All language subtitles for Deadwood.S01E04.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

I raise 100.

Back 100.

That man's overplaying his hand.

All right.

Whatever the fuck I got left.

420 back to you.

As advertised,

you got more nerve
than sense, huh, Bill?

What have you got?

The man stays on fours.

And they call this a game of skill?

You gutted me, didn't you, Bill?
You son of a bitch!

You were told about that talk.

Go eat, Jack.

All right.

I thank you for that kindness.

You just bought yourself
something with that.

Some boys can't go near
a cliff without jumping off.

20 to the dealer.

Much appreciated.

Any ideas for the rest?

I believe I'll stay with cash.

Montana.

No rest for the wicked.

Well, what are you doing up?

Well, it's cooler working now.
Quieter.

Sorry you had to listen to them

drunken fools before, Mr. Hickok.

When you and Mr. Utter
was helping us?

I come through unharmed.

And Bill would be
easier on my nerves.

Mr. Hickok makes me look
for the warrant in your hand.

All right.

Montana okay with you?

The only other nickname
I ever had was Sloth.

Don't seem to fit.

Choice was among
the seven sins.

I guess I got out before
the others surfaced.

Camp looks like a good bet.

My wife and boy are
with her people in Michigan.

I hope I can bring 'em out soon.

They'll get the Sioux making peace.

Pretty quick you'll have laws here

and every other damn thing.

I'll just settle for property rights.

Will ya?

I'm recently married myself.

Is that so?

The missus operates a circus.

She's in Cincinnati

waiting for word of my success.

Sol and I put our last
sifting cradle aside for you.

Why don't you go ahead
and use it, Bill?

What slows me down
is thinking about

freezing my balls off in a creek.

Or the cocksuckers
I'd lose the gold to at poker.

I'm flat out tired.

Turn in.

I got her covered.

I believe I will.

Good night, Montana.

Good night, Bill.

My pop called me "Kite."

I was supposed to leave
for Cheyenne two damn hours ago!

What kept you, Charlie?

You don't fuckin' sleep!

I don't know what in the fuck
is happening to you, Bill.

So you stayed in camp
to tuck me in?

If you don't want to prospect,

I could put you in charge
of that mail route I'm gettin'.

I'm doing what I wanna do.

Bullshit!

Some goddamned time,

a man's due to stop
arguing with hisself,

feeling he's twice
the goddamned fool he knows he is

because he can't be something
he tries to be every goddamned day

without once getting to dinnertime
and not fucking it up.

I don't wanna fight it no more.

Understand me, Charlie?

And I don't want you
pissing in my ear about it.

Can you let me go to hell
the way I want to?

Yeah.

I can do that.

Good luck in Cheyenne.

Good luck to you too, Bill.

You know me, Al.

I don't scrutinize
or second-guess.

If you wanted to explain

why I'm to buy the dude
out of a worthless claim,

- I'd surely listen.
- Jesus Christ.

What is it?

The dude must've had
some kind of accident.

My word.

- Looks dead, don't he?
- Yes.

See, my reasoning was,
get the dude his money back,

keep him from asking
in the Pinkertons.

Appears now that's unnecessary.

Make the offer to the wife.

Al, once that dope-fiend

throws her skirts over her head
and hightails back to New York,

you think she'll give one wet fart
about what happened at this camp,

let alone send the Pinkertons out?

And 20,000's a lot of money.

Let me tell you several things, EB:

first, $20,000 is a lot of money;

second, it's my fucking money;

third, the widow, being a dope-fiend,

might let matters rest;

but fourth,

well, this camp has a lot more
to offer me than $20,000

as long as I don't get killed
by the fucking Pinkertons.

Why take the chance?

Go see to the grieving
fucking widow.

All right, sir.

Mrs. Garret?

What a tragic turn.

Do you require Dr. Cochran?

To treat your terrible grief?

Yes.

I would like to see the doctor.

Of course, who wouldn't?

I'll get him right away.

Ask him, before he sees me please,

to examine my husband's injuries.

I'd like his opinion
on how they were sustained.

I assume your husband died in a fall.

All I asked you to do was get
the goddamned doctor.

Of course, madam.

Is that what happened, Mr. Dority?

A tragic turn?

A terrible accidental fall?

I'm sorry, ma'am.

Oh yes.

Come on, stupid.

She wouldn't have
nothing to do with me, Al.

She told EB

to have Doc go over the body.

You think he smells the gold?

Nah.

EB's too busy sniffin'

what he can steal being go-between.

Whereas you, Dan,

you show me foresight and loyalty,

the way you handled making the find.

Just know when I'm outta my depth.

Amateur.
Comes on a lark to dabble,

and falls to his death from the ridge.

Yet the widow suspects foul play.

I know Al wants her leaving here

with as least of a sour taste
in her mouth as possible.

Wouldn't you expect
her husband's death

to be sour on her tongue
no matter how it happened?

Question's whether it's fate she blames,

or people in the camp.

What are you looking for?

Morning, Seth.
When did you get up?

I didn't go to sleep.

The woman that newspaperman
pointed out to us yesterday

just lost her husband.

Fella bought the gold claim
at Swearengen's?

Innkeep just took
the body down to the doc's.

You weren't twiddlin' your thumbs
overnight, were you?

I've brought the doctor.

Please, come in, Doctor.

I'm very sorry about your husband.

Was he murdered?

I was told that he fell from a ridge.

He had skull fractures
consistent with that.

Not been wounded
by bullets nor strangled.

No other sign of foul play.

Leaving how he came to fall?

As to that I have no opinion.

And yet...

in treating me,

you were so full of opinion.

You took the most
comprehensive view.

I said you needn't
make up symptoms

- to get the laudanum you want...
- Perhaps you don't feel

at such perfect liberty
to opine on my husband's case

as you did on mine.

Do other considerations constrain you?

Do other men?

I do not know how

your husband's skull got caved in.

You're a bright woman, aren't you?

Must've gone through hell here.

Go on home, Mrs. Garret.

What's her mood?

Who is it?

Mr. Farnum, Mrs. Garret.

May I be of further service?

Once I've determined my plans.

I'll certainly need a coffin.

I'll see to it.

Thank you.

What is it?

Would you open the door, ma'am?

I would like to say
something to your face.

I'm overcome with remorse, Mrs. Garret,

that I failed to change
the course of events.

It was me your husband
outbid for the claim.

If it will simplify
your situation in any way,

I renew my offer at $12,000.

I know it won't bring him back.

No. We both know that.

You'll have your answer shortly.

All right, madam.

Is this Mr. Hickok's room?

Who's asking?

My husband's just died
under suspicious circumstances.

Suspect someone else.

When Bill's killed a man,
he says so and states his reasons.

I don't suspect him.

My husband had tried
to engage Mr. Hickok

just before his death and I thought,
though they hadn't come to terms,

perhaps Mr. Hickok would be willing

to advise me on my current situation.

I'd pay whatever fee
he thought appropriate.

To talk to you?

I have no one else in the camp.

I'll get him.

He's sleepin' one off.

Thank you.

I'm sorry about your husband.

May I ask your name?

- Jane.
- Thank you, Jane.

Wait in your room.

It'll take him awhile
to get the phlegm situated.

All right.

I'm sure you don't need me
explaining a place like ours.

A doc in frequent attendance can

sew the seeds of doubt.

All depends on
your standards of hygiene.

We want 'em shiny,
make no mistake.

There's a wide range of normal.

Friday and Saturday mornings
and the mid-week day

of your choice will be right for us.

I can... I can work that out.

So what does Swearengen
pay for a visit?

$20 for routine call, all girls in.

Ah.
And what's his idea of routine?

Once every three
or four months?

Anyway, how's, uh...
$50 a visit sound,

three times a week?

Done.

Lubricants.

Well, armed and ready, madam.

Thanks very much.

Howdy.

Howdy yourself.
You the operator?

Cy Tolliver.

Name's Crane. I'd like a room,

I'd like exclusive use of the safe
and I'd like to shoot some dice.

I'd like to think this is the first day
of a long friendship, Mr. Crane.

We'll get you a room.
If you'll step into my office

we'll meet your needs for a safe.

Help you with your luggage.

Suitcases go to the room.

Expect you'll keep the valise.

Keep what you expect to yourself

and you'll improve our
chances at that friendship.

- Young man.
- How are you, Cy?

Done some good work on this place.

Eddie's work.

Hey, Andy.

Hello, sweetheart.

So let's go,
let's get something working.

We could rob Cy.

How 'bout a bath first and a nap...

- and sex with an unfamiliar woman?
- Sure.

Signal when ready, commander.

If I didn't make my point, I'd like
to get something fucking working.

Sure, Andy.

How's Andy look?

Like he spent
three weeks on a wagon.

I'm optimistic, Al.

And she's promised a prompt reply.

I'd have thought she'd
say yes on the spot.

You did offer her the whole 20?

How can you even ask me that?

- EB?
- I offered 12.

Did I ask you to play her?

Can't you follow one simple
fucking instruction?

She will take the 12, Al,
and be happy to get it.

And all you'll have to decide is

how much of the eight
you saved should go to me.

- You're incorrigible.
- I do my best.

I'll go weigh the 12.

She says yes, there should be
something in this for you.

Hint at the amount.

Don't get ahead of yourself, EB.

When she signs the bill of sale

and you come back here
and sign it over to me...

it is your 12 after all.

Once all that's done,

you should walk
outta here with 2,000.

Fair recompense.

For saving me money
in spite of myself.

I suggested to my husband
just last night

that we should try
to view our time here

as one experience
bought at a single price.

Even now he's murdered, I feel that.

That to stake the boundaries

at... at just that fact is impossible.

For one, this camp

hasn't any laws or courts.

If it did, I've no evidence.
I'd have tried to take

the thing all whole if they
hadn't offered on the claim.

To receive their money
would be a separate matter,

make me an accomplice of another sort.

How have you been
an accomplice till now?

A wife inevitably feels

she's had some part
in what befalls her husband.

I'm answerable hereafter,
on different terms.

I need to know

what I'd be selling them.

You don't believe the money's
to keep the Pinkertons away.

Why pay me?

If it were a ransom
to keep the Pinkertons off,

why not pay Brom
instead of killing him?

It's this saloon operator
you think is pulling the strings?

Al Swearengen... it was certainly
he manipulating Brom.

The slimy limey cocksucker.

All right, ma'am.

True sounding's not guaranteed

but I'll try for a feel of the bottom.

What shall I pay you, Mr. Hickok?

I prefer you pick the figure.

Is $100 enough?

Perfect.

Whiskey.

And how'd they take
to the craps game?

Like chimps at their first fire.

Downstairs.

Thank you, Dan.

I'm Al Swearengen, Mr. Hickok.

In the last few days,

I've been locked
in my room weeping,

searching my memories

as to where my path might've
crossed yours previous.

And as to how
I might've given offense

that you stay in this camp
not 50 feet from my joint

and never once walk in.

- No poker.
- Is it that simple?

Dan, dismantle the titty corner
and set up a poker table.

Not necessary, Mr. Swearengen.

I always felt poker
slows a joint's action.

Bit of liquor, pussy,

and faro made my entire fuckin' career,

but certain people I do respect.

This man Garret,
who fell off the rocks...

The Eastern dude.

His widow's had an offer on his claim

from that innkeeper
sitting in the corner.

But she's reluctant to sell

till she understands what's behind it.

Why have you asked me?

She believes you'd know.

Her husband came here
with childish ideas.

Bought himself a gold claim
with me an honest broker.

Claim pinches out, which will happen,

but he can't take that like a man,

has to blame somebody.

Seller's left camp so he picks on me.

Says he'll bring in the Pinkertons

if I don't offer restitution.

I got a healthy operation here,
and I didn't build it

brooding on the right
and wrong of things.

I do not need the Pinkertons
descending like locusts.

So I bend over for
the tenderfoot cocksucker.

"Reconnoiter your claim fully," I say,

"And then if you're still unhappy,
I will give you

your fucking money back."
And the tenderfoot agrees.

Just as he's finishing his reconnoiter,

cocksucker falls to his death.
Pure fucking accident.

But up jumps the widow
in righteous fucking indignation.

Wants the doctor to examine
him for murder wounds.

My visions of locusts return.

I see Pinkertons coming in swarms.

Commissioned by the widow.

Who I recognize is grieving,
and has better intentions probably

than to hold on the truth.

How's the innkeep
come to make the offer?

Underbidder on the sale I brokered

still believes in the claim.

Even though the gold is pinched out?

Well, this camp's expanding.

We've already had one hotel close.

He sees the property as real estate.

I'll take this back to the widow.

I only hope you show it to her

in a favorable fucking light.

What's that worth?

What?

The light I show it in?

What's it worth to you?

Why, Wild Bill.

They certainly don't
appear to be at odds.

What happened to this little one

was the same exact cocksucker.

Seems he was pulling the strings

in your husband's fleecing
and gettin' him killed.

This Swearengen
operated the road agents

that done for this little one's people.

Oh, poor child.

To lose her family,
to see them slaughtered.

Very same cocksucker.

It's Bill.

You stole off on me.

I had to come in here
to look out for the little one.

I thought she might
want me present.

Yes, I... I'm very grateful.

Didn't happen to put one right between

the shithead's eyes, now did ya, Bill?

Unless you need the money
right away,

I'd defer a decision
until someone honest

and competent did
a second reconnoiter.

May I commission you?

Some question my fitness
on either count,

but I'll guarantee you
I'm not competent.

I do know someone I trust to ask.

Please do.

Name's Bullock.

I'll go talk to him now.

How'd you leave it
with the cocksucker, Bill?

On terms he'd understand.

Al, watchin' you even at a distance

was a pleasure and privilege.

If she don't come back to you
with an answer inside an hour,

- you pay a call on her.
- But Hickok's an ally, am I right?

I mean if that wasn't
a damn ally leavin'

my eyes completely deceived me.

- An hour, EB.
- Yes, sir.

Pour me a drink.

And ask me the key to a long life.

What is it?

Most important human quality
for a person to reach old age?

I'll buy the drink if you tell me.

Same as a dog who keeps his nose.

Don't poke it where it don't belong.

Wise words.

A lesson hard to come by,

but thoroughly learned.

Something else I know.

My knowing what I know

and somebody else knowing it,

is two entirely different things.

I'm near losing your trail, Ellsworth.

Say somebody thought I saw
something I shouldn't have.

Whereabouts?

On a ridge.

A man, pushed off
or whatever the hell else.

If it meant my leaving camp

to prove I could
mind my own business,

it'd be a friend who told me that.

Instead of throwing me to the pigs.

It's my whole philosophy and outlook.

Make use of it as you will.

Well well, if he... if he was here
sealing an appearance arrangement,

then I'm glad it was you
that tied him up, Al,

not that new fucking operation,

what with them fancy signs
and cleaned-up women

where I heard
he was gambling all night.

We made no appearance agreement.

Well, uh...

- You and... you and Hickok...
- No.

Oh, I see.

Well, I mean, because his game
at my place yesterday

was this far from coming to lead.

Him and this droop-eyed hoople-head,

and I had to shut it down.

I mean, if that gives him
offense or umbrage,

well, I can't worry about his plans

as far as where he decides
to gamble elsewhere,

or this new joint
overwhelms the camp.

We made no agreement.

What do you think of the new joint?

Nice sign.

This far from fucking gunplay.

Jack fuckin' high!

That's what I held.

I bet every fuckin' cent.

Miracle to me is you sit here
bragging about it.

I ain't braggin',

or a braggart, or a blowhard.

I state a fact.
I live by a fact...

Anyways, it's over.

Yeah, you believe that because
you're a walkin' fuckin' cunt!

With your cunt... your eye movin'.

No matter how your day's going, Jack,

you're always fun to talk to.

Give me a buck then, Lou.

He sent me off for a meal.

Give me a buck,
see what part of you gets shot

because I...

I possess a fuckin' gun
that I didn't bet.

I'll pay you $5 for that gun,
sight unseen.

'Cause what you need is a stake
to make your comeback.

That'll get you out of this
brown study you're in.

What'd you take off of me?

The tag from your new suit.

All right then.

Name a price.

If it's close to fair, I'll pay it.

For the suit?

For your gun.

No, I believe not.

I believe no.

He too is God's handiwork.

Oh, double fucking solitaire.

Where's your fucking ballgowns?

Bring a bunch a chips over here

and let's get a poker game going!

I don't know this camp.

I'd have to bring
someone from Montana.

Would the widow
give it that much time?

Yeah, she would.

She don't wanna be stupid or fooled.

Wants to stand up for her husband
better than he stood up for himself.

Not that she ought to stick around.

Far as that goes,
she could sign a proxy.

There's her $100 in it,

and what that saloon-keeper gave me
if you'd wanna take it on.

All right.

I guess she's all right

till that saloon-keep
decides I can't be trusted

to betray her interests.

Trust ain't his long suit.

She oughtta be lookin' for a wagon.

Thanks for the favor, Montana.

Sure.

I like Ellsworth too.

There's a difference
between talking a lot,

which Ellsworth does enjoy,

and oversteppin'.

He don't get into
other people's business.

Then what are we talkin' about, Dan?

Well, my own standards
as to who's reliable

ain't the same as Al's.

So Ellsworth has to leave camp
over the difference?

Yeah, he does if it's that or kill him.

He said tell him
if those was the choices.

Don't you do it.

Which?

Either.

Asks a bribe for something
he never intends to do.

Takes my 150 then tells her not to sell.

Why are you so sure he told her not to?

You went back there,
you knocked on her door.

She said Hickok reported to her
his conversation with you.

But she wasn't prepared yet
to give me an answer.

Does this make sense to you, huh?

She pays Hickok to come talk to me.

He goes back, tells her to sell.

And then she says she needs
more time to make up her mind.

That idiot couldn't put one in his ear.

If you're talking about Tom Mason,
I'd say that's water under the bridge.

I'd say Hickok has to die
if I have to kill him myself.

Jesus, Al, with all that's going on?

How would it sit with the widow,
for one thing?

How would that
dispose her toward us?

Let me pose you a question,
EB, you fuckin' cunt!

Someone comes at you,
what are you supposed to do about it?

And I'll pose you a question back,
Al Swearengen!

If a friend, or at least
a professional colleague,

has a mistaken impression
of who's coming at him

and who isn't, what are you
supposed to do then, huh?!

You don't think he's coming at me?

I don't think Hickok's coming at ya, Al.
No, I don't.

I think you're a man with so many
different responsibilities

you sometimes get feeling beset.

And in that frame of mind,
take things personal.

I'd sooner the cocksucker was dead.
Simplify working the widow.

We don't get to choose
the world we live in.

Bella Union cocksuckers to worry about

and every other damn thing.

You got a full plate.

I need to fuck something.

Trixie!

Hey hey hey!

Get the bottle.

That's using your old noggin, Al.

Get yourself some relief.

Let the world do its own spinnin'.

Don't be pointing
your fucking thumb for me.

Me and you done
talked that subject out.

What's new, Dan?

Nothing.

No news at all?

If I had somethin' to tell you,
Ellsworth, one way or another

I'd tell it to you.

Well, then I reckon
I'll have another drink.

Who is it?

It's Joanie.

Wait a second, honey.

Give me just a second.

I fell asleep.

I broke up three catfights, Andy.

Girls wanting to give you a bath.

I fell right the hell to sleep.

You ready to meet some strange?

Tell you the truth, Joanie, I'm...

feelin' outta sorts.

Well, you had a long trip.

And I've heard worse confessions.

That's the gospel truth,

which I hope you'll keep to yourself.

Yeah, sure I will, Andy.

I feel fucking unwell to myself.

Why don't you lie back and let me
get your boots off?

I don't think you
should touch me, honey.

That's the gospel on that score.

No girl in the world
ever got sick pulling off

a pair of boots, Andy.

But if you want,

I won't take more liberties.

$50 an issue.

Well, uh, frankly, sir,

that-that would purchase your
advertisement an amount of space

wildly incommensurate
with the accompanying articles.

See?

I never heard that word in my life.

That's his trade, Cy.
He's a wordsmith.

Do you shoot craps, Mr. Merrick?

Excuse me?

Oh oh, oh no!

Uh, no, I haven't shot
the craps in sometime.

Perhaps never?

If you'll keep my secret, sir,

no, I've never shot them.

Maybe that would make an article:

a man learns to shoot the craps.

Well, we're agreed on $50 an issue.

Have we actually agreed?

I feel almost duty-bound
to remonstrate you, sir.

Three months in advance, Eddie.

$50 an issue.

Let's see the man with the cash.

Seriously?

Don't let him take
your money, Mr. Merrick,

while he's teaching you this game.

Who did you give to Andy?

Nobody. He's poorly.

Does he need a doctor?

Maybe he does.

God damn it!

I told you I didn't
like the way he looked!

Stand outside room eight,
no one in or out.

Get the doc.

Tell him... someone fell.

I told you.

Thank you for your help.

I'll look forward
to Mr. Bullock contacting me.

May I ask, ma'am,

when you'd expect to leave the camp?

I'm not certain.

Bullock is honorable.

You can trust him
to see to your interests.

He couldn't come more
highly recommended.

You know the sound of thunder,
don't you, Mrs. Garret?

Of course.

Can you imagine
that sound if I ask you to?

I can, Mr. Hickok.

Your husband and me had this talk.

And I told him to head home
to avoid a dark result.

But I didn't say it in thunder.

Ma'am...

listen to the thunder.

Very good luck to you.

Thank you for all
your help, Mr. Hickok.

Thanks for coming, Doc.

The boy said someone fell?

Room eight.

It's Jane, Bill.

Come ahead.

This little one's cool as a cucumber.

Is that so?

Feel this little one's forehead.

Fever and you parted ways,
young lady.

Did she just ask
to borrow money?

Anyways, how'd it go with Bullock?

He'll help the widow.

Good for him.

Good for you.

Did you tell her so?

Hmm.

You think she'd want company?

I'll bet she'd enjoy yours.

Maybe she'd enjoy...

feelin' the little one's forehead.

You're probably enjoying
your damn privacy

with Charlie headed for Cheyenne.

I'm writing my wife.

Why didn't you say
something, damn you!

I owe you a penny.

So long, Jane.

So long, Bill.

All right, breathe big breaths.

Oh, my back!

Oh, my aching back.

I'm gonna get you
something to ease that.

What's he got, Doc?

I guess it's his back

is what he landed on when he fell.

My back is wet and broken.

I don't know what he landed on.

Wait, who said he fell?

Course, if little pussy sores

rise up on his trunk and his face,

more likely he's got other trouble.

- Oh, give me a game. How I ache.
- Okay, Andy.

I'm gonna give you
somethin' to ease that.

You lost your friend in the fire.

Hey! Hey, winkie!

Come here to me.

Does that look American to you?

No, this ain't.

People don't eat this shit!

It touched it!

Meow meow.

Aw hell.

Boys.

Howdy, Bill.

My father was the best company,

from the time I was ever so little.

Problems or...

difficulties or even sadness,
no such thing.

Not permitted.

The evening I was
presented to society

I found out later he'd

been able to attend
only by physically fleeing

some dismal legal difficulty.

In that sense, my marriage

to Mr. Garret was
a tremendous solution.

Tremendous.

At the ceremony I remember
Father whispered to me...

"Darling,

I can never repay you
for what you are about to do,

but I can repay everyone else."

And he said,
"To think of you with him

in that godforsaken place

is almost unbearable."

Meaning your husband?

And I said, "Maybe he'll die."

Take that, God damn you!

Hang the bastard!

What happened?

He shot Wild Bill Hickok.

Hey yah!

Do you see that?

♪ Life feels so empty ♪

♪ You feel all alone ♪

♪ How did I wander ♪

♪ So far from my home? ♪

♪ These thoughts
run through me ♪

♪ Stolen my faith ♪

♪ Please help me,
my Father ♪

♪ For I've fallen from grace. ♪