. (The group files out, perplexed by Hearst)

(Cut to Alma’s living room as Jane and Sophia are playing a game of slap-hands. Sophia is winning. There’s a knock at the door)

Jane: Oh see, that’s just Miss Stubbs now answering my message I sent her by secret thinking, requesting unguent for my bruises. (She opens the door) Hello hello, Miss Stubbs.

Joanie: Hello hello, yourself. Hello, Sofia.

Sofia: Hello, Miss Stubbs.

Joanie: I’m just going to the center. I wondered if you needed anything.

Jane: Oh, I’ve let her in on it. (Joanie looks confused) You needn’t tell a stretcher how it is you come to appear.

Joanie: (Playing along) You told?

Jane: Asked for unguent by secret thinking for the beating she was giving my hands.

Joanie: That’s my purpose in the center. Stopped to ask if you needed aught else.

Jane: If I did, I believe you’d already know.

Joanie: (To Sofia) Hit her a good one for me.

Sofia: I will.

(Cut to Hearst’s room, he’s alone, laying on the floor again as there’s a knock at the door)

Hearst: Come in! (E.B. opens the door and looks in. He can’t see Hearst behind the bed)

EB: I was looking for Mr. Hearst.

Hearst: Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?

EB: (entering the room) Candidly, of late, I’m at pains to be certain which voices are within me and which without.

Hearst: This one is without, telling you to come in.

EB: Of course. What is it, Mr. Hearst? I’ve sensed for some while we owed each other a talk. Let the outcome be grim or worse, I’ll at least be relieved that it’s past. (EB still can’t see Hearst, who holds up a letter from behind the bed. EM creeps over, shielding his face and carefully grabs the letter, then retreating back across the room) May I look at the addressee?

Hearst: How will you know to whom it is to be delivered if you do not? (EB looks at the letter)

EB: Oh dear. Well, I’ll be on my way the

(Cut to No10, we see Steve positioned at a table where Rutherford is playing checkers, pretending to be playing with Steve. There’s a checker sitting in Steve’s mouth. Tom and Harry are there, Harry is sweeping)

Harry: Must have shook 100 hands in Sturgis.

Tom: When you declared for Sheriff, Harry, I feared you’d be a poor campaigner and derelict in your duties here. You’ve held your end up and more.

Harry: Ache in my hand and wrist, the deep-set dirt defies me.

Tom: Well, if sweeping, you don’t raise your usual simoon, it’s a paltry price to pay.

Rutherford: (Moves a checker, then says to Steve) Fuck if you saw that comin’.

Tom: I have something to show you, Harry. (He walks across the bar and uncovers a large crate. Harry stares at the crate, which is labeled as a fire wagon.) The Finster Model 60 steam pumper fire wagon.

Harry: 120-gallon boiler? (Rutherford stands)

Tom: Three brass nozzles.

Harry: Nickel-finished firebox?

Tom: I believe that to be the case. (We see Fields coming in.)

Harry: Did the hats come? (Fields takes the checker from Steve’s mouth)

Rutherford: Is that a checker in Steve’s mouth?

Fields: You don’t want to look after him, just say so.

Rutherford: Who says I don’t? (Fields wheels Steve to the door) Only he kibitzes my moves. Where are you goin’?

Fields: Takin’ him to vote for Bullock.

Rutherford: This may require my supervision. (They leave)

Tom: I’ll vote just before lunch.

Harry: And I’ll go once you’ve relieved me. (He carresses the crate.)

(Cut to Al’s office, where EB is delivering Hearst’s letter))

Al: You don’t expect me to believe you didn’t steam this open and reseal it for me to open again.

EB: I didn’t wanna know. (Al reads the letter, then slams it down, angry.)

Al: This motherfucker!

EB: For my complicity in his shooting, he orders my death.

Al: (Putting EB on) You did read it. (E.B. gasps and staggers back, then straightens and presents his neck as though for slitting)

EB: Be quick then, please.

Al: Your complicity’s mostly in your noggin’, E.B. It’s the whore he wants dead.

EB: (pausing.) By what vile method then? Is Trixie to be drawn and quartered and set aflame?

Al: Say he’ll have my answer in an hour.

EB: Al.

Al: E.B.

EB: I can’t, Al. I can’t engage him in further conversation. When I hear his voice, I see the inside of his skull! (Al takes out a pencil and paper) Phantoms grin out at me, oozing gruesome goo.

Al: Slide this under his door then.

EB: (looking at the note) Would you rather I tell him?

Al: Only decide quickly. (E.B. drops the note, and walks to the door.)

EB: Fear is every man’s portion.

(Cut to the Bella Union as Joanie is walking in. Con sees her and cuts her off. She looks around at Leon who is sleeping, and the others, and shakes her head)

Con: Did he send for you, Joanie?

Joanie: What’s happenin’ here, Con?

Con: Well, not knowin’ Mr. Tolliver’s, uh, present state of feelin’ towards you is why I ask.

Joanie: Then why don’t you stay the fuck out of it, Con? (We hear Cy coming out of his office.)

Cy: I wasn’t fuckin’ dreamin’. It is Joanie Stubbs.

Con: (Whispering to Joanie) I got “Stay the fuck out” written on a stone tablet in my bedroom.

Joanie: How you feelin’, Cy?

Cy: I get around all right.

Joanie: Your color’s better.

Cy: Is that a fucking fact? My color’s better, Stupid. (Janine looks over.) Stupid, this is Joanie Stubbs.

Janine: Hi.

Joanie: What’s your name, Honey? (Janine looks at Cy.)

Cy: Go ahead and tell her your name.

Janine: Janine.

Joanie: Hi, Janine.

Janine: Hi.

Cy: Go ahead now, Jan-nee-nee-neen, and finish your Latin lessons and your Greek. The thirst this girl has for knowledge, she’s barely time to suck a prick.

Joanie: She’s pretty.

Cy: What the fuck do you want?

Joanie: I’ve been thinking about you is all.

Cy: (scoffs) Help me understand cunt, Lord.

Joanie: Saying the other night you oughtn’t come inside that school, Cy, don’t feel I don’t wish you well.

Cy: Buy some lines in the paper, Joanie. Let the public know.

Joanie: I know you meant that for me in your way.

Cy: What?

Joanie: Meant me well.

Cy: If it’s Christmas, where’s the fucking snow, or the fucking harp music or the like?

Joanie: If it wasn’t for you, I’d have died a long long time ago. (Cy looks at her) Some happiness has come into my life now, and I’m grateful I didn’t.

Cy: My lines are women, liquor and rigged games of chance. Are you playing?

Joanie: (ignoring Cy’s rudeness) What do you think of all this trouble Hearst brought?

Cy: Does a girl have to drive cattle for you to eat her pussy? (Joanie looks at Cy, turns and heads for the door. She stops and jostles Leon. He wakes.)

Joanie: You voting, Leon?

Leon: Against the opium ordinance. (Joanie leaves. Janine looks at Cy)

Cy: What the fuck are you looking at?

(Cut to Al’s office, as he pours a shot. Johnny is there..)

Al: That whore’s gotta die. Jen? Hearst won’t stand for an empty coffin. Likely, he paid most attention to Trixie’s tits and snatch, so Jen’ll adequately pass. (They drink.)

Johnny: Jesus Christ.

Al: I know. You like her.

Johnny: She’s a nice girl.

Al: All right.

Johnny: She’s learning to read.

Al: Spend some time with her, and let me know when you’re done.

Johnny: You’ll scare her.

Al: I’ve done it once or twice, Johnny. She won’t know that’s what I’m there for.

Johnny: She won’t need to. You scare her no matter what. (Johnny pauses, then slams the desk.) Oh, just give me a fucking knife then. Just give me the fucking knife. (Al hands him his knife, Johnny starts to leave then turns.) Fucking Trixie!

Al: Don’t get me started.

(Cut to Sol’s house, we see Trixie lacing up her boots as Sol enters)

Sol: What are you doing?

Trixie: Going for a stroll to the polls. One vote for Star buys a hand job. Repeaters get a suck.

Sol: Trixie.

Trixie: I’m through staying inside. If something’s to happen let it happen to me.

Sol: You selfish cunt!

Trixie: No one asked you to put me up.

Sol: That’s right. That’s right. My fucking choice! I’m not fucking afraid.

Trixie: I guess maybe I’m not either.

Sol: Not to die.

Trixie: Well, ain’t you clever? Ain’t you fucking clever, you deep thinkin’ fuckin’ Jew! (Sol grabs her by the arm and pushes her toward the door.)

Sol: Why bother with your boots then, Trixie, if you’re going to be on your knees?

Trixie: Let go of me!

Sol: No!

Trixie: Let me walk out by myself.!

Sol: The fuck if I will! At least I can say I threw you out if you’d rather die than live with me! (Sol pushes her out the door and slams it shut. He turns and sits down, looking like he’s unsure of his choice. Sol starts to weep as we hear a knock on the door, he looks hopeful and gets up to open it. Trixie stands there for a minute, then moves to Sol and grabs him, sobbing, in a hug.)

(Cut to a whore’s room at the Gem, we see Jen and another girl. Jen is giving her some sort of a douche kit.)

Jen: Use just half till you see how you stand it. (Johnny enters.)

Whore: It itches bad.

Jen: I’m saying use just half till you see. (She hands the kit to the girl and she leaves quickly)

Johnny: I wanna talk with you. (Jen lifts up her skirt and bends over the bed.) No, I mean it, Jen. I wanna talk. (As he approaches her, he slips the knife out of his belt away from her view.) Pure conversation. (Puts his arm around her shoulder) Nothing for you to be alarmed about. (He leads he to the corner of the room and they stand there facing the wall. Outside in the hall, we see Al waiting as Davey approaches.)

Davey: Four and five deep to vote, Boss.

Al: Eyes up or predominantly down when Hearst’s goons glare upon ‘em?

Davey: Uh, I want to go check again.

Al: Good. Good. Never opine short of certainty. (Back in the room)

Johnny: What is this, Jen?

Jen: A wall?

Johnny: On the surface, yes, it is. But inside, many creatures go about their lives, such as ants. They got a whole operation going. They got soldier ants and worker ants and whore ants to fuck the soldiers and the workers, right inside that wall … baby ants. Everyone’s got a task to hew to, Jen. You understand me? (She nods) Jesus Christ’s fucking sake. (He spins the knife around in his hand and puts it away.) We’ll talk about this later. (He steps out into the hall, meeting Al.) I can’t.

Al: Give it to me then.

Johnny: No.

Al: Give me the fucking knife.

Johnny: She ain’t stole or been quarrelsome or set the bedding afire.

Al: Get out of my fucking way, Johnny.

Johnny: It ain’t fair to fucking kill her.

Al: Since when did that begin entering in?

Johnny: I won’t let you pass, Boss.

Al: Johnny.

Johnny: I won’t. I won’t let you.

Al: You’re willing to die in her stead?

Johnny: If I got to…preferring you’d handle things different. (Al walks away from Johnny and over to Dan at the bar, leaving Johnny in the hall.)

Al: Make sure the whore don’t leave. Let Johnny cool down, then knock him the fuck out.

Dan: What’s gonna happen?

Al: What’s gonna happen is I’m gonna go look and see if, perchance, I mightn’t be the owner of another fucking knife.

(Ket to Lou’s room at the hotel, she is brushing a pair of boots as Richardson enters. He is dressed in his suit, and is holding out his untied tie.)

Lou: Richardson!

Richardson: I can’t remember.

Lou: Come here. Give it to me. (She takes the tie and puts it around her own neck to tie it. She looks at his stocking-feet) I don’t suppose you gonna go vote stocking-footed.

Richardson: I forgot.

Lou: Ain’t those them? (pointing to the boots, he starts putting them on.) You gonna vote for Mr. Bullock now.

Richardson: Even though he beat Mr. Farnum, ‘cause he took you-know-who by his ear.

Lou: Like some others ain’t brave enough to do.

Richardson: Anyways, Harry Manning gives me splinters.

Lou: How’s he do that, child?

Richardson: Raising the windows after he’s ate.

Lou: Richardson…Richardson, you’re right about that. South had that man’s gas to load in their cannons, shoot, wouldn’t be no free niggers nowhere.

Richardson: Noah hisself would have throwed him out the boat. (They laugh. She puts his tie back on him and tightens it.)

Lou: Now that’s for us talking now. Don’t you be saying what I say to you outside these rooms. First you back, you’re gonna clean your mess up, Richardson. You hear me?

Richardson: Yes, Ma’am.

Lou: Okay. Go on on. You look fine.

Richardson: Thank you.

(Cut to the voting in the street. We see a table set up for dispensing free drinks)

Democrat: Remember who gave it to you, boys. Vote democratic. (We hear a Pinkerton imitating a monkey as Fields stands in line with Rutherford.)

Pinkerton: Look what broke out their cage, a monkey.

Rutherford: Right to vote shall not be abridged or denied… on account of race or color or condition of previous servitude. 15^th amendment to the U.S. Constitution, ratified 1870, law of the land thereafter, including territories.

Pinkerton: They got something about niggers not waiting their turn?

Rutherford: Not that I’m aware of.

Pinkerton: Oh, you ain’t aware of it. Then I guess you’ll want this white man voting first. (indicating Richardson, in line behind Fields)

Fields: What’s a few minutes more? (We see Charlie supervising the voting line)

Charlie: The nigger was before him. (We see Joanie watching from a distance.)

Richardson: Yes.

Pinkerton: No he wasn’t.

Charlie: I guess you’re blind and stupid.

Fields: I believe I’ll vote later.

Charlie: Fuck if you will. Get your nigger ass back in line.

Pinkerton: You’d better be walking him home afterwards. (He pulls on his collar and feigns strangling.)

Charlie: You’d better see to that yourself, ‘cause if he don’t make it, you’ll be eating your spuds running till I hunt you the fuck down.

Rutherford: And that ends that.

Charlie: What your shit-stirring started. (to Fields) Will you drop your fucking ballot?

Fields: (to Steve in his cart) Ain’t it wonderful, Steve?

Charlie: (Joanie approaches) Sorry for all the commotion, Miss Stubbs.

Joanie: That’s all right, Mr. Utter.

Charlie: Uh, I got something at the jail for you and the other one. ‘Cept right now I’m pretty agitated.

Joanie: Well, I got time. Maybe you’ll calm down as we walk.

Charlie: All right.

(We see Fields and Richardson dropping their ballots in the box, Richardson is grinning)

(Cut to the Gem saloon, Al is with Sol)

Al: How do you make your way, Star, not sometimes buying silence by punching her in the fucking mouth?

Sol: She thinks Hearst is going to want her dead. She thinks you’ll kill one of these others.

Al: Oh, Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.

Sol: Is it true?

Al: I already fucking did.

Sol: Is that true?

Al: Don’t waste your Jew’s time wondering what’s true and what ain’t. You go over there, tell fucking Hearst the whore Trixie has been killed, and then tell Joan of Arc that instead of flames lapping at her tippy-toes, you’d have her live to fuck in the morning. (Sol nods) And after to you tell fucking Hearst, before you tell that loudmouth cunt, tell your fucking partner I need him here.

Sol: Don’t talk about her that way.

Al: Oh, I fucking recant. Off you fucking go. And don’t neglect fucking Bullock. Water comes to a boil. (We see Jen leading a John up the stairs) Unlucky fucking mutt. (Al walks to the bar and stands between Silas and Hawkeye, keeping his back to Hawkeye. Dan is behind the bar.)

Silas: You remember Hawkeye.

Al: How many has he got?

Silas: Ride from Cheyenne winnowed the wheat from the chaff.

Al: How many, Adams, of the promised 23?

Hawkeye: (to Al’s back) Almost 18, Mr. Swearengen, camped in Spearfish Meadows, ready to join in the issue.

Al: What does he mean by “Almost 18?”

Silas: 17 normal size and a short one that’s hell with a knife. (Al rolls his eyes to Dan.)

Dan: (To Al, nodding toward Hawkeye) Turn me loose.

Silas: Ain’t that Mr. Wu? (we see Wu coming in the back)

Al: In there, Wu. (To Silas) Go with him to get the men, station in Cochran’s Alley. Send word you’re positioned with the midget. (He heads to the back room)

Hawkeye: That went off well.

(Cut to Joanie’s room as she enters to find Jane laying down with a bottle, drunk)

Jane: Hello, hello.

Joanie: What happened, Jane?

Jane: Nothing out of the ordinary. The bank lady took her child to Ellsworth’s grave and I got drunk.

Joanie: How long you been here?

Jane: Many years. Or is it a day or two? What’s important is you get to keep asking me questions so I don’t get to ask you one.

Joanie: Go ahead.

Jane: Why in fuck, with me asking you in to play hot hands with me and Sofia, you stood there instead looking like you just did murder?

Joanie: Well, you didn’t. I’d come in if you’d asked.

Jane: Bullshit! How can you say we’ve been sending secret thought messages and pretend you didn’t know?

Joanie: Well, anyways.

Jane: Anyways, what?

Joanie: Anyways, I’ve just finished my business at the center.

Jane: Who gives a fuck?

Joanie: I saw you, and then I went to the Bella Union, and I talked to Cy real quick, and then I went and saw the voting…

Jane: Is that so? Oh, so did you go see Cy real quick? Did you pay a quick call on Cy? Did they stick some quick pricks in you?

Joanie: It wasn’t like that, Jane.

Jane: Who gives a fuck? Not me.

Joanie: I saw at the voting what I guess you knowed about Mr. Utter all these years, and Mr. Hickok musta knowed. What he’s like in a tight, one he didn’t even need to be in.

Jane: Yeah, he’s okay in those.

Joanie: I want to be that to you. Even when we don’t get along.

Jane: You got that part down perfect, me and him.

Joanie: What, the “don’t get along”?

Jane: Of course we had years of practice. (Joanie opens the door and steps outside)

Joanie: He sent us this. (She puts Bill’s robe over Jane)

Jane: That’s Bill Hickok’s robe you got there, that’s whose that is. (Jane snuggles up in the robe, Joanie lays down next to her and hugs her.) Warm.

(Cut to Hearst’s room as Sol is there.)

Hearst: I in no way, wish to impugn his veracity, but I would have Mr. Swearengen understand that for her try on my life, I ought to see that the whore has paid with her own.

Sol: All right.

Hearst: Wherever the viewing will impose least.

Sol: You’ll go there?

Hearst: Of course. I feel very safe in this camp.

(Cut to Al’s office, he is addressing the box in the cabinet)

Al: This fucking place is gonna be a fucking misery. Every fucking one of them, every fucking time I walk by, “Ooh, how could you? How could you?” With their big fucking cow eyes. The entire fucking gaggle of ‘em is gonna have to bleed and quit before we can even hope for peace. What’s the fucking alternative? I ain’t fuckin’ killing her, that sat nights with me sick and taking slaps to her mug that were some less than fucking fair. I should have fucking learned to use a gun, but I’m too fucking entrenched in my ways. And you ain’t exactly the one to be leveling criticisms on the score of being slow to adapt. You fucking people are the original slow fucking learners! (He slams the cupboard door shut and walks out of his office. We see Jen with her John on the balcony) How was she, pal?

John: Mmm. Good, wonderful. I don’t mind a small pair of tits.

Al: You sure you’re done? You look the sort could turn right around and drop the hammer again.

John: I will if it’s free.

Al: See you later, Pal. (He leaves, Al looks over at Jen for a moment.) C’mere. (She hesitates, looking uncertain, then approaches Al. He opens his office door and motions her in, then follows her and closes the door.)

(Cut to Bullock’s house, Seth is talking to Charlie in the kitchen as Martha prepares tea.)

Seth: Did it seem like Hearst ordered the interference?

Charlie: Huh-uh. Being stupid on his own, that strong-arm was. (Chuckles) Or if you want, I could say “Yes.”

Martha: Tea, Mr. Utter?

Charlie: Tea got kick to it too, a little, don’t it?

Martha: Would you rather coffee?

Charlie: Oh, no no no. I ought to get familiar with tea. (Charlie takes Seth aside) Uh, Much free liquor as them Pinkertons poured against you, Sheriff, it seemed like strong support for you and Star.

Seth: My election’s countywide, Charlie.

Charlie: That’s what’s fucking worrisome, fucking countywide aspect. (There’s a knock on the door and Sol barges in suddenly)

Martha: Mr. Star!

Sol: I’m sorry for barging in, uh.

Seth: What is it, Sol?

Sol: (long pause) Everything.

(Cut to Hearst’s room, he is opening the door to Jack.)

Hearst: Mr. Langrishe.

Jack: Making bold to ask after your health, Sir.

Hearst: I was shot in the shoulder.

Jack: So one understood.

Hearst: But the wound seems healing clean.

Jack: And your back, Sir?

Hearst: Oh, deprived of your Turkish artillery treatments, my back is as it was.

Jack: Please blame my dereliction on the demands of readying our theater.

Hearst: (goes to his leaning-board) I had been blaming your choosing old friends over new acquaintances. Please, sit down.

Jack: One prays always, sir, as one’s store is depleted by time, new acquaintances may become one’s friends. As your friend, I ask if you believe that fate has not chosen for your encounter with your deepest destiny the place where you now find yourself, while decreeing for some, my friend Swearengen included, quite otherwise?

Hearst: Your proposition is that this place at this hour will show all of Mr. Swearengen?

Jack: Yes.

Hearst: And Mr. Bullock, who took me by the ear?

Jack: I only hazard my impression that, less possessing his character than possessed by it, he is also someone for whom the outcome must be soon. Whilst imagining for you, Mr. Hearst, the earth entertaining some larger purpose to be told you elsewhere and at another time.

Hearst: Why do you say so? In those words, I mean, “The earth speaks”?

Jack: A vestige of childhood tales in which not only humans spoke, but other creatures too. Mountains and streams.

Hearst: I imagine she still speaks to me still, the earth, what’s inside her, how to get it out.

Jack: Comprehending such a language can cost a man his own kind’s sympathies.

Hearst: Arguing perhaps for a more solitary life.

Jack: Sad anointing.

Hearst: The mountain I must go up on, Mr. Langrishe, I have ascended before. It’s in Montana, and I came down it with silver, suspecting there was copper too, and now I’m told that’s true.

Jack: Do I understand you to say you’re leaving us?

Hearst: For the Anaconda, yes. But first, I’ll have the election returns, and then one last visit with your friend to see the cunt who shot me dead. (opens the door) Good day, Sir.

(Cut to the Gem as Al descends the stairs.)

Al: Box her in my office.

Dan: Send Jewel up to clean up the mess?

Al: If I’m having her boxed in my fucking office, don’t I want the blood left for the cocksucker to see? (Dan nods) And when that’s over, if we’re still alive, I’ll clean my own fucking mess up. (Dan heads upstairs) Look in on Johnny, see if he’s grown the fuck up. (Merrick and Blazanov approach Al.)

Merrick: Sturgis is a landslide for Harry Manning.

Blazanov: 970 votes for Harry Manning, 68 votes for Mr. Bullock.

Merrick: Heavy turnout among the bivouacked military. (Trixie enters from the back and goes up the stairs, Sol enters and goes to Al. Seth also enters.)

Sol: “Within the hour,” Hearst said 20 minutes or so ago.

Al: Didn’t you tell him? (He looks at Merrick and points at Seth with a bottle.)

Merrick: I have not as yet, no.

Al: (to Seth) How do you think you might enjoy private life?

Seth: Sturgis?

Blazanov: 970 votes for Harry Manning, 68 votes for Mr. Bullock.

(We hear a bang, and see Dan lugging a pine coffin to Al’s room. Inside Al’s room we see Trixie sitting on the floor weeping over Jen’s body. Jen’s throat has been cut. Dan enters with the coffin and sets it down.)

Dan: Put her in?

Trixie: Don’t I want to put my dress on her first, you fucking moron?

Dan: I’m sent to check on Johnny. I’ll come back and put her in. (Trixie cries and Dan leaves. In the bar, they see him come out) She’s, uh, putting Jen in her dress.

Al: Johnny.

Dan: (nods) Then I’ll do the boxing.

Al: (to the group) We show united in the prelude when he’s making his entrance and the fucking like. Comes to viewing the body, I stand for virtue alone. The deception failing, I’ll make a pass at him with my blade. In the aftermath, play the lie as mine, knowing I speak of you in heaven. (Looking at Seth) Others owe thought to the future, their thinking straightforward don’t come that naturally to.

(Cut to a whore’s room, we see Johnny bound and gagged as Dan enters. Johnny struggles)

Johnny: Fuck you, Dan! Fuck you!

Dan: You got my condolences. As sorrowful as the passing of Jen is, you know that Al, he didn’t have no choice.

Johnny: Bullshit.

Dan: Feeling how he feels about Trixie, is what I’m saying. Come on, Johnny, you side with your feelings. Right or wrong, you side with your feelings. Now can you come to yourself in time to be of some fucking use?(Dan starts to untie Johnny)

(Cut to Cy’s room at the Bella Union, he is talking to Newman the Pinkerton. Cy holds one of Hearst’s letters in his hand)

Cy: You don’t chew your cabbage twice, do you, Mr. Newman? I guess I don’t have to set big blocks of time aside for this future collaboration between us that Mr. Hearst outlines here.

Newman: You don’t want to crack too fucking wise.

Cy: I don’t want to be talking to you at all, Mr. Newman, but that seems to be the way the hand lays.

Newman: I tell him you agree?

Cy: Yeah, you tell him I agree, and I appreciate the chance at a new friendship.

(Cut to the Gem as Dan exits a room and heads to Al’s office)

Al: A few nails in the box, Dan, would do me for pretext.

(In Al’s office, Trixie is still crying over Jen as Dan enters. He picks up Jen’s body and places it into the coffin. We see that Jen is wearing Trixie’s prized cameo brooch. As Dan nails the lid on the coffin, Trixie stares ad the large pool of blood on the floor.)

(Cut to the balcony of the Bella Union. Cy is with Leon and Janine. He is staring over at Hearst’s place.)

Cy: All but sucked your prick, you’d have me be your fucking quartermaster. (We hear a commotion in the alley, Cy looks over to see a crowd of Chinese who are handing out guns) The rising tide of fucking chinks, Janine? (He looks over at Hawkeye’s gang in the street) The ragtag collection by the hardware store, I’d put in Swearengen’s camp. (Leon laughs) Good dope today, am I right, Leon? (We see Pinkertons come out on the to hotel roof, as a group of them also exit the front of the hotel with Hearst.)

Leon: Last two or three days have been good.

Cy: You are a fucking beauty, Leon. Lifts me up to be with you. (Cy leans into Leon and we see him lunge against Leon.)

Leon: Jesus! (He falls to the floor, we see that he has a wound in his groin, bleeding profusely.) What the fuck did you do to me, Sir?

Cy: I believe I fucking stabbed you.

(We see Hearst and his gang enter the Gem, Al walks over to meet them. Seth and the others are there)

Hearst: Gentlemen. Any word yet on how the other camps have voted? (Al clears his throat and heads upstairs. Seth, Hearst and the Pinkertons follow, Seth positioned between Hearst and Al.) Is it as Sheriff, Mr. Bullock, you divide us?

Al: Need anyone divide us inside?

Hearst: Are you sure you still hold office?

Seth: If I’m beat, it owes to Yankton’s whore buying cavalry repeaters in Sturgis.

Hearst: Why, sir, then you must protest. Camp in Yankton; protest and demand justice; grab the legislators by their ears.

Al: Ain’t you hear to confirm a croaker?

Hearst: In here? (Al opens the door to his office.) Mr. Newman and so many of his cohorts as he deems appropriate will precede us.

Al: You don’t mind if I go in alone?

Hearst: Not at all, Sir. (They go in and shut the door, Seth and Charlie stand guard outside with a Pinkerton)

(Cut back to the Bella Union balcony, Janine is trying to stop the bleeding from Leon’s groin. Leon is fading fast)

Cy: Hearst moves his operating headquarters to Lead, I get to see to all his other-than-mining interests here in the camp.

Leon: Congratulations, Sir.

Cy: Thank you, Leon. (He throws the note from Hearst at Leon) If those are your last words here on earth, you tell the Lord you went out stupid.

Janine: He’s dead.

Cy: Oh, not yet, honey. See how the blood still pumps a little out his leg? When they’re dead, that turns to seep.

(Cut to Al’s office as he and Hearst stand over the coffin. The thugs all stand with guns aimed at Al.)

Hearst: Do you believe I will leave without seeing?

Al: Well, I was hesitant to presume. (He puts down his bottle and reaches for his knife in his belt. We hear and see several guns cocked and pointed at Al. Al kneels down to pry open the coffin lid with his knife. As he slides the lid aside, we see Jen inside. Hearst pushes aside one of the thugs and steps over to get a better look at Jen. Kneeling down, Hearst feels Jen’s neck for a pulse, then stands and looks at Al. He wipes his hands with his handkerchief then throws it into the coffin. Stepping back, he sees the pool of blood he has stepped in, and wipes the blood off his feet in the floor. Hearst and the thugs start to file out, we see Al is gripping his knife firmly. Hearst and the thugs pass Charlie on their way down the stairs, and Charlie shouts out after Hearst.)

Charlie: What do you want done with that body?

Hearst: It’s Mr. Swearengen’s affair now.

Charlie: The body at my fucking freight office, what you want down with that one?

Hearst: You’ll be wired instructions.

Seth: (To Al) Has she family ought be notified?

Al: I don’t notify fucking family.

Seth: I guess especially not hers. (We see Sol walk into a room where Trixie is waiting for him. He takes off his hat and looks at her)

Al: She has a sister, whores in Gunnison. Jen’s sister, you could write to, care of the Yellowbird. (Seth walks downstairs, Al says to Dan) I’d take that fucking scrub brush.

(Cut to the street as Hearst and his gang walk to a waiting coach. We see Merrick approach Hearst.)