One-third of six is two.
The combination of the safe in the hardware store,
which you should commit to memory against eventualities.
As was threatened by the arrival of those men last night.
Yes. There are deeds, some 7% bonds,
certificates, sundry receivables.
One-third of six is two.
One-three-ought-six-two.
Yes.
The children and I are moving into the new schoolhouse today.
Good.
I'll walk with you.
I wish we'd found out the last part
for Mrs. Bullock to tell the children.
We did as best we could.
Does four desks to a row seem right?
Mm, if not, they ain't nailed to the floor.
You ain't seen Jane?
The camp is to know they're here.
The camp is to know they're my employees.
If this knowledge came first
from some disruption of traffic
in the thoroughfare, I would have no objection.
All right.
And matters might deteriorate from there.
- Coffee! - Ready.
Well-positioned, Davey.
Yes, sir, Mr. Swearengen.
Eyeing them idlers outside Hearst's hotel.
Copperhead cocksucker Hearst,
bringing in the fucking Pinkertons.
Not much of a horserace, Dan, between the appetite for blood
and fidelity to political conviction.
Fucking Pinkertons!
Do we have alternatives to enlisting reinforcements in Cheyenne?
I knew I should have stayed packed from four days ago.
Some bullshit's jumping off on the thoroughfare, Mr. Swearengen.
Get out of my way.
Move it, old timer.
Get out of the way, Hop Lee!
Hang on.
Cocksucker!
Move along, Ding-Dong! Move along!
- Move along! - Cocksucker!
Move along, Ding-Dong!
Go get fucking Wu.
Question extant being... till reinforced,
can we learn the ways of church mice?
Call on Tolliver.
You will not mistake the newspaperman.
He looks like a... big turtle.
Published a letter meant to embarrass me.
That I authored his discomfiture
should come clear only as events accumulate.
All right.
The top of my to-do list every morning, and every day gets away from me.
- Anyways, here you are. - Here I am,
Al's delegate, as far as him and you deal with Mr. Hearst.
Will you still if invited to sit
or will it take me offering a meal?
I'd sooner not sit, sir, and already ate.
Only asking, ought I bear a message to Al?
Nothing comes to mind.
Horsemen come to camp by torchlight last night.
Tell Al as we didn't wake to the Apocalypse,
I suppose all we need fear is their Winchesters.
The pillars of my existence who should know each other:
Mr. John Langrishe,
my dear Aunt Lou Marchbanks.
With whose art I am most appreciatively familiar.
Uh, Mr. Langrishe is now to my back, Aunt Lou,
what you have long been to my belly.
And I may say that so long as the nodals are quiet,
that girth at the midriff,
preached as sin by so many among the guardians of sacral well-being,
is absolved as a danger by me.
I've been heavy all my life.
Oh, I refer not at all to you, dear lady.
Salty, juicy ham this morning.
I must have it.
Usual for me, Aunt Lou.
Sit sit sit sit.
Must I do so four times?
Ah, my closest confidant in the camp
is Aunt Lou, and I say that with every awareness.
Wonderful.
I guess I must have went invisible overnight.
I saw you, drummer.
And yet you cut in front of me.
I just know you wouldn't be eating.
Did I not see the gentlemen who is still upright
arrive in the camp last night?
I believe I may have as well.
I was on the porch of this structure,
and you with Mr. Swearengen on his balcony.
I believe he came in on horseback.
Not as a pedestrian, ironically,
given his heavy-footed virtuosity.
What did Mr. Swearengen make of the coming into camp
of that man among his friends?
Do allow me, Mr. Hearst,
as your corporal comfort's advocate,
in this regard to be neutral.
Let me show in your company on the subject of Al,
no less rigorous a reticence than I exhibit with Al
when addressing the subject of you.
Ah!
My ham.
- Good morning. - Morning.
Good morning, Louis.
- I hope your night was uneventful. - Yes, ma'am.
Jim's late, so I'll watch till he arrives.
Thank you.
How have you been, Trixie?
No complaints.
As if anybody would give a shit.
I come to put in some money.
I'm glad.
Oh shit! You motherfucker!
Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa!
I ain't no goddamn nurse! I gotta see to my business in this camp.
Tom's rules. You can't set if you ain't drinking.
He's buying for them that do.
Yeah, uh, and what if he messes hisself?
For them that wipes him off.
I ain't seeing him out. I ain't gonna fucking do it!
You seem better of late at a distance
than you appeared when last seen up close.
- And now that you've seen me up close? - I get the same impression,
particularly of a clearness at the eye.
I am better.
Good morning.
Anyways,
there's 12 bucks I deposit into my account.
If the currency's counterfeit,
my fucking Jew boss is the culprit.
Do not, please, madam, hasten your business
- or abridge it. - I don't need no receipt.
Trust the lady.
John Langrishe, madam, of the Langrishe Theater Company.
How do you do, Mr. Langrishe?
Glad I'm well to bid you good morning.
I'd undertake two transactions.
Deposit of $4,000
and the borrowing of like amount.
Those would seem at cross-purpose.
Theater types being perceived as transient,
nomadic...
without stake, so to speak, in a place's particulars...
my redundant undertakings
would allay mistrust of my kind
endemic in such camps as these.
Oh.
No less weighty than my verbiage.
You have your loan, Mr. Langrishe.
A pleasure, Mrs. Ellsworth.
By way of publicity,
this evening we conduct an amateur night.
I wish to state, unequivocally
with this imposing gentleman as witness,
I have no gossamer filament of doubt
you have skills to delight and amaze.
They have their fucking fun with you,
and in the morning, they treat you like dirt.
And you a fucking virgin...
No, and not pretending to be.
...to be wounded by her callous ways.
All I'm saying is she could have been nicer,
and those steerers more fucking polite.
- Assholes! - Hey,
we got a timber lease to work. Get over there.
Oh, yeah, I'm sure them scribblin's
as clear as fucking rainwater to you, Johnny...
he who was stymied by a couple of fucking X's
and a goddamn straight line.
Winks, grins, gives Wu the big okay.
Okay.
If I recall the drawing you're referring to,
I believe the straight line signifying the bar was first made out by me.
As far as these pictures here, now I,
not fathoming the full particulars,
I feel I get the general drift.
You best trot upstairs with Johnny, Wu.
Show Al your work is finished.
But remember, Al, he...
he ain't near as quick as Johnny or fucking Jewel.
No, Al might be confused and treat you to a fucking ass-kicking.
Well, what does Tolliver know of the guns come to camp?
Said he don't know nothing.
- And you fucking believe him, huh? - I think, I did.
Felt like he is outside looking in.
We ought to form a fucking club.
Fucking Yankton's rejoined us
for Christ's fucking sake?
Must have finished stealing from the Indians.
Wipe your ass, Hiram.
It feels strange at first,
but the shit protects against blisters.
Ho!
- Will you be here after work? - If I am, will you suck my prick?
Well, if you ain't, and a fella says Hiram's trying to find you,
if he don't go on to call you a cunt,
he's cutting the message short.
Let's go, Morgan.
What, was it him that got you hooked on cocksucking?
Get on the fucking wagon.
I'll be here, Hiram. Try some shit on them blisters.
Let him fuck your ass. He may raise your pay a quarter.
You might already be too loose.
See you this afternoon.
A room, if I may,
unexposed to the gales which must blow through that hole above us.
Mr. George Hearst, who is now the hotel's owner,
put the hole in that wall.
Enhancing not at all for me the prospect of a room
- in the hole's proximity. - Could I get a wheelbarrow or the like?
Yes, sir. Richardson! Wheelbarrow!
Miss Stubbs?
I guess you're near ready to take the children over.
Or are you ready now? Do I keep you from it?
Oh, I'm... I'm taking the children in an hour's time.
Just now you give us happy respite from our numbers.
Anyways, Mose says the man was a Norwegger from Wisconsin,
built the building around the tree
so as to have sap on hand for syrup,
which must taste like hell for being burr oak, but...
probably smells nice in a lamp.
- Does anyone know why he left? - No luck on that score.
Far as that, we came up empty.
It's too bad.
It's freer rein for the children's imaginations.
Fewer facts, I guess, to trample.
I hope that you'll walk with us, Miss Stubbs.
Oh...
- Sure. - Good.
I'll see you in an hour.
I recognize, Mr. Fields, that in any foreseeable future,
Steve will not resume operations of the livery
or pay on his note to the bank. Be assured I am grateful
for the expedient care you have taken of the livery and its occupants,
having no obligation in this matter of any kind.
No shadow ought be on Hostetler's reputation
that sold to Steve by me now taking leave.
No reasonable person would cast one.
I guess I can head out then, knowing the one in a 100
that is, won't sully Hostetler's name.
I got a life to live of my own.
As do all here in the camp.
Sorry to hold you all up.
Jesus Christ, whoever thought I'd come to write an article?
Have you a notice you wish circulated, sir?
- What? - By "article" do you mean
you have some notice you'd wish published?
By "article" I mean a fucking article.
What would be your article's subject?
You're a fat fucking bastard, ain't ya?
I think we ought best continue our conversation, sir,
when you're not under the influence of spirits.
Something stupid looking about you.
- I must insist you leave. - Fucking irritating!
How you look makes me fucking embarrassed!
- Oh dear. - "Oh dear"?
Oh dear.
You'd better come help your friend.
Mr. Merrick, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!
Swedgin, Hearst, heng dai?
We're the opposite of fucking heng dai!
We're bok gwai lo, the two of us.
- Bok gwai lo? - Fuck bok gwai lo!
We're not fucking heng dai!
We're the opposite of fucking heng dai! Now make your fucking point.
Yah! Swedgin! Hearst! Eee!
Jesus fucking Christ.
150 Chung Kuo cocksucka. Custer.
He's dead, for Christ's sake, Wu!
Hey, how about the canoe?
Did you know that had been fucking invented yet, huh?
Custer, Chung Kuo cocksucka,
150, Custer.
Custer City?
Oh! Custer City!
Wu's holding his men
- outside Custer City. - Huh.
'Cause you and Hearst are on the outs.
Clever precautionary fucking thinking, Wu.
- Miss Stubbs. - Mr. Utter.
- Mr. Langrishe. - The blessed Miss Stubbs,
whose bust is so very prominent
in the mind's pantheon of the camp.
Some not 50 yards from us
will put these of mine to shame.
As I've made to Mr. Utter
a proposal, the answer to which
he must generate only in privacy and after meditation,
if you'll excuse, I'll take my leave.
- Well, I will too. - No no no, Miss Stubbs.
It is only I from whom he must be sequestered.
Your counsel may be invaluable.
If you can cartwheel or puff your cheeks like a fish...
we have a festivity tonight.
I'll live in hope you'll attend.
There is a strange fucking bird.
Some kind of, uh, amateur night
he's organizing, connected with his theater.
Some way I couldn't fathom.
A prelude, he called it.
Fucking Jane ought to break out her bullwhip.
I nearly came to know for Mrs. Bullock to tell the children
why that schoolhouse has a tree growing through it.
The new one has a tree growing through it?
Who the man was,
why he built around the tree instead of cutting it down.
Mose couldn't find out where he got to.
Why does she need to know where the man got to
for Mrs. Bullock to tell the children about the tree?
To finish the story.
More than where the man got to once he was through,
I'd think the story was of the tree
and the schoolhouse built around it.
I guess you're right, though.
I... I guess children are like that,
wanting to know all the information.
I guess that's how they are.
You got something to send, Miss Stubbs?
I was just stopping by to say good morning.
Friends become adversaries
become now, I hope, friends again.
Doing any good for yourself?
Oh, hard of late, Adams, doing that in Yankton.
That is something you would be aware.
From what I read on the crapper.
Washington harasses us for our difficulties
in distribution to the Indians,
thereby distracting the nation at large
from Washington's own fiscal turpitudes and miasms.
There amongst the turpitudes and miasms, you got caught stealing the money.
The money was not stolen.
There was an amount of siphoning off
and certain irregularities.
Sounds like it was regular as milking Bessie,
96¢ on the dollar.
Rank exaggeration.
If it was less than 90, you fucked generations of Indian agents to come.
If saying so will let us go on, then,
yes, we stayed above 90.
And did you lay a few cents by?
A few. Never enough.
Your star here is in ascension?
I've been keeping busy.
Tell me how. Don't delete a single detail.
That's a pretty taut line, Mr. Jarry,
not knowing how deep your hook's set yet.
How deep would 500 set it,
time being of the fucking essence?
Hard to know till it's inside my pocket.
I'd rather not produce it in this place.
Worse gets produced here pretty regular.
Much has been answered already.
Little has fucking changed.
Ugh, it was nightmarish.
Whatever cogent purpose the man may have had,
his drunkenness kept him from conveying, and yet
I had the eerie sense he knew what he was doing.
Maybe not so drunk as he seemed, huh?
Details, sir.
Did the newspaperman try to defend himself?
Did he beg you to stop? Did he cry out?
He said, "Oh dear." Was bleeding and curled up like a baby.
I'm guessing your bottom rib is cracked,
and this contusion at your belly
show the colors of the rainbow before it's through with you.
Apparently, my expiration is not imminent.
'Course, I'm wrong as much as I am right.
What purpose might the man have had,
Al, in feigning drunkenness?
Allow you to penetrate the pretense? Teach fear while inflicting pain?
You printed any letters lately, Merrick,
that some miserable cocksucker would send an underling to punish you for?
Bastard.
Should be ashamed that I didn't come to help.
I'm so sorry, Mr. Merrick, my dear friend.
Cut it the fuck out, the both of you,
unless you want to act to the cocksucker's purpose.
This came for the cocksucker, Mr. Swearengen.
Take it to him.
I'd like to punch him.
Give him the fucking telegram...
and no punching.
Long pulls on the laudanum as needed.
Check out that sow Tina, Doc, when opportunity presents.
That ain't the whiff of roses when she passes.
- Have I bled on your bed linens, Al? - You wouldn't be the first.
Shit.
Do yourself a favor, Sol.
Stop thinking of that Derringer as a problem solver.
It solved several for me.
Free fucking kindling, if you have need for it.
Our timber lease ain't nothing but pecker poles.
Let's see them blisters... Hiram.
Aw! Son of a...
Jesus Christ, Morgan!
Stay inside. Stay in here.
- Help me. - I did, you motherless cunt...
to bleed out in the fucking mud.
Stand away till I find out what happened here!
- That fight was fair. - Bullshit!
Corey was under orders not to draw.
Man's gun's out of its holster.
Was it you took it out after he was down?
Do you say I did?
That saw me come from my store as you came down the boardwalk?
I say someone did.
Corey had orders not to draw.
- You're fucking under arrest. - What for?
For interfering with a fucking peace officer. Come with me for questioning.
- All right. - All right, Sheriff.
You tell your men to interfere.
Give me a reason to do what I want.
Cheyenne and Black Hills
- Telegraph Company, Mr. Hearst. - Mr. Blazanov.
Telegram for George Hearst.
I decline your gratuity, sir.
Change in policy.
So where you gonna take this, Richardson?
To finish curing in the smokehouse.
How long you gonna leave it in there?
Three weeks.
How you remember three weeks is up?
The notch where I sleep
beside the notches for my other ham.
You getting the hang of this, Richardson.
So next time I ain't gonna asked you.
Only check did you make your notch.
You'll find it made, Aunt Lou.
Would you excuse us, sir?
Yes.
Odell is dead.
Jesus, help me.
The found him near the road to Rapid City.
How they sure it's Odell?
The letters I gave him were still on his person,
and his Bible bore his name.
Get away from 'round me, sir!
No, you don't have to feign strength with me, Aunt Lou.
I ain't pretending shit! Get the hell away from 'round me, sir!
Oh God! Oh my God!
Get out of my fucking light.
It's me.
Who is me? The fucking eclipse?
- Mose Manuel. - Oh, really?
I thought it... it was Giganto,
the runaway circus elephant.
Miss Stubbs has been looking for you.
Those kids need chaperoning to the new schoolhouse, Jane.
I cannot hear you,
nor can I see you
any longer.
- You fucking drunken slob! - Oh!
Get up and walk them kids.
Okay, Giganto!
Don't tusk me to death with your tusks.
How long do I have to assemble myself?
They'll be ready to go in a few minutes.
Shut up.
I'm sorry, Mama.
I'm so sorry.
I can't take it. I can't take it.
Who produced their weapon first?
Said they come out the same time.
We drew as one.
- That's a fucking lie. - Come here a second.
Shut up.
Are you as sure about your timber lease?
- What do you mean? - As that this is truthful.
Are you as sure that lease ain't worth fuck-all?
- Absolutely fucking certain. - Then nothing holds you here.
And arguing against you staying
is who this fuck-head works for,
and the man you shot
in the fair fight.
Best you move on,
- taking your genius brother with you. - Um...
I ain't showed myself to advantage here, Sheriff.
I'm fully fucking aware.
Line up right there.
Stop. You're gonna stop right there. Right there, stop.
Okay, step this way right here.
Okay, stop. Stand right here.
Thank you. You can carry that.
Stay close. I might need you for support.
I don't want to hold her hand.
You can lock arms instead.
Hey, okay, go ahead. Miss Stubbs?
Sheriff?
Tell him I ain't coming for his lecture.
Tell him I don't need it. Tell him if my temper was gonna get the best of me,
this cocksucker's brains would be on the floor.
Tell him I got it. All right?
Tell him I'm on top of it.
Sheriff.
They're finished, Charlie.
I got it.
I told Mrs. Bullock I'd walk with her.
Well, go ahead. Hello to Miss Stubbs.
Soap! Soap with a prize inside!
Guaranteed prize in every case of soap!
Soap! Soap with a prize inside.
Hello! As we have
in Chicago, Denver
and San Francisco,
the Langrishe Troupe bids welcome
to the Deadwood camp!
Nights to come will find us on the stage within.
Our enactments may bring an odd tear to the eye,
and may be relied upon to produce guffaws
and howls of laughter.
This evening, however, in memoriam of a passing colleague
whose jocund spirit
hovers over our gay fiesta,
I will give you his favorite epithet.
"All the world's a stage,
and all the men and women merely players."
Tonight, we will be
the audience to you.
How you feeling, Aunt Lou?
- I'm getting dinner ready. - Don't.
Isn't right you serving supper to strangers when you're in such grief.
- I want to. - No.
Ahem!
Kitchen's closed.
The sustenance I would take in any case, Mr. Hearst,
like a newly-hatched bird,
would come, I would hope, from your mouth.
Don't follow so damn close.
Kill you if I could, George Hearst.
Sir! Do your tumble! Do you have a colleague?
Tumble, sir! Tumble away!
Magnificent!
Well done! Bravo!
A round of applause for our dueling gymnastics!
And again, who's there next?
Our pick of the week?!
On you go, sir.
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo.
Young lady, you'd raised your hand.
I have a sense you might favor us with a song.
When my dad died, I didn't even cry.
Here you are, I'll give you a dollar.
You cry right for him right now.
Oh! Look at this! Look!
That is the best fucking thing
I have ever heard in my life!
- Indeed it is, sir! - Get off me, sir!
Thank you, young lady, thank you!
Hell, it's easy for you.
You didn't know the cocksucker.
What's the upshot?
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
I was arrested, I was locked up.
What's the upshot?
Go and sin no more.
- Go ahead, Charlie. - Where?
Go ahead to the fucking amateur night.
You don't mind? All right.
I believe I'll attend badgeless,
lest I put a damper on stupidities.
Hmm.
Grandpa's trick.
It is, yes.
And we oughtn't to let that spoil it for us.
Such elegance!
Such dexterity!
Ah, magnifico, magnifico!
Let's hear it for the lariat lad.
Get outta here with that fucking nonsense.
Get outta here before I cut your fucking throat!
Go on! Fucking amateur night.
Some people gotta...
fucking work, hmm?
Look at this!
A mystery from the East.
Magnificent, young lady.
Well done, young lady. Well done, well done.
Ah!
Little fucking James, huh?
He is a chatterbox.
"Why why why?" Shut the fuck up and maybe you'll find out.
He liked the tree house most of any.
What's a tree house doing way the fuck up there?
I like them school kids.
Well done, well done. Ah!
Orbs of gold!
The wonderful Mr. Richardson.
And his magic orbs.
And again, sir, and again.
And again, sir! Hidden talents!
Richardson!
You're done.
Envy is a cardinal sin, Mr. Farnum.
Cardinal sin.
How many are they?
265 soldiers have bivouacked near Sturgis now.
Another 200 could be brought to the hills if needed.
Why can't the soldiers near Sturgis vote twice?
Reinforcements are available
should poll watchers prove hostile to repeaters.
Come forward, God damn it. My back fucking worsens.
I am so sorry, sir.
Better you dizzy than me have to turn around and look at you.
These votes will support
candidates of your preference
in each office, Mr. Hearst,
as if cast by you yourself.
My stringent instruction from Governor Pennington
is to convey upon my return
a confirmation in your hand
that... that we have had this conversation.
Then the Governor in turn confirms the rumor he's a moron.
My heavens, no.
I don't mean that he would seek your signature
on any itemizing of particulars,
merely to confirm the fact that I spoke to you.
Oh my God.
Oft confused with the Most High,
though our inseams got different lengths.
Fuck you. Fuck you!
You can't come in here, Cy.
I suppose I could if I want to.
If you need us to talk, we can do it somewheres else.
- It ain't for you to come in here. - Fuck you, Joanie Stubbs,
and your fucked-out whores thinking what's mine to come into and ain't.
Come on, girl.
Come on close.
Come on.
Mose!
Help, Miss Stubbs. I'm too afraid.
What a lovely tree
inside a building.
Is that a darling fucking tree house
in the precious fucking branches
for the shitheel little kids
to play amongst in jolly joy?
Get away, you!
- Well now, Mose. - Go on!
You fat bastard.
I'll hold your heart in my hand for your beady little rat eyes to look at
before I shove it down your fucking throat!
Cy!
I wonder how till tonight I found my way in the world at all,
not having my steps directed at every fucking quarter.
- Go along. - I got fucking places to go.
Isn't this fun, man? Huh?
Ah! The camp giant!
Oh!
What a figure.
What a figure. Look at this! Look at this!
Look at that, ladies and gentlemen.
Well done. Bravo, bravo.
Bravo. Magnificent.
- Ah! - Look at that.
Look at my eye.
Ah!