Episode #1 - "Deadwood"
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Click here for audio commentary by David Milch (from DVD set, 57 MB)
Montana Territory
May, 1876
(Night. A gallows
stands in front of the jail in the empty dirt street of a town.)
(Next, the
interior of the jail. Sheriff Seth sits at his desk. The camera shifts focus
from his face to someone standing behind the bars of a cell at the rear of the
room..)
Clell:
Is that some sort of a letter, marshal?
Seth: Journal.
Clell: Good. You know, I was goin' to Deadwood,
same as you.
Seth: Is that so?
Clell: I had my plans about set. I only wish to Christ I could get these past
three days back.
Seth: I can imagine.
Clell: (Appearing to consider something)
No law at all in Deadwood? Is that true?
(Seth nods, and takes his cup over to the wood stove to pour himself some coffee. He's wearing a sling to support his right arm.)
Seth: Bein' on Indian land.
Clell: So then you won't be a marshal?
Seth: Takin' goods there to open a hardware
business. Me and my partner.
Clell: If I'd a got there, I'd a been prospectin'.
Jesus Christ Almighty. No law at all. Gold
you can scoop from the streams with your bare hands. And I gotta go and fuck
myself up by supposedly stealing Byron Samson's horse.
Seth: It's poor damn timin' at the least.
(Seth walks over
towards the cell with a cup of coffee, and places it on a table next to the
cell where Clell can reach it.)
Clell: Thank you very much.
Seth: You're welcome.
Clell: I'm sorry as hell about your shoulder.
Seth: Flesh wound. Don't look like it wants to
infect.
(Seth walks back to his desk and sits in the chair.)
Clell: Well. Never mind flesh wound, sir. When
you are goin' to meet your maker, you don't feature tellin' him you shot a
marshal in the shoulder for only doin' his legally ordained job.
Seth: He may have heard worse stories.
Clell: God? Well if he ain't, I'll tell him
six, or seven, just on people of my own personal acquaintance.
Clell: I'd like to suggest an idea to you, sir, that I pray
as a Christian man you will entertain on its own fuckin' merits.
(Seth stands and walks back over to the cell bars.)
Seth: Does it involve lettin' you go?
Clell: I know two scores, Mr. Bullock, that we
could make in transit without movin' 20 feet off our path. People with cash on
hand. And if once we hit Deadwood and you didn't want to have anything to do
with me, we'd never speak again. We would meet as strangers the rest of our
fuckin' lives. Now, you tell me what you think of that, sir.
(The front door of
the jail opens, Sol enters. Seth turns toward Sol, then back to Clell, and
his face is serious once more.)
Seth:(To Clell) It don't appeal to me.
(Seth walks over to meet Sol at the desk. Clell is
upset about being interrupted.)
Clell: (To Sol) Get the fuck out of here
for a moment would you, sir?
Sol: (To Seth) Byron Samson's comin'
for him.
Clell: (To Sol) Sir, would you please
get the fuck out of here 'til we have finished our previous conversation?
Seth: (To Sol) How many in his play?
Sol: (To Seth) A dozen, shit faced.
Samson just caved in Tommy Raymond's head over at the no-name frog. He went against
it.
Clell: What are you two conversing at?
(gunshot from outside)
Clell: Jesus Christ!
(male): (From outside) Come out and talk to
us, Bullock!
(Seth walks over
to the barred front window and looks out. A group of men armed with guns are
standing in the street..)
Clell: Now who is that? That sounds like ah,
Byron Samson.
Seth: Yeah.
Clell: What would he want?
(Seth removes his arm sling and turns to look back at
Clell. Clell smiles sadly.)
Clell:
Now tell me what kind of fuckin' luck I
got.
Byron: (Yelling in to Seth) All you're
doin' stallin', Bullock, is pissin' me off! Cause I guarantee you ain't makin'
it through in there till sun up! So why don't you climb out from behind your
badge, and your big brick building, and you bring Clell Watson out here so we
can give him what he fuckin' deserves.
(Sol drives his
wagon, loaded down with supplies, from behind the jail, and stops
the wagon next to it. He's armed, and
aims his gun at the men in the street.)
Byron: Well what do we got here?
Sol: Whoa!
Byron: It's a Jew on a wagon.
Sol: (Yelling so Seth can hear him) Yeah,
right out here in the alley!
(Seth, followed by
Clell, comes out the front door of the jail and stands on its porch. Clell's
hands are tied behind his back and he wears a noose loosely around his neck.
Seth is holding the rest of the rope.)
Seth: I'm executin' sentence now and he's
hangin' under color of law.
Byron: You and your partner plan on makin' Deadwood,
marshal, do not try for this scaffold.
Seth: That's a deal you loud mouthed
cocksucker!
Byron: You hear this?
Clell: Oh wait, this ain't right. My sister was
comin' in the mornin'.
Seth: What would you have her told?
Clell: (Looking down) That's not enough
of a drop.
Seth: I'll help you with the drop. Now get up
and say what you'd have your sister told.
Byron: Do not tether that rope off of that porch!
(Clell steps up on the stool and Seth ties off the
end of the rope, securing it.)
(gunshot from Byron's gun)
Seth: Anymore gunplay gets answered. You
called the law in, Samson. You don't get to call it off just 'cause you're
liquored up and popular on payday.
Byron: And you don't get to tell us what to do and
what not to do. 'Cause you're leavin' Montana anyways! Now do not jump off that
stool, you cocksucker!
Clell: To Byron) Or what? You'll kill me? (To Seth) You tell
my sister, if my boy turns up, raise him good.
Seth: What else?
Clell: Tell her, give him my boots.
Seth: What else?
Clell: Tell him, his... daddy loved him. Tell
him, he asks God's forgiveness.
Seth: Anything else?
Clell: You help me with my fuckin' fall!
Seth: (Gesturing with his hand) Come
ahead.
Clell: (To Byron) Fuck you!
(Clell steps off the stool)
Clell: (groaning)
(Seth grabs Clell
around his legs and yanks down firmly. Clell dies quickly. Seth looks at Sol
and sniffs, puts his gun down, and pulls out a piece of paper pencil. Byron starts to walk towards Clail's body.)
Sol: (To Byron) Stay back!
(gunshot from Sol's gun)
Sol: Move the fuck back, while my
partner... while my partner's takin' his sweet ass time writing whatever the
fuck he's writing over there!
Seth: Who'll give his last words to the
sister?
Byron: None of you better fuckin' move!
Man: Shit! I'll do it!
(Man walks forward
to Seth, and Seth gives him the piece of paper with Clell's last words, along
with Seth's badge.)
Seth: Thank you. (To Sol) Let's go.
Sol: (To horses pulling the wagon) Hee!
(Seth, holding his
gun, climbs up and holds onto the back of the wagon as it pulls away. Fade to
black.)
(Day. A wagon
train has stopped. Calamity Jane walks towards us past some wagons, back to the
wagon in which we see Wild Bill Hickok lying on his back on some furs.)
The Black Hills
July, 1876
Jane: Same damn wagon that broke down
yesterday, Bill!
Bill: That's the holdup, huh?
Jane: Same wagon and no damn room to maneuver.
Bill:
Sounds like it's tighter out there
than a bull's ass in fly season.
Jane: How's your headache?
Bill: Not bad.
Jane: You want me to canvas for whiskey?
Bill: That's alright Jane.
Jane: Believe me, we're stuck here a fuckin'
while.
Bill:
I know your canvassing techniques. I
don't want any casualties on my conscience.
(Jane gets down off the back of the wagon.)
Jane: (Yelling to no one in particular) It's
only Wild Bill Hickok you got stalled here in the muck! You ignorant fuckin' cunts.
(Jane starts
walking towards the stuck wagon, as Charlie Utter, who is driving Bill's wagon,
looks on.)
Jane: What a goddamned circus! Shit.
(male): Let's go!
(Jane stops and
looks down the hillside at the trail in front of them, and her eyes follow the
trail until it winds into a camp at the bottom of the hill. Deadwood.)
(Deadwood. Daytime.
Seth drives his and Sol's wagon down the street
through the center of the crowded camp.)
Sol:(Trying to get Seth's attention) Seth!
Seth! Hey, Seth! (Seth pulls the wagon over)
Sol: This lot rents at 20 a day, Seth.
Seth: $20 a day.
(Dan Dority is standing next to Sol.)
Dan: (To Seth) Tent only, no
construction.
Sol: (To Seth) Corner location. (Sol looks up at Seth, and they nod to each
other. Sol takes out money to give to
Dan.)
Dan: In advance, every morning, to Mr.
Swearengen at the Gem.
Seth: Where's the Gem?
Dan: You'll find it. Everybody does.(Seth looks around
and sees the balcony of the Gem, with its canvas sign. A few whores stand on
the balcony.)
(Gem
saloon.
Al is holding some gold in his hand, and talking to Ellsworth at the bar.)
Al: 8 ounces of gold at $20 an ounce is
a 160, plus $10 for a half-ounce is a 170 total.
Ellsworth: (Cheerfully)
Inform your dealers and
whores of my credit, and pour me a goddamned drink.
Al: Honor and
a pleasure my good man. 170 credit, Dan, for Ellsworth.
Dan: Yes, sir, 170 for Ellsworth. I'll let
everybody know. (Dan puts some money on the bar.)
Dan: (To Al) Lot four, some hardware
guys.
Ellsworth: (Drinking a shot) First one today
with this hand. (To Al) And pour me another, my good man.
Al: Here comes another. (To Dan) Lot
four a stayer?
Dan: (To Al) Wagon loaded with goods.
Ellsworth: (To Al) Now, with that Limey damn
accent of yours, are these rumors true that you're descended from the British
nobility?
Al: I'm descended from all them
cocksuckers.
(Dan looks over and smiles.)
Ellsworth: (Raises his glass to Al) Well here's
to you, your majesty. I'll tell you what. I may a fucked my life up flatter
than hammered shit, but I stand here before you today beholden to no human
cocksucker. And workin' a payin' fuckin' gold claim. And not the U.S.
government sayin' I'm tresspassin' or the savage fuckin' red man himself or any
of these limber dick cocksuckers passin' themselves off as prospectors had
better try and stop me.
Al: They better not try it in here.
Ellsworth:
Goddamn it, Swearengen, I don't trust you
as far as I can throw ya, but I enjoy the way you lie.
Al: Thank you, my good man.
Ellsworth: You're welcome! You conniving, heavy
thumbed motherfucker.
(gunshot from upstairrs)
Ellsworth: Watch out!
Al: (To Dan) That's her
Derringer. I warned you about that loopy cunt!
Al: (To Ellsworth, still sitting at
the bar) Keep your own tally!
(Al grabs a gun and the cash box, and he and Dan rush
up the stairs.)
Ellsworth: (Pouring himself a drink) Oh, have
no fear on that score.
(Upstairs in the
Gem, in one of the bedrooms. Trixie is seated and crying, Al and Dan are there,
and so is Trixie's john, who is sitting on the floor shot
through the head from side to side. The
john's still alive.)
Trixie: I said not to beat on me! I told him.
john: Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson...
Dan: (To Trixie) You got any other
guns?
Trixie: No, I don't got anymore.
john: Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson.
Ticonderoga, New York. Do you find it? Barnett Robinson.
(Al is looking
through the pockets of the john's coat. He finds the paper the john is going on
about.)
Al: (Reading off the paper, to the
john) Barnett Robinson.
john: That's who to notify if this thing goes
wrong.
Al: Yeah, I've got it right here.
(Johnny comes into
the room, followed by the Doc. Doc walks over to the john and crouches down
next to him.)
Doc: How you doin', Trixie?
Trixie: I told him don't beat on me, Doc!
Al: (To Trixie) No one asked for
your version!
Trixie: (Very upset) I robbed him and then
he started in beatin' on me. And I didn't rob you.
john: (Mumbling to the Doc) I don't
remember.
Trixie: I didn't, goddamnit!
john: (Pointing at his wounds) Ah, she
shot me right in the head.
Doc: (To the john) D-D-D-D-Don't.
Don't put your fingers in it.
john: Ah, ah, yeah, is it bad, Doc?
Doc: Shhh, shhh, shhh. (The john stops breathing.)
Al: (To Dan) Get the Chinaman!
Doc: Sure would like to know how he lasted
for 20 minutes shot straight through the brain.
Al: So prospect in him, 'til Dan brings
the Chinaman.
Doc: Do you mind if I take him to my place?
Al: Sure. Johnny, help the Doc with
this guy. (To Dan) Bring the Chinaman to the Doc's.
Johnny: I'll bring that sled right in, Doc.
Al: Doc, you drink free today. And I
hope any word of this would keep the gun out of the whore's hand.
Doc: That wouldn't come from me.
Al: Bastard did himself in.
(Al grabs Trixie roughly and pulls her to her feet.)
Al: (To Trixie) Come here.
Trixie: (To Al) I said to stop.
Al: (To Trixie) Tell me in my
office. (To Johnny, who has returned with the sled) Get the gimp to
clean this place up.
(Doc sticks a thin
probe completely through the john's head, temple to temple. Johnny sees the
probing.)
Johnny: (Disgusted) Aww, Doc!
Doc: You know there's something peculiar
about this man's cerebral setup where they can just write off the forebrain as
being the center of thought and speech.
Johnny: Let's just get him on the sled.
Doc: Of course it ah... won't matter to Mr.
Wu’s pigs.
(On the trail, at the stalled wagon, Wild Bill climbs
down from the back of the wagon.)
Bill: Whiskey....... Got an urge to see that
camp, Charlie.
Charlie: Alright.
(Jane's cracking her whip, with a
small crowd gathered watching her.)
Charlie:
Can we leave you with the stock, Jane? Bill
and me gonna ride on ahead into camp.
Jane: (Puts her whip away and walks over to
Bill and Charlie) I expect I'll be there before sundown.
Charlie: Well, we'll know where to find ya.
Jane: (To Charlie) What in the hell do
you mean by that? That I enjoy a fuckin' drink? I wasn't aware that's outlawed?
Bill: Thanks for lookin' at the stock,
Jane.
Jane: (Smiling at Bill) 'Scuse my ill
humor. Certain people wear on my fuckin' nerves.
(Bill and Charlie
walk over to their horses and mount up. Jane takes a seat at the front of the
wagon.)
Bill: She likes me better than she likes
you.
Charlie: I wish to hell I knew what I ever did to get
on that woman's wrong side.
(Bill and Charlie
ride off down the trail. A covered wagon with a family pulls up next to Jane,
going in the opposite direction. It's the Metz family with three young
daughters)
Jane: (To the Metz's) Do you know a back
way into the camp?
Pa Metz: Whoa.
Ma Metz: (To Pa Metz, speaking foreign language) (To
Jane) We don't go to the camp. We go home... back to Minnesota.
Jane: You probably got the right idea.
(Jane smiles and
clucks her tongue. She notices the youngest daughter, Sophia,
and Sophia smiles back at Jane. The Metz's wagon continues on its way.)
(Deadwood. Seth
and Sol are unloading their wagon. Someone is upset with them.)
Asshole: Jesus Christ almighty, move it! I can't get to
my spot until you finish. You got me circling my wagon like a fly around shit.
Sol: We're pretty near done. We gotta long
wait, same as you.
Asshole: This the first wagon you ever fuckin' unloaded!
Hold onto my horse. I'll show you how to do it!
(Wild Bill Hickok and Charlie Utter stop and listen
to this exchange as they ride down the street.)
Seth: We know what we're doing. Put your hat
back on and stick with your wagon.
Asshole: And what if I don't?
Seth: Stand there mouthin' off and you'll find
out.
Sol: Sir, have a commode for your
inconvenience.
Asshole: You think I'm gonna pay for that?
Sol: No, that's free, from Star and Bullock
Hardware, open in Deadwood soon as we locate.
Asshole: (Not quite as cranky as before) Hurry up
and get finished.
(The asshole leaves. Wild Bill and Charlie continue
on their way.)
Sol:(To Seth) My father's last
words there in Vienna... before he passed away, was "Sol, lose a can and
buy the goddamned fool could slow it down and sell 'em at retail."
Seth: I gotta put a book together of your old
man's deathbed sayin's.
Sol: That was Wild Bill Hickok just ridin'
past us, Seth. I seen him in photographs.
(Al's room in the Gem. Al and Trixie are talking alone.)
Trixie:
He lost his stake gamblin'. He told me
before he passed out. He said he lost his stake and he hadn't found no gold and
he was goin' back east after one last piece of pussy.
Al: None of that's anything to me.
Trixie: He wakes back up, starts in beatin' on me.
"Where's his stake? Where's all his money?"
Al: You call Dan, you call Johnny.
Trixie:Must've been me took it from him.
Al: You don't shoot nobody 'cause
that's bad for my business and it's bad for the camp's reputation. (Examining
Trixie's bloody nose) He beat the living shit out of you, didn't he?
Trixie: (Closes her eyes against what's
coming.) Do what you gotta do to me.
Al: Don't tell me what to do. (Al
throws Trixie against the wall, and she collapses to the floor.) Either way
this comes out, we'll only have to do it once. What's it to be, Trixie? (Al is
pressing his boot against Trixie's windpipe so she can't breathe.)
Trixie:I'll be good.
Al: Alright now.
(Grand Central Hotel. E.B. Farnum is behind the front desk, and looks up to see
Wild Bill Hickok and Charlie Utter walk in the door.)
EB: (To Bill) We heard rumors you
might be comin', but you can't believe every rumor. We heard you might be
comin' from Cheyenne.
Bill: Here I am.
EB: If every rumor was true, we'd all
been scalped now by the Sioux. Or the government would've tossed us out as
treaty violators. (E.B. pauses and smiles awkwardly, then turns to Charlie.)
E.B. Farnum. How do you do?
Charlie:Charlie Utter.
You got some mighty clammy
hands there, partner.
EB: Damp palms run in my family. (To
Bill) Here to prospect, Mr. Hickok, or on other business?
Bill: I'm here to get a room.
Charlie:Ah, could we get two? We're ah, worn out
lookin' at each other.
EB: Separate rooms. I'll arrange that by
tomorrow, but today I can't fix it. (To Bill) Unless you kill a guest. (chuckling, Bill is not impressed.)
(Al's office. Al, E.B., and Johnny are there.)
Al: Wild Bill Hickok. Nothing can ever
be simple.
EB: He didn't speak of havin' law man
ambitions, Al.
Al: Starting right the fuck with Custer
gettin' himself massacred, it's been one thing after another. Leaves the
godless, savage cocksucker Sioux on the warpath. (Dan enters the room.) If
that long haired loud mouth had held his end up, we could be operatin' here in
peace.
Dan: The New York dude's downstairs, Al.
Al: Did he order whiskey?
Dan: Yeah.
Al: Did he down it, or is he sippin' at
it?
Dan: He's sippin'.
Al: Why'd I even ask, huh? (laughing)
(To E.B.) Go get Tim Driscoll. Make sure the dude sees you leave.
EB: What should I tell Tim?
Al: Tell him to get over here. Tell him
he's drunk, sorry for himself. Give me five minutes, then you come back, do
your part.
EB: Alright, Al. (He starts to leave,
then turns around.) As far as Hickok, Al. If I'd a pushed him any harder on
his plans, I was afraid he'd shoot me.
Al: Go get Driscoll.
EB: Yes, sir.
(Night. The
hardware tent. Across the street, some
guy is yelling loudly, trying to sell his own wares. Seth observes from their
tent, then walks inside.)
Guy: (To people walking by in the street)
Hand made! It's all hand made, guaranteed!
Sol: (To Seth. Sol and Seth are
preparing to open for business.) It ain't like somethin's bein' foisted on
'em, they'll be sorry they bought come sun up.
Seth: I know that.
Sol: These are quality items. They meet
these folks' needs. They're bein' offered at fair markup, and we're announcing
their availability.
Seth: Got through Indian country, figures into
the markup.
Sol: By us, at personal peril.
Seth: Let's go.
Sol: Comin' out with your fly down might
strike the wrong note.
(Seth looks down.
His fly is fine.)
Seth: (To people walking by in the street) Come
have a look, boys. Star and Bullock Hardware and Mercantile just opened for
bidness. We got boots to sell ya.
(People continue to walk by.)
Sol:
Knee boots $10! Hip boots 15!
Seth: We got picks, pans, and shovels.
Sol: Picks at $12, shovels at 10 and pans
at 8!
(A few people stop.)
Seth: We got plaster cradles, prospector's best
friend.
Sol: Perfected at the Montana strikes!
Seth: We got chamber pots to sell ya. And if
you don't know what one of those is, the man livin' next to you will appreciate
your findin' out.
Guy1: I'll look at your biggest size hip boot.
Sol: (Leading Guy1 into the tent to look
at the boots) Got 'em right here.
Seth: We stand by our stock. Any item that
don't do what it's supposed to will be exchanged for one that does. And we'll
be here for you to find us.
Soap Guy: Sonofabitch! Man said I might get a prize.
I'd paid 50 cents for this bar of soap. There's a five dollar prize in the
wrapper.
Guy2: Where'd you buy that soap at?
Soap Guy: (Points) Man standing right over
there.
(Seth walks over to Soap Guy.)
Seth: Front your game away from our tent.
(Soap Guy's smile disappears, but he touches his cap
respectfully and walks away.)
Soap Guy:
(As he's walking away) Cash prizes,
every night's case of soap.
Guy3: (To Sol) Hey, store keep! Hold me
some of those large hip boots 'til I get over there and I'll pay you two
dollars extra.
Seth: Set prices, boys. And first come, first
to be served. (To Guy3 as he leads him over to the tent) We'll get you
squared away.
(Night. Gem
Saloon, Brom Garrett sips a shot of whiskey.
Al and Dan come down the stairs.)
Al: (To a man on the stairs who is
feeling up a whore) No free feels in this house. (To Dan, as they
approach Brom) Brom Garrett of Manhattan. Scourge of the Deadwood faro
tables.
Brom: Don't think I confuse two nights holding
good cards with being a faro shark.
Al: Two here, Dan. (To Brom,
regarding his shot of whiskey) You ah, you see a finish to that?
Brom: Did you hear Bill Hickok's in town?
Al: Oh, yes I did. Does that give you
the vapors?
Brom: Are you mad about something, Al?
Al: I'm not mad about nothin'. All's I
can tell you, Brom, things sort out fast in Deadwood. And I vouched for you
with Tim Driscoll two hours in here last night when I gather you must have been
home in bed, sleeping. End result? Tim's just about got his claim sold to E.B.
Farnum.
Brom: What? Where's Driscoll now?
Al: He ain't here, so I'd assume at his
hotel.
Brom:You told me he's here by six.
Al: Well, he ain't yet.
Brom: Al, E.B. Farnum just saw me here and headed
for the door.
Al: I wouldn't know how to interpret
that.
Brom:I was doing the legwork, Al. I was doing
the due dilligence. You tell me Driscoll's got money troubles, and he's a
motivated seller, fair enough. But how did I know his claim's not played out? I
had to do the legwork on that.
Al: I see, fair enough.
Brom: Oh, that's what I had to ascertain.
Al: Did you do the legwork?
Brom: Al. (Brom downs another shot, and pulls
his hand out of his pocket holding a piece of gold he retrieved from Driscoll's
claim.)
Al: For God's sake, close your fist.
Brom: Cleaned up during the night with five more
just like it. From claim number nine above Discovery. Panned, at the Driscoll
claim.
Al: All's I can say, Brom, while you
were out winnin' the battle, I hope you didn't lose the fuckin' war.
Dan: Al. (He looks towards the door, and
Al and Brom turn to look, too. A bald man swaggers into the saloon and up to
the bar, ordering a shot.)
Brom: Who's that?
Al: Tim Driscoll. Shit faced. Let me
handle the play.
Brom: My God, he is shit faced.
(Al is facing away from Brom, and he smiles.)
(Night. Outside in
the street, there's a fistfight going on. Wild Bill and Charlie walk past and
into the No. 10 Saloon. Tom Nuttall is tending bar, and Merrick, who is sitting
at one of the tables, stands up as the two men enter and approach the bar.)
Tom: Boys.
Bill: Whiskeys.
Tom: Two whiskeys. I'm ah, I'm respectin'
your privacy, not sayin' your name but I-I certainly recognize ya. And I'd like
to buy the first round.
Bill: (Nodding to Charlie, introducing
him) Charlie Utter.
Tom: Tom Nuttall, Charlie.
Charlie: Tom.
(At one of the tables, Jack McCall is seated with two
other men. One of them speaks.)
Man: It's Billy Hickok. I seen him kill Phil
Coe in Abilene.
(Merrick approaches the group at the bar.)
Merrick: Ah, hey, A.W. Merrick, Mr. Hickok. Of the ah,
Deadwood Pioneer.
Bill: We're drinkin' whiskey.
Merrick: Certainly. Certainly ah, whiskeys here, Mr. Nuttall.
Jack: (To the men he's seated with) Let
me say one thing, before anybody opens their mouths. I'm gonna say no more on
the subject, and I'll be through for the fuckin' evenin'. I'm not impressed.
Merrick: So ah, ah,
what brings you to our camp, Mr. Hickock, ah... may I tell my readers?
Bill: Warrant out on me in Cheyenne.
Charlie: Ah, get off of that now, Bill.
Merrick: Well, I suppose for a man like you, warrants
are a vocational hazard.
Bill: You callin' me a professional
vagrant?