Deadwood s02e01 Episode Script
A Lie Agreed Upon (1)
- Morning.
- Good morning, Mr.
Bullock.
"Ox, box, fox.
" - Mr.
Bullock.
- Good morning.
Good morning, Sofia.
Sorry to interrupt your lesson.
We're finished.
No, we're not, Sofia, and we'll continue downstairs.
Hills get divided into three counties.
Each county has a commissioner.
- Appointed by fucking who? - The governor.
When the fuck does that happen? It already did.
Anyone I know? They're all from Yankton.
Well, being as you're the bearer of unsettling news, why don't you step the fuck inside? No one from the fucking hills, huh? All Pennington's people.
Saves time.
Just travel to one destination, murder the three of them.
See how they like being commissioner after they're dead.
Coach coming, Lila.
With your friend and her girls? I don't know.
It's still way up in the hills.
You want me to come watch with you? Oh, no, no.
Well, okay.
Well, do whatever you want, but I'll wait outside for you.
All the invoices other than this mission from Hendy Iron - have been acted on.
- I see.
You'll note I've made partial payment to them Yes.
questioning a possible duplication.
- For the bill hooks? - Yes.
Is that my worth? That's the amount on deposit.
Your worth is considerably more.
Thank you for your attention in all these matters, Mr.
Bullock.
You're welcome.
He wrote you a letter.
- Pennington.
- That you held from me till now? To say what I knew first.
Please be seated.
Yes, it has fallen to this.
Damn.
Mr.
Ellsworth! Is the Garret gold in readiness for shipment to Denver? That it is.
I would expect a delay before the owner blesses its passage.
While little Sofia is off with her tutor, Mrs.
Garret consults with Mr.
Bullock.
All right.
In Bullock's capacity, of course, as her claim's trustee.
That's all the cleverness on that subject I'm inclined to hear from you.
"Fat.
Cat.
" Biscuits? Piping fresh.
Yeah, when both of us was young.
Ah! Anyways, I could use a bath.
"I urge you, Mr.
Swearengen, not to take as injury to your interests my appointing only men from Yankton.
For not being of the region, such men serving as commissioners I hold less likely to obstruct those like yourself who actively pursue their destinies in the hills.
In those brave endeavors, be assured of my best hopes, high esteem and continued gratitude for your gestures of support.
Governor Pennington.
" Well, that's just the fucking sort chop them into pieces, and each of them happily slithers away, still lying to your fucking face.
What am I to make of this, huh? He don't know yet what he wants to do.
Knew what to do with them fucking bribes I sent.
That's a gift they're born with.
Far as how hard to move on the camp, he ain't sure yet all he'd be going against.
Maybe that is cause for cutting some throat.
That'd put you right where he wants you.
If you got other ways to move on him is what he ain't clear about.
Messages from invisible sources, or what some people think of as progress.
Ain't the heathens used smoke signals all through recorded history? How's that a fucking recommendation? Well, it seems to me like, you know, letters posted one person to another is just a slower version of the same idea.
When was the last time you got a fucking letter from a stranger? - Bad news about Pa.
- Bad news! Or tries against our interests is our sole communications from strangers, so by all means, let's plant poles all across the country, festoon the cocksucker with wires to hurry the sorry word and blinker our judgments of motive, huh? You've given it more thought than me.
Ain't the state of things cloudy enough? Don't we face enough fucking imponderables? Well, by God, you give the word, Al, and them poles will be kindling.
After we've made love, are you sometimes happy? Because I get up from the bed, is that why you wonder? I'll intend something, come to myself realizing I've only stood or sat thinking about you.
Just now, that your toes are beautiful, when I'd intended to replenish the kindling.
I was raised believing dereliction of duty is the one sure way to happiness.
So often with you I've been perfectly happy.
Can I start the shipment loading to keep the men from falling to drink? Yes, please.
Now I believe in you.
Start loading.
Does Bullock think if I wanted, them four horsemen with rifles would ward me off that woman's gold? Maybe it's just precautions against the other operators.
No precautions of his protect her.
Them other operators forebear out of respect for me and knowing what hot blood your blade would draw if they ever fucking presumed.
Well, he don't intend it as insult.
- Uh, Bullock, that's my point.
- Horror is you're fucking right! He don't know if it's breathing or taking it in through fucking gills.
He is that fucking cunt-struck.
They're afloat in some fairy fucking bubble, lighter than air him, her snatch and his stupid fucking badge.
Where's that from? My guess would be No.
10.
Hope it ain't Tom Nuttall taking the quick fucking way out.
No.
No, there's himself.
Self-deceiving cocksucker I am, I thought when America took us in, Bullock would prove a fucking resource.
Look at him, striding out like some randy maniac bishop.
Sheriff! About his duties to the camp, huh? Luck trouble didn't jump out earlier, huh, Bullock? Might have found you mid-thrust at other business.
What is it? Taken by a vision? You would not want to be staring like that at me.
It's only Bummer Dan.
But I think he's killed.
Be where I can find you.
I ain't going no place.
I'll, uh, go get my big gun.
No, that ain't how this wants to resolve.
You go down, Dan, see to the cunt and whiskey, huh? - You want me up here? - You, go take your bath.
You want a donkey's attention bring a fucking pole down between his ears.
Jeez.
Ow, fuck! No ways did I wish that man harm or take against him.
You did shoot him, huh? Only on account of the jacket.
I'll hear it from the other drunks.
Harry mistook Bummer Dan for Slippery Dan.
That had pulled his cock out previous, - started filling the cuspidor yon! - You will keep this short.
Well, uh, Harry shouts for Slippery to stop, but Slippery cast his johnson toward Harry and pisses at him over the bar.
I pulled my gun, Sheriff.
I told Slippery, "Get out, you're ruled off for the day.
You darken that door before dawn tomorrow, I'll shoot you fucking dead.
" Harry's shirt front's urine-sopped still.
But this is Bummer Dan.
Oh my God, it's true! Well, that's Slippery.
Bummer's fucking dead.
They know that, you filthy piss-spraying beast! Get up off your knees.
- Oh my God, Bummer - Get up and tell your part in this.
My part, Sheriff, was putting Bummer in my jacket and sending the poor fuck in here.
To what purpose? Thinking maybe if Harry winged one at Bummer mistaking him for me he threatened to murder, it'd be funny.
What's my liability, Mr.
Bullock? Hey, ain't getting pissed on provocation? You didn't kill who you meant to, or mean to kill the man you did.
What's my liability? Worse in some way? Box him and see he's buried.
But I'm telling both of you, watch it! May I retrieve my jacket off him, Deputy? Yeah, go ahead.
Gee, the worst fucking joke I ever played! Oh, why do I drink the way I do? He pulls that prick stunt again, shoot him! - Wait up, Bullock! - Private business, thanks.
It won't be private if Swearengen's got his cappers at his flanks.
It's private.
Thank you, Charlie.
Soap with a prize inside! You got any prizes in that meat there, Captain? This cocksucker.
Friend, I got soap with a prize inside.
You were told to keep an interval between yourself and legitimate merchants.
I keep my interval, Sheriff.
It's their increase what's crowding me We're gonna count out 25 paces.
We're at 14.
- Count them with me.
15! - 15.
- 16, 17 - 16, 17 - 18, 19, 20 - 18, 19, 20 Why, Joanie Stubbs and Miss Lila.
What brings you to the air this fine spring morning? Stage from Bismarck.
Bismarck, you say? Don't the kid in all of us look forward to the new arrival? I still tingle at the bottom of my balls.
Who could it be? President Hayes? Maybe it's jugglers or face painters.
Where do you feel it, honey? The bottom of your balls.
Air's gone a little fixed.
- I guess we know who fixed it.
- Excuse me.
Look at the man in the creek, Mama.
He's panning for his fortune.
Won't see Mr.
Bullock in the creek, though.
No.
Didn't you say he was the sheriff? Part owner of Bullock and Star Hardware, Sheriff of Deadwood Camp.
Cocksuckers! Bullock.
Do I need to watch my back against you? Al said to stay out of it.
Good morning.
If you'd spare your partner a gutting, Mr.
Star, you might make your way to The Gem.
A gutting at whose hand? My boss called him out clear across the thoroughfare.
Unprovoked? He was seeing after Mrs.
Garret's interests your partner when my boss shouted.
- Would you lock up for me, please? - Sure.
Your boss should do like me and learn to look the other way! It ain't his line.
Age impedes my stream, no fucking fear of you.
Get in here.
All in due fucking course, but tell me one thing first, Bullock, as I stand here fucking humbled.
Does the widow Garret have a going fucking hard rock concern and five-stamp mill crushing gold out of her quartz - all day and fucking night? - What? But does she cast her lot with the camp, furnish others here a chance to develop what they got, to hang on or even prosper? You pie-faced cocksucker.
Get in here and account for your insult.
Or, with you at her ear among other points of entry instead of doing your civic duty, does she ship her fucking loot to Denver? Civic duty? Opposed by her own and her dead husband's family, to put her assets at play in a camp with no law or government worth the name? See as here where she lives and struck lucky, civic duty? Yeah.
And it's time for her and some others to quit their fucking shirking.
Yankton's making its move.
Ah, the fucking thing! Meaning what, "Yankton's making its move"? Without more insults.
We're getting ass-fucked.
Carved into counties, but not one fucking commissioner coming from the hills.
How do you have this information? From the governor himself in a pricey little personal note.
They want to make us a trough for Yankton's snouts.
And them hoopleheads out there, they need buttressing against going over to those cocksuckers.
Now, I can handle my areas, but there's dimensions and fucking angles I'm not expert at.
You would be if you'd sheathe your prick long enough.
Shut up.
And resume being the upright pain in the balls - that graced us all, last summer.
- Shut up, you son of a bitch.
Jesus Christ.
Bullock! The world abounds in cunt of every kind, including hers.
Of course, if it would steer you from something stupid I, uh, could always profess another position.
Will I find you've got a knife? I won't need no fucking knife.
They went over the fucking balcony! Awful possibility in these matters is both men sustaining mortal injury.
Whoa! You looking to die, cocksucker? - He ain't your kill! - God damn you! Hey, hey.
Hey, don't come no further! Hey! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ Almighty! Where's Bullock? Fuck me.
I do have a knife.
It come to me now.
Hmm? Welcome to fucking Deadwood! It can be combative.
But I'm rarely that fucking lucky.
Wave a penny under the Jew's nose.
If they've got living breath in them, it brings them right 'round.
Mr.
Bullock.
A happy surprise.
No one's dead! Mr.
Star's shoulder's been hurt.
Ain't that your high-end whore friend Maddie? Yes.
That I thought had took her snatch to New York? Yes.
Wonderful how folks can get around now.
Doc Cochran needs to come from Whitewood.
Yeah.
A.
W.
Merrick.
Mr.
Star and Utter should be taken to our store.
All right.
All right.
Hello, Mr.
Bullock.
Hello, William.
I'm all right.
I'd be grateful if you'd take their belongings to a house - I built on the west edge.
- Mm-hmm.
Better let me hold Maddie's chair, Joanie.
I need to make a fucking impression.
- My lady.
- My lord.
Lack of notice is my only regret.
That's my fault for giving Joanie none.
Were you hedging your bets, Maddie? Feared losing my nerve all the way to the camp.
Then wondered, had that coach brought you to Gettysburg, huh? Gettysburg fucking battle carnage.
- Yes, I wondered.
- What? Wondered.
You secured that building, honey, when? - November.
- Got the building in November.
I guess you'll be operating out of? Now, I'd have thought a trick would have been behind it, but Joanie's fuck money has been going for jewels.
How long we had that understanding, honey? Since I was 14.
I've been giving Joanie jewels for her fuck money since she was and not once did I come out ahead.
Anyways.
Anyways since November, it looked to me the project lay fallow, but I guess it was just germinating.
Shall we talk in private, Cy? - Would that be rude? - Not at all.
I mean, a 18-year relationship between me and Joanie, - just one moment alone? - Of course not.
Suck some pricks if you like.
Keep whatever they give you as my way of saying welcome.
Any blind ones out there? Jesus Christ! - That bandage wants to be tight, Al.
- That does it! Ask it if it wants to be wound around your fucking neck! - Get away from me, Barney! - Yes, sir.
Fucking Adams.
Restrained you, didn't he? Obstructs me in the thoroughfare, now he wants to bill and coo.
Fuck! What was that Jewish fella thinking, Dan, to charge at me with a purse gun? That's just an unfamiliar situation.
He just overplayed trying to prove himself.
Fuck, fuck.
What was that whole damn thing about, anyhow? Al's calling Bullock to the fold.
Bullock ain't even of Al's flock.
Al's gonna be calling numbers to the fold now that he can't trust like us.
Some he don't even like.
We're joining America.
And it's full of lying, thieving cocksuckers that you can't trust at all governors, commissioners and whatnot.
By God, that's just the new way of things, and you just gonna have to get used to it, Johnny.
- All right.
- You gonna have to accept it and learn to control yourself.
You get no argument from me! Okay.
It's been me nudging you from the nest, young lady, urging you to take fucking wing! Okay.
Where did the money come from that bought that place? Your daddy sold me you for six and a half bucks, so a rich relation is tough to swallow.
It is respectful not to lie, honey, but any further silence will get me violent.
You know where that backing came from.
A farewell gesture from Eddie Sawyer! I knew Eddie had been stealing from me, and then he flees and you turn up owning our place.
I don't work here no more, Cy.
You understand? - No matter what.
- Hmm.
It's kill you or let you go.
Could I make it with you dead? Why try? Look at that.
Look at that beautiful smile.
All right, darling.
Let me let you go.
Thank you.
Shall we all take the air while Maddie hears the happy news? Let's go get the fucking crone.
I feel like a a boy.
I feel like skipping.
I'm that fucking hopeful and excited for you.
Doc, hot water.
Tell Wu that that drunk better not get ate by his pigs until I have had my way with the corpse.
I'm braced, Doc, if you want to start digging.
Momentarily.
Oh, thank you, ma'am.
The ringing I'm all right, William.
Where are your gun and badge, Mr.
Bullock? It was personal between me and the man I fought, so I took them off.
But he kept a knife.
I didn't know that when I disarmed.
Will you arrest him now for the knife? That's questions enough for Mr.
Bullock, William.
Give him a dose of that laudanum.
I got my load on, Doc.
Don't doubt I'll have back my gun and badge.
Ahem! Fuck.
I found these seeing to your piss-pot, and I know they ain't yours.
What tipped you off, the fucking badge? Put them down.
Is that some kind of private fucking hilarity? - What? - The piss-pot remark.
No.
I made water off the balcony this morning, if it's any of your fucking business.
Now get away from me.
Not you, E.
B! Get the fuck back here.
Heavens.
It's all like some great Greek battle.
Yeah, how about that fucking doc, huh? Seeing to the respectable types, leaving us, the ones that pay him regular, huh? So, that woman and child, Bullock's? His wife and son.
Uh, how was Mr.
Star? How was Charlie Utter? Shut up, Johnny! Detail Bullock's condition.
The worse for wear.
No clarity to his look or focus, as I could cite in other combatants.
You touch me, E.
B.
, I'll put your nose through your fucking brain! Now, did he state his further intentions? To have his gun and badge back.
In what fucking tone? Well, I'd shy from putting a name on it, Al.
He was talking to an eight-year-old.
Sound like he'd be coming back for more? Well, I'd hate to guess and be wrong.
New whores on that coach, huh? Find out where they'll be working.
I could take him his gun and badge, plumb his intent as we talk.
And how would that chat start, E.
B.
, huh? "Here's your hardware, and as he looks a cunt anyway, Al would like you to have this rose.
" I'll, uh, look into the new whores.
How you doing? Uh, is my bullet out? Will Star live? Well, if he don't, he's going happy.
And and Mr.
Utter? Will he be blind and deaf? No! Let me suss out that new trim, Johnny, before I earn some added rebuke.
Look, all's I'm saying is I ain't your enemy.
Whatever you thought your intentions was coming on me like you did, nine times out of 10, that'll be the last move you ever make.
Bullock will be coming back for his weapon.
To what intent? Open question.
Well, we'll be ready.
You've had your one out of 10.
Cow-eyed kid looking from that coach, that's what fucking unmanned me.
He couldn't have known she was coming.
Just today, I'd asked Mr.
Bullock after his family, and he made no mention of their being en route.
You're kind, extending the hand of welcome.
Well, at its best, this camp can be forbidding to new arrivals.
That was very much my experience.
Let alone to come upon Mr.
Bullock in the mud of that thoroughfare, injured, who knows how seriously? Well, thank goodness he seemed coming back to himself.
Miss Isringhausen, I didn't realize medicine was among your areas of expertise.
It isn't, Mrs.
Garret.
Then perhaps I'll better learn Mr.
Bullock's condition in his presence.
And Mr.
Star's and Utter's condition.
Yes, ma'am.
Sofia? You put a ribbon around your candy? And did you want me to give it to that boy? Please answer in words, Sofia.
Yes, please.
- Miss Isringhausen.
- Mr.
Ellsworth.
I'm here to steer Mrs.
Garret.
Then Mr.
Ellsworth and I will make the delivery.
Not as I'd been asked, Mrs.
Garret, but I wonder if this ain't a call better paid another day.
I've stopped believing I can dictate the terms of my opportunities.
Well, some would say it might be your choice what chances you decide not to take, some being the butt-in loudmouth types.
Shall I walk on alone, Mr.
Ellsworth? No, ma'am.
I'm sorry for throwing up.
If you hadn't, I would suspect your previous habits.
Mr.
Bullock.
Mrs.
Garret.
How are you feeling, Mr.
Star? I've puked twice.
- Mrs.
Garret.
- Trixie.
Mrs.
Garret.
Mr.
Utter.
Ma'am.
Uh, don't be alarmed.
A lot of this damage is old.
Let me introduce my wife Martha and our son William.
Mrs.
Alma Garret.
- How do you do? - How do you do? - How do you do, William? - How do you do? And Ellsworth, who superintends Mrs.
Garret's claim.
- Ma'am.
William.
- How do you do? You've discovered us in distressing circumstances.
We're safe and glad of joining Mr.
Bullock.
I hope this can be of some use to you, uh, in your settling in.
Thank you.
Thank you.
My ward includes sweets for your son, when his mother decides he may have them.
Is your ward a boy? A girl, Sofia.
A little younger than you, I think.
Oh.
Thank you.
You recall Mrs.
Garret from my letters.
Yes.
That's good luck you had right there.
'Cause I carried the mail, and I'll admit today before lay people, we lose more letters than we deliver.
I'll say goodbye then, in hopes that I see you again soon.
Yes.
I hope I see you soon, William.
Thanks for the sweets.
And don't be pestering me for the good fishing spots.
I name them only over breakfast at the Grand Central Hotel, or what I call my dog.
- Will you see your house? - I would like to very much.
Uh ahem Mrs.
Bullock, I've retrieved your bonnet from your former post.
At your convenience, the readers of the "Black Hills Pioneer" would be interested in hearing about your journey and perhaps your first impressions of our camp.
You don't have to give 'em all.
Thank you for seeing to Mr.
Star.
No need to hurry back.
Go ahead, William.
He never wrote of me in his letters to her did he? We never spoke on what he's wrote to his wife or hadn't, Mrs.
Garret.
Or why he hadn't.
No, ma'am.
And you and me hadn't ought to, either.
Thank you for taking me, Mr.
Ellsworth.
You're welcome, ma'am.
You'll recall what I wrote about her husband? How he'd sought his money back on a claim.
He died in a fall before gaining satisfaction, and the claim proved out rich.
Is that the house, sir, - the splendid one ahead? - It is.
You can walk ahead a little piece, William.
Just a little piece.
And of my promise to help the widow as I could, made to Wild Bill Hickok.
Yes, Mr.
Bullock.
And you must be as weary from the day's events and your work readying the house as we are from travel.
Please don't trouble to repeat yourself.
We traveled with that woman and her boy.
While the lady was traveling with you, her husband the sheriff was pickling his prick in the cunt brine of another.
Look at Lila, delivering her ducklings all undamaged and dry.
How are we gonna celebrate, Cy? My vote's for hardy but brief.
Votes don't count here just yet.
It looks a little small, Lila.
But I guess you gals are used to making the best of that.
Just fleeting as fucking innocence, let me toast to bold new venture.
- Your place got a name yet, honey? - Le Chez Amie.
That's catchy.
Open your yap, stick out your tongue.
To the Chez Amie! And to Stick your fucking tongue out! Joanie and Maddie! Able hands at a whorehouse tiller! And to Doris, one of the Bella's best cocksuckers, that I send with them as a gesture of friendship.
We have the girls we need.
Bon voyage, sweetheart, as long as we're speaking French.
We got all the girls we need, Cy.
Ah, don't fear that she'll spy, Joanie.
Please, don't reject Doris on that basis.
You'll just get her belly cut by me showing you I'm serious, and an uncut Bella whore sent with you.
Being as funds stole from me by Eddie put the Chez Amie on its feet, I consider myself an investor, and I will have my interests looked at, And a true count fucking verified.
All right.
Fine.
Get these girls out of here, Lila! You better get packed, Doris.
Did you bring anything with you when I bought you? That's all right, honey.
You just pack the rags you been wiping the come off with.
- All right, Joanie?! - Yes.
And now we're gonna go.
What do you think, I'm a monkey in a zoo? Think I'm gonna throw my shit after you? No.
Don't fucking talk to me like I'm no monkey.
Get those cunts out of here! Don't believe there's no good women till you've seen one with maggots in her eyes.
Joanie! Bet the wheel before you leave.
You're on a lucky run.
Is there fish in this stream? Sometimes.
This is it.
May we go inside? Did you get the letter about the house? I did get that letter.
It's at the very top of my trunk.
That has all my thoughts.
May we go in? I should go back now.
You and the boy go in.
Let's go in the house Mr.
Bullock has made us, William.
Come on, Mr.
Bullock.
Not just now, William.
Don't you want to come in? I can't come in just now.
After you've seen to the camp, gotten your gun and badge back? I'll take my mother in.
Thank you.
Come on, Mother.
Thank you.
"Dear Mrs.
Bullock, Your house is near finished.
My satisfaction does not exceed the camp's lumbermen and sawyers whose patience I have tried by my overwatchful eye for greenness and for good square-edge quality in the cut boards.
I've chosen pine, one-year seasoned, for the sills, posts, floor joists and rafters.
The other framing timber is of spruce.
Where partitions bear upon them, I have doubled the beams and supported the floor with locus posts set three feet into the ground.
I think you may laugh to see the mullioned windows with their view of the camp from out the parlor.
Being unfinished, they look like unfocused eyes.
I've left these and all final decorative choices to your superior judgment and sensibility.
" Soap! Soap with a prize inside! "I hope that you and the boy may arrive in good health and safety.
I look forward to our opportunity to better get to know each other.
I pray that in my brother's stead, I may be permitted to be a father to the boy as good as Robert would have been, and as to your care and comfort and safety, as good a husband to you.
Yours sincerely, Seth Bullock.
"
- Good morning, Mr.
Bullock.
"Ox, box, fox.
" - Mr.
Bullock.
- Good morning.
Good morning, Sofia.
Sorry to interrupt your lesson.
We're finished.
No, we're not, Sofia, and we'll continue downstairs.
Hills get divided into three counties.
Each county has a commissioner.
- Appointed by fucking who? - The governor.
When the fuck does that happen? It already did.
Anyone I know? They're all from Yankton.
Well, being as you're the bearer of unsettling news, why don't you step the fuck inside? No one from the fucking hills, huh? All Pennington's people.
Saves time.
Just travel to one destination, murder the three of them.
See how they like being commissioner after they're dead.
Coach coming, Lila.
With your friend and her girls? I don't know.
It's still way up in the hills.
You want me to come watch with you? Oh, no, no.
Well, okay.
Well, do whatever you want, but I'll wait outside for you.
All the invoices other than this mission from Hendy Iron - have been acted on.
- I see.
You'll note I've made partial payment to them Yes.
questioning a possible duplication.
- For the bill hooks? - Yes.
Is that my worth? That's the amount on deposit.
Your worth is considerably more.
Thank you for your attention in all these matters, Mr.
Bullock.
You're welcome.
He wrote you a letter.
- Pennington.
- That you held from me till now? To say what I knew first.
Please be seated.
Yes, it has fallen to this.
Damn.
Mr.
Ellsworth! Is the Garret gold in readiness for shipment to Denver? That it is.
I would expect a delay before the owner blesses its passage.
While little Sofia is off with her tutor, Mrs.
Garret consults with Mr.
Bullock.
All right.
In Bullock's capacity, of course, as her claim's trustee.
That's all the cleverness on that subject I'm inclined to hear from you.
"Fat.
Cat.
" Biscuits? Piping fresh.
Yeah, when both of us was young.
Ah! Anyways, I could use a bath.
"I urge you, Mr.
Swearengen, not to take as injury to your interests my appointing only men from Yankton.
For not being of the region, such men serving as commissioners I hold less likely to obstruct those like yourself who actively pursue their destinies in the hills.
In those brave endeavors, be assured of my best hopes, high esteem and continued gratitude for your gestures of support.
Governor Pennington.
" Well, that's just the fucking sort chop them into pieces, and each of them happily slithers away, still lying to your fucking face.
What am I to make of this, huh? He don't know yet what he wants to do.
Knew what to do with them fucking bribes I sent.
That's a gift they're born with.
Far as how hard to move on the camp, he ain't sure yet all he'd be going against.
Maybe that is cause for cutting some throat.
That'd put you right where he wants you.
If you got other ways to move on him is what he ain't clear about.
Messages from invisible sources, or what some people think of as progress.
Ain't the heathens used smoke signals all through recorded history? How's that a fucking recommendation? Well, it seems to me like, you know, letters posted one person to another is just a slower version of the same idea.
When was the last time you got a fucking letter from a stranger? - Bad news about Pa.
- Bad news! Or tries against our interests is our sole communications from strangers, so by all means, let's plant poles all across the country, festoon the cocksucker with wires to hurry the sorry word and blinker our judgments of motive, huh? You've given it more thought than me.
Ain't the state of things cloudy enough? Don't we face enough fucking imponderables? Well, by God, you give the word, Al, and them poles will be kindling.
After we've made love, are you sometimes happy? Because I get up from the bed, is that why you wonder? I'll intend something, come to myself realizing I've only stood or sat thinking about you.
Just now, that your toes are beautiful, when I'd intended to replenish the kindling.
I was raised believing dereliction of duty is the one sure way to happiness.
So often with you I've been perfectly happy.
Can I start the shipment loading to keep the men from falling to drink? Yes, please.
Now I believe in you.
Start loading.
Does Bullock think if I wanted, them four horsemen with rifles would ward me off that woman's gold? Maybe it's just precautions against the other operators.
No precautions of his protect her.
Them other operators forebear out of respect for me and knowing what hot blood your blade would draw if they ever fucking presumed.
Well, he don't intend it as insult.
- Uh, Bullock, that's my point.
- Horror is you're fucking right! He don't know if it's breathing or taking it in through fucking gills.
He is that fucking cunt-struck.
They're afloat in some fairy fucking bubble, lighter than air him, her snatch and his stupid fucking badge.
Where's that from? My guess would be No.
10.
Hope it ain't Tom Nuttall taking the quick fucking way out.
No.
No, there's himself.
Self-deceiving cocksucker I am, I thought when America took us in, Bullock would prove a fucking resource.
Look at him, striding out like some randy maniac bishop.
Sheriff! About his duties to the camp, huh? Luck trouble didn't jump out earlier, huh, Bullock? Might have found you mid-thrust at other business.
What is it? Taken by a vision? You would not want to be staring like that at me.
It's only Bummer Dan.
But I think he's killed.
Be where I can find you.
I ain't going no place.
I'll, uh, go get my big gun.
No, that ain't how this wants to resolve.
You go down, Dan, see to the cunt and whiskey, huh? - You want me up here? - You, go take your bath.
You want a donkey's attention bring a fucking pole down between his ears.
Jeez.
Ow, fuck! No ways did I wish that man harm or take against him.
You did shoot him, huh? Only on account of the jacket.
I'll hear it from the other drunks.
Harry mistook Bummer Dan for Slippery Dan.
That had pulled his cock out previous, - started filling the cuspidor yon! - You will keep this short.
Well, uh, Harry shouts for Slippery to stop, but Slippery cast his johnson toward Harry and pisses at him over the bar.
I pulled my gun, Sheriff.
I told Slippery, "Get out, you're ruled off for the day.
You darken that door before dawn tomorrow, I'll shoot you fucking dead.
" Harry's shirt front's urine-sopped still.
But this is Bummer Dan.
Oh my God, it's true! Well, that's Slippery.
Bummer's fucking dead.
They know that, you filthy piss-spraying beast! Get up off your knees.
- Oh my God, Bummer - Get up and tell your part in this.
My part, Sheriff, was putting Bummer in my jacket and sending the poor fuck in here.
To what purpose? Thinking maybe if Harry winged one at Bummer mistaking him for me he threatened to murder, it'd be funny.
What's my liability, Mr.
Bullock? Hey, ain't getting pissed on provocation? You didn't kill who you meant to, or mean to kill the man you did.
What's my liability? Worse in some way? Box him and see he's buried.
But I'm telling both of you, watch it! May I retrieve my jacket off him, Deputy? Yeah, go ahead.
Gee, the worst fucking joke I ever played! Oh, why do I drink the way I do? He pulls that prick stunt again, shoot him! - Wait up, Bullock! - Private business, thanks.
It won't be private if Swearengen's got his cappers at his flanks.
It's private.
Thank you, Charlie.
Soap with a prize inside! You got any prizes in that meat there, Captain? This cocksucker.
Friend, I got soap with a prize inside.
You were told to keep an interval between yourself and legitimate merchants.
I keep my interval, Sheriff.
It's their increase what's crowding me We're gonna count out 25 paces.
We're at 14.
- Count them with me.
15! - 15.
- 16, 17 - 16, 17 - 18, 19, 20 - 18, 19, 20 Why, Joanie Stubbs and Miss Lila.
What brings you to the air this fine spring morning? Stage from Bismarck.
Bismarck, you say? Don't the kid in all of us look forward to the new arrival? I still tingle at the bottom of my balls.
Who could it be? President Hayes? Maybe it's jugglers or face painters.
Where do you feel it, honey? The bottom of your balls.
Air's gone a little fixed.
- I guess we know who fixed it.
- Excuse me.
Look at the man in the creek, Mama.
He's panning for his fortune.
Won't see Mr.
Bullock in the creek, though.
No.
Didn't you say he was the sheriff? Part owner of Bullock and Star Hardware, Sheriff of Deadwood Camp.
Cocksuckers! Bullock.
Do I need to watch my back against you? Al said to stay out of it.
Good morning.
If you'd spare your partner a gutting, Mr.
Star, you might make your way to The Gem.
A gutting at whose hand? My boss called him out clear across the thoroughfare.
Unprovoked? He was seeing after Mrs.
Garret's interests your partner when my boss shouted.
- Would you lock up for me, please? - Sure.
Your boss should do like me and learn to look the other way! It ain't his line.
Age impedes my stream, no fucking fear of you.
Get in here.
All in due fucking course, but tell me one thing first, Bullock, as I stand here fucking humbled.
Does the widow Garret have a going fucking hard rock concern and five-stamp mill crushing gold out of her quartz - all day and fucking night? - What? But does she cast her lot with the camp, furnish others here a chance to develop what they got, to hang on or even prosper? You pie-faced cocksucker.
Get in here and account for your insult.
Or, with you at her ear among other points of entry instead of doing your civic duty, does she ship her fucking loot to Denver? Civic duty? Opposed by her own and her dead husband's family, to put her assets at play in a camp with no law or government worth the name? See as here where she lives and struck lucky, civic duty? Yeah.
And it's time for her and some others to quit their fucking shirking.
Yankton's making its move.
Ah, the fucking thing! Meaning what, "Yankton's making its move"? Without more insults.
We're getting ass-fucked.
Carved into counties, but not one fucking commissioner coming from the hills.
How do you have this information? From the governor himself in a pricey little personal note.
They want to make us a trough for Yankton's snouts.
And them hoopleheads out there, they need buttressing against going over to those cocksuckers.
Now, I can handle my areas, but there's dimensions and fucking angles I'm not expert at.
You would be if you'd sheathe your prick long enough.
Shut up.
And resume being the upright pain in the balls - that graced us all, last summer.
- Shut up, you son of a bitch.
Jesus Christ.
Bullock! The world abounds in cunt of every kind, including hers.
Of course, if it would steer you from something stupid I, uh, could always profess another position.
Will I find you've got a knife? I won't need no fucking knife.
They went over the fucking balcony! Awful possibility in these matters is both men sustaining mortal injury.
Whoa! You looking to die, cocksucker? - He ain't your kill! - God damn you! Hey, hey.
Hey, don't come no further! Hey! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ Almighty! Where's Bullock? Fuck me.
I do have a knife.
It come to me now.
Hmm? Welcome to fucking Deadwood! It can be combative.
But I'm rarely that fucking lucky.
Wave a penny under the Jew's nose.
If they've got living breath in them, it brings them right 'round.
Mr.
Bullock.
A happy surprise.
No one's dead! Mr.
Star's shoulder's been hurt.
Ain't that your high-end whore friend Maddie? Yes.
That I thought had took her snatch to New York? Yes.
Wonderful how folks can get around now.
Doc Cochran needs to come from Whitewood.
Yeah.
A.
W.
Merrick.
Mr.
Star and Utter should be taken to our store.
All right.
All right.
Hello, Mr.
Bullock.
Hello, William.
I'm all right.
I'd be grateful if you'd take their belongings to a house - I built on the west edge.
- Mm-hmm.
Better let me hold Maddie's chair, Joanie.
I need to make a fucking impression.
- My lady.
- My lord.
Lack of notice is my only regret.
That's my fault for giving Joanie none.
Were you hedging your bets, Maddie? Feared losing my nerve all the way to the camp.
Then wondered, had that coach brought you to Gettysburg, huh? Gettysburg fucking battle carnage.
- Yes, I wondered.
- What? Wondered.
You secured that building, honey, when? - November.
- Got the building in November.
I guess you'll be operating out of? Now, I'd have thought a trick would have been behind it, but Joanie's fuck money has been going for jewels.
How long we had that understanding, honey? Since I was 14.
I've been giving Joanie jewels for her fuck money since she was and not once did I come out ahead.
Anyways.
Anyways since November, it looked to me the project lay fallow, but I guess it was just germinating.
Shall we talk in private, Cy? - Would that be rude? - Not at all.
I mean, a 18-year relationship between me and Joanie, - just one moment alone? - Of course not.
Suck some pricks if you like.
Keep whatever they give you as my way of saying welcome.
Any blind ones out there? Jesus Christ! - That bandage wants to be tight, Al.
- That does it! Ask it if it wants to be wound around your fucking neck! - Get away from me, Barney! - Yes, sir.
Fucking Adams.
Restrained you, didn't he? Obstructs me in the thoroughfare, now he wants to bill and coo.
Fuck! What was that Jewish fella thinking, Dan, to charge at me with a purse gun? That's just an unfamiliar situation.
He just overplayed trying to prove himself.
Fuck, fuck.
What was that whole damn thing about, anyhow? Al's calling Bullock to the fold.
Bullock ain't even of Al's flock.
Al's gonna be calling numbers to the fold now that he can't trust like us.
Some he don't even like.
We're joining America.
And it's full of lying, thieving cocksuckers that you can't trust at all governors, commissioners and whatnot.
By God, that's just the new way of things, and you just gonna have to get used to it, Johnny.
- All right.
- You gonna have to accept it and learn to control yourself.
You get no argument from me! Okay.
It's been me nudging you from the nest, young lady, urging you to take fucking wing! Okay.
Where did the money come from that bought that place? Your daddy sold me you for six and a half bucks, so a rich relation is tough to swallow.
It is respectful not to lie, honey, but any further silence will get me violent.
You know where that backing came from.
A farewell gesture from Eddie Sawyer! I knew Eddie had been stealing from me, and then he flees and you turn up owning our place.
I don't work here no more, Cy.
You understand? - No matter what.
- Hmm.
It's kill you or let you go.
Could I make it with you dead? Why try? Look at that.
Look at that beautiful smile.
All right, darling.
Let me let you go.
Thank you.
Shall we all take the air while Maddie hears the happy news? Let's go get the fucking crone.
I feel like a a boy.
I feel like skipping.
I'm that fucking hopeful and excited for you.
Doc, hot water.
Tell Wu that that drunk better not get ate by his pigs until I have had my way with the corpse.
I'm braced, Doc, if you want to start digging.
Momentarily.
Oh, thank you, ma'am.
The ringing I'm all right, William.
Where are your gun and badge, Mr.
Bullock? It was personal between me and the man I fought, so I took them off.
But he kept a knife.
I didn't know that when I disarmed.
Will you arrest him now for the knife? That's questions enough for Mr.
Bullock, William.
Give him a dose of that laudanum.
I got my load on, Doc.
Don't doubt I'll have back my gun and badge.
Ahem! Fuck.
I found these seeing to your piss-pot, and I know they ain't yours.
What tipped you off, the fucking badge? Put them down.
Is that some kind of private fucking hilarity? - What? - The piss-pot remark.
No.
I made water off the balcony this morning, if it's any of your fucking business.
Now get away from me.
Not you, E.
B! Get the fuck back here.
Heavens.
It's all like some great Greek battle.
Yeah, how about that fucking doc, huh? Seeing to the respectable types, leaving us, the ones that pay him regular, huh? So, that woman and child, Bullock's? His wife and son.
Uh, how was Mr.
Star? How was Charlie Utter? Shut up, Johnny! Detail Bullock's condition.
The worse for wear.
No clarity to his look or focus, as I could cite in other combatants.
You touch me, E.
B.
, I'll put your nose through your fucking brain! Now, did he state his further intentions? To have his gun and badge back.
In what fucking tone? Well, I'd shy from putting a name on it, Al.
He was talking to an eight-year-old.
Sound like he'd be coming back for more? Well, I'd hate to guess and be wrong.
New whores on that coach, huh? Find out where they'll be working.
I could take him his gun and badge, plumb his intent as we talk.
And how would that chat start, E.
B.
, huh? "Here's your hardware, and as he looks a cunt anyway, Al would like you to have this rose.
" I'll, uh, look into the new whores.
How you doing? Uh, is my bullet out? Will Star live? Well, if he don't, he's going happy.
And and Mr.
Utter? Will he be blind and deaf? No! Let me suss out that new trim, Johnny, before I earn some added rebuke.
Look, all's I'm saying is I ain't your enemy.
Whatever you thought your intentions was coming on me like you did, nine times out of 10, that'll be the last move you ever make.
Bullock will be coming back for his weapon.
To what intent? Open question.
Well, we'll be ready.
You've had your one out of 10.
Cow-eyed kid looking from that coach, that's what fucking unmanned me.
He couldn't have known she was coming.
Just today, I'd asked Mr.
Bullock after his family, and he made no mention of their being en route.
You're kind, extending the hand of welcome.
Well, at its best, this camp can be forbidding to new arrivals.
That was very much my experience.
Let alone to come upon Mr.
Bullock in the mud of that thoroughfare, injured, who knows how seriously? Well, thank goodness he seemed coming back to himself.
Miss Isringhausen, I didn't realize medicine was among your areas of expertise.
It isn't, Mrs.
Garret.
Then perhaps I'll better learn Mr.
Bullock's condition in his presence.
And Mr.
Star's and Utter's condition.
Yes, ma'am.
Sofia? You put a ribbon around your candy? And did you want me to give it to that boy? Please answer in words, Sofia.
Yes, please.
- Miss Isringhausen.
- Mr.
Ellsworth.
I'm here to steer Mrs.
Garret.
Then Mr.
Ellsworth and I will make the delivery.
Not as I'd been asked, Mrs.
Garret, but I wonder if this ain't a call better paid another day.
I've stopped believing I can dictate the terms of my opportunities.
Well, some would say it might be your choice what chances you decide not to take, some being the butt-in loudmouth types.
Shall I walk on alone, Mr.
Ellsworth? No, ma'am.
I'm sorry for throwing up.
If you hadn't, I would suspect your previous habits.
Mr.
Bullock.
Mrs.
Garret.
How are you feeling, Mr.
Star? I've puked twice.
- Mrs.
Garret.
- Trixie.
Mrs.
Garret.
Mr.
Utter.
Ma'am.
Uh, don't be alarmed.
A lot of this damage is old.
Let me introduce my wife Martha and our son William.
Mrs.
Alma Garret.
- How do you do? - How do you do? - How do you do, William? - How do you do? And Ellsworth, who superintends Mrs.
Garret's claim.
- Ma'am.
William.
- How do you do? You've discovered us in distressing circumstances.
We're safe and glad of joining Mr.
Bullock.
I hope this can be of some use to you, uh, in your settling in.
Thank you.
Thank you.
My ward includes sweets for your son, when his mother decides he may have them.
Is your ward a boy? A girl, Sofia.
A little younger than you, I think.
Oh.
Thank you.
You recall Mrs.
Garret from my letters.
Yes.
That's good luck you had right there.
'Cause I carried the mail, and I'll admit today before lay people, we lose more letters than we deliver.
I'll say goodbye then, in hopes that I see you again soon.
Yes.
I hope I see you soon, William.
Thanks for the sweets.
And don't be pestering me for the good fishing spots.
I name them only over breakfast at the Grand Central Hotel, or what I call my dog.
- Will you see your house? - I would like to very much.
Uh ahem Mrs.
Bullock, I've retrieved your bonnet from your former post.
At your convenience, the readers of the "Black Hills Pioneer" would be interested in hearing about your journey and perhaps your first impressions of our camp.
You don't have to give 'em all.
Thank you for seeing to Mr.
Star.
No need to hurry back.
Go ahead, William.
He never wrote of me in his letters to her did he? We never spoke on what he's wrote to his wife or hadn't, Mrs.
Garret.
Or why he hadn't.
No, ma'am.
And you and me hadn't ought to, either.
Thank you for taking me, Mr.
Ellsworth.
You're welcome, ma'am.
You'll recall what I wrote about her husband? How he'd sought his money back on a claim.
He died in a fall before gaining satisfaction, and the claim proved out rich.
Is that the house, sir, - the splendid one ahead? - It is.
You can walk ahead a little piece, William.
Just a little piece.
And of my promise to help the widow as I could, made to Wild Bill Hickok.
Yes, Mr.
Bullock.
And you must be as weary from the day's events and your work readying the house as we are from travel.
Please don't trouble to repeat yourself.
We traveled with that woman and her boy.
While the lady was traveling with you, her husband the sheriff was pickling his prick in the cunt brine of another.
Look at Lila, delivering her ducklings all undamaged and dry.
How are we gonna celebrate, Cy? My vote's for hardy but brief.
Votes don't count here just yet.
It looks a little small, Lila.
But I guess you gals are used to making the best of that.
Just fleeting as fucking innocence, let me toast to bold new venture.
- Your place got a name yet, honey? - Le Chez Amie.
That's catchy.
Open your yap, stick out your tongue.
To the Chez Amie! And to Stick your fucking tongue out! Joanie and Maddie! Able hands at a whorehouse tiller! And to Doris, one of the Bella's best cocksuckers, that I send with them as a gesture of friendship.
We have the girls we need.
Bon voyage, sweetheart, as long as we're speaking French.
We got all the girls we need, Cy.
Ah, don't fear that she'll spy, Joanie.
Please, don't reject Doris on that basis.
You'll just get her belly cut by me showing you I'm serious, and an uncut Bella whore sent with you.
Being as funds stole from me by Eddie put the Chez Amie on its feet, I consider myself an investor, and I will have my interests looked at, And a true count fucking verified.
All right.
Fine.
Get these girls out of here, Lila! You better get packed, Doris.
Did you bring anything with you when I bought you? That's all right, honey.
You just pack the rags you been wiping the come off with.
- All right, Joanie?! - Yes.
And now we're gonna go.
What do you think, I'm a monkey in a zoo? Think I'm gonna throw my shit after you? No.
Don't fucking talk to me like I'm no monkey.
Get those cunts out of here! Don't believe there's no good women till you've seen one with maggots in her eyes.
Joanie! Bet the wheel before you leave.
You're on a lucky run.
Is there fish in this stream? Sometimes.
This is it.
May we go inside? Did you get the letter about the house? I did get that letter.
It's at the very top of my trunk.
That has all my thoughts.
May we go in? I should go back now.
You and the boy go in.
Let's go in the house Mr.
Bullock has made us, William.
Come on, Mr.
Bullock.
Not just now, William.
Don't you want to come in? I can't come in just now.
After you've seen to the camp, gotten your gun and badge back? I'll take my mother in.
Thank you.
Come on, Mother.
Thank you.
"Dear Mrs.
Bullock, Your house is near finished.
My satisfaction does not exceed the camp's lumbermen and sawyers whose patience I have tried by my overwatchful eye for greenness and for good square-edge quality in the cut boards.
I've chosen pine, one-year seasoned, for the sills, posts, floor joists and rafters.
The other framing timber is of spruce.
Where partitions bear upon them, I have doubled the beams and supported the floor with locus posts set three feet into the ground.
I think you may laugh to see the mullioned windows with their view of the camp from out the parlor.
Being unfinished, they look like unfocused eyes.
I've left these and all final decorative choices to your superior judgment and sensibility.
" Soap! Soap with a prize inside! "I hope that you and the boy may arrive in good health and safety.
I look forward to our opportunity to better get to know each other.
I pray that in my brother's stead, I may be permitted to be a father to the boy as good as Robert would have been, and as to your care and comfort and safety, as good a husband to you.
Yours sincerely, Seth Bullock.
"