Deadwood s02e05 Episode Script

Complications

Psst! Boys.
How are you? Did you fuck me while I was out? Hell, no.
Well, quit looking at me like that.
Except for talking a little cockeyed, Al is back to his accustomed self.
And what that is, speech crisis he went through, Al's body parts are showing they're healing at different rates.
Well, you talk cockeyed, boss, all you want, long as you want, just so you're miserable and mean.
How cockeyed do I look? Appropriately cockeyed, for one who's been through what you have, and then the fall you took.
Bullock look worse? Naming your adversary shows your memory is intact.
You're gonna have to gather all your fucking wiles, Al, 'cause they's developments that need interpretating on every front.
Al is out of the development interpretation business for the short time being.
Wu's got a big tall Celestial that's haunting him.
He's invisible.
Wu's convinced he's from San Francisco.
God damn it, Dan, will you shut the fuck up and let this man harbor his resources? You look in Chink's Alley? You see any big, unfamiliar Chinks? Well, there ain't nothing to it, Al.
I just told you for a giggle.
I mean, you know? Excitable Wu.
So what else is new? Nothing special Not a goddamn thing that can't wait till you get well, boss.
There is a bell behind the bar.
- Absolutely.
- I know there is a bell.
I'm telling you I want it brought up here.
Absolutely, Al.
Uh, I-I best help.
If there's anybody can fuck up the gathering of a bell, it's Johnny.
You want some water? Yeah.
Fucking water.
Don't be a fucking jerk.
Your right eye is filled with blood.
Can you use your right arm at all? Put your nose between my fingers, you'll find how much I can use my fucking arm.
That's good.
That is a good sign, Al.
Don't bullshit me.
I won't.
I think you've had a small stroke, guessing maybe from the strain of that stone.
You keep bullshitting them.
- I will.
- This gets out, I'll slit your fucking throat.
I wield a blade good with my left.
It won't get out.
If I need it, you will fucking kill me.
- You stop that.
- You find me no better, you will wish to hell I was fucking worse, 'cause I wield a blade good with my left.
Don't you put a fucking clock on this.
Madam, in the chambers of my heart beats a love for every crooked timber of this shitbox of a structure, this building.
This building, its warped floorboards and Fie! Why, even in Richardson my chef, my eyes see a beloved household pet somehow walking upright.
See in Richardson a half-witted child, nonetheless adored.
Oh, Mrs.
Garret.
Uh, the very subject of my thoughts.
May I borrow Richardson, please, Mr.
Farnum, to escort me on an errand? Would you prefer other company, ma'am? Less mysterious? No, Mr.
Farnum.
Richardson! I saved a lot.
I'll mop the rest in a moment.
- Go with Mrs.
Garret.
- Thank you, Mr.
Farnum.
Eyes down! Therefore, madam, as to your generous offer to purchase my hotel, I must gratefully decline.
- Oh.
- I take you for the man in charge.
A.
W.
Merrick, sir, owner, publisher, editor-in-chief, and for the moment, sole reporter.
Hugo Jarry, County Commissioner appointed by Governor Pennington.
Of-of this county? Yes.
Has our county a name? Lawrence County.
Ah, well! Well, thank you for that information, and congratulations.
Lawrence, Lawrence County.
My father was a newspaperman.
"Lowell Sentinel-Bee.
" I was raised among these contraptions.
Were you? Great respect for the fourth estate.
Here's a statement to be printed.
"As to ownership of the claims in the newly constituted County of Lawrence, as annexed to the Dakota Territory, a presumption of legitimate title shall obtain for claims worked actively and continuously prior to amendment of the treaty with the Sioux Nation, September, 1876.
This presumption shall be subject to qualification according to mitigating facts.
" Uh, if I discern this correctly, sir, this statement could be taken to mean, uh, nothing.
The statement continues.
"New title will be awarded on claims to which title is denied at set prices via lottery as conducted by the County Commissioner.
" I would be grateful if that gets in your next edition.
I must tell you, Commissioner, that even with that last bit added, what exactly will or won't qualify or mitigate the presumption of ownership eludes me.
I didn't realize that was a bar the statement had to hurdle.
Uh, without an accompanying explanation, sir, this statement may work an unsettling effect.
In any case, sir, being the Commissioner of this county and bidding you good day, I have presented you with that to publish in your paper as organ of record in this camp.
Front page.
Trixie's to the hardware store, the big one said.
May we go there then, Richardson? - Have you time? - Yes.
I only have stew to mop before lunch.
I like you.
Thank you, Richardson.
You're purty.
Thank you very much.
And probably that's all either of us needs to say on that subject ever again.
I'm uncertain how long I may be, so I'll send you back to the hotel.
Would you be so kind as to return this to the pile outside The Gem? Thank you, Richardson.
Goodbye.
Oh cunt! Good morning.
Morning.
May we have a private word? Don't flee, don't flee.
I'm going outside for a smoke.
Gentlemen.
You knocked up? Why would you ask? You wouldn't have come here first, which means first you went to The Gem, which you've never yet stepped foot in.
I sent in Richardson.
Meaning first you crossed the thoroughfare with him, opening the possibility you're only puking from the company you keep.
I think I'm pregnant.
We make tea pennyroyal and cohosh, if that's what you come to find out.
I might very well die in delivering.
Holy cow! I meant to say more likely than other women, I might die, because an ailment when I was little shaped me for difficulty in childbirth.
Why not take your tale of woe to the doc? I feel that Dr.
Cochran judges me.
Lucky then you come to me that takes you to my bosom and smoothes your hair and tells you all will be well.
I can tell you this much, Mrs.
Garret if you take the tea, lay plenty of dope in.
'Cause I've killed seven, and every bleeding out I laced-on good and tight and for a long fucking while after.
I want children of my own.
Let me finish up my Jewish lessons here, then come find you.
Thank you very much.
- Thank you, Trixie.
- All right.
- My name's Alma.
- I know your name.
Miss Isringhausen.
Mr.
Adams.
May I collect a change of clothes? Of course.
I hope you slept well.
- I'm mortified to say I did.
- Mortified? Having done so at the cost of your comfort.
I sleep anywhere, ma'am.
I'm like a dog in that regard.
We don't want you murdered in your bed.
Perhaps it was irrational, my being so afraid.
That ain't a test fear's got to pass.
I know she's had others done for.
So you've said.
- Anyways - May I know your given name? Silas if I remember correct.
You have shown charity to one among strangers, Silas giving her great solace.
Thank you.
Or you're welcome, I guess.
Thank you, Silas.
And you're welcome.
Hostetler.
It's the Nigger General Fields.
Now, you was to have had this horse one week.
Shit, old Nugget here is sound and spoiled.
He's been living on peppermints and apples in the private stables of a San Francisco dry-goods big shot.
Making you owing I was delivering emerald earrings to Mrs.
Big Shot, and a diamond bracelet and matching choker to Mr.
Big Shot's mistress.
$4 a week times 17 - is - Cipher the result against this 100.
$100 take away 68 Put the balance toward our future trade.
Owing General Nigger Nigger General.
$32 credit.
Being you was away, maybe now you got a chance to take off this half-ass uniform.
Then who's gonna know I'm the Nigger General? By your own telling you never was in no Union Army.
This ain't the time or the place to be drawing people's attention.
Even for a goddamn fool.
Well, I keep missing the place where it would be a good time.
Must be my goddamn foolishness.
You wouldn't suppose they'd be salting the fucking find over there, now would you, Doris? I don't understand.
I was wondering if maybe your new bosses Maddie and Joanie are sending me more than my proper share, give me a false fucking impression of how their pussy's selling.
I don't know.
'Cause this is this is fucking heavy action for an operation ahead of itself far as decor and location and every other fucking aspect! It's mostly from just the one trick.
Which is who? I don't know his name.
They call him Mr.
W.
What does he look like? I wouldn't know how to say.
Oh, you fucking mutt.
- Is he tall or short? - Tall.
- Thin or fat? - Thin.
Good looking, I guess.
- Clean-shaved or bearded? - Bearded.
He threw me into a wall last night.
Huh.
Don't tell me.
On what pretext, sweetheart? I looked at him.
And that was against his instructions? He had all the girls facing the wall.
And you peeked? Now, was this more or less a push to the wall, or did he fucking fling you, violent-like, with more of the same in mind? Violent-like.
Huh.
Well, that's a man with a problem, ain't it, Doris? Mr.
W.
Jesus Christ, can I be that fucking lucky? - Warm it up? - Thank you.
How did you sleep, Carrie? All right, I guess.
How did you sleep? All right.
Are you guessing? I guess I'm guessing.
Do your back? Yes, thank you.
My trick got you upset.
I was in with him the night before.
I guessed he took to watching.
How did that work out? I guess he don't.
Or, anyway, not that night.
Or maybe just not me.
Do you want to know what I do with him? If you want to say.
I get him off through his pants.
Ah.
Acting like my hand's my snatch.
Reaching around behind you? Behind me and between my legs.
- Through his pants? - Yes.
You don't put your hand inside? No.
Are you naked? Dressed.
Except for my stockings and my bloomers.
Do you talk any special way? I remind him not to hit me.
Do you want to be writing this down? Congratulations, Doc, on your high and holy bullshit.
It's water off a duck to some, but others still got feelings.
Of whom are we fucking speaking? One as might die in childbirth more likely than us lucky others, but so sponged down in your disapproval when she was kicking the fucking dope, she's afraid now to seek your care.
I'll call on her.
Under some other fucking pretext.
- All right.
- Mighty fucking big of you, Doc.
You have about as miserable a disposition as your employer! I ain't exclusive to him no more.
Hey now, Miss Lady.
How much do you want for that bottle? What the fuck are you supposed to be? Currency still spends, ma'am.
Is that some dilapidated-type fucking uniform? I scouted for fucking Custer.
A great man who would have wanted you to sell me that bottle.
He was no great fucking man! He was a long-haired cocksucker that could have saved many lives by more drinking and stop being so fucking ambitious, and many still above ground and not scalped by the fucking heathens and their guts spread over the plains.
You're a short nigger, aren't you? For a fact.
My name's Jane.
I'm the Nigger General Fields.
Want a drink? I want to buy that bottle, that's what I want.
Well, you ain't buying it, but you can have a fucking drink.
Thanks.
Don't fucking look around! I don't care who sees a nigger drinking with me or drinking from the same bottle or how stupid his fucking outfit is.
This here is the epaulet of a Union Army general.
Oh.
And this here is the ass of a drunken shitbird.
Finish this with me if you can sit beside someone and not stink or fart.
I've been known to cut the odd fart but they've never stunk.
I've got the self-same gift.
If I took advantage, I apologize.
You took no more advantage of me, Silas, than the Samaritan did the traveler from Jerusalem.
Good.
I should tell you, Silas, that the Mr.
Swearengen I've heard you say you work for is named by Mrs.
Garret as her instrument in her husband's murder.
- Named by Mrs.
Garret? - Yes.
- As her instrument? - Yes.
Jesus Christ.
- What's your first name? - Alice.
Alice, your story don't get less strange the more of it you tell.
Because Mr.
Swearengen wouldn't do such a thing? Generates a fucking strangeness is her saying he was her hire.
I see.
Yeah, well, that makes fucking one of us.
Would you introduce me to Mr.
Swearengen? You're asking me to? - You want to meet him? - Please.
Why do I feel lucky we didn't meet across a poker table? Anyways, he ain't up to chatting just now.
Silas? Her bearing gives you suspicions as to her health? No, not at all.
My notes indicate that it had been a year since her last exam, and with the day-long lull between gunfights, I thought I'd have a look.
I see.
And she seems to be coming along beautifully.
Excuse us, darling.
Since I have cared for you as well, can I ask after your health? I continue relieved of the weakness you treated me for.
And you have nothing else to report? Thank you for examining Sofia.
Folk wisdom and remedies known to others in the camp are often quite adequate to the requirements of health.
Trixie, for example, is a stalwart and a reliable source of these.
However, I do have some particular competence as to the implications of anatomical anomalies, congenital or consequent of previous illness, and I would hope that you would avail yourself of this, notwithstanding my idiosyncrasies and-and-and my defects of character.
Please.
In my experience, Mr.
Wolcott, come to making restitution for others' outlays, the rich can be tardy.
I'm just satisfying myself that my employer's getting what he's paying for.
Bills of sale drawn good and legal, signatures genuine and witnessed.
Ah, join us, Commissioner.
Gentlemen.
Notice about the claims is in your newspaper publisher's hands.
That the Yankton statement may cause unease among local claimholders as to the security of their title, Mr.
Merrick found personally distressing.
He found it wrong and unfair.
Was he looking for a bribe? No, no.
He was not.
I have a nose for that.
In any case, he's manageable.
I quite stared him down.
We're just chewing the fat in here, Leon, barge the fuck amongst us.
Mr.
Merrick posted that statement outside his office, Mr.
Tolliver.
- Put out an extra, did he? - No edition of the paper at all.
Just the statement on the outside wall, and people are fucking riled.
- Riled or frightened? - Riled, sir.
That's the type of unsettlement we ain't necessarily after.
Wanting to know where he's at, who the fuck he thinks he is.
You want to manage this, Commissioner, or shall I? You go on, Tolliver.
Maybe take another bath.
What in fuck's that word supposed to mean? Uh, "mitigating," as applied to a presumption, would mean to lessen or soften strength or rigor.
I ought to punch you in the fucking nose.
Why would you punch me? You had him here, didn't you? You give him your fucking words to print on your fucking machine! Ah, which is short of saying I should have forced him to some purpose of my own? Show me where the cocksucker's at.
I won't fall short of force! Who convened the meeting, boys? New county commissioner give Merrick a statement mitigating us into an ass-fucking.
Ouch.
And then I yelled, "Break the fucking door down, Dan!" Doc said only what would jolly you, Al, but I do believe Mr.
Merrick might be in the fucking soup.
You have got one yawning fucking chasm of mouth on you.
Fucking county commissioner made Mr.
Merrick post notice titles of claims to be decided case by case.
The county commissioner's in the camp? Yeah, and that hooplehead Steve is about to punch Merrick for posting the notice, and I know that you got a liking for Merrick.
I want you to stop thinking now, Johnny, and only answer the question I'm gonna ask you.
Yes, sir.
Where's the commissioner now? The commissioner or Mr.
Merrick? The commissioner, Johnny.
Where's the commissioner? He's at Bella Union.
He moved over there.
Jesus fucking Christ! Get Bullock.
- Bullock? - Bullock! Get Bullock.
Yes, sir.
May call the sheriff in, huh? Fisticuffs between Merrick and Steve! Shut the fuck up, Johnny.
Help me get situated.
It reads to me they're inclining toward the present titleholders.
But then they start to fucking mitigate! Yeah, they do get to mitigating this last part here.
I guess my question is who of us here didn't know what government was before we came? Wasn't half our purpose coming to get shed of the cocksucker? And here it catches up to us again, to do what's in its nature to lie to us and confuse us and steal what we come to by toil and being lucky just once in our fucking lives.
And are we gonna be surprised by that, boys, government being government? Will we next be shocked by rivers running or trees casting fucking shade? Look, I have said before and I still fucking say those of a mind, make a price on your claims.
Get out from under uncertainty.
And that's from no fucking goodness on my part and no fucking charity either.
I am past picking up again.
This spot might be wrong, but here's where I'm making my stand! And I'll also say, for being a fucking commissioner, this Jarry don't seem such a bad sort, under the limits of what he is.
Wait a minute.
Does that mean you've been fucking talking to him? When in fuck did I say I wasn't? I am asking you where the fuck he is, and if he's at your fucking joint! And I am telling you yes, and making no fucking apologies: And saying, one more question in that tone will collect you a broken jaw.
I don't need another fucking question, 'cause I've located the fact that I was seeking, which is the whereabouts of the fucking commissioner, and whoever wants can come with me! Dangerous turn, Mr.
Tolliver.
Yes.
Temper loosened my tongue.
You've got gall coming before me prettier than ever.
Are you all right? On the fucking mend, that's all to say on that.
What do you know of this new commissioner? His notice on the claims has people pissed off.
I wouldn't want the cocksucker harmed.
I don't intend him any.
Don't be fucking clever with me.
He's allied with Tolliver.
Are you aware of that? No.
Bedridden, I know more than you.
The point is, if their man's allied with Tolliver and fucking harm comes to him, between the hoopleheads and me, who will Yankton put it on? - You.
- Yeah.
Do they understand how most of what happens is people being drunk and stupid and trying to find something else to blame besides that that makes their lives totally fucked? No, they don't.
- Yankton.
- Yankton, exactly.
They're too busy stealing to study human nature.
Did you ring, Al? That's the sound of that fucking bell being rung.
Did you hear that sound? - No.
- No.
Then get the fuck out.
And both of you being government officials you ought to fucking look out for each other Sheriff.
Had you vision as well as sight, you would recognize within me not only a man, but an institution and the future as well.
Fuck you, fuck the institution, and fuck the future! You cannot fuck the future, sir.
The future fucks you.
Come out from that cage, you billiard-ball-looking cocksucker! I do not take orders from hooligans.
Come out! We'll see if them cappers choose you to look at or Tolliver's fucking money! - It's a chancy call.
- Should you impede my progress, sir, were I to attempt to leave this cage, you would seal your fate as irrevocably as the tyrant crossing the Rubicon! Is he asking to suck my prick? Why don't you explain your fucking statement, Commissioner, as far as us keeping title to our claims!? I explain nothing under duress.
Have you ever lived a day in your fucking life? Pitch, Commissioner, burning off the top your fucking head! Is that vision or sight?! Cunt or duress!? - Son of a bitch! - What the fuck, Tolliver? The mob is an ungodly creature, Sheriff.
Come on.
Stand away or be shot! He's under protection of the law.
You've got their fucking attention.
- Fuck them anyway.
- Don't get me started.
Do not get me started, little Nigger General.
If something got to go in front of "Nigger" and don't it always? I prefer "short" to "little.
" "Short Nigger" is a deal, and I am a girl who keeps a bargain.
Or I could just call you plain "Nigger General.
" Call me "Just Plain Nigger.
" "Short Plains Nigger.
" "Nigger of the High Desert.
" Thanks for the conversating, Miss Jane, and the whiskey.
I am going blind as a fucking bat.
Who is that, the fucking sheriff? Flanked by some assholes? I feel no less manhandled by you, sir.
If they still had you, by now you would be feeling worse.
I need the lock-up.
Wait till I take out Bill's robe.
And now to jail, as wretched indignity accumulates.
A beating short of murder might have done you considerable good.
The commissioner meets his constituents.
A man has to work some dogs to learn how the world's tail wags.
Not coming to his aid, you mean to build his character.
We all ain't sound like you, sir.
Many could use some construction work.
Fellas like yourself, that's hard to understand.
Your foundation's sunk deep.
Framework's first rate, your mason-work.
Nothing unfinished in you, or rotten or damaged.
Or sick.
Five long years talking to nobody.
"Hostetler, you got enough problems of your own.
You don't need other bodies, especially a fool! A fool.
Hostetler, a fool!" I hope you fucking strangle under there.
Mark us even on that $100.
If you don't get your fucking thumb down, I'm gonna run this pitchfork through it.
We drag the nigger from the livery to our pitch pot in Chink's Alley.
And we make a good fucking racket so that Bullock hears.
He comes out, he gives fucking pursuit.
Once he's across the thoroughfare, the several of us come from under the fucking stairs and go up and grab the commissioner.
Well, suppose Bullock comes out shooting? Or we could just grab the nigger.
Your pelvic girdle does show the effects of your childhood illness.
Your labor may be difficult.
When you say "difficult" I have counseled patients on the basis of their anatomy against taking pregnancies to term.
I do not make that argument with you.
Do you distinguish between difficult and dangerous? Yes.
Your shape does not add danger to the delivery such as to justify, for instance, the risks of a Caesarian procedure.
It adds pain, difficult in that sense? Especially since you might be reluctant to mollify the difficulty's effects with opiates.
I've been told it wasn't an alternative for me even to contemplate, so - this is new information.
- I see.
And now that the choice is within your province, do you incline in one direction or another? To be honest, Doctor, I'm living into the thought that I've any choice at all.
You know what I'm fucking writing, fucking Nigger General.
To my ingrate fucking sister Etta, who will outlast me, I am writing my fucking will.
"One" What else did they teach you, Hostetler at that school where you learned how to write? What else? He's back up in the stall up under the hay.
They taught you good.
Come on, you gutless cunts! - Grab that nigger.
- Come on, nigger.
Come on, boy! They grabbed up a nigger.
When did a fucking nigger come into this? Hooples got him from the livery.
What about Bullock and the commissioner? Reckon they're still upstairs.
You've told me nothing.
You've added a fucking irrelevancy.
It wasn't Hostetler.
It it was some little nigger.
I'll give you $20 if you'll let me use that as my bedroll.
You got a better chance waking up looking normal.
- Hi, Charlie.
- Is the Nigger General back to camp? Yes, he is.
Don't act like you know, Jane, just 'cause you're already drunk.
You are an ignorant cocksucker.
He come over winter when you was gone.
That's ignorant.
I met him today.
Why do you ask about him, Charlie? It looked like he was gonna get done for.
I mean, I couldn't see to be sure.
I'm thirsty.
Lie on your back, take aim and piss.
How did I wrong you choice gentlemen? You want to start with me getting drafted so my cousin got the fucking confectionery? And that's why you're going to vulcanize me? Shut your fucking mouth! Your cousin, trapped East, allows you to come here to strike it rich.
Ain't that so? Get him the fuck up! Get him the fuck up! You stole my look at riches, you and your fucking monkey cousins! You motherfucker! Disperse this riotous assembly! - Let go of the Nigger General.
- That monkey just motherfucked me! I'll motherfuck you and blow your head off.
Cunt! May I please go over those columns with you? What is the fucking point of you going over the columns? You know the method of this shit already, took in probably at your mother's fucking tit! God help me for enjoying you out there, even only to abuse me.
Although, I also wouldn't mind getting fucked.
A last try at twinning these columns, then you'll have your fucking wish.
The correct answer in each instance is $127.
49.
You fuck.
Good evening, Trixie.
I was coming to you once I'd done these columns and fucked a friend.
Anyone else look in on you today? I did have another visitor, yes.
I'm gonna light a fucking cigarette in here.
- Fuck anyone who doesn't like it! - Please, do smoke.
Thank you so much.
So how did the other visitor's visit go? I am, as we thought.
And? And he expects an uneventful course, though not without difficulties.
I love how they fucking put it.
Well, that's my formulation.
Does "formulation" mean "plan"? My plan at the moment, is to watch, and wait.
"I couldn't help noticing, Trixie, you're occupied now at the hardware store.
" Yes, Alma, I am.
I'm spending time at Bullock & Star's learning to do accounts.
I'm so delighted.
Though, I'm also fucking one of the owners.
Well.
I'm delighted by that as well.
Trixie, can I have a puff of your cigarette? You ever smoked before? No.
Hm.
Thank you.
Sure.
Good night.
Congratulations.
Hello, there.
$127.
49, both columns separate verified.
Lying with aplomb, you've got the true calling.
What you heard otherwise is none of your business.
I didn't hear anything else.
Let me work on your column now.
"My own darling wife Agnes I have but a few moments left before this letter starts.
I never was as well in my life.
But you'd laugh to see me now, as I just got in from prospecting.
" He's lying.
I'm told he never prospected a moment of his time in the camp.
We must report him so he'll be punished.
"I am almost sure I will do well here.
We will have a home yet.
Then we will be so happy.
" He spells like a child.
"Sure" is spelled S-H-U-R-E.
Is it a very long letter? No, as you're about to discover.
"Here the man is, hurrying me.
I have but a few moments left before the mail must start.
Goodbye, my dear wife.
" Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
"J.
B.
Hickok, Wild Bill.
" Goodbye, Wild Bill.
There's a postscript.
Is it a very long postscript? "Agnes, darling, if such should be we never meet again, while firing my last shot I will gently breathe the name of my wife Agnes, and with wishes even for my enemies, I will make the plunge and try to swim to other shore.
" Are you a man who needs his trousers rubbed? I am a man who needs his trousers taken off.
I can do that.
Seems to me there's reabsorption of the hemorrhage.
What the fuck good is less blood in my eye? I want use of my fucking limbs.
- I understand.
- I have spent my last day abed hearing secondhand news from imbeciles.
It strike you as overweening, Al, - setting nature to a schedule? - I'm not setting terms for nature.
- I'm setting them for myself.
- Who has dominion over nature? Al Swearengen, owner and proprietor.
As to when he takes his leave, you're A-one fucking right.
Well, I don't understand.
Bullock? Why the fuck do you whisper? Bullock! I could have said you was asleep.
Doc.
Sheriff.
Pithy and civil.
The commissioner's all right.
You wipe the rim of that bottle, I'll knock you out from my present vantage.
They're coming against us.
Posting notice like that, not award even one commissioner of the three to local citizenry.
I'll guarantee you this too politicians ain't got balls for this type unsupported move.
Someone's backing their play or they would be here bending over for us.
Is it Tolliver? Tolliver is us.
They ain't gonna pick Tolliver over me this early in the game.
I see.
There's a nigger in the fucking woodpile somewhere, someone from outside the camp.
Anyways.
That nigger the hooples grabbed, did they kill him? - Tarred his shoulder.
- What stopped them at that? Me.
I get back on my fucking feet, I'll carry my share of the water.
My money's on you.
Here comes some pain for you.
You ever think of screaming instead of biting through your own fucking flesh? It's my fucking pain.
And I am suggesting an improved way of dealing with it, which is how progress occurs.
Will you two be quiet? Not only will we not be quiet, you frog-faced fuck I'm gonna take this stick and drag it back and forth across the bars of your cell.
I am not a prisoner.
I am in protective custody.
In care of a deputy deputized by the deputy sheriff, who orders you to shut the fuck up! You know Hostetler? He runs the livery? - Taller than me.
- I know him.
I'd be glad if he heard I'd have done just what he did, only quicker.
I guess he'll understand that if I don't.
He'll understand.
I'd tell him myself except I'm keeping indoors tonight.
Here comes some more pain.