Deadwood s01e07 Episode Script

Bullock Returns to the Camp

That's what McCall was ridin'.
All right.
Evening.
Evening back.
Look at that paint, Charlie.
I seen it.
I had a happy just like that.
Foundered.
Makes me miserable reminiscing on it.
Do you know the owner? If he'd sell the horse is what he really wants to know.
Well, I don't know if he'd sell.
But the fuckin' jerk's in that bunkhouse.
- Thank you.
- Evenin'.
Jack McCall.
I'm done.
I don't wanna play no more.
Bein' a loudmouth cunt, I guess some time since he's been here, this fella who don't wanna play no more probably spoke of killin' Wild Bill Hickok.
Well, we're Bill Hickok's friends.
- I'm Seth Bullock.
- I'm Charlie Utter.
And if you got your head blown off sittin' here with your back turned, that'd be as fair a play as you gave him.
Guess you wanna soften him up some before you make your offer? My plan is to take him to Yankton for trial.
If you got a different idea, you can ride ahead.
Nah.
Let's take the cocksucker to Yankton.
I don't know of a Henry Anderson in camp, but that don't mean there ain't.
This was took of him in the Union Army.
He'd be 12 years older now.
Could you let her hold it? With so much showing, it's pretty near fallin' apart.
Here.
Third from the middle.
Right uh right there? Yeah.
That face don't don't look familiar.
Thanks for lookin'.
You definite he's in these hills? Wrote from Bismarck, said he'd send for us when he got set up.
I just gotta say it's no guarantee your dad's anywhere near this area.
And there's no fuckin' joy in me telling you that, but it's the goddamned truth and the way human beings are.
- Said he'd send for our mother and us.
- Is your mama here? She passed.
Sorry.
Well, good luck.
Do you know of of work for me? - No.
- She can get work right here.
- No, sir.
- No, thank you.
- Can you push a broom? - And I could start now.
Four bits a day.
I bet you'd like the first in advance.
If you wouldn't mind.
Same for her, as regrets for me being such a ruffian.
Here you go, honey.
If I don't fire him first, you can pick him up at 10:00.
Thank you, sir.
I'll wait for you, Miles.
Find a safe place to wait, you hear? We teach a special sweepin' technique here.
Follow her lead.
It's all right, son.
It's all right.
Um excuse me.
I'm required to be at the graveyard.
The Widow Garret is laying her husband to rest.
I'd have bet a month's wages that burial would've took place in New York City, if I had a fuckin' payin' job.
The uh wet cloth to his lips seems to give him some relief.
- All right.
- Thank you.
What do you think of my patient, Doc? You might wanna steer clear of his reflection for a while, but you're symptom-free.
You ain't contagious no more and you can't get re-infected, so Them as heals under my care stay fuckin' healed.
Thanks, Doc.
I got clothes for you back here.
Hereafter in Calamity, I'll be sure to call for Jane.
You gonna stick around the camp? I believe I will for a while.
Good, 'cause I wanna monitor your activities, find out what you do that weighs so heavy on your conscience.
When I first come on you in the woods, all you could say was, "I apologize.
" Before you exhibit your Johnson, I'm gonna see to this fella.
So long.
Good luck to you.
- Good luck to you.
- All right.
- You're on your own for alterations.
- Hmm.
Now I'm gonna lay this cloth on your fuckin' lips.
There's Mr.
Star to collect us.
Mr.
Star has been ever so attentive.
- Very considerate.
- To you.
When we leave the hotel, my boss will be watchin'.
Shall I reel and stagger? I I know the risk lying to him has put you to.
I've I can't imagine why I'd make it the subject of humor.
You're feeling better.
- Am I early? - Good morning, Mr.
Star.
I'll be ready in just a moment.
- I can have a cup of coffee downstairs.
- No, not at all.
Wait, wait in here, with Trixie.
I'll just be a moment.
That widow ain't high.
Maybe waiting till after the service.
When she'd wanna get good and fucking loaded is before the fucking service, against all the fucking carrying on.
- What do you think? - Makes sense.
Meaning all that whore's been telling me the last 10 fucking days about seeing the widow taking the dope, and your own fucking assurances, you verify that she's loaded personally you're both full of shit.
I checked in on the woman daily.
If I was fooled, perhaps I've chosen simplemindedness, Al, over realizing a certain friend has used me as an instrument of purposes he concealed.
Say what you're gonna say, or prepare for eternal fucking silence.
I don't believe you commissioned me to make an offer on the widow's claim to keep the regulators off you, Al.
I think someone found something out there you want.
Assume you ain't been privy to the ins and outs of that matter for the sake of fucking conversation, huh? I mean, was I asleep, E.
B.
, when you and me declared undying loyalty and full faith mutual disclosure about every fucking detail of every fucking move - we were ever gonna make together? - You used me as a pawn, Al.
And you fucked up the game is the central fucking present issue.
We agreed on 2,000.
You want a fucking percentage instead? Is that such an inconceivable proposition? - Yeah, you got a percentage, E.
B.
- How big? half a percent after.
You wanna feel a damp palm, Al, select either of these hands.
Just get to the funeral, E.
B.
Go to 20 if you have to.
Just get that fucking claim.
My word.
What a handsome man.
Wish I could tell you I recognize him.
Thank you anyway.
- Your dad, I expect.
- Yes.
You have reason to think he's out here? He wrote us from Bismarck he'd be prospecting the hills.
- "Us" being? - My brother.
He just got work over here.
Good for him.
So it's just the two of you? Our mother passed, why we come from Buffalo.
- You're out here looking for your dad.
- Yes.
- Uh, Henry? - Yes.
Out here looking for her father, Eddie.
Her and her older brother.
Got a photograph, I don't I don't recognize the likeness.
No.
- Henry Anderson? - Yes.
- Yeah, I don't recognize him.
- Mm.
What are you gonna do while your brother works? Work too, while we're looking to set aside, if we have to move on.
Ah, if Dad doesn't turn up here.
Yeah, what do you do? Cook, clean, sew, sweep.
Uh-huh.
- How quick do you learn? - Guess I learn pretty quick.
Maestro.
We are strangers and sojourners.
Mr.
Garret's burial place is a great distance from New York City.
But his heart Ingrid Marta.
- And on the great day - Mama.
- His Father will take him into it.
- Papa.
As He will all who confess His Son savior from wherever we may be put to rest.
Our hymn is "A Mighty Fortress.
" d A mighty fortress is our God d d A bulwark never failing d - My sympathies, madam, - d Our helper d but, my own requirements force me to ignore what's seemly.
I must decide where to place my capital.
Might raising my offer to say, $19,500, uh, prompt you to an immediate answer? - No, Mr.
Farnum.
- d Doth seek to work us woe d d Lord Sabbath, His name d - d His craft and power d - I would as soon not see Bill now.
I'll see him some other time.
Come on.
d On earth is not His equal d I will require a decision within 24 hours Please, stop speaking to me, Mr.
Farnum.
d Did we in our own strength confide d d Our striving would be losing d d Were not the right man by our side d d The man of God's own choosing.
d I hope you ain't gived up on that little runt of a girl, Al.
Oh, do you worry for her, Dan? Wandering the muck of our thoroughfare, her tiny self all but swallowed up in horseshit? Hey, kid! Come here.
- Yes, sir? - Stand with us here a second.
What are what are we doing? Waiting.
And out the door he'll go, and prompt as a Swiss fucking timepiece three big-tittied whores will now emerge from behind that screen.
He lines 'em up at two-foot intervals, smock tops down, and all but sprints past 'em, giving their titties a lick.
And if he misses a titty, does not let himself retrace his steps.
- Don't tell me.
- Yeah, then he goes on his way home, relieved for the day.
What's your name? It's Miles, huh? - Miles, yeah.
- Yeah.
Strange, huh, Miles? But something you gotta know about specialists.
They pay a premium and they never cause fucking trouble.
I sometimes imagine in my declining years running a small joint in Manchester, England, catering to specialists exclusive.
And to let 'em know they're amongst their own, I'll operate from the corner, hanging upside down like a fucking bat, hmm? - We're not such bad sorts here, huh? - No, sir.
So do you wanna ask your sister if she'd like to reconsider, hmm? - You don't really mean that.
- Of course I don't mean it.
How dare you suggest I'd mean a thing like that, huh? I did my part.
Raised our offer to 20 and demanded answer within the day.
But what, you cocksucker? Complications have ensued: Bullock's come back.
I expect she'll wanna take counsel with him.
Tell the whore I wanna see her.
And I trust this doesn't alter our agreement.
I trust you know That fella from Montana I knew to trust won't be able to assay your claim.
I see.
We'll engage someone local, and I'll keep an eye on him.
As I've decided to stay in camp, Mr.
Bullock, at least for the near term, I hope you'll feel absolved of those responsibilities towards my interest that you undertook at Mr.
Hickok's request.
I prefer to see 'em through.
They're properly mine.
I even feel marginally capable of shouldering them and I certainly realize that you and Mr.
Star have responsibilities of your own.
Are you firing me, Mrs.
Garret? I'm offering you absolution.
Otherwise I'm staying on.
I'm so sorry you were hurt.
So, how hard are they coming at you to sell? I could confide that in an effort to blur my judgment, Mr.
Swearengen engaged intermediaries to indulge me with opium.
But that would entail acknowledging that I've had a weakness in that direction.
Uh more appropriately, uh, I could add at the graveyard Mr.
Farnum raised his offer $7,500, presumably also on Mr.
Swearengen's instruction, and set a 24-hour limit to my reply.
Under the circumstances, I'd say that's coming pretty hard.
Please forgive me for making you uncomfortable, Mr.
Bullock.
I had better manners before I began to abstain.
That's all right.
Anyways, are you at risk for the smallpox? I was inoculated in New York City.
The child whose life you saved presumably has not been, but I assume she's safer under my care than traveling in a covered wagon with strangers.
Anyways, I'll line up the assayer.
Thank you.
You are changed.
You seem to be too.
Our stock's depleted, but we are offering a 100% discount on any item that catches your eye.
I've got money.
Our special get- acquainted-with-those- we'd-like-to-get- acquainted-with sale.
Mr.
Utter.
I brought these pickaxes for you to sell.
There's two sifters on that black cayuse out there.
Mighty grateful, sir.
You got this place just about built, don't you? Saving the last master-strokes for Seth.
Oh, hello.
I didn't see you.
Hello.
Hey, that's that little girl, isn't it? Taking care of her for Mrs.
Garret.
As much as she favors you, she could be yours.
I lost the receipts for my costs.
Maybe while you was busy saving my partner's life.
Let me get these sifters for you.
See if you can make those accounts add up.
I don't know if you heard me inside thanking you for helping my friend.
I heard you.
It's all right.
I'm sorry you lost yours.
All right.
Thank you.
Welcome back, Mr.
Utter.
We've had a mild increase in rates, but I do have a room available.
I'll see.
What do you want, Mr.
Farnum? I have a message for Trixie that's looking to that orphan child.
- She's to see her longer-term employer.
- I'll tell her.
You know who that is? I know she works at The Gem.
And even so, admit her to your trade at public hours.
Congratulations, sir, on your advanced thinking.
Al wants you, Trixie.
Stickler for self-delivered messages.
Our dad ain't here.
I know it, even if my brother don't.
Maybe he never even tried to get here.
Or maybe he did try to get here and couldn't, maybe something happened to him.
There's so many ways it could be, Flora, it's not much point deciding which it was.
He'd never think that, though, my brother.
Must be how he needs to do.
I ain't a virgin if you wanna know that.
I had a boyfriend in Buffalo.
Well, was you upset to have to leave him? - What do you think? - I don't know.
I was upset.
At the same time he was a stupid son of a bitch.
And rough.
Here.
You can't tell my brother about him.
He'd make it back to Buffalo and shoot Lewis in the head.
All that way in defense of your virtue? That's more trouble than I ever took with it.
Cy.
Lazarus risen.
Look at you, you son of a gun.
Hello, Cy.
Good to see you, Andy.
Don't be afraid to shake with me, Eddie.
I ain't contagious no more.
Highly becoming outfit.
I'm here for my belongings.
Look they're gone, Andy.
Measures to stop the spread.
Ah hell, the important thing is you're well.
I'll front you whatever you need.
Let's get something going, hmm? - Andy? - In the flesh, sweetheart.
- Which ain't much to look at.
- You made it, Andy.
Oh, and we ain't getting nothing going.
All I come back for, Cy, was my things, and you tossed them too.
Why don't you take this and get yourself outta that clown outfit? Once you've cooled off a little, think how you'd have done different when somebody showed up in the shape you was in and my responsibilities to meet.
Better than to throw him in the woods to fucking die? Then don't think about nothing, Andy.
Use the money for a whore and a toot and go join the fucking circus.
Did you turn her out? Her brother's gonna be a problem.
Fuck her brother.
We'll handle the brother if we have to kill the cocksucker.
That's an interesting piece of strange.
Ain't you a picture? - What is it? - Hmm? Oh, am I detaining you in some way? Am I fucking imposing? Mrs.
Garret's to sit down with Bullock.
I thought you'd want me over there.
Oh yeah, so you can bring me a full and fair report, huh? But will the widow have her wits about her, Trixie, huh? Or will they be passing the opium pipe like heathens between 'em, her and fucking Bullock, hmm? - What're you pissed off for? - I ain't pissed off.
I'm in fucking wonderment.
I'm waiting to be kept happy by the next fucking fairy tale.
Do you want me back at the hotel or do you wanna do something to me? Now why would I want you to go back there, huh? Or rely on anything you said transpired after you lied about her taking dope, huh? Her being high wasn't gonna have nothing to do with whether or not she sold you that claim, and she wanted to get off the dope.
And that little one needs someone to care for her and maybe get her the fuck outta here.
And I knew it wasn't gonna be me.
So you want me back over there and to tell you what they fucking decide? Or do you wanna rip my fucking guts out? You get back there quick.
Don't kid yourself, Trixie.
Don't get a mistaken idea.
Mr.
Utter.
This is where Bill got killed, huh? Uh I'll be sorry about that for as long as I live.
Can you tell me about it? Yeah.
It it was about sun-up over at that Bella Union joint, Mr.
Hickok plum gutted McCall at draw.
And now here Mr.
Hickok was at poker again.
Say a couple hours of daylight left and in come that coward McCall.
Walked up on him and shot him in the head.
Bill never know when he come in.
Uh, those of us that did, we didn't have no inkling of what he intended.
He just murdered him, right where he sat.
If I may, sir This is here where Wild Bill was sitting when McCall entered from the front, approached the table, causing no apprehension 'cause he had often frequented the game.
Of a sudden, McCall produced a revolver and shouting "Take that, damn you!" He fired.
Muzzle couldn't have been three inches from Wild Bill's head.
Now I'm told that Hickok fell dead immediately, but I won't testify to it, because the bullet, after it passed through Wild Bill's brain, struck me in my right wrist, and I lost several seconds to pain before regaining my senses.
Sir, you have my word as eyewitness to the rest, and I suppose this wound as added proof for the doctors they feared crippled me in the hand I use to write.
I will take the murderer's bullet to my grave.
Thanks.
Aces over eights, as I just now recall.
That is the hand that Wild Bill had.
Sure, Captain.
Sure.
You like how that falls? Sure.
- Do you like it, Flora? - Why not? I'd prefer you happy, honey, but if you can't be, you need to pretend at it better than you're doing or you're gonna be hungry and cold and getting done to you for nothing outside what you'd have made money to live on and save up besides if you acted the part in here.
I thought I only had to act it with them that wanna stick it in me.
You never know who that might be, Flora.
There you go.
I prefer you happy.
Or at least pretending better? I think he's dead, Doc.
Could you tell the litter bearers not to make so much of getting this one outta here? - Has young Joey gone to dust? - Yeah.
As flesh must, to be restored by the Savior's return.
Oh, Mr.
Bullock is back among us, and also, also Mr.
Utter.
Does Charlie know about Bill? They were together, Mr.
Bullock and he.
They'd captured Jack McCall.
I hope that's only the beginning of what they fucking did to him.
- Gave him over to federal authorities.
- Gave him over? - Rendered unto Caesar.
- Jesus Christ.
Mr Mr.
Bullock was struck by an Indian's axe.
Marked like the first-born of Adam and Eve.
- Are you drunk? - No.
- What the fuck is that? - He's all right.
All right, Reverend.
All right, Reverend.
All right.
You're all right, Reverend.
All right.
He marks us sinful and forgiven by confession.
All right.
He has told us and shown us.
He has told me.
All right.
You listen to me now, Reverend.
You are goddamn exhausted, and you give yourself no respite.
These seizures may owe something to that, but it also wouldn't surprise me if you had a lesion in your goddamn head, and that's what's giving you the seizures and generating your chats with the goddamn divinity.
No goddamn offense intended.
- None taken, sir.
- Now get outta here, - and get yourself some rest! - Go on, Reverend.
Doc's tired too, the only reason he's talking so fucking harsh.
Could not the lesion be the instrument of God's instructive intention, Doctor, if I am so afflicted? Well, of course it could, His ways not being ours and so forth.
But could He not, Reverend, just want you getting out of here and getting yourself some goddamn rest? - You have to go now.
- We don't have to do nothing, I'd pay the same price just to sit with you.
My brother works in this place up here, and he keeps a hard watch.
If you wanna stick it in me tomorrow, you better let me go in by myself.
- What time are you gonna start? - 11:00, I guess.
I'll be receiving around noon.
All right, Flora.
Here's a dollar anyway.
You're swell.
Evening.
Evening, miss.
- You're early.
- Yes.
- I guess no luck finding your dad.
- No, no luck.
I knew you would've had a cheerier look on your face if you had.
Let me get you a place to sit away from these rough sons of bitches.
Hey! Do your drinking at the bar or get the fuck out of here! You have a seat here.
I'll get you a beverage.
Do you want a soft cider or a sarsaparilla? - Cider if it's not a trouble.
- Soft cider.
Did she find her dad? Her chances of finding her dad are greater than yours of walking out of this door upright, unless you shut your fucking mouth.
You got it? Swearengen's had his hand on the tiller far as getting dealing with this epidemic.
Is that so? Yeah, the dead don't drink or chase women must be his thinking on that subject.
That Indian fought like hell.
I'd guess you did too.
Charlie figured out how it must have been.
The Indian had to kill me for coming on the burial place, and maybe it had been me, too, that killed his friend, cut his friend's head off so he wouldn't have eyes to see the sunset all those years he'd be lying there dead.
So he had to kill me for that too.
And he couldn't before he'd laid hands on me or the killing wouldn't be honorable.
We fought like fucking hell, I'll tell you that much, and I never once had the upper-hand.
It just happened out the way it happened out.
He was just trying to live, same as me, and do honor to his friend, and make some fucking sense out of things.
And we wind up that way, and I wind up after beating him till I couldn't recognize his face.
For Christ's sake! That Indian saved Jack McCall's life, - I'll tell you that fucking much.
- Not for long.
Brian MacDonald's not coming.
I want his recommendation who should assay that widow's claim.
- Whose? - Swearengen's.
Shit, Seth.
Get his opinion, too, who should guard that henhouse we're gonna build.
So are you okay? - Yes, and you? - Yes.
They're nice here.
And Mr.
Swearengen, he's funny as all get-out.
So what place would make a better score? Where I'm working.
But why not take 'em both? - Could we have a private talk? - Sure we can.
- Should I be armed? - Where do you wanna talk? Come here.
What do you think of that? I think that son of a bitch better stop looking evil at that little girl.
So was it McCall improved your appearance? No.
Whoever got the job done, I hope you gave as good as you got.
It's good to have you back, with me being superstitious and all hell breaking loose when you left.
I'm here to talk about Mrs.
Garret.
They planted her husband this morning? I wrote a man about coming to assay her claim, - but he can't make it.
- Plenty of local alternatives.
I want you to nominate someone.
Do you? So if any way his work was mistaken, I'd be coming after you.
- You would? - Yeah.
Since I got nothing to do with the venture, what if I decline to make the recommendation? Then you better hope whoever I find does his job right, 'cause I'm still holding you accountable.
I ain't involved.
E.
B.
Farnum offered on her claim.
Farnum's your water-boy and I know what you've been trying to do to her.
So here you come in all nobility threatening me with a dire result if the property of that widow's husband thought worthless from when it sold, turns out not to be pinched out.
You and I know how it is, Mr.
Swearengen.
- How what is? - She gets a square shake, or I come for you.
What if I come for you? Are you ready for that? I guess I'd better be.
Then close your fucking store, 'cause being ready for me will take care of your waking hours and you better have someone to hand the task off to when you close your eyes.
We understand each other.
Al! Al! Jesus fucking Christ! Walk right past me, Your Holiness, so I can shut my fucking office.
Al! Go on! Stare at her now! Huh? You like fucking little girls? Take a look at that little girl 'cause she's the last thing you're ever gonna see.
- Stare at her now, cocksucker.
- Let him down! Let him fucking down! Or should I have had him hold him up? You heard what I said about the widow.
Oh yes, Your Holiness.
You heard me too.
So I take it this was a fair fucking fight, yeah? Yeah! That's right! Two free drinks for everybody.
And drinks all night for them that help with the disposal.
That's me! I'm sorry that you had to see that.
Shut the fuck up, Dan, and get her the fuck away from here now! Come on.
I'm sorry, Mr.
Swearengen.
I warned him not to look at her.
I warned him.
Fucking pussy.
That Joey passed this afternoon.
Been suffering awful.
But that frog-looking fellow left the tent that I found up in the woods, left the tent fucking cure pronounced by the Doc himself.
And in the dumbest looking outfit a grown man ever wore.
Who's there, God damn it?! Who the hell's it look like? How the fuck do I know who it fucking looks like? It's dark! Jesus Christ, come upon a person unawares in a fucking graveyard! I heard you was back in the camp.
I heard you and that Bullock got the cocksucker did for Bill.
Was Bill dead by the time you saw him? Yeah, he was already dead.
Why did he let that son of a bitch get to him? I don't know, Charlie.
Anyways, people don't scare me past speaking, I come up here nights tell him the fucking news.
Go ahead.
Charlie avenged your fucking murder.
And that Bullock fella was with me that you seemed to like.
Although it occurred to me to wonder why they didn't do for the cocksucker right on the fucking spot.
Is that something we need to get into in front of him? You got the biggest mouth in the territory.
You talk to him.
Tell him whatever you want.
I got that mail route in Cheyenne that we talked about.
I was bringing back supplies to them hardware boys and I run into that Bullock fella.
He was out there looking for that McCall that that killed you.
And he run into some heathen boy and he had one hell of a fight.
Boy, and he just he got he got f he got f-f Fuck.
Can l can I tell him some more tomorrow? Sure, what the fuck you asking me for? I don't make the rules.
Wanna go back to the camp? Please.
And what must Mr.
Bullock have been thinking as I inflicted my personal confidences upon him? - I don't know.
- Nor do I.
At least he kept a decent privacy.
I have to go back to The Gem.
He's waiting for me now to tell him yours and Mr.
Bullock's thinking about selling the claim, and I won't be able to lie anymore.
Next I tell will be my last.
So I better just get back there.
Mr.
Swearengen discovered our deception? - Yeah.
- How? - Looking at you walk out of the hotel.
- He did not.
I was careful to see he wasn't watching in the window.
It don't matter, Mrs.
Garret.
The point is, I gotta go back.
And you need someone to look to this child, and with choices bigger elsewhere and nothing I can tell to hold you here, maybe you better think about selling and getting out.
Would you wanna take the girl and go? Where? - I have no people anywhere.
- You could go to New York.
L- I could have my relatives there see you established.
What the fuck? What would keep you here? You wanna fuck this man? Fuck him, then think about the child Don't use that language with me, Trixie, or that tone Don't you wanna say to remember my place? I do, you rich cunt.
And I'm going back to it.
She's about to say her name, you know.
She named her sisters and her folks.
Think of selling.
If you took her away, you could hear her say it.
d Old friend d d All the stories to tell d d Old friend d d Could you bid me farewell? d d Ooh, old friend d d It might be easy for another man to see d d Old fool d d All the pain and the scars d d Old fool d d Could you lay down your arms? d d Old fool d d It might be easy for another man to see d d But I think you still look a lot like me.
d