Jesus Christ!
What's wrong?
It *' hurts, Doc.
What do you think's wrong?
As the particular mix of stupidity
and self-pity that moved you is of no interest to me,
I will not put to you the question
of why you would abrade a healing wound.
I was examining myself for *' pus.
Bullshit.
I have a patient
whose shattered foot is going gangrenous.
I'll likely amputate.
He's a salesman.
His livelihood
depends on walking.
I'll return tomorrow.
If I see any further evidence of self-mutilation,
that will be the last day I treat you.
One wonders, sir,
if last evening installed in your hostel
a woman of exotic appearance,
not perhaps gypsy by extraction.
What would your business with her be
if she had?
To hear my fortune told.
There'll be none of that on these premises.
Nor were those my true intentions.
Your query is impertinent.
Is the lady here?
- 2-C. - As your faith
must proscribe receiving bribes,
credit the five toward her stay.
- Thanks so much, Aunt Lou. - All right.
You know I'll notify you first word
from the freight office about your boy's remains.
All right.
There's a stout woman, the Countess Berman,
fires and hires for the troupe.
You will meet her at the theater should you appear and apply.
The devout Shaunessey has a week in advance to your account.
Take it back from him.
I won't take money from you.
Are you not being quite absurd,
in the self-serving way of your *?
You come here penniless, a supplicant.
- For learning. - Well well well...
and to learn, must you not live?
And how will you do so amidst the thoroughfare's depravities?
Let me stay in the theater.
At a minimum, for the career to which you aspire
you show the requisite presumption.
No small part, the hotel's amelioration
under your regime.
The nigger cook, no small part.
I heard you.
Hmm, a tenant when last I was resident
in the previous regime.
I thought the evening went well.
- Wonderful. - Very much to our purposes...
the idea of us in the camp.
And what about that
beautiful harem dance
by that darling little dark-haired prostitute?
My God.
Make yourself *' small, Mrs. Ellsworth!
My goodness.
I believe someone's shooting at the former tenant.
Keep your *' head down!
Get to the *' schoolhouse! Particular attention to the foundling
and send *' Trixie over here!
Oh, just some nonsense among the ordinaries, sir.
Getting Mrs. Ellsworth under cover.
Excess of *' caution, but you yourself, sir, are absolutely safe!
Absolutely safe, sir.
Wire Bullock in Sturgis.
"Return's urgently required."
In *' generalities only,
otherwise that maniac'll come back shooting.
No, not that way. Don't want that *
knowing nothing of our business. Upstairs and *' around
you'll find the *' telegraph. Johnny.
Oughtn't someone look out for who fired?
Richardson, look into who fired.
- What was it? - The business of others.
Shall we review the bidding in my *' office?
- Oh, I need to take off my corset. - No one objects to that here.
Easily as it could have been some hooplehead,
not knowing who or what he was shooting at,
it's likely prudent to credit you as the target.
Yes.
If I'd been aimed at, of course,
dozens of authors would need be considered.
- Yes. - So I know someone's in there,
vary your replies,
such as, "Yes...
and I'd be one of them."
That wouldn't be very grateful of me.
It's horrible being shot at. Never gets no better.
- Yeah. - What the *?
Assuming she ain't got
the smell of gunpowder on her fingers,
I'm leaving you to her.
Thank you, Mr. Swearengen.
Who the * shot at her?
Who the * knows? Hearst? Her first husband's family?
They both work with the *' Pinkertons.
Maybe they're now allied.
Someone should see to the child as her *' heir.
Being looked to. Just you *' look after that one
till matters clarify. Don't think of tossing the place.
Every *' valuable's inventoried.
Get Tom Nuttall! Cheyenne's off.
God damn it! Second-rate deployment, Dan,
sending you off for reinforcements
- to come back to a camp in ruins. - I'll pack, unpack, repack.
Whoever you intended to *, send monies to bring her here.
Who I intended to * won't ride a stagecoach. Makes her puke.
Toast and eggs or toast and bacon...
she can choose or she can mix 'em,
- whatever she wants. - Why the * are you telling me?
Every step a *' adventure.
Collect *' Ellsworth. Nothing of her being shot at.
What am I to say I'm collecting him for?
- Just knock him out and bring him in. - Do you want to close?
No, I don't wanna close.
*' Hearst's to see not one single sign
on any *' front that he's had half a * hair's effect
on any of the comings and goings in this camp.
Telegram's sent to the sheriff.
Blazanov's helping Merrick dress.
Why the * would you say that to me?
Merrick... that was beat up yesterday...
is being helped
to dress by Blazanov.
Now Blazanov sent the telegram
to the sheriff,
so's Merrick could come do his part.
- All right.
Should I relieve Adams at the schoolhouse?
Please.
Let Adams come back here,
be available for whatever nefarious
*' carryings-on you assign him,
'cause I do not take orders from you.
Before she eats, she somersaults
and don't want no one to see.
In fact, I rarely eat before noon.
Well, maybe you just ain't found what you like to eat yet.
Get out, Jewel.
Did you ever have bacon?
- I very well might. - Goodbye, Jewel.
Thank you.
That was so considerate of her.
Fascinated by you.
If you saw who it was and want to say,
I wouldn't have to tell Al.
I didn't see.
And I'm very grateful
to be under Mr. Swearengen's protection.
Yeah, he's a prince.
In the sheriff's absence, I mean.
Good a place as any for you to be...
in the sheriff's absence.
She somersaulted and ate
and says her entire *' dietary outlook has changed.
What plate did she eat from?
She ate from them *' both.
What a world.
A woman in innocent transit.
A wayward shot from some watering hole,
do you suppose, prompted by a surfeit of spirits,
exuberant punctuations of some sort?
Do you believe anything you say?
I am hypothesizing.
And have you some private hypothesis as to my possible role?
- In the shooting at Mrs. Ellsworth? - In the rising of the sun.
I would hypothesize
as to the latter possibility, sir, before imagining
- you involved with the first. - Come, Jarry.
My holdings * up against hers.
I value efficiencies and economies
of consolidation.
Haven't I reason to nudge her toward a sale?
Men of a certain caliber
cannot allow fastidious morality
to distract them from the exigencies of commerce,
can they, Mr. Hearst?
And did you heave up your responsibilities
upon broad and reconciled shoulders?
- No. - Perhaps then, rather,
at this moment you are Socrates
to my Alcibiades,
taking it upon yourself to edify me.
Are you saying you want to * me?
What?
Well, you keep calling yourself Alcibiades to my Socrates.
Are you proposing some sort of a * connection between us?
I forgot that part of the story.
Wait.
But if I were courting you, Mr. Hearst,
I claim no allure of my own,
suggesting only the mutuality of our interests
concerning the upcoming elections grants my suit
some small virtue.
As you gaze upon me, sir,
recall that some unions of convenience
may outlast those conceived in passion.
Get up off your knees.
Of course.
Elections cannot inconvenience me.
They ratify my will or I neuter them.
- Compelling perspective. - Time to go back to Yankton.
- For me? - Yes.
Locked.
The troops in Sturgis will await your instructions.
Thank you very much.
"I like winter
when snow and ice cover the ground."
"I like winter
when snow and ice cover...
- What are you doing here? - Too afraid.
If you were too afraid, you wouldn't be here.
Too afraid to explain.
He's got a note pinned to him, Al.
Take it off him.
Then stick him in the eye with the * pin.
He don't mean it.
Tell him, "Nothing."
- I'll just keep quiet. - No.
Tell E.B., "Nothing's going on,"
and then tell him, "If I wanted to tell you anything,
I'd have told you. Don't send the imbecile over with no more notes."
I can't remember all that.
Can you remember, "Nothing's going on"?
- Yes. - Tell him that then.
Thank you.
The Mrs. Ellsworth was shot at?
Got her upstairs.
I figured...
we'd hunker down till matters clarify.
Lovely.
What did the geek say walking past you?
"The girls in here are pretty."
The fool husband ought soon appear.
Some small number to deal
with his dudgeon,
main force in reserve for Bullock.
Okay.
How did sentiment incline in this joint
when Bullock and Harry spoke last?
- Glad when they finished. - As to who had the upper hand?
* cross-legged pose your man struck, Tom,
may have swayed the diarrhea faction.
Creek was having its way with Harry.
The * was the logic
when he sent that giant captain to fight you?
- Get me killed. - It wasn't to get you killed.
His man finally kills you after a more or less equal fight?
I gotta go reassure my Jew.
Out of boredom's why he put that fight together.
Same with this too.
* shots at her fore and aft.
Wants to see he's made people afraid, so he knows he's a * big shot.
Exactly * correct, Tom.
If this was overture to an onslaught,
he'd have let them pistoleros loose by now
to start the actual killing.
That's the keenest of * assessments.
Mightn't that argue for my trip to Cheyenne?
He ain't waiting no * week, Dan.
I leave here full of confidence knowing you're all thinking in concert.
But I'd as soon not die fighting
25 against four... you being my missing fifth,
the equal of 10 of Hearst's * mercenaries, and Bullock,
who's no * slouch either,
if he ever gets the * back,
bringing the odds closer to even.
Well, her Jew's got sand
if you tell him where to point the gun.
I'd trust a * wire to Cheyenne if I knew someone to send it to.
Far as that, there's Hawkeye.
You were told never to say his name.
Well, now I did.
And I'd trust him to hire the guns.
And the hiring to take place where?
Up that squaw's * he's *?
Squaw's in Lead, not Cheyenne.
Did he take vows of abstinence in Cheyenne?
Do they let him have wires in his monastery?
I'd trust Hawkeye... once he learned the situation...
to hire the guns without stealing,
to herd 'em back here to help us out,
not stopping to get laid in Lead.
- Can Hawkeye read? - He can,
and I can put my words such in the wire,
he'll take my meaning and prying *s won't.
Go get the * Russian, send the * wire.
- Out the front or by the stairs? - By the stairs,
by the * stairs.
We want his piss pot's play hours
occupied by confusion and grievance.
We want him sitting,
sulking like a three-year-old
whose toys won't do his bidding.
I had a * jack-in-the-box.
I'd turn and turn
and turn that * handle, and the jack,
he'd never jump.
If she'd complete her walk to the bank...
she'd confound this motherless *.
Tea for two, Jewel, on a * tray!
When did you start giving that * Swearengen
a "by your leave" and "if you * say so"?
Jane.
All's I asked, Jane,
did he know you was relieving me?
Maybe Swearengen's coordinating strategy
'cause the sheriff being gone campaigning
his deputy didn't jump to take charge.
We just thought we could release you
to other responsibilities, Mr. Utter,
and I could run get you if they hetted up.
Assuming the unlikely need.
All right.
That's how you have to * deal with him.
*.
how you doing, Ellsworth?
What the * did you hit me for?
You realize that was me?
You think I'm asking out of general suspicion?
All right, I'll, uh... I'll tell you what happened,
fill you in on the full * circumstance.
Now, uh...
Mrs. Ellsworth is completely safe.
Calm down or I will hit you over the * head again,
maybe use some more of them spirits
- under your goddamn nose. - What happened?
Well...
there was some
completely-no-*- damage-done gunfire
taken at Mrs. Ellsworth fore and aft.
- But she... she couldn't be no better. - I'll kill that *.
You get out of my way, or I'll kill you * first.
Put up a struggle, Ellsworth... it's stupid goddamn thinking.
Why would they take shots at Mrs. Ellsworth fore and aft
when they could have just blowed her * head off?
- Goddamn it. - Calm down and think about it!
They took shots at her fore and aft so that you would come running,
so they could do to you what they could have done to her but they didn't.
And to Bullock too, maybe.
So do you see how goddamn irresponsible it would have been of me
to allow you full * conscious movement?
Do you see?
Now...
I'm gonna cut loose them throttles,
but you best not make me regret it.
Them shots were meant
for maybe rethinking your tenure here, huh?
Maybe too, in the aftermath,
the shots' author designed
Mr. Ellsworth would be moved to take steps, or Sheriff Bullock would,
that'd justify a violent answer.
The author being Mr. Hearst.
Him, or him having made cause
with your first husband's family,
Pinkertons presiding over the vows.
We've wired Bullock to counsel restraint.
We've Ellsworth trussed up downstairs.
Little in the past commends me to your trust.
I'd ask you, accepting the premise
that you were bait, not quarry...
complete your walk to the bank.
Get that * angler fulminating,
tangling his * tackle
- and the * like. - Mr. Swearengen.
I'm sorry.
I'm quite all right.
I thank God for it.
And I'd be glad to keep you company
the rest of your day.
I'd be glad if you'd join me at the bank
in a few minutes' time,
having made my way to the bank alone.
Why in heaven's name would you want to do that?
To demonstrate
his tactic's failure
and to bid defiance to him who shot at me.
I got an idea who had you shot at.
Wouldn't mind killing him, even if I'm wrong.
If the shots meant not to harm me but to provoke certain others,
wouldn't attempting that be playing
into our adversary's strategy?
If it ends with one between Hearst's eyes,
let me play to his strategy and welcome.
I hope instead you'd have dinner tonight
with Sofia and me,
all of us having passed
the interval uneventfully.
In any case,
please accede to my walking to the bank alone.
I'd not have you step
one more foot forward, Ellsworth.
As I * understand.
For Mr. Swearengen.
Last man took a note for you to Swearengen
wound up dead.
The man you refer to knew the note he bore
might bring about that outcome.
This note's import's more innocuous.
Will it make you less afraid to read it?
I ain't afraid. I guess I made a poor joke.
- You do read. - Sure, sure I do.
Read the note then.
- It's good. - Out loud, so I know you can.
- I made a poor joke... - Out loud, to prove you are lettered
and not a liar unfit for my employ!
"Thanks from all for your rescue
of Mrs. Ellsworth.
Who could have shot at her?
Do you wish her guarded
at the bank with the sheriff away?
I saw you let her walk alone.
Answer via bearer."
You don't read easily, do you?
Why don't you come to my office
while I compose my reply?
I'd have asked Jewel ask her,
if I thought to ask,
if I'd foreseen in time.
You'd have only put Jewel in a position...
She talks to Trixie, the bank woman. Why wouldn't she talk to us?
'Cause she has something to say to Trixie.
We'd just be asking conversation
that she wouldn't know where to begin with.
Philadelphia's where she's from.
It's what we could've had as a subject.
Got beautiful gracious manners there.
Philadelphia, its many gracious attractions.
Her dress, her comportment.
She'd have * talked to us.
May we speak?
You stand in the hallway addressing me in my room.
Yes.
The girl who danced last evening,
- vagabond sort, hodgepodge costume... - I know who you mean.
She'll be staying in the theater,
possibly joining the troupe.
Knowing precious little at all events,
of the course now charting I know absolutely
- nothing at all. - You seem to know what it means for us.
Knowing you, I suppose I do,
swearing I've laid
no carnal hand to her.
What does installing her accomplish acknowledging me could not?
Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.
That I'm old,
that I've lost my belly for sham.
Every drawing I made in this sketchbook,
every one I've dreamed of painting from,
near a home where we'd live.
Say at least
I never asked it of you.
You'd have me say that
on the day you ask it of someone else?
Shall I have these?
No.
Paint every * one, Mary.
How well do you know the other guy?
Who would that be?
That my man Dority killed... the captain.
We served in the 69th in New York.
- Was that a Mick regiment? - Mm-hmm.
- What were you doing? - Cutting throats.
I was asking whose flag you were under.
The famous *s Brigade.
Is that so?
Command of the All-Whore Detachment.
Distress you
when my man downed your friend?
Let me tell you something, Mr. Swearengen:
You don't scare me, and you don't * know
what happened with the 69th New York.
I will tell you this:
I didn't like what happened to Joe Turner.
Mr. Hearst came to him
and said, "Make it last,
even if you gain the upper hand and can kill him."
And I think that was halfway selfish of Mr. Hearst,
whereas Joe could have killed your man and didn't,
and look how it wound up.
But that's as much I feel like saying,
and that's neither here nor * there.
Fair enough.
All right then.
All right.
But I'll tell you this:
You don't seem halfway like such a halfway bad * person.
So should I tell Mr. Hearst that there's no messa...
So you'd shoot at a * woman?
Beat that poor newspaper bastard?
Scare that Chinese with your * horses?
How many ribs you think you broke?
Aw, I feel like I broke two or three ribs.
I'm talking about that newspaperman's ribs,
you * *.
I prayed it would pass!
But it's a constant
* sore spot and throb.
"You are a constant vision before me,
you and your fabulous bosoms.
I beg you, release your man stallion
from his he-stable
for another gallop round the ring."
Not today, Con.
- Tomorrow? - Come back tomorrow.
- Any particular time? - Late in the day.
Perfect! We'll be waiting.
Listen to me, listen to me,
and I'll tell you one * thing. Do you hear me?
I don't hear nothing.
I'm telling you that I'm gonna tell you one * thing.
- All right. - Do you hear me?
What the *? I'm not * deaf.
I want...
I want to know that I'm gonna be * heard,
that what I have to * say will matter,
will have some result.
'Cause if not...
then what's the * point?
All right...
then I'm not gonna say * anything.
What do you think of that?
He sent for more guns.
He wired for more Pinkertons.
They're on the way, and I told you that.
If he finds out I told you...
- Don't worry. - You won't tell him?
You might want to close the * door.
Who the * are you?
Janine, that's Sara's friend from Cincinnati.
That's a stupid name for a whore.
Makes the tricks feel like they're stammerers.
Ja-ni-ni-nine-nine-nine, like they're in the * Alps.
You can call me whatever you want.
Well, let's call you Stupid
until we can think of something better.
You miss Cincinnati, Janine-nine-nine-nine-nine?
Are you afraid of * Deadwood?
Do you miss your mom and dad?
Do you have one of each?
Are they aboveground, do you know?
Oh...
do I see the beginnings of a tear
in the corner of your left eye?
- I'm all right. - For the purposes of our discussion.
As much as anyone cares, is my meaning.
All right, Stupid.
Con'll advance you $5 against your first evening's *.
Don't do no dope with Leon.
Welcome to the Bella Union.
Close the * door, Stupid!
He's got 25 more guns coming,
25 Pinkertons.
When they get here, he's gonna move on the camp.
Before the elections?
25 Pinkertons already.
He had 25 on the way,
and 100 at his operation.
Before or after the elections?
I don't know. I don't know.
Please don't hurt me.
It's all I * know.
Come on, come on. Don't give up hope.
Passing a little wind.
Yes.
Yes, come in.
Mr. Hearst.
Have you enjoyed yourself today, Farnum?
For reasons I find elusive,
the day has quite displeased me.
What will help you find a name for your feelings?
Shall we cut open your belly for you to wrap your guts around a pole?
- You seem distraught. - I am not!
I await an outcome!
- And the readying for it wearies me. - Oh, dear.
Have you smelt human flesh on the spit?
- How would I have? - I know the smell.
You have been to and fro in the world.
It pleased me to find out.
Well then, fine.
- Don't you want to wipe that off? - No?
You would regret my coming back
and finding that you had cleaned your face.
I understand.
Dan, Johnny.
He doesn't want you to dirty your hands.
All that shouting...
"You're a * for hire to shoot at women" and the like...
just trying to frighten you a little,
encouraging you to chat.
Who amongst us hasn't wanted to shoot at women once or twice, hmm?
Anything you want to say else before I let you rest,
knowing I don't sit upon you in judgment?
Did he come to you by a different path, Mr. Hearst?
Did he somehow circumnavigate
to bring my reply to you without me seeing?
What are you talking about?
Your man went out the back of my * place,
and I've been hoping against hope for reasons beyond my understanding
that it was to return to you unseen by me.
He has not returned.
Jesus Christ, maybe he was telling the truth...
that he was lighting out for * Bismarck.
Jesus Christ Almighty!
Did you and he have some kind of misunderstanding, sir,
that he took for pretext the letter's delivery
to make his * escape?
Well, then I say, Mr. Hearst,
you are well the * rid of that *,
that he'd show so little loyalty or sense of responsibility
to the delivery of communications.
Jesus Christ Almighty, where do we find good help?
Oh, and in reply to your letter, sir,
my opinion only, she don't need no escort or guarding,
but it's the kind of generous inquiry I'd expect you to make.
How's your back, Mr. Hearst?
How's the * back there, pal?
Wu.
Longest a rug's lasted so far.
What's going on, Charlie?
Some * day.
It was a good day.
I only wish some of Hearst's pistoleros
had come to test our mettle.
Once my Derringer was empty, you would have been firing for the both of us.
And equal to the task, believe you * me.
Not that I wouldn't have regretted them children having to witness.
- Can I tell you something? - Okay.
Some stupid * thing.
Stupid * dream I had.
Okay.
I dreamed last night
I was clamoring up a * creek bank,
which is often required of a drunk.
It was dark, and I couldn't tell where I was
till I cleared the bank
and come face to face with Charlie Utter's ugly mug.
Now Charlie's, as usual, on the lookout for Bill
that's, as usual too,
losing at poker inside the joint we're outside of.
"Where are we, Charlie?" This could be any * place
the last number of years.
And he said, "Jane, don't you know
this is the Number Ten Saloon here in the camp
where Bill's gonna * get killed soon?"
"Jesus Chri... how do you know, Charlie?" I asked him.
He said, "Don't you know,"
he says, "Some point we know these * things?
Don't you know
the world says its * name to us?"
"What the *?
What the * do I have to dream about this for,"
I say to Charlie, "Wasn't I miserable enough?"
"Jane," * Charlie says to me,
"Don't you know this is the night you couldn't look out
for that little girl when you was at Cochran's,
and Swearengen come in and scared you
and you went down to the creek to weep?
That's where the * you're coming from.
And don't you know," he says,
"this is the night you spirit that child from Cochran's,
and to where our stock was outside of camp,
and we watched out on that little girl
and sung to her, and you,
with the presence of mind to continue
the * round when I was too * stupid?
And you said you would...
and I said...
and we had this..."
"Now," Charlie says to me,
"don't you understand
what I'm trying to tell you?
Any evenings in your life you made mistakes,
remember where even evenings
you was as most ashamed
as you ever thought you could ever be
are able to wind up,
and don't * only remember the middle
of the * dream!"
If I wonder why I dreamed that dream...
To spare you surprise on our advent
at the theater in the morning,
I tell you here and now
that you will come upon a certain person...
a woman who will be joining us.
Who is she? Where has she performed?
I believe her name is Joseanne.
- She is French? - I believe.
- I know she's spent time in Paris. - Where has she performed?
She has performed nowhere
that we would have knowledge of,
- to my knowledge. - Joseanne?
- Yes. - Living at the theater?
- Temporarily. - To be installed thereafter where?
Shut up! I won't have it,
this getting off on the wrong foot.
So you commit us to a long relation
- with Joseanne. - You will find her
at the goddamn theater in the morning is what I mean!
And I won't have this goddamn wrong-footedness.
Thank you, Richardson.
Mean-spirited is what I mean.
A lack of generosity.
Selfishness.
Don't you think it all has an effect...
on your performance?
Does this performance seem genuine?
Situation being fluid and not likely to get less so for a while,
I went ahead and reordered hames.
Steve, made imbecile by that horse's hoof,
he couldn't authorize it.
But I went ahead and assumed
whoever finally takes the livery over
might want a restock of hames. So I ordered 'em.
Let us give thanks.