03x01 - Tell Your God to Ready for Blood

[bunniefuu]

[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]

[BIRDS CALLING]

[ROOSTER CROWS]

Fixin' toward a bloody outcome, boss.

Absenting myself don't change your f*ckin' instructions.

[DISTANT HAMMERING]

-[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE] -Parp.

Parp. Parp.

Parp.

[FOREIGN CHATTER CONTINUES]

Parp.

-Slainte. -Slainte.

Parp.

Parp. Parp.

-Parp. -[CONVERSATION CONTINUES]

[MAN SPEAKING GIBBERISH]

-Whoop goggle. -[CONVERSATION CONTINUES]

Whoop goggle, boop boop.

[MAN SHOUTS]

Parp.

-[g*nsh*t] -DAN: Hey!

-[g*nsh*t] -Hey!

-Get the f*ck out! -He come at me with his foreign gibberish.

You get the f*ck out while I let you get the f*ck out.

You too! You get out that way.

Leave him be or you'll be riding the g*dd*mn sled with him.

Get out!

Parp...

Either of you cocksuckers want to talk funny at me?

Good day, sir.

Good day.

Wu's out of camp.

Store him in our corner of the icehouse.

[SLAMS]

-Will you look this over? -Certainly.

Words doing the wrong jobs, piling on too heavy or at odds over meaning...

I'll mark my suggestions.

Nothing showy is the main thing.

I understand.

Shall I gather my school supplies?

I'm much obliged.

[FURNITURE DRAGS]

That's better, isn't it?

Mm.

Over here?

I will apologize, Mr. Ellsworth, for what I am about to ask.

She wants to try it on the ceiling.

A coverlet, dark red, is packed with the linens in the gray leather trunk.

Back at the hotel.

It's near time in any case to take Sofia to school.

The settee is best sited with its spread upon it would be your mother's idea.

Mr. Ellsworth will help you gather your things, -darling, for school. -Young lady.

-Goodbye. -Bye.

Will I bring you back a sandwich or a glass of milk?

Just the coverlet, thank you.

SETH: I'd sooner be hanging from those hustings than stand on 'em giving a speech.

Nuttall's bartender's no hand at it either.

We both may get pelted with refuse.

[THUDS]

-ELLSWORTH: Morning. -Good morning, Sofia.

Good morning.

We will we bake bread again today?

-Is it your vote we should? -Yes.

And Mr. Bullock for sheriff and Mr. Star for mayor.

And I will put the bread in to bake.

If I'm to believe what I read, you're heavily scheduled today.

-Yes. -As to your meetin' with Hearst, if the chance comes up natural, stomp on the cocksucker's foot.

-JOANIE: Morning. -Yes, ma'am.

JANE: Off to the Bella Union like the moth to the f*cking flame.

Miss Stubbs didn't name her destination.

I'm telling you where she's going.

And why don't you look for honest work?

Miss Stubbs holds what I'm doing for honest.

She no more needs a watchman than she does a f*cking balloonist.

And why should the young of this camp have to scurry past your man-toad figure to receive an education?

The time they come for schoolin', I'm in back and out of sight.

Exposin' them to being terrified only when they use the privy.

Go get your load on, Jane.

[SHOUTS] Do not instruct me how to spend my day... or to itemize for you my crowded itinerary... you tub of blubber and guts.

MOSE: I've got 10 minutes yet to be out front.

ELLSWORTH: Might I give over the little one to you here?

Of course.

Ellsworth: When next we meet, young lady, I will be on the eye for warm bread.

Wants a coverlet from storage... Mrs. Ellsworth...

To consider atop the daybed.

Framing of a dream.

He's saying that to you, Seth.

Mr. Ellsworth, no doubt on some menial domestic errand.

AL: Sheriff!

Forgive my raucous tone.

-MARTHA: Mr. Swearengen. -May we have a word?

Once I've see 'em to school, I meet Hearst.

Very much what I'd have us speak of.

Sofia: Can we plant beets again today?

MARTHA: Yes.

CHARLIE: "Thank you... thank you for the introduction, Sheriff."

-Sheriff. -Morning, Charlie.

-Morning. Mrs. Bullock. -Good morning, Mr. Utter.

Morning there, little one, in your lovely go-to-school outfit.

Good morning.

Did the evening pass in quiet?

The morning got a little busy.

Cornishman k*lled in The Gem.

His buddies come babbling to our office.

Dority k*ll him?

The complainants can't speak right so I had to have them play act.

-But I'm guessing no. -They up in the office still?

Down in Hearst's shafts.

We'll say goodbye.

-Goodbye. Goodbye, Sofia. -Goodbye.

-CHARLIE: Goodbye there, little one. -Goodbye.

Thank you.

SOFIA: Hi, Dorothy. Good morning, James.

Nice thing, ain't it?

The children?

Will you attend the evening speeches, Richardson?

-If you let me. -Of course I will.

How else are you to vote with intelligence?

[CHUCKLES] I intend no lengthy remarks.

My tenure as mayor speaks for me.

Will they have the Jew merchant instead?

Well, let them then and welcome.

I caught you, Richardson, stuffin' spitbacks in your vile maw.

"Let tomorrow's omelets go empty."

Is that your f*ckin' attitude?

-You hurted me. -Shh!

Wash and stack, sh*t monkey, or ready yourself for worse.

-LEON: Congratulations, sir. -CON: Congratulations.

Florence Nightingale.

Florence Nightingale is a nurse.

I know that, you ignorant cocksucker.

Joanie Stubbs is a cocksucker.

-I know that, you ignorant f*ck. -[MAN CLEARS THROAT]

Don't be sweatin' all over the gentleman's money. [CHUCKLES]

1500.

And thank you for that rasher of sh*t.

ALL: Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever.

Amen.

[JOANIE EXHALES]

-Morning, Tess. -Morning, Joanie.

Git.

-I can take him that. -I got it.

-[WATER POURING] -How's Cy?

I don't know yet, Tess.

It's none of your business anyway.

You're only business is how you start the f*cking day.

-I'm clean. -Before you go to sleep, how are you supposed to start?

-I said I'm clean. -You answer my g*dd*mn question.

-My snatch is clean. -Is the rest of your body clean?

-Yes. -What's next?

The room where I receive, and that's f*cking clean.

-What's next after that? -God damn you, Joanie.

What's next, Lila, if you ain't too f*cking high?

-Our room where we rest. -Which don't it f*ckin' stink in here?

It does, Lila, like a hogwhore's c**t.

And I ain't loaded not to smell it. Whyn't you go, girl?

Why don't you get to the muck where you're f*ckin' headed anyway?

Go on. Git.

-What are you doin', sitting back there? -Oh, please let me stay.

When I'm back tonight you better all be sweet for me to f*ck.

Or have your damn bags packed, 'cause I'll throw every one of you out.

Move, Tess, move.

You know she's going to let her stay.

[STOMPS]

[GROWLS]

[KNOCKS]

Come on in, honey.

How are you?

I'm all right.

Was the doc by?

Brightened my early mornin'.

Another day on the right side of the ledger far as pus.

[CATCHES BREATH]

-How's the action outside? -It's quiet.

Either clown upright to tell you what the action was?

I didn't ask.

I guess you'd stopped in on the whores.

You might have mistook, Cy, pickin' Tess over Lila to see to 'em.

-Lila's on the needle. -Tess ain't pickin' up the bit.

Maybe she's unsure of her place, you in and out of our lives.

Well, fresh water.

You're not leaving yet, are you?

Right here, Cy, on the side table.

Act like a f*cking baby, don't I?

[MIMICS WHINING] "Oh, don't go."

-Where's my good book, honey? -It's just next to you, in the bedfold.

[DOOR CLOSES]

I've been scooping out rain gutters for a month.

My fingers are bloody with sandin'.

You do recall you're only the transactions beard?

AL: You return to Star: a sorry run at the tables; you can't support the loan he made you.

Well, what if he don't foreclose?

Oh, you beg him to buy you out. You may harm yourself.

You're up all hours, "What have I f*cking done?" or the like.

"Maybe I should f*cking end it." Star ends owning that house is the necessary f*cking conclusion.

-Coffee! -Ready.

That croaker seen to?

At Wu's icehouse under a tarp in our corner.

Will you pour it without scalding me, huh?

Breakfast?

Bacon and eggs.

[BRUSH THUDS]

You know you could have said that before I went down.

You get in the kitchen.

I liked living in that place.

Why do I give a f*ck?

[AL GROWLING]

So why not force this morning's m*rder outside?

You told us not too.

As it stank of a put-up job, I wanted to find out if we were meant for the venue.

Well, whoever put the job up can't be any too smart.

'Cause them Cornish work for Hearst.

m*rder a Cornish and you buy Hearst for an enemy.

You're a f*cking miracle, Johnny.

It's close to a mortal certainty he ordered the m*rder himself.

-Hearst? -Shut up!

[SCRUBBING]

He stages a m*rder in my f*cking joint.

Wants Bullock to show his ass before he'll bless his f*cking candidacy.

What does he require of the weather?

Jesus Christ. That's it.

That's how you clean a f*ckin' bloodstain, hey.

What if we stretched out the payments?

I cannot f*cking make it. What the f*ck was in my head to sign that note?

-Take it easy. -Take it easy, Mr. Adams.

[GROANS] Take it off me. Can't you?

Ain't there some way to take it off?!

Oh God!

I'm in crisis too, needing awfully to piss.

Why not cork up and go on stage with that tragic f*ckin' minstrel turn?

Are you alone?

Yes, Miss Bernhardt, I am.

Al wants Star to take over that house.

Why?

Keep my ruddy color not askin' Al his reasons.

Disarray... in your room.

Your last day when you left... disarray.

-I sat on the bed. -I won't have it.

Did you hear me, Shaunessey?

My last day I sat on the bed for three hours.

I had a glass of water.

Yes yes yes. Very likely.

Uh, 1F, $2.

The book, please.

Ink on the floor, pen near blunted, possibly broke, bindings damaged...

I won't stand for it.

Give that back to the gimp.

What the f*ck are you trying to pull with Adams's f*cking house?

Star needs to move into that.

He's a candidate for office.

He can't whore-f*ck no longer with impunity.

Who says I want to live in that house?

You ain't. You're installing at f*cking Shaunessey's.

The f*ck if I'll live in that sh*thole.

AL: Shaunessey being richer by 50 for his common wall with Star's home-to-be and the passage he cut through it, so you and the Jew can fall upon each other away from prying eyes.

f*ck you, Al, f*ck Shaunessey's and f*ck the passage into Adams's f*ckin' house.

Loopy c**t.

[QUIET CRYING]

The wrist business on Adams' house loan, Adams being nothing but his f*cking stalking horse from the gambit's f*cking beginning.

You sign to take those over, we'll move in your 12 possessions.

You will be free to come and go by your own front f*cking door, and as you lay in your beddy-bye, I'll pop from the wall like Grandma Groundhog in a storybook and attend to your Johnson, as he'd not see you jeopardize your mayor's campaign whore f*cking in your place of business.

And I'll have installed in room 3-f*cking-C or the like of Shaunessey's adjacent shitbox, that he's paid Shaunessey to cut a hole through to ease my f*ckin' f*cking you.

Swearengen has?

Who the f*ck was I just talking to?

I don't know. You said you'd just gone to piss.

Man of the hour.

Quick prick-suck, Bullock?

Sally forth to meet the great man with unencumbered thoughts?

What happened in here this morning?

Charlie Utter says a man was m*rder*d, one of Hearst's workers.

I'd spare you the particulars till after your meeting concludes.

-Why? -Why ask why?

Why not honor the meeting's purpose?

Speak as a candidate of your hopes for the camp and its future, confine yourself to generalities.

Suppose Hearst... was this m*rder's architect?

Suppose the workers were thieves or organizers?

Why k*ll 'em in camp before witnesses?

Maybe as message to me his domain includes my f*cking joint, and to test your willingness to bend to his f*cking will before he backs your candidacy.

What we know, f*cking Bullock, is if when you two meet Hearst does ask you to go easy, and you, for love of his type, say "f*ck yourself," no more illumination can come to us because you will have muddied the f*ckin' waters.

Is why I'd hoped you'd skirt the topic.

Has the body been eaten?

The Cornish croaker? Wu's out of f*cking camp.

Don't let it get eaten.

Oh, absolutely...

Till your further full investigation.

As for your meeting with Hearst, may I offer a fervent Godspeed and hopes for your f*cking self-control?!

What am I, Lord, that I'm so helpless?

[CLICKS]

[GASPING]

Bullock.

He ascends, Richardson, to be dug at and sifted and shoveled till his crucial vein is exposed.

-[KNOCKS] -Then Hearst will empty him out.

[CHUCKLES]

Much anticipated, Mr. Bullock, some good solid talk between us.

-Will you drink? -No...

-thanks. -I believe I won't either.

[EXHALES]

I'm told that you operate a hardware concern.

I'm partnered with Sol Star.

Ah, candidate for mayor, as you are for sheriff.

And an officer of the Deadwood Bank.

Sol's Chief Officer, yes.

And you are an officer too.

Yes.

The bank capitalized, as I understand, by Mrs. Alma Garret Ellsworth... formerly quartered in this hotel and who has struck so rich in these hills.

Way back second to you.

Extraordinary, the story of that woman's adventures.

Do you suppose that its future chapters might be written... elsewhere than the Hills?

What are your intentions?

As to Mrs. Ellsworth's holdings, I would shape those to the lady's preferences, and be pleased and grateful if you told her.

Do you need a handkerchief, Mr. Bullock?

No.

Unfortunate incident this morning at Swearengen's saloon. Do you know about it?

No.

One of my workmen was k*lled in a drunken sh**t.

-Hmm. -How will you deal with that, Sheriff?

Depends... what it was about? Who makes complaints?

Mmm. My worker was Cornish.

They are a clannish people. I suppose another Cornish might complain.

I'd need to hear what he said then.

He may also indict the sunrise.

For men of that sort, events such as these are as natural.

Anyways.

May we speak of your ambitions?

Another time.

I would want to support them, you see? I would want to back you...

To thank you for taking her my message.

I never said I'd take her your message.

Are you saying now that you won't?

You stay out of our f*ckin' affairs.

Oh... affairs of that sort are not my interest, Mr. Bullock.

My only passion is the color.

Excuse me.

[FOOTSTEPS DESCENDING]

Bullock, how did you like Mr. Hearst?

What are you doing?

Oh!

-You piece of sh*t. -How have I given offense?

You told him.

Call the law.

[b*ating CONTINUES]

The sheriff's k*lling the mayor.

In the thoroughfare, if I f*cking need you.

-[THUDDING] -AL: Bullock?

Bullock... Bullock!

Why are you b*ating Farnum in Mr. Hearst's hotel?

How are you, sir?

I am well, Mr. Swearengen, and how are you?

Bullock!

Shall I have him seen to, sir?

He seems to need that.

My place, Sheriff?

Boys! EB's had an accident.

Under your supervision, and then inform us on his further transport.

Yes.

Give the poor f*ck your shoulders, boys, huh?

Sheriff!

-Much experienced at the enterprise, sir. -I haven't a doubt.

And once he's situated, may you and me speak?

Of course.

[SOFTLY] You saw f*ckin' nothing.

Jesus, Joseph and Mary.

Doc: Mrs. Ellsworth?

No.

You must drink this.

I will not awaken that demon, Doctor.

This has nothing to do with demons, Mrs. Ellsworth.

This has to do with allaying the pain to get you through.

Leave the demons to God and trust the pain to me.

"A lady should not choose a man who chews tobacco."

A lady should not choose a man... who chews tobacco.

"It robs his pocket, soils his clothes... and makes a chimney of his nose."

Good, peek.

So if one of 'em sees you, they give up attendance forever.

I suppose you didn't come to peek in.

I came to sh*t in the privy, which is where you're supposed to be during school hours.

How does it feel to take one sitting up?

MARTHA: "The Jews burn sacrifices upon an altar of stone."

The Jews burn sacrifices upon an altar of stone.

Altars of the kind in the sentence are spelled T-A-R.

It's not so important always to be right, Mary, or to be first.

[CLEARS THROAT] "Indians are sometimes very cruel."

-I'm pulling out as a candidate. -No, you aren't.

He'll use knowing to try to control me, have his way in the camp's affairs.

He asked me to get her to sell.

Oh, best leave the camp entirely as penance for having a prick.

You were right about the k*lling. He didn't want it pursued.

-[DOOR CLOSES] -Bleeding?

-He stopped. -Put him up on the f*cking bed then.

No grand gestures, f*cking Bullock, till I've had my talk with Hearst. Do not f*cking withdraw.

And no more b*ating up on Farnum that has to run against Star.

It's no certainty Hearst knew one goddamned thing about Bullock putting it to the widow.

Hell of a b*ating for EB to take if he's innocent.

He's still way ahead of the game.

Nonetheless, we must now assume that Hearst does f*cking know.

As going mad in front of him, Bullock might have tipped him as to the state of things.

-How are you gonna go at Hearst? -Don't I yearn for the days a draw across the throat made f*cking resolution?

Why, Dan, by composing my thoughts, tropes and gambits for the talk between us that is yet to come.

Will you excuse me?

Sure.

-Is she dying? -She's not in imminent danger.

The baby?

Your wife is still with child.

I saw the blood on the floor.

There wasn't as much blood as I'm sure it seemed to you.

Mrs. Ellsworth must remain abed, and she must take the medicine I've given her, her fear of it notwithstanding. And you must remain strong at her side.

I have to collect the child. May I ask you to st...

I'll stay here till you come back, and then I'll go collect Trixie to help you.

Thank you, Doctor.

Who the f*ck are all these people?

Guess the stages are gonna be crowded.

Headed to collect the missus?

[SIGHS]

I just b*at Farnum.

Meeting Hearst, I got the idea someone had told him business of mine.

Figured it was Farnum?

If it'd been me, I'da gone ahead and k*lled him.

I wonder now if I might have mistook...

-f*ck Farnum anyway. -If I tipped Hearst myself, -is what I'm wondering now. -Ah.

And of my temper generally, I'm wondering about...

Far as running for office.

Maybe you just don't want to speak tonight.

I know I don't want to speak.

I'm wondering if I ought to withdraw.

Talking against my own interests...

Being if you pull out, I won't have to speak from the audience...

Far as conversing with your rival, what's your best f*ckin' experience?

-Harry Manning? -Huh.

I guess that once the two of us talked to him.

When he k*lled Bummer Dan by mistake.

And that was high f*cking water.

So you'd hold me as fair calling Harry f*cking outright dimwitted?

You think better than the sheriff with a shortish temper, which in certain sheriff tog situations is a plus, camp be better with Harry?

[SIGHS] Anyways.

You gonna have dinner with us?

May be my last f*cking meal if apoplexy takes me... off my nervousness. [CHUCKLES]

What if you won?

I won't. I'm only in it to make myself known.

Say you're f*cking elected, Harry, am I entitled to the f*cking livery abandoned by the n*gg*r Hostetler leaving its stock to starve?

Well, I know you've took up its care.

And do you as sheriff hold my f*cking labor speaks for me, my diligent f*ckin' efforts the last six f*ckin' weeks?

Well, uh, I'd hold with the law, Steve, whatever statute applied.

Well, oughtn't a "statue" have to do with justice and not just to bait back a fled f*cking n*gg*r looking to steal what a white man's worked for?

Well, Hostetler ain't come back. Why think he ever will?

Because it's my family luck over centuries to get repeatedly f*cked up the ass.

And here in this f*cking camp is where the chain gets f*cking broken.

And I'm askin' if you as sheriff will stand with me?!

Yeah, I ain't sheriff.

I got problems enough today without kiting checks on tomorrow's.

That was a wiggle worthy of a f*cking reptile, Harry.

-Bullock took a position? -I ain't asked Bullock!

Fool that I am, I figured I'd give you first cr*ck on the basis of our friendship.

But I guess I was mistaken.

[SPITS]

I've got an idea.

Instead of running for office and tending bar, why don't you just tend bar and let everybody punch you in the face?

Hello, Jane.

Yeah, hello.

Several of the children's parents have told them you scouted for Custer.

I can't hear you!

Several of the children's parents have told them you scouted for Custer.

Not that the arrogant bastard ever heeded others' counsel.

Shall we fashion a story about your experiences, Jane, for the children to hear?

Do you talk this low when you're teaching the children?

Shall we fashion a story about your experiences, Jane, for the children to hear?

Uh, I best say no.

My funds just now all go for liquor.

I see.

I fine myself for swearing amongst the young.

And just now, I need my money for booze.

We'd tell your story to avoid those.

Does that Mose Manuel horrify the children?

-No. -Gives 'em bad dreams at night?

-No, the children like Mose. -I expect he pisses you off.

No. [CHUCKLES]

Well, he irritates the hell out of me.

Oh, I was just going, Sheriff.

I thought I left a bottle in here.

Must've left it in the shitpile outside.

Goodbye, Jane.

Good afternoon.

How was your meeting with Mr. Hearst?

We needn't be afraid is the main thing.

She'll not be of a sudden taken or the like.

The doctor's guaranteed it.

So when we're with her, we needn't be worried.

[FOOTSTEPS]

Do you want to keep it?

May not be a matter of my choosing.

As I suppose we both f*cking know.

I'm asking... if all the way down, you want to bring it into the world.

I want it very much.

Or if an accident befalling or fate intervening or...

However you want to f*cking put it, might find a small part of you relieved.

I want my baby.

Then you're gonna lay down and be spoiled and put off proving what else you can do until after you've popped out this kid.

[GROANS]

[SHALLOW BREATHING]

[GRUNTS]

"Voters of the camp, do you see come before you some swollen and dissolute stranger?

"Do not mistake..." [GROANS]

"It is I, EB Farnum!"

Lie back, EB.

"Beaten past recognition by a candidate for another office."

Lie the f*ck back...

-[GROANS] -...and listen.

I need your truthful reply.

Lie, I will know it, and death will be no respite.

I told Hearst nothing of Bullock and the widow.

I will profane your f*cking remains, EB.

-Not my remains, Al. -Gabriel's trumpet will produce you from the ass of a pig.

You told me not to tell him, and I didn't.

I believe you.

My pain is such that gives me no solace.

Try not to blame Bullock for presuming it was you, considering your f*cking history.

Anyways, tonight's speeches are f*cking canceled.

-Nurse your f*ckin' wounds. -Thank you.

I do not mean here.

All right. Let me collect myself. [CHUCKLES]

Cocksuckers.

[SHUDDERS]

-[WHORES LAUGHING] -[DOOR SHUTS]

[PIANO MUSIC PLAYING]

Say what you have to say...

Again for Merrick, Dan. Gratis.

Uh, I'm due no special thanks, Al.

Facilitating presentation of the candidates is the honor and privilege of the press.

That's off, the presentation.

Is Farnum incapable of speech? Does Star refuse to take advantage?

-Other factors at play. -But surely Bullock and Harry Manning

-still can take to the hustings. -I got to notify the parties.

I'm an interested party too, Al, and I require explanation.

Jesus Christ. How interested are you?

Enough to bleed to keep the business from being a f*cking puppet show?

I can imagine bleeding, if first I've been made to understand.

No one asked if you could imagine bleeding, or if you'd have tumbling or somersaults or cartwheels to bring you into the lists.

Drink and f*ck on the house, but do not attempt to detain me.

In what state?

We ain't in a state, Shaunessey.

What condition? The room?

How much disarray?

No f*cking disarray.

But you nearly had brain on your walls.

Ooh!

Al: You see me empty, sir, do not pause and inquire, simply assume and refill.

[CHUCKLES]

Would you rather we spoke in private?

-f*ck, no. I'd rather the gentleman stay. -Captain Turner.

I'd rather the captain stay. Brings home I consort with my betters.

I'll not dissemble, sir, today's events have gave me pause.

Hmm. Tell me what you mean.

The b*ating of Farnum most recently.

How is Mr. Farnum?

Worse for wear, not that I'd care if he weren't in your hire.

Where does the sheriff get off taking off on one of your own?

I don't consider Bullock came here to b*at Farnum.

He and I had appointed to meet.

In my joint this morning, another of your workers

-was gut-sh*t, Mr. Hearst. -Yes, I know.

Now this wasn't some hoople-head bullshit. This had the feel of a put-up job.

I fear a plot against you.

I have learned to accept, Mr. Swearengen, that events sharing some effect on my interests does not make them part of a plot.

You ain't the center of the universe, in other words.

Exactly.

-Don't that lead you to despair? -No, sir.

[CHUCKLES] You're stronger-minded than I.

Bullock b*ating Farnum seems more likely some expression of a private feeling of his own.

That leaves the bloodshed in my bar, sir.

How do you account for that?

Nor are the Cornish well-loved as a race.

Oh, not you through the Cornish, maybe the Cornish themselves were the object of the v*olence.

They do tend to aggregate and organize

-to further their financial interests. -Unions.

Have you strong feelings on that subject?

I don't give a f*ck about unions, Mr. Hearst.

Nor do I have any objection to the k*lling of the Cornish as high-graders... Aggregating organizing cocksuckers.

But bloodletting on my premises that I ain't approved I take as a f*cking affront.

It puts me off my feed.

How do we know when you are off your feed?

You'll start to see me tearing things down.

Speeches tonight are canceled.

Unless the insult's cured by tomorrow, there'll be further tearing down.

f*ck the f*cking elections, and f*ck the agreement with Yankton.

Let the camp return to its former repute:

-unstable and unsafe for commerce. -I'm a great believer in those.

Oh, stability, sir, and commerce? I can f*cking imagine.

-Think of all they've helped you accomplish. -Shall I perceive you then as dangerous to my interests?

As capable of inconvenience and of some damage and death to those that would act against my interests, I cannot f*cking argue with dangerous.

Different from powerful though, which speaks to potency longer term.

I'd not have myself called powerful in your company or the captain's.

Then I'll hope that your insult is cured to spare the camp any danger of however brief a duration.

And to look for one f*cking instant out of the other end of the telescope, once placated...

I'm meek as a babe.

Dead.

[SIGHS]

[DOOR SLAMS]

You will want to converse with those friends of yours, Captain Turner, who argued with the Cornish.

Perhaps they'd care to pay another visit to the saloon.

I think I'll want to hear the talk.

f*cking pagan.

Tell your god to ready for blood.

Charlie: "Thank you, Sheriff Bullock.

Evening. Evening, everybody."

[MUTTERING SPEECH] "Citizens..."

Would you rather I didn't introduce you from the audience?

Is it all so hard to remember?

No, I, uh, I-I think I got it.

Unless you don't wanna.

Ought we to start soon for the hustings?

Five minutes.

Adams may default on that house.

Asks me to assume his note.

That's a very pleasant house.

Uh, I'd... never thought of myself as a homeowner.

It's very very spacious.

[KNOCKS ON DOOR]

It's Albert Swearengen.

The speeches are postponed.

Is Farnum turned for the worse?

I'd borrow the sheriff a moment.

Evening, Jane.

Mrs. Bullock asks me to author with her to give the children an account of my scouting for Custer.

I think I'd like to hear that story myself.

[SCRATCHING]

"Custer was a c**t. The end."

Yo, a piss puddle.

Must not have seen that when seating myself.

Why are you drinking so much?

I drink what I'm able.

If that comes to much... [SNIFFLES]

That's the day's affair and the liquor's.

You returning to the Bella Union?

Not tonight.

As residence and workplace is my meaning.

Those girls need looking out for.

And who will look out for you against that gut-stabbed cocksucker, weaving schemes from his coming to Jesus?

I don't know.

Why is everybody f*cking whispering all of a sudden?!

I said I don't know.

Do you mind... if I stay here tonight?

I'd be glad if you would.

I don't know why you started sleeping outside anyway.

Every day takes figuring out all over again how to f*cking live.

Night, Jane.

Yep.

Pain-in-the-balls Hearst.

Running his holdings like a despot, I grant, has a f*cking logic. It's the way I f*cking run mine.

It's the way I'd run my home if I f*cking had one.

But there's no practical need for him to run the f*cking camp.

That's out of scale, it's out of proportion and it's a warped unnatural impulse, this f*cking cocksucker!

Sorry.

Shall I go back down with you?

It won't be just now.

He'll be wanting to marshal his cutthroats.

Do stay in hailing distance.

[BLUES MUSIC PLAYING]

♪ Now look ♪

♪ If me and a grizzly's ♪

♪ Having a fight ♪

♪ No, don't you think the fight ain't fair ♪

♪ You talking 'bout helping me? ♪

♪ You better help that grizzly bear ♪

♪ I got a razor, man ♪

♪ And I got a chib, this is a cinch ♪

♪ Man, I can split a bolt of lightning ♪

♪ Before lightning could move a inch. ♪