01x11 - Jewel's Boot Is Made for Walking

[bunniefuu]

[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]

Al: A slob mick cop in Chicago gonna take me off for $35 just because he thinks he can.

'Cause when he comes around for his free f*ckin' meal and to have his prick sucked and collect his weekly 20 f*ckin' dollars from the woman that runs the whorehouse, I'm there buying girls to bring out to the camps.

I knifed the tub of guts.

That's what this c**t of a magistrate's shaking me down over, having already taken $5,000 to have the warrant lifted.

Can you do business with his bagman?

I'll f*ckin' find that out shortly, or if you're never gonna be able to f*ckin' operate in peace.

What should I know?

Bullock's rode out with that Hostetler from the livery.

Farnum's slithered his way across here.

Jewel just left.

Where the f*ck is Jewel goin'?

I don't know.

Take half a day off if you feel like, go see that child.

Venture out. Sally f*ckin' forth, hmm?

-Maybe I will. -But now come back to bed.

Man: Hey, get out of the way!

[MOCKING MUMBLING]

[LAUGHING]

Who's sick?

What's he doin' making you walk to tell me?

I came here on my own, Doc.

I got something I want to show you. It's a book.

Oh no, I don't read g*dd*mn books on the Civil w*r.

-Look! -I don't need to look.

I was g*dd*mn there.

But it'll help me walk better.

Okay, you're referring to the brace on his leg.

-Yes. -Okay.

For your information, Jewel, that boy in the drawing was g*dd*mn able-bodied before he got his leg sh*t up, not born with difficulties and hardships that got no cure and took from you the coordination a brace like that would require.

I was just lookin' at the picture.

And draggin' my leg really makes Al crazy.

f*ck Al.

Everybody's got limits.

You draggin' your leg is yours.

-I'm sorry. -What do you apologize for?

Don't... don't apologize to me.

Lemme...

Let me hold onto this for a while.

Thank you.

[AW LAUGHS] Momentous!

The long-awaited day!

Oh, yes yes yes yes yes!

Oh god, oh god, oh, yes yes.

[LAUGHS]

Uh, careful careful careful careful!

Now, sir, we must confirm the contents of this precious cargo.

Oh God... philistine.

Ah, Joseph, what you see here is an American optical back-focus single-swing with a Meyer Gorlitz Trioplan 210mm lens.

The finest photographic apparatus manufactured in this country.

What William Henry Fox Talbot could have achieved in service of this fine apparatus.

Oh, God! Agh!

Oh, God, yes, careful careful.

-Good day, sir. -Ow. Damn.

-What's wrong? -I bit my d...

Oh. [LAUGHS] Sorry.

Leaned forward to give that fella passage and bit my damn tongue.

Knocked off my chewin' angle.

-Is it bleeding? -I don't want to look.

Might upset the child.

Anyways, maybe a different way's opened up, Charlie, far as me getting backing for my brothel.

Aha.

I understood the question was location, but glad to hear the backin' problem's solved.

I think, uh, I've been finicky over the location

'cause I wasn't comfortable with the backing.

I'll tell you one thing...

I ain't making too many friends in this camp in my capacity as Fire Marshal.

We're through the easy picking's on that outcrop, ma'am.

I'll wade around that creek as long as you like.

You want to make your claim show its colors, you're gonna need to sink a few shafts.

I'm close to suggesting that we proceed.

Meaning my use to you is near a finish.

-No! -I told you, Mrs. Garret, such as it is, my expertise ain't underground.

I want you still to supervise.

I trust you, Ellsworth, as an honorable man.

I take great pleasure in your company.

I feel the same.

I look forward to our breakfasts.

And I'll just say once, I know I'm too damn old for ya.

Button!

Oh my goodness.

I can't be...

I take a father's liberty.

Mr. Ellsworth, Mr. Russell.

-How do you do, sir? -How do you do?

A-and this is Sofia.

-Hello, Sofia. -Hello.

-Your daughter? -My ward.

Any rate, pleasure to meet you, sir.

I'm honored to be in your daughter's employ.

And with your permission, ma'am, I will take my leave.

Uh, of course.

And my plate...

-and my coffee... -[LAUGHS]

...and my hat.

Fine manners. [CHUCKLES]

Reverend Smith.

How are you, sir?

Andy Cramed, Reverend.

Mr. Cramed, you returned to the setting of your recovery.

Uh-huh.

How have you fared since?

I've been trying out the other camps.

To what effect?

No good effect, Reverend.

I see.

How are you feeling?

As you see.

The... the tent, as you see, is in the process of being dismantled.

Our last tenant took his leave yesterday.

-Upright? -He was upright, yes.

His name escapes me.

Dr. Cochran, I believe, uh, is expected shortly, I believe.

I was asked to...

To see to the packing of... certain liniments and...

medicines. [HEAVY BREATHING]

Are you not well, Minister?

Sometimes I'm very well indeed.

My energy will return, or even an excess of energy.

At other times, I'm not well, or excess of energy.

How are you, Mr. Cramed?

Well, I backslid in the other camps.

At Gayville, I had the best intentions, -and I wound up at dice. -Oh, yes.

At Elizabethtown, I wound up at dice.

Oh, yes.

Thought I'd try to work here where I'd been good, but you're putting the tent down.

Ask God's help, Mr. Cramed.

Wherever you find yourself, he will show you the path.

Could you help me to pray?

Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood... to love than to be loved...

and the rest I forget.

"Why don't you get a haircut, Adams?

Looks like your mama f*cked a monkey."

Just that affectionate?

Yeah, I've never seen Al warm up to anybody so quick.

Which should persuade you then of what?

Well, you think it's just tactics?

The magistrate Al counted on to be his advocate in Yankton turned Judas.

Adams is the magistrate's bagman.

Al is merely probing Adams' willingness to betray the magistrate.

In turn, his warmth is counterfeit.

-AL: where the f*ck were you? -At the doc.

Fix me a cup of coffee.

Morning.

Shorn and groomed to a f*cking fare-thee-well.

She'd never recognize you... have to smell you all over to know you was hers.

My monkey mother.

Take a table out of the traffic, huh?

Just that affectionate.

I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory, Mr. Adams... Silas.

If not, they could always be changed.

Let me f*cking pour.

He's gotta make some distance before sunset.

What was your purpose at Doc's?

I'm knocked up.

What message should I take to the magistrate?

No envelopes and to f*ck himself.

I'm glad we had occasion last night to spend some time together, so when he asks if this is tactics or true position, you'll know what to say.

-I'll know. -You travel safe.

They believe you're the man to deal with...

Yankton.

-I am. -It's just the magistrate looking to earn off that warrant, and no one else even knows it's out on you.

Maybe the magistrate needs to die.

Maybe he does.

He won't come back here without a resolution. He'll know what's waiting for him.

-Maybe he needs to die there. -Maybe he should.

And the person who did it would only be at the beginning of his usefulness to me.

If that person didn't come back with the warrant on you quashed, he would be a fool not to think he'd be the next one k*lled.

That's why he'd be so useful to me thinking that far ahead.

Make your offer.

A thousand for the cocksucker proved dead, a thousand for the warrant proved lifted.

A thousand and a thousand.

-Think I am a f*cking monkey? -You thought there would be 20 in it?

k*ll Clagett and get you out from underneath that warrant?

You're f*cking right there's 20.

Do it for two. You've got to believe the job would open the door to your future, and you gotta believe you'd make your ass hundreds of thousands back and forth between here and Yankton.

2,000.

I put him in a room above the privy.

I always thought it was gonna end like this, button...

A rooming house in a mining camp on Indian territory, you caring for a Norwegian foundling and operating a bonanza gold claim.

[CHUCKLES]

And you, Daddy?

Uh, always a little sketchy about me.

I hope I'm here to help.

[KNOCK ON DOOR]

Oh, that would be my room key. Sofia?

-Room seven. -Thank you, sir.

-SOFIA: Thank you. -You're welcome, little one.

Oh my goodness, what's that behind your ear?

Don't you ever clean behind your ear?

Mmm.

Does caring for Sofia please you?

More with each day.

And do you have any of the gold?

As it happens...

The well-mannered Mr. Ellsworth says these abound?

Yes.

There's some talk that you did Brom in.

From his parents?

They have raised the possibility.

As it happens, I was not present when Brom fell.

You have to admit, it's a suspicious sequence...

-The man who was is in camp. -...given their view of the marriage.

I doubt he tells the true story of how Brom d*ed, but he would verify that I wasn't there.

I didn't mean to upset you.

It's always about the money, button.

In certain circles.

But not here, hmm?

I suppose here as well.

In certain circles.

Mr. Ellsworth being the exception?

Mr. Ellsworth was engaged by a Mr. Seth Bullock, who's been steadfast and kind.

And when did your path cross Mr. Bullock's?

Before Brom's accident or after?

Mr. Bullock was asked to look to my interests by Wild Bill Hickok.

Who, if I recall your reading habits, has been an acquaintance of yours since childhood.

[CHUCKLES]

I would very much like to meet this Mr. Bullock... nearly as much as I'd like to wash.

Daddy.

Ah.

I'm glad to see you.

Charlie: Stovepipe directly into wood, no clearance or sheet iron in-between.

Well, what's the significance?

Joint's like to burn to cinders.

Well, then why ain't it yet?

Dumb luck, Tom, which you hadn't ought to push.

Camp being situated like it is, everyone ass to elbow, a hazard to one is a hazard to all.

Why, ain't you starting to talk like a g*dd*mn government official?

I'm Charlie Utter that attended the same f*cking meeting you did.

And being they pinned Fire Marshal on me, I ain't seeing the camp b*rned to the ground.

So either cure your stovepipe violation or prepare to get levied a fine.

Well, I'll lick a bear's ass before I'd pay a fine to EB Farnum.

Then separate your g*dd*mn stovepipes from the g*dd*mn wall!

Well, I'll send one of my boys over to pick up the iron.

This ain't the g*dd*mn day of judgment, Tom.

Jesus Christ Almighty!

That's the kind of sh*t that ran me out of Wilkes-Barre.

Where are the camp's headed, Tom?

Maybe I'll just f*cking move along.

Why is there no sheriff in this camp?

What?

All these official positions, why is there no sheriff?

Because Al Swearengen don't want one.

What if a sheriff took office that Al could trust not to bother him?

And you could lay head to pillow nights knowing he was your friend.

Type of man who'd go up to a Fire Marshal, say, and tell him any so-called sheet iron violation that hadn't proven to be dangerous for, what...

Going on two months now... Should be waived; and whose ear'd be first to the ground when any v*olence created maybe business opportunities; and who'd remember who got him situated.

I never thought of you as the type to be sheriff.

Nah, I'd be out of the mold, but fit for the camp.

My problem, Tom, is, uh... whereas he has a soft spot for you as a fellow pioneer, Swearengen hates my f*cking guts.

So knowing how grateful I'd be and alls I'd... show it to you, wonder if you'd put in a word?

-[KNOCKS ON DOOR] -Yeah?

Mr. Tolliver?

Leon.

Come on in.

Your habit get the best of you awhile, son?

It got the f*cking upper hand.

How's your sight, Leon?

Oh, the left eye's perfect. The right's coming back.

-Have I still got a job, sir? -I'd need to hear more from you, what you been up to, who the f*ck with, that kind of thing.

Aw, you probably know everything about everything already.

Be that as it may...

Ahem, well... me and Jimmy irons, we stole the Chinaman's dope.

Chinaman's courier, he lost his life.

We slammed dope for a series of days, and Al Swearengen's tough captured us.

And in the bathhouse, we drew straws and...

Jimmy irons drowned.

Does that about cover it?

If you ask me specifics, I may be able to come up with some more details.

-Was Al Swearengen holding the straws? -Yes, sir.

He said to tell you what I seen.

And now is he holding the strings on you?

-Sir? -Are you here on his instruction?

I'm telling you what I seen because you asked me to.

What'd they do with Jimmy irons?

They give him to the Chinaman?

I guess they did. They wrapped him up and took him out.

Swearengen turned me loose, but he'd just give me this, so I stayed in the tub until I got my bearings.

That's a hell of a way to treat a white man, ain't it, Leon?

Being fair, I'd have to say, I gave Mr. Swearengen provocation.

He traffics in dope, so I...

I guess you could say that I'd stole his property and f*cked his action up.

I'm talking about Jimmy irons in connection with getting delivered to a Chink, -regardless of his transgression. -Oh, I see.

And in that connection, I'm saying it's a hell of a way to treat a white man.

I see.

-Do you agree with me? -Yes.

-So it's your own opinion too? -Yes, sir.

Well, that's your new f*cking job, expressing your own f*cking opinion.

I can do that.

With conviction, Leon.

Your job is to voice your opinion with some "oomph" and some character behind it... or you'll wish you'd have got drowned in that bathhouse.

All right.

Welcome back, son.

Oh... no thanks, Al.

I... or, well... yes, I will.

What's going on, Tom?

L-I... I thought you could make Con Stapleton... sheriff, being it's inevitable anyway.

How the f*ck did that get to be inevitable?

I wouldn't appoint that cocksucker to empty my spittoons.

What I'm saying is somebody's gotta be sheriff, Al.

Stapleton's got points in his favor.

I hope one's not getting to recover the bribe he paid you when I don't give him the f*cking job.

-Who's your candidate, Al? -Nobody.

Well, that's just postponing the inevitable.

Tom, nothing Stapleton's got on you can't be solved by Dan Dority.

Well... fill me up.

Jesus Christ.

The... the truth is I-I feel like the...

The camp's getting away from me, Al.

I got a Fire Commissioner who's about to condemn my building, and we're still on Indian land.

How does Stapleton becoming sheriff keep the camp from getting away from you?

Well, I know him. Uh, he'd know I put in a word with you.

What the f*ck good is that to you, Tom, when that cocksucker can be bought for two pieces of day-old bread?

Well, that's right.

That... that all makes sense.

It, uh... well, when you first come to this camp and hung your sign up for nickel booze and 50¢ p*ssy...

[CHUCKLES] Them was get-acquainted prices.

But the point is I seen your f*cking tent.

I walked over and I... I said "Hello!"

I didn't tell you gotta sheet iron your f*cking stovepipe.

I didn't have a stovepipe, and you had your Kn*fe at the ready

-if I didn't make a good impression. -That's true enough, but you didn't.

And Dority made a hell of a one on you.

That too is... is true enough.

Now I just, uh...

I feel like I know the guy, Al.

Stapleton.

Well... I don't feel like I know anybody no more.

He can be sheriff for all I care.

Thank you, Al.

Don't count on him to be loyal, Tom.

No no... just... a familiar face.

And no f*cking paperwork.

Well, I don't even know if he can write.

-Could he be sworn in here, Al? -For Christ's sake, Tom!

-He feels you don't like him. -He's f*cking right as rain.

But it'd be a comfort to him, see, if he was sworn in under your roof.

Let Farnum swear him the f*ck in here then.

But press your luck no further.

Do not expect me to f*cking attend.

I'm awful grateful, Al.

-Mr. Star. -Miss Trixie, pleased to see you.

I threatened to pay a visit.

You spoke of looking out for some building implements.

I spoke of looking out for an axe and a saw, and if I got 'em, they wouldn't be applied to building nothing.

Anyways... would you want a free f*ck?

-Why would you say that? -To know the answer.

Why would you say it that way?

For Christ's sakes. Mr. Star, my cherry is obstructing my work.

Sir... would you take it from me, free?

[DOOR OPENING]

Seth, you remember Trixie.

Oh, yes.

Well, I just stopped for a moment.

SOL: Oh, yes.

-I'll lock up? -Oh, yes.

Kiss my neck or tits if you have to kiss something.

Let me kiss you.

Well, you're a g*dd*mn Jew fool.

EB: Do you swear before this witness to uphold whatever laws may be put in force subsequently?

Yeah, if I can, yeah.

-And don't forget who your friends are. -Always.

Gentlemen, hold still.

Take a breath. Don't move.

One, two, three.

Very good.

Uh, gentlemen, Tom, I...

I wondered if a second one might be appropriate without that putrid apron around your midsection.

-No. Let's drink. -[LAUGHS]

Our Health Commissioner.

Whiskey.

You've just missed my swearing in of the camp's new sheriff.

Con Stapleton, sir. I'm not sure if we've actually met.

You were at the table when Hickok was k*lled.

Indeed, I was. A horrified bystander.

-We weren't to have a sheriff. -That's been reconsidered as inevitable.

Had you designs on the post, Bullock?

-I don't want the post. -No hard feelings then.

Consider me at your service.

My wife and child are to join me from Michigan.

-Is Al in his office? -EB: Seems to be sequestered.

He missed the swearing in too.

He did want us over here though.

Ain't that absolutely correct?

Then why the f*ck didn't he come down?

Why didn't he come down? That's unclear.

To let you know exactly, I would guess, at whose mysterious pleasure you serve.

A candid moment.

Circumcision... is indeed profiteth if thou keepest the law, but if, uh... if thou art a transgressor of the law, thy circumcision becomes uncircumcision.

Therefore, if... thy... uncircumcision... keeps the, uh... the righteousness of the law, shall not his uncircumcision be count for circumcision?

Yea, the uncircumcision that is by nature fulfilling His law shall judge thee, who by... by letter and, uh... circumcision transgresses the law.

[KNOCKS]

-Yeah. -It's Seth Bullock.

Why'd you let Stapleton have a badge?

-They sworn the cocksucker in yet? -Hurry down and toast him.

Maybe Merrick'll put his camera back up.

No, I prefer to watch the f*cking Reverend Smith preach to the oxen and horses.

It ain't right for the camp. My wife and child are coming.

Bullock, it's a ceremonial position to give comfort to Tom Nuttall who feels the camp's leaving him behind.

Putting a badge on Stapleton makes him feel

-he's got friends in high places. -That job shouldn't go to a shitheel.

As my feeling would be, it should go to a shitheel 'cause it's shitheel's work.

-Doesn't have to be. -No?

Mr. Bullock, would you sit down a second?

I want to tell you something about the law. Please please, take a seat.

Separate from all them bribes we put up, I paid $5,000 to avoid being the object of fireside ditties about a man that fled a m*rder warrant then worked very hard to get his camp annexed by the Territory, only to have them serve the warrant of him and to face the six-foot drop.

Into the cocksucking magistrate's pocket the money goes, after which he sends a message: the 5,000 will need company if I'm to be off the hook.

I give you the law.

It doesn't have to be like that.

Now if you were f*cking sheriff and you said, "Do this, do that,"

I'd consider it, 'cause you're not a f*cking whore.

I have personal responsibilities.

I'd go downstairs for that swearing in, and I'd follow your career, 'cause you're one of those pains in the balls who thinks the law can be honest.

I don't want it.

Hell, I do lots of things I don't want to do.

You think you're the only one?

You should have been here when Tom Nuttall was pissing in my ear.

-[DOOR OPENS] -I think you'd be all right as sheriff.

Listen, I'm only talking to you

'cause my partner's f*cking that whore.

Anyway.

He's back open.

-How was your talk with Al? -Congratulations.

Good sportsmanship, Bullock.

REVEREND: Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

Shall... shall affliction or distress or...

Or persecution or...

Or hunger or nakedness?

Or peril or sword?

Yea, in all these things, we more than conquer through Him that hath loved us.

I am persuaded that... that neither life nor death, nor... nor angels, nor... nor... nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present or things to come, nor heights, nor depths, nor any other creature... from the love of... of God!

And...

And Jesus Christ our Lord.

-Seth. -Sol.

She wasn't here in a professional capacity.

We have an agreement with Swearengen as to the use we put this establishment to.

She come looking for goods and things took a turn.

-That can happen. -Not twice though, at this location.

Yeah. Maybe I'm not the only one who should be about looking for a place.

Gonna make an offer on that piece on the western slope.

Did you have another look?

Go ahead and get to building if Hostetler takes the offer.

Maybe have a leg up when Martha and your boy arrive.

-Good afternoon, sir. -Good afternoon.

I am Otis Russell. Uh, would you be Mr. Bullock?

-I'm Sol Star. -Oh, how do you do, Mr. Star?

-Very well. -I'm Seth Bullock.

Mr. Bullock.

I am Alma Garret's father.

-How do you do, sir? -How do you do?

I am very grateful for the kindness that you've shown my daughter.

I wonder if you would join us for dinner tonight.

-I'd be happy to. -Oh, Mr. Star, will you join us?

-Thanks, but I can't. -Regrettable.

Would 6:00 at the hotel be convenient?

My daughter says that the dinner hour is early.

6:00 is fine.

Just months that this camp came together, huh?

-SOL: Yes, sir. -Remarkable.

Hi, Doc.

First thing to say, I regret the tone I had with you earlier.

Okay.

If we hold with the Greeks that we're made of humors, I guess my bile was in its ascendant.

-[CHUCKLES] Okay. -Sit down.

Another thing that the Greeks say...

Except that I learned this in Latin...

Is "Primum non nocere."

And that means "First, do no harm."

And this has been a great concern to me in your case.

To interfere, even with the best of intentions, and have you misjudge your capacities

'cause you rely on some mechanical contraption and wind up hurting yourself would be a poor use indeed of my very limited skills.

You can get around now, Jewel.

I can only imagine with what difficulty and exertion and pain, but the moving around you can do is precious to you.

I do not want to f*ck you up.

No, we wouldn't want that.

Having said that... and different from the... harness-type attachments in that Civil w*r book, I thought we might try something like this.

Let's.

How was your visit, Trixie?

How was the child?

-Had a good visit. -Is the child conversant?

Moving along from saying her name?

Anyways, I better take my turn.

No, you look good having gone out.

You're more relieved, more relaxed.

We can't work all the time, can we?

We all need some type of relaxation, companionship or the like?

-Yes. -You get away from me now.

Hey, Doc, how long were you planning on taking before you told me what the f*ck was wrong with Jewel?

Nothing. Nothing she wasn't born with.

Mmm, I mean, she told me she was knocked up, but I assumed that was her gimp sense of humor.

She wants me to brace her leg so her dragging it doesn't drive you crazy.

-So what'd you tell her? -Not to worry about your moods, that you generate those yourself and then you find your excuse for having 'em.

Saucy words, Doc. Good thing you're handy with the snatch.

I had an idea for a boot, just now measured her for it.

If you treat her as successfully as you did the minister, she'll be kicking up her heels in no f*cking time.

I will leave you now to pursue another excuse.

Get that Jew over here.

My daughter tells me that before his m*rder, Wild Bill Hickok asked you

-to look to her interests. -Yes, sir.

Had you ridden with Hickok on the plains?

I met him in the camp. I only knew him a few days.

And impressed him at once as being trustworthy.

They rescued a child in the wilderness and brought to justice one of the men who m*rder*d her family.

And, um, how was justice meted out?

We sh*t him.

Slab of beef off the chuck, boiled whole carrots and little brown potatoes.

Fresh baked bread and rhubarb pie to come.

-Your repast awaits your mouths. -Thank you.

Postprandial cigars for the menfolk.

Oh no, we have our own smokes.

I hope you brought ravenous appetites.

ALMA: Thank you, Mr. Farnum.

He had something to do with it.

Would you prefer, Mr. Bullock, that Alma stay in the camp?

In any case, I've decided to stay.

As her adviser, I mean?

It's Mrs. Garret's affair. If she wanted to go back East, her interest here could be seen to.

But I don't.

And it would show her in a better light should title be contested.

The custom is if you give a claim your efforts and staked it or bought it fair, someone would have to go some to take it away.

We've taken steps to demonstrate her activity.

Of course, if the New York courts had jurisdiction, they'd sell the holdings to the highest bidder.

Not many here would give a damn what a New York court held or didn't.

-Excuse my language. -On the contrary, Mr. Bullock, thank you for acknowledging my presence.

I thought, button, that you were our entire preoccupation.

EB: The man's a charlatan, Richardson.

A cheat, a broad tosser and a clip.

I only wonder... if the daughter's been in it with him, or she's his pigeon.

-May I look, Mr. Farnum? -Yes.

When you've grown a full head of hair.

Brass, that would be.

To gull your own flesh and blood.

[SALOON PIANO PLAYING]

-Mr. Swearengen. -You owe me $5.

If you ass-f*cked her, you owe me seven.

-No. -You didn't ass-f*ck her?

I'm not paying you.

It wasn't to do with you. It wasn't business.

Trixie!

Don't think I don't understand.

I mean, what can any one of us ever really f*cking hope for, huh?

Except for a moment here and there with a person who doesn't want to rob, steal or m*rder us?

At night, or mayhap sun-up one person against the f*cking wall, the other may hop on the f*cking bed, trusted each other enough to tell half the f*cking truth.

Everybody needs that.

It becomes precious to 'em.

They don't want to see it f*cked with.

-I won't pay. -You pay... or she pays.

No home visits. Do your visiting on the premises.

Five. Seven for an ass-f*ck.

You get back to work.

You sleep tonight amongst your own.

Another f*cking bottle.

If we'd had a kitchen, Sofia, after supper we'd have retired to it, to chores and gossip on the most minute domestic matters, while the men walked and smoked and argued more important matters... and, incidentally, decided our fates.

Understandable, her late husband was so taken with my daughter.

I didn't know him very well, but I certainly recognized his doting infatuation.

I didn't know him at all.

I'll admit that I had hoped she might find a man who would dote on her and more, perhaps had a surer sense of what the world was.

And, apparently, I'm entitled to hope that again.

My wife and son will be joining me soon.

I'm long past judgment, Mr. Bullock, and I've learned that no matter what people say or how civil they seem, their passions rule.

I see no reason why your wife and son's arrival need alter my hopes for my daughter's happiness or security or the security of her holdings.

I'll say good night, Mr. Russell, with thanks for dinner.

That will disappoint Alma.

I'm sure she didn't think she was saying good night

-when we left for our walk. -She'll be all right.

If I have offended you, I've accomplished the opposite of my intention, which would not be an unprecedented result.

-I just want to say good night. -Of course.

-Good night, Mr. Bullock. -Good night then.

Trust me to explain to Alma.

I'm a practiced and inveterate liar.

If we didn't hate them too much to be curious about the world... we'd wonder what they'd had to say.

Craps! Loser! Line away.

You better not need them fingers, hoss, if you spill that drink on my g*dd*mn felt too.

Hand that stick to a captain of the floating table, Cy.

-Eddie Sawyer. -Back in action if you'll have me.

Well, all right.

You need to take it back about that boy, Cy, me being interested that way.

Aw, hell, Eddie, you know me.

I get in a brown study, I say any g*dd*mn thing comes to mind.

Withdrawn with apologies.

Coming out. New sh**t.

Are we that far west that we've wound up in f*cking China?

Where a white man kowtows to a Celestial like that arrogant cocksucker Wu!

-Take it easy, Leon. -It sticks in my craw, Mr. Tolliver.

Do I have my weaknesses?

Yes.

But I will not have a f*cking Chink courier rob me blind and have my friend Jimmy irons robbed blind in the course of feeding off our f*cking weaknesses!

Or have that courier's f*cking Chink boss issue an order to Al Swearengen, that's supposed to be so f*cking tough, to turn one of us over!

Swearengen kowtows and turns one of us over to be eaten by the f*cking Chinese pigs!

This f*cking gets to me. I can't put it out of my f*cking mind!

Leon, Leon, Leon.

Thin it out, Leon. Prune the patter down, hmm?

For the winner, pay the field.

-Hi, Eddie. -Hiya, kid.

-You and Cy reconciled? -Thick as thieves.

And if I weren't as good at what I did, you'd see I just palmed 80 in chips for the Joanie Stubbs construction fund.

-Hi, Cy. -Hi, Joanie.

What were you doing giving Joanie the office, Eddie?

Saying "Welcome home."

Are you home, honey?

I gave up waiting for that search party you didn't send, Cy.

Mind if I show Joanie my peacock, Eddie?

-Find land for your plot yet? -I'm still looking.

I see the pest tent's coming down.

Ah, it's too far off till the camp expands.

You'd want a more central plot, say fronting Cochran's alley.

Well, those all seem took by Chinese.

You never know how that sh*t's gonna shake out.

Those Chinese cocksuckers!

A new sh**t coming out!

[CHEERING]

That man's not here to help his daughter.

He's looking to root at her claim.

You went to see that whore again?

I guess she had to account for her being outside.

Swearengen sent for me to pay him his fee.

I guess she told him where she'd been.

It might have been me he found out from, Sol, 'cause I'm sometimes that stupid.

You think it could have been you?

I'm sure it was, speaking without thinking, justifying being in his place.

Being you'd been ousted from your own.

I was hot seeing that tinhorn Stapleton getting installed as sheriff and I used poor f*cking judgment.

Sorry Mrs. Garret's pa turns out a shitheel.

Cold enough world without getting gone against by your own.

Now, I see what the f*ck's in front of me, and I don't pretend it's something else.

I was f*cking her but now I'm gonna f*ck you, if you don't piss me off or open your yap at the wrong f*cking time.

The only time you're supposed to open your yap is so I can put my f*cking prick in it.

Otherwise, you shut the f*ck up.

Now hold onto that, huh?

The point is, this minister's gotta f*cking die.

I mean, that's the... That's the f*cking point.

He's gonna die sooner or later.

I mean, he's making a f*cking jerk of himself.

And, I mean, well, why-why go on with that?

Who's-who's gonna benefit from that, huh?

No, you just gotta k*ll it and put an end to it.

You don't linger on about it, you don't f*cking go around weeping about it, and you don't, you know, behave like a kid with sore thumb, loco sucking it. Now "Mm, my poor f*cking thumb!"

I mean, you gotta behave like a grown f*cking man, huh?

You gotta shut the f*ck up, don't be sorry, don't look f*cking back, because, believe me, no one gives a f*ck.

-You understand? -Yeah.

You shut the f*ck up, huh? Gimme that!

Hey, you suck my d*ck and shut the f*ck up, huh?

Come here. Come on.

Now then, here.

The place where I found you, huh, is where this warrant's from.

Could you believe that I may have stuck a Kn*fe in someone's guts

12 hours before you got on the wagon we headed out for f*cking Laramie in? No!

Because I don't look f*cking backwards.

I do what I have to do and go on.

Whoa whoa whoa... what?

You got a stagecoach to catch or something, huh?

Slow the f*ck up.

Did you know the orphanage part of the building you lived in, behind it she ran a whorehouse, huh?

Oh, so you knew?

So what are you f*cking looking at then, huh?

God.

Now, I'll tell you something you don't know.

Before she ran a girls' orphanage, fat Mrs. f*cking Anderson ran the boys' orphanage on f*cking Euclid Avenue, as I would see her fat ass waddling out the boys' dormitory at 5:00 in the f*cking morning, every f*cking morning after she blew her stupid f*cking cowbell and woke us all the f*ck up.

And my f*cking mother dropped me the f*ck off there with $7 and 60 some-odd f*cking cents on her way to sucking cock in... in Georgia.

And I didn't get to count the f*cking cents before the f*cking door opened. And there, Mrs. fat-ass f*cking Anderson, who sold you to me.

I had to give her $7 and 60-odd f*cking cents that my mother shoved in my f*cking hand before she hammered one, two, three, four times on the f*cking door and scurried off down f*cking Euclid Avenue, probably 30 f*cking years before you were f*cking born.

Then around Cape Horn and up to San Francisco, where she probably became mayor or some other type success story, unless by some f*cking chance she wound up as a ditch for f*cking come.

Now f*cking go faster, hmm?

[GRUNTING]

Okay, go ahead and spit it out. You don't need to swallow.

Just spit it out.

Anyways.

[COUNTRY MUSIC PLAYING]

♪ Snake baked a ho-cake, and set the frog to watch it ♪

♪ The frog fell a-dozing, the lizard came and took it ♪

♪ Bring back my ho-cake, you long-tailed nanny-o ♪

♪ Bring back my ho-cake, you long-tailed nanny-o ♪

♪ Bring back my ho-cake, you long-tailed nanny-o. ♪