All language subtitles for Deadwood

Ten years gone, 'proaching
that self-same hill

I thought to lay me down
and rise no more.

Oof.

Give wide berth!
That's just passed wind!

Possibly worse.

Before eyes close
for good and all...

I'd once again see
my Joanie Stubbs...

show her a sign of...

loving regret

from Calamity Jane
to her darling.

And, too, at
the grave of Wild Bill.

Ooh.

Oof, I've a left-cheek
ass blister's

a percolating
son of a bitch.

Good, right there.

Morning, Boss!

Get me the gimp.

- Jewel!
- What?

Get up here.

Have something
on the stove, Al!

Well, once you finish
burning it, then.

Ho, ho, ho.

- Morning, Doc.
- Morning, Al.

Uh, at liberty...

are you just now?

Why, you wanna dance?

What'd that be about?

Fashioning into
telephone poles.

Ain't we got enough of
them damn things already?

Plan's to put lines
in every business.

Catch up with the times!

Out of sorts,
would you say, Commander?

Half a stride
short of fully fit.

Light, somewhat,
a few pounds.

And some bit
pallid, too.

Ah, Jesus, just shoot me, Doc.

Name the day
of the week, Al.

The fuck difference
does the day make?

I'd have you but
say the name.

Tuesday then, you half a
scarecrow-looking cocksucker.

Friday, it is.

Oh.

Mistaking Friday for Tuesday.

Well, secure my burial plot.

Well, your temperature's
two degrees above normal,

features drawn,

flesh of a yellowish cast.

Pending fucking
developments...

I'd have you forbear
from spirits.

- Under advisement.
- Oh, no, no, no.

Don't you humor me,
nor talk down to me neither,

nor fix to mix in where
you ain't been invited.

Whilst you comport
the very like to me?

You went somewhat wrong
at your liver, Al,

is what you've
God damn done!

Bar you being
out-and-out blind,

you already
know he's ill.

Minute past,

words to Dan,
"Boss is looking poorly.

Out of sorts."

Don't he look outta sorts,
you goddamn donkey?

He is to forbear

from spirits of any kind,

until he's assayed and diagnosed.

You know he'll just endeavor

to import spirits
in off the street?

Well, you're not to allow it!

That's easier told
than saddled and rode.

Well then, go ahead
and hang him, goddamn it!

Blow his fuckin' head off!

Save us all some time!

Wrong side of
the damn bed!

Mrs. Ellsworth! Charlie Utter.

Oh my.

What a grand surprise
after such a piece of time.

For me, Mr. Utter,
as well.

Sofia! Come on!

Am I past my place,
Ms. Ellsworth,

asking if it's banking
brings you back these parts?

Banking, yes.

My interest in
the Deadwood Bank,

which is an expanding
institution...

Few years back,
Mrs. Ellsworth,

bad manners like
that woulda lead

to a lesson in courtesy!

Continuing grateful

for hard-won maturity.

Sofia, a gentleman wishes
to renew acquaintance, Miss.

Charlie Utter saying
hello to Miss Sofia.

The 10 years
went past like...

- -somebody
snapped their fingers.

Hello back,
Mr. Utter.

- It's lovely to see you again.
- Thank you.

Hey, I'd be happy
to convey you all

into Deadwood camp
in my wagon.

As we would be
for the transport,

and your
good company.

Oh well,
come on.

I hope we're in time
for the statehood celebration.

- Go as quick as I'm able.
- Hey, sweetheart.

Help you with
that luggage.

Very kind,
I'm okay.

Well, I assume you'll
be staying in town, darling.

Pardon me.

There a price we can offer
for that information?

You have
me wrong.

Oh, there you are!

- Hello there.
- Looking for a ride. I can pay.

South Dakota
marrying the United States.

Oh!
See, they're paying attention, Seth.

- Morning, miss.
- Morning, Papa.

Bullock clan ready for
the statehood festivities.

Are you ready,
husband,

considering the visiting
delegates include

the senator
from California?

To celebrate,
yes, I am.

I'm tempted
to believe you.

Statehood pancakes
coming out!

Clear the way!

All right, all right,
little man.

Single-minded, this boy,
like his old man.

A virtue in
your estimation.

Lord, bless these gifts
we ready to receive,

and grant us grace
to meet level-headed

what challenges
may come this day...

no matter
the provocation by lesser

or evil men.

Amen.

- Amen.
- Amen.

On this day

- of our statehood celebration...
- Hear, hear!

...we honor a man who with
unexampled generosity

has give of himself to
our Deadwood community.

Though no longer
residing amongst us,

he calls California
now his home.

The man bases his considerable
mining and real estate interest

here in Deadwood, South Dakota.

I ask you please

to greet with me now,
the honorable

junior senator from the great
state of California,

George Ambrose Hearst!

- Good morning to all!
- Morning, Senator!

And great thanks
to Mayor Farnum

for his generous
words of welcome.

It moves me greatly,

returning after years
have passed to witness

the changes wrought

by time,

ingenuity, and invention.

- Though none would deny the facts
- MARTHA: Excuse me.

And the cost of a past,

we who gather have
known together...

Some portion of
which must still

be measured in blood.

Yet, the Deadwood community

does enter its adulthood...

And don't our
spirits raise,

you murdering,
conniving,

thieving cocksucker.

Resourceful
and resolute,

a vital part of the new-made
state of South Dakota,

and this state

a vital part of
our fine country.

Amen to that!

Thank you, Senator!

Hotel's but two rooms short
of fully occupied, Trixie,

with the parade yet
still in full swing.

Congratulations
then, Mr. Star,

to you
and Marshal Bullock.

Maybe mark the moment braining
me with a fucking brick!

I'd sooner put a ring
on your finger.

Once first we've seen
does the baby survive.

That being, in your
scripture, matrimony's single

reason
and purpose.

Ain't we already
awash in the miracle

of a whore of my vintage
being pregnant at all?

Well, why not wear a sign, then?

Dress in red, head to toe?

Please, Trixie.
You oughtn't show your face outside.

Lemonade's on its way with
chips of ice, how you like.

Rest now.

I just got the fuck up.

Rest.

Senator! Senator!

Murdering motherless cocksucker.

Oh, Senator Hearst!
Your honor!

Yoo-hoo!

On this 10th anniversary
of them being butchered,

I convey to you, Senator,
memorial greetings

from the miner Ellsworth
and prostitute Jen.

- But two of the who knows how many
- BANDLEADER: Hold it!

You've done for while making
your moneyed progress!

Have I missed word
of your appointment

to some position
of authority?

Have I missed
word of yours,

you bald-pated cunt?!

Better watch
yourself, Senator!

Mr. Hearst?

Oh.

For ain't it so, sir.

It's the thieving
and throat-cutting,

them's bloodied
and dead in the mud,

as still stiffens the member
in your long-johns!

Well, why not press forward,
for Christ's sake?

Set herself aflame?

Nor, ought I fail to remark

the semblance from
this vantage twixt

your very mug and a snatch
has gone haired-over-sideways.

Oh!

Mayor Farnum! It's a...

Trixie hasn't
lost her gift.

She ain't for a fact.

Time can't touch that.

...letting this slimy
cocksucker slither his way

into our camp's
inner workings!

And aren't you
the vile bodying

of a gutter-mouth
trollop and tramp! Go.

- As you are of a murdering shitheel!
- Now.

Trixie!

What's left still
to do, Trixie?

Pitch yourself
down the stairs?

End any chance of our
child's well-being?

Jesus wept!

What is it?

Something amiss,
as you fuckin' foresaw.

Ready for the doc we are?

- Off you go then to fetch him.
- Okay.

I'll be good.

Marshal!

Mr. Utter!

- Hello.
- Hello, girls.

- Greetings from Uncle Charlie.
- Uncle Charlie!

It's lovely
to see you both again.

Mrs. Bullock.

I remember your reading
lessons so well.

Mrs. Ellsworth
here and her daughter,

they need a room.

I told them best hotel
in town's right there.

Perhaps installing
Mrs. Ellsworth in a suite

would be the considerate thing
for the hotel's owner to do?

Yes, it would.

Mrs. Ellsworth,
was there a room available?

Uh, it-it seems...

we've secured
the very last one.

Must be
my lucky day.

I'll walk
you upstairs.

You, having
so lived in recollection,

Marshal,

it is my considerable
happiness to see you again.

No less a happiness,
Mrs. Ellsworth,

than of seeing you for me.

As a dream might come
alive to draw a breath.

Said overmuch.

Vowed I wouldn't,
but I absolutely knew I would.

Why didn't you write
of your arrival?

Not sure.

I see.

I wonder,

Mr. Bullock,
if all

unwitting...

I may have done something
to upset an apple cart.

Not at all.

It's a pleasure to
see you both again.

What?

Nothing, Mama.

Bullock! Hey, Marshal!

- Just the man I was looking for.
- Coulda warned me

of Mrs. Ellsworth's
return, Charlie.

How the fuck, when
I was surprised myself?

Very least not deposit her
in my goddamn hotel!

Hey, if you're finished
rapping my knuckles,

I got some more manly
matters to discuss.

I'm all ears,
Charlie.

Hearst wants
to buy my land.

Dangling big paydays
through third parties.

He's coming today hisself.

- Are you disposed?
- My age, I'd...

be a fool not to
chew on it some.

Which, uh, evidently,
Bullock that looks away,

scowling like he is,

don't approve of.

Utter's pal Bullock

figures if Utter
sold off his land,

nothing for Utter to do
but sit wondering,

in that old saloon,
why in hell

he'd sold the thing
he'd spent his life

getting situated
to buy and keep

to work it himself?

Hearst doesn't deserve
your land, Charlie.

Nor ought I either
fail to bring to mind

the bastard's
disposition to foul play.

Before negotiations
commence,

would I be out of place
calling on Hearst myself?

I wonder, too, might you
procure me an infant's linen?

And you don't make a friend
a stranger, Charlie.

Decline him walking beside you.

Saying first,
my being grateful

and heartily appreciative,

I'd hold with your
friend best achieving

his purposes toting
his water hisself.

Join us for
dinner tonight.

You amaze my boy pulling
coins from your ears.

Better trick
would be me pulling

Hearst's hundreds
out my ass.

Expect you 7:00, Uncle Charlie.

Thanks, Bullock,

for the lookout.

Good morning,
Miss Newly-Arrived!

Might you be
the establishment's operator?

Named Al.

Swearengen's
the remainder,

if you ain't
overmuch gave pause

to the various
ins and outs.

My name's Caroline Woolgarden,
Mr. Swearengen,

which I imagine don't
slide easy off the tongue

any more than yours does.

Caroline Woolgarden,
like butter.

Come new to town in hope of
renting one of your fine rooms.

Oh...

Ah...

Shitbird in prospect.

Would you excuse me,
Miss Woolgarden?

Ah, produce

George Hearst Esquire,

colossus of commerce,
junior senator from California,

who since our paths
last crossed

has went from strength

to stronger strength still.

Even as you name me,

a figure to be reckoned with in this
camp, Mr. Swearengen,

I have been made this morning,

more than somewhat,

to look an incompetent.

You, sir?

An incompetent?
Now, how would that ever be?

These years now past,
I'd have you recall

my having been attacked.

Shot,

and near as not,
done in by a whore,

whose name,
if I ever knew it,

has now been lost to me.

I dimly recall the matter.

The nameless whore embarked
on a program of vengeance,

and, by God,
she nearly brought off.

Referring to her
attempt to murder me.

Not to pretty the picture.

I have lived

believing the matter
had been settled.

And I was satisfied
in that belief.

But now, I realize
I was tricked.

The whore you presented in the
box was not the shooter at all.

Ah, you're going for the long,

larger-minded view, Senator.

Which depends on
running telephone lines

across the claims.

On recognizing
common ground,

bringing the future to it.

A brief illustration
of my point...

Does brevity exist in
your repertoire, sir?

I am making an offer
on Charlie Utter's land.

Lumber for construction
arrived this morning.

Confident, are we?

Back my bid for buying up
Utter's property.

Use your position in
the town to sway others,

and I will drop any
counteraction against the whore.

The pregnant whore
who attacked me.

Uncharacteristically
straightforward, sir.

Discover your deepest nature,

Mr. Swearengen.

Walk with the future.

How'd that do you, Al?

Good like
it seemed?

Best time to produce Trixie

so I can sell her on
silence as virtue.

On it, Boss.

That's it.
Blow it out, just blow it out.

Christ, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

They're arrayed to
support you, Ms. Trixie,

but you're the one
who's got to be pushing!

Which don't I, in Christ,
look to be doing, Aunt Lou?

Dan Dority!

Speaking for Al that
needs words with Trixie!

Trixie ain't receiving,

hard as she's coming
for home. If you'd just

tell Al,
we'll issue word...

- Come on, come on.
- ...from this quarter

as we are fucking able!

Okay. I hear you, Doc.

One more push, Trixie.

This is it.

- Now, we doing something.
- And...

Now we doing it.

Okay.

See his business?

You got a boy!

A boy.

Go ahead,

and slap his backside.

There we go.

Oh, Trixie.

Hello, Joshua.

Lord keep you.

Ms. Calamity
Jane Cannary.

Charlie Utter.

Some putting odds up
train bring you home in a box.

I come to collect
Joanie Stubbs.

Oh, God.

How would you, uh,

describe the Stubbs
woman's state of affairs?

Not seeing her consistent, I...

I say Joanie Stubbs'
collecting her portion of

gloom and dismay,
just like any of us.

Well, suppo...

Suppose, Charlie...

say a, a person had a
interest in that situation,

what, by your lights,
would be a right way

of broaching the subject?

I'd maybe say...

you been thinking of her,

hoping...

if ever she
thought of you,

her thinking would
be friendly, too.

Write me that down to repeat
it, you cocksucker.

You know what to say, Jane.

What to do.

I will stand you
to a drink.

Down it along with you,
too, far as that goes.

- One drink.
- Fuck one drink.

Go find your girl.

Go get her.

Pssh.

I'd have a word,

either with management,

or just some girl ain't
on her back just now,

legs straight up in the air!

If you want the boss,

Joanie's upstairs.

Oh?

Busy?

- I didn't see.
- No, we didn't see.

Jane Cannary come
a-calling, Miss Stubbs.

I'd be grateful if
you'd hold your fire.

Everyone got
plenty of room?

Seem to be making due.

Why don't me and Deenie
just get outta here, Joanie?

We don't want
no trouble.

Well arrived, Jane.

- Welcome home.
- Go fuck yourself.

Hold her soap!

Considerable time
since seeing you.

Wasn't me setting off see the
country, see the world.

Weren't we sure as fuck done
with each other back then?

Not on none of my say-so.

Well, go on.
Say what you wanna say.

Uh, just...

surprised to find
you back here is all.

I'd be grateful

keeping opinions
to yourself concerning

my whereabouts
and purposes.

You wanna brawl,
we can do it.

Brawling's unseemly,
girl my age.

Charlie Utter said
you been better.

Is that right? Charlie did?

High on dope,
as I suppose you'd have to be,

consorting with them
miserable cunts.

New old damn shooter
coming out.

Believed the game shut down
when she left the table.

These placer acres that
you own, Mr. Utter,

captured my attention.

Scouts you sent previous
made that clear.

People whose
judgment I respect

assay this property's
market value

at $3,500.

Seems I'm the lone holdout
on the path of progress.

By way of abbreviating
our back and forth and...

maybe generating
some good will,

I'd go 500 above.

Offer you...

4,000 even, cash money.

My father taught his boy,

uh, "beat hell into him"
might maybe be more accurate,

how if, uh,

early enough on,

you credited
the settlements was coming,

bought acres reasonable,

developed 'em sensible,

hung onto 'em until
the market come right,

of a day you might
could wake up and find

you made yourself
a respectable investment.

Forward thinking
was your father then.

And now, here's his boy to
confirm his papa's prediction.

Contrary-wise,

man might could...

come to certain
special feelings.

Partial, say,

to a piece of ground.

A river...

bending through
the forest like so.

I decline your offer,
Mr. Hearst,

thanking you for your time

and attention.

My experience over time
has come to be...

customarily,
I am he who starts a negotiation.

Names its finish, too.

Maybe getting
mother-fucked this morning

in the thoroughfare,
by a woman in the bargain,

has somewhat
got your back up.

Not the accolade
you'd looked for

out your return
to fuckin' camp.

Proffering that
assessment, sir,

is hardly your
proper bailiwick.

Far as that, I went and
proffered it any-fuckin'-way.

Any soul on the grounds

bearing mortal
likeness to a walrus,

raise up your right hand
or whistle.

You, Tom Nuttall!

Up with your right,

or purse your damn lips
and blow!

Pitiful effort.

Welcome home,
Jane.

'Scription to propose.

Tombstone above a casket.

"On this spot...

"Was Bill Hickok

"foully slayed,

"brains blown to bits...

"by the coward Jack McCall!

"'Neath this building, too,

"days to come,

"will rest the remains of

"Jane Ardis Cannary,

"known as Calamity
to strangers,

"and to Bill Hickok

"as a very good friend.

"At the place

"of his sorrowful demise,

"may Jane's spirit
stand vigilante watch

as in life she found
herself unable."

And to speak
straightforward, Jane,

you mortally installed

and decaying
'neath this building

don't strike me as
a magnet for commerce.

Because you're headless
for business, Tom,

and heedless
and horse-faced to boot!

- - Well,
why not empty the graveyards?

We'll spot corpses
at the tables,

needling the gloom overall.

That's a rotten idea.

Fuck yourself, Arty.

What are you selling, Wu?

Swedgin.

You.

He has medicine for you.

Swedgin.

Your color
looks wrong.

Mengyao,
you for hire?

Yes, Mr. Swedgin.

Good.

I want you to

take this note

to Sol Star to give
to his lady, Trixie,

over at the Bullock
Star Hotel

over the road there.

- You got that?
- How much will you pay me?

Payment upon return,

and job verified complete.

Now go wait outside
the door for your grandad.

Oh yeah.

Swedgin. Drink. Tea.

You drink tea.

No! No!

I'll cut your chink throat
for a "no,"

and pitch you off the balcony
with the other one,

seek health advice
on the way down.

Fuckin' Wu.

Go on, get back to
your fuckin' alley!

Fuckin' tea, huh?

Am I doing somethin' wrong?

You gimme the fantods,
you're so...

favoring a girl
who once worked here.

Is she thick through
the calf like me?

She's pretty.

She had the yellowest hair.
Just the sweetest damn smile.

She had a chip,
she had...

there, right there, like
to drive a fella crazy.

Me at least, anyway.

Jen...

her name was.

And Jen move along?

She, she did. Uh-huh.

Moved on.

Give you word where?

Uh...

I weren't telling
you true, Caroline.

She died.

Jen did.

Just poor luck...

Caught in the middle
of situation none of her

fuckin' doing.

"Exceptional sweet soul,"

Minister said.

And he weren't wrong.

Appears my job's
in progress

before we might even
get to set down.

Early uprising...

longtime trial to me.

More than an hour late
is Charlie.

Maybe I pressed
too hard about Hearst.

Perhaps he got involved
catching' up with folks.

I should feed the children.

I'm gonna look out for Charlie.

Evening, Marshal!

Looking for
Charlie Utter, Jane.

I ain't seen him tonight.

Do something for me?

Check around town.
If you find Charlie,

tell him my wife's angry
at his bad behavior.

- Count on it!
- Harry, with me.

My gout's agitating.

- Should I take one of the young ones?
- Yes, sir.

- I'll fucking go with you, Bullock.
- No! No!

I'm up! I'm up.

That's Charlie's horse.

Start over there.

Careful now!

How long you
standing out here?

Better part of my
fuckin' life, feels like.

You looking for Charlie
Utter with me or not?

He sometimes plays cards
at this new place.

Only knowed that
'cause I teased him

never frequentin'
this joint.

Lead the way then.

Charlie?

Charlie Utter!

Charlie!

Come out,
hands where I can see 'em.

Don't you shoot.

What are you doing
out here, Samuel?

I'm just reachin'
for my fishing pole,

and I'm askin' you
not to kill me.

Christ.
Charlie!

It weren't me, no sir!

What the fuck
you talkin' about?

Bullock!

Jesus God in Heaven.

Get him a blanket, Harry.

- I didn't do it, Marshal...
- Be still.

I'd appreciate
Mr. Hearst knowing

I'm Waitin'
to talk to him.

- Mr. Utter!
- That can't be!

You see? Covered in blood!

Charlie Utter's dead,
Mr. Hearst.

Murdered.

Do we know by
whose hand, Marshal,

Mr. Utter has been taken?

Who pulled the trigger,

put the fucking money up
to get it done.

I take that, sir, as a slur

meant to incite me.

And I do not choose
to be provoked.

Your imputing
foreknowledge, sir,

to me of Mr. Utter's
murder exposes me

to shameful slander
and disesteem.

I will have you recant.

Or either ready to receive

behavior from me
in rebuke.

What form then do you figure
your rebuke will take,

murdering cunt that you are?

- Bullock...
- I'll get to you in a fuckin' minute.

Charlie Utter.

- - Have a thought
for a good man dead.

Shut the place down.
Bar's closed!

Go on, get the fuck
outta here!

I'd learn the import
of that look

passed twixt you
and fuckin' Hearst.

Get the marshal
a whiskey.

I don't want a fuckin' drink.

Say, Bullock,

a fella, not many hours
left to order his affairs,

applied them that remained,
naming such

purposes that
he'd give primacy.

Deal me in
or don't, Al.

I'd not be fucked
halfway up.

Hearst stopped by,
wanted to bury the hatchet.

Pool revenue and influence

in exchange
for Trixie's life.

Planning to run telephone
wires across Utter's property.

Lumber lies at his claim.

Him conveying that to you,
you said fuckin' what?

- I let the offer sit.
- To what fucking end?

You ever think, Bullock,
of not going straight at a thing?

No.

What's the move, Al?

Wish the fuck I knew.

Killing Charlie Utter
changes the game.

Say the man has an eyewitness
to bring to bear.

Name him.

Samuel Fields.

The Nigger General was
an eyewitness to what?

Eyewitness to them
as did for Charlie Utter.

And thereby need a good
fuckin' murdering.

Sidestepping legal
administration.

Well, if it ain't for
Hearst to follow the law,

why the fuck
should it be for you?

Now, how should I construe
that look on your mug, Bullock?

My job ain't to
follow the law, Al.

My job is to
interpret it,

then enforce it...
accordingly.

You best counsel
your partner proper,

the safety of
mother and child.

Sol and me'll see to it.

Hearst won't take long

before he honors the rigors
of his putrid fuckin' nature.

He'll want an answer.

I'll deliver your
fuckin' answer.

Fuckin' telephone
in my joint.

Saloon is a sanctuary.

Every man worth the name

knows the value
of being unreachable.

Will you have me suck your
prick now, Mr. Swearengen?

What has changed since early
when I declined the offer?

Do I look suddenly robust,
unimpededly erect?

I am out,
as I told you,

of sorts,
commission, activity.

And more and more
forgetful what the whole

sordid fuckin'
business is to signify.

Plenty I wouldn't
mind forgetting.

Hey, come over here. Come on.

You dropped
this earlier.

Real or not, I value it high.

That is a goddamn
gold commemorative

worth 12 to $14.

Can I ask who the woman
was earlier today,

yelling from
the hotel balcony?

One who ain't afraid to die.

And who
you'd see live?

Well, that's the question.

When I'm gone,
who'll protect her?

Can the Jew do what needs
to be done? Can Bullock?

Oh Christ, save me.

Have I feelings for her?

Am I that fuckin' lost
a cunt, a man my age?

Makes me wanna weep,

how you remind me of my dad.

Don't you hang your
relations around my neck.

It's a sad night.

Something's afire.

Christ.

I do have feelings.

Hyah! Hyah!

Hup!

Charlie Utter.

So much to rounding up
Trixie for me.

Well last night, you sent little
Wu with a notion to abstain!

Did I now?

Doc is not 100% all the way
to the top persuaded

that you oughta be up
and about just yet.

Doc's got a call to his
own fuckin' opinion,

but not to be blabbin'

about what pertains
or ain't

to my fuckin' plans, huh?!

Fucking drenched.

Oh!

What are you doing up, Al?!

Well, this is fucking
pain in the balls.

Jesus Christ!

I owe Charlie Utter
a sending off, Doc.

Oh, goddamn it, Al.

Okay.

Hey, Dan!

You do it, huh?

Handful of dirt
from each of us?

Charlie Utter.

You got to walk it

♪ by yourself ♪

♪ There's nobody else... ♪

Mr. Utter's
accustomed to letting me cross

his land and fish the stream

that separates his acres
from Mr. Hearst.

He come 'round about a quarter
past the second I caught,

me expecting
his purpose to

ask how I was faring.

I heard a rifle
shot, and took the fuck off.

Could you identify
the man who did it?

No, sir, I cannot.

Because I didn't see him.

You being you?

Me being the color
I am, yes, sir.

I wish I could.

I'ma say this once
to you, Marshal.

I'm gonna let myself hope

that you don't permit
'em stringing me up

over something I had nothing
to do with, not fuck all.

Nobody's trying to lynch you
at this moment here, Samuel.

And if you look
at me hard,

you'll know

they'll have to kill me
down the road

before they get to do it then.

Bless you seeing
clear to say so, Marshal,

and get me a good
goddamn lawyer.

Sorry for the lateness.
Gout's flaring.

Was at the Doc's.

Been hearing about your
gout a lot lately, Harry.

Pokes me like devil's in there
working with a tiny pitchfork.

How's this going?

Get me a good
goddamn lawyer, Marshal!

♪ I was standing on the banks ♪

♪ Of the river ♪

♪ Looking out ♪

♪ Over life's ♪

♪ Troubled seas ♪

♪ When I saw ♪

♪ An old ship ♪

♪ That was sailing ♪

♪ Is that the old... ♪

Come on, Jane.
Time for Charlie's burial.

Remember when Bill passed?

Charlie so broke up
he'd been out the camp,

couldn't attend
the goodbye?

And I recollect,
too, girl barely

could put one foot
front the other

but weren't gonna fail
to see Bill Hickok off.

When Sol Star and
I came to this community,

Charlie Utter...

was first man forward
offering his hand in greeting.

Over time,
Sol and I formed a...

friendship with Charlie.

Enriched our lives.

Come up to proper,
he was good-natured and just.

Come to any way at all,

I never saw a man
stand him down.

Only right

he should be buried on the land
he worked his life for.

Charlie was took
from us wrongful,

and he was...

He was took too soon.

We ask respite

for a good man's soul.

Pray the Lord
carry him home.

No man never stood up
for me how Charlie did,

nor with no word 'bout
doing it, neither.

Amen.

Amen to that.

Gentlemen.

Senator Hearst
expecting us.

Room number nine.

Constituents of the
cocksucker from California?

Don't I deserve
common courtesy?

May I mention service
as this community's mayor,

albeit admittedly
a largely titular position.

But, facts are facts.

Well deserved, if modest,
recognitions, gentlemen.

Jobs well done.

Well, if you call
them recognitions

just modest,
Mr. Hearst,

I pray to Christ
we run across you

the day you're showing off.

Certain you were unseen?

Not a human eye
for miles.

Man looks to be losing his mind, Dennis.

- That direction.
- What the fuck?

Hm.

I saw a fisherman
at the claim

earlier in the day.

Dark-complected fellow,

wading the stream.

You bring me to wonder
aloud if that last

was a bald-faced
fabrication.

My sources say Marshal's

collected a witness,
for a fact.

I paid for execution

at a level of
professional excellence.

You were commissioned...

to undertake of
certain effort.

It went without
saying that

you would address
any complications

that might ensue.

Part of the contract,
sir, yes.

They have someone in custody,

which fails,
by a considerable margin,

to please me.

I strongly suggest
you handle it.

How the fuck are we supposed to
get into the marshal's office?

Check on the veracity
of this claim?

My sources are to be trusted,
it won't be easy.

But, neither will
it be impossible.

Uh-huh.

I see.

This further business,

if successfully
brought to fruition,

will earn each of you...

$50 additional.

Well, now we're talkin'.

- The Negro fisherman?
- That'd be a job well done.

Judas Priest!

A word with you, Mr. Farnum!

Property of mine fell
victim to arson last night.

So, Senator,
I'm gave to understand.

What dreadful news.

Place this lumber order.

The vendor is in Lead.

Tell the man

weekly deliveries
until further notice.

By telegraph, sir?

There is a public
telephone just outside.

Take the leap, Mr. Farnum.

The future awaits.

The queue,
sir, stretches.

Have you seen
the riffraff lined up?

Stall progress he may.

Stop it he cannot.

Every business,
Mr. Farnum,

in this
territory thrives

as a direct result
of communication.

Now, we've no say
as to the pace

of modernity's advance.

I myself am merely...
its vessel.

A humble foot soldier.

Its inevitability is
the deepest truth...

What is wrong with you,
goddamn it, to be

shifting your feet
so incessantly?

Uh, the procession of years,

wanton leakage.

You are a vile creature.

Nor are you first to say so.

Get the hell out
and place the call.

I'll detain you for
the briefest moment.

- Now.
- Yes, sir. Going.

Peaches, Jewel,
are for meeting of the town elders.

This prospect here before
us, it's an auction.

It's hardly the same
fuckin' thing.

God, you think about ever
getting yourself a hobby, Dan?

And that smart-ass mouth
of your'n is gonna get you

relegated back to
the fucking kitchen.

Futile to go
to Hearst this way.

No matter his resources,
but it'd be a pity

not to recognize
what's at stake.

To go ahead
and die stupid.

Hate to end a fool, right?

Sure as hell
Charlie Utter didn't.

What's essential is you
remember, do your part.

Oh, naught else, Marshal?
Laundry required?

I'll let you know.

Where you been, Bullock?

Right up the fuckin' road, Al.

God damn it!

Goddamn it.

My goodness. A voice?

Hello, in there.

I'm calling
the town of Lead!

It's Deadwood's mayor,
E.B. Farnum, relegated to

magnate-Senator
George Hearst's errand boy,

calling Lead Lumber
at the senator's behest.

The Negro will lay slain
before this concludes.

Christ. I must get to Bullock.

Good afternoon
and welcome to

the Utter estates dispersal,

as will proceed

under the supervision
of the Deadwood Bank.

A description of the parcel
and its dimensions

are detailed in
the available literature.

First bids on landholdings
of Charlie Utter,

Deadwood Bank the fiduciary,

to commence at $2,500,

increments thereafter of
$100 above the previous bid.

I'm not made for
such complexity.

Who will open now
on parcel one

at $2,500?

I've a bid for $2,500

on the regrettably
deceased Mr. Utter's

very desirable property.

Who will go with me now to 26?

- $2,600.
- Backing your play, partner.

Conservative proffer.

Uh, $2,700.

Upon which Hearst takes
matters by the neck.

3,000.

Nor do I lack for
stronger opinions.

- 3,100.
- 32.

Rode in, did you, Marshal,
on a Trojan horse?

Floor's heard $3,200.

3,300, please.

34. And if
you know your limit, Marshal,

let's hurry and get to it
so that I may get us past,

and that we all of us
can sup at a decent hour.

3,400's heard once.

3,500.

Terrible fire at your
claim last night.

Everybody whole,

- Senator?
- 36.

3,700.

38.

3,900.

I've 3,900 once.

Mr. Hearst sent us.

It's fuckin' daytime.

Not our fuckin' problem.

Say how you
want it played.

Key's on the desk,
this side of my head.

- 4,300.
- 44.

- Seth...
- Do I hear 4,500?

5,000, goddamn it.

As ought shoo
the sightseers off.

- 5,500.
- 56.

6,000.

6,500.

$7,000.

7,200.

$7,300.

And neither,
if you continue, sir,

will you find yourself
unaccompanied.

I've $7,300

for the Utter
property heard once.

7,300 twice.

Third time.

Sold to the distinguished

and resourceful
Mrs. Ellsworth,

for $7,300!

Mrs. Ellsworth.

You honored Charlie today.

Bullock!

Excuse me.

What is it, E.B.?

- You're certain?
- Yes.

Dan.

- With Al.
- Staying.

No!

Oh!

Sorry.

How long ago?

I couldn't tell you
for a mortal truth.

- They got Samuel.
- Marshal!

Come! Something bad
is happening! Come!

Come! Come here!

Lemme go, the chink lives.

Mengyao! Mengyao!

You're gonna die
you do that.

You arresting me
for beating a coon

murdered a decent
white man?

- You murdered Charlie Utter.
- Aye? And who says so?

I...

I say so.

That's him, Bullock.

Killed your friend.

Seth.

Seth! Seth!

Don't kill him!

Take care of Samuel.

Wu, feed that fuck to the pigs.

George Hearst! Come out!

George Hearst!

Come out now!

Identify the man hired you
to do Charlie Utter's murder.

Finally lost your grip,
Marshal.

Name the man! Go on!

Point him out.

He hired us.

Who did?

Set up, Marshal, are we?

Justice and mercy
in proper relation.

Feelin' more a man?

Better lock the next
shipment of lumber up.

I expect you believe a badge

insulates you from certain
untoward consequences.

Much as your being
a US senator

will insulate you from jail.

Tell this cocksucker
to lower his weapon!

Inside, now.

Fuckin' shot, I am!

You'll fuckin' live.

Johnny...

Congratulations on
the rising body count.

Ain't proud of it.

I'm coming for you, Marshal.

Expect you will, Senator.

Mr. Hearst?

Hold your son.

Rock him towards sleep.
Feed him his milk

I've squoze into his bottles.

Clean and change him when
he does his business.

Wait, Trixie,
where are you going?

First, Al's urgent
call to see me.

Then, he sends this note
sayin' the opposite.

What the fuck, Sol?

Not mine.

Collateral damage is all.

Well, whose fucking
blood is it?

Men who murdered
Charlie, dead now.

- Oh, the Hebrew takes to arms!
- Trixie, please calm down.

Then, take him.

- No.
- For God's sakes.

I'm getting
Al's counsel.

With our baby stood
with his father,

20 possible minutes
or a fucking cunt hair more.

I'll exit back
of the hotel,

sneaky as a mouse,

and enter the Gem a side way.

Being stupid
and fuckin' reckless.

As I may be both,
you Jew bastard,

to get out
the fuckin' door.

Beatin' you about head
and shoulders, lad?

Their's the upper
hand just now.

Some choice, making your
presence known to Hearst.

Whatever trouble I caused...

blame the baby's
imminent arrival.

I took that young girl's
life to save yours.

Please, Al,
don't say it again.

Haunts me,
Jen's face does.

Weren't you
cut her throat,

nor devised a fuckin' plan
that nearly got us all killed.

God have mercy on me.

I don't deserve the one
fuckin' minute of happiness,

my newborn gave me
coming into the world.

We chose you,
you loopy cunt.

Look at the fuckin'
mess you've give us.

I'm un-fucking-worthy, Al!

I belonged in that
coffin, not her!

Well, if your aim
was to die, please,

allow me to do the honors.

We're all of us haunted by
our own fucking thoughts,

so make friends
with her ghost!

It ain't going
fuckin' anywhere!

I'm sorry...

for everything.

Heavens open up.

She expresses contrition.

New baby in camp?

Lovely little boy.

As born of his mother,
he would be.

Did you try and stop
her from leaving?

- Nothing I could do.
- Jesus Christ.

Swearengen's
the only one I told

Samuel's in the cage.

Man may be a lot of things,
but he's not a snitch.

State he's in,
more likely

fuckin' forgot
the conversation entirely.

Too much ask you stay
the hell outta trouble?

No, fuckin' Bullock.

Not too much.

I will.

Not himself, Al weren't.

Weak like I never seen him.

Gather some things now.

We're spending the night
at the Bullock house.

Moving us from
the center of town.

Hate runnin' from him, Sol.

For our boy.

What are the
odds him comin' to?

He's severely injured
from the beating.

Spleen's ruptured.

Blood in his belly.

Odds on it ending?

All bleeding
stops eventually.

We ought marry on
the morrow, Sol.

Al ain't to be
relied on to linger.

And we ain't exchangin'
secret fuckin' vows,

tucked away in hiding.

Free all day.

Oh, well done.

Proud performance.

Fuckin' pissed myself.

Twenty minutes going
forward to the ceremony,

nor neither the same
interval afterwards.

No fornication
on the premises.

Why does she
get to hold him?

Because I'm the bride,

and it's my special fuckin' day.

Lend fucking hands, girls!

Make the place
presentable.

May make that girl my wife.

She ain't gonna marry no man
age enough to be her daddy.

Soft hands
smoothed my brow.

Wrist smelling like jasmine.

She sewed the hole
in my shoulder closed

with needle and thread, mm-hmm.

Lift your wallet
while she's doing it?

That's a dark view
of the world, Dan.

I ask to be
enlightened as to

the passage of spirit
in prospect for me, Doc.

Well...

I take us to be
collections of cells,

each aggregate
a smaller,

separate life
inside us, and...

and time slows.

And finally stops.

The fate my
cell collections

live into as we speak.

That ain't so to
a mortal certainty, Al.

I'd not prolong
the chewing up, Doc,

nor the being spat out.

Not go out a cunt.

It's the dispatch
I find inglorious.

The whole delusory
fucking self-importance.

- Is it your hope to attend the wedding?
- It's my resolve.

All right then.

Pucker up.

I'll take him.

Believe you were
born to be a whore?

Probably doing
what I'm fit for.

How hard you suppose
the bastard turned you out

had to work to make
you think that?

Trixie.

Got an appointment
upstairs.

Oh, well, I hope you're proud,

expelling your
sneeze in my mug.

That's the Lord's blessing
come upon you, Al.

That's him leanin' down
to kiss your cheek.

Yeah.

Well, I ain't got
no time left for

fancy dancin'.

Your thoughts on me
leaving you the joint?

No, not being either to say

you have to run women.

I strongly endorse that.

Make it a dance hall
for all of me.

What about the circus
elephants, Al,

producing some
novel effect?

Dance hall, Trixie,
ain't a bad idea.

Good man
you got there!

Heart, soul,

and brains enough to
know that he struck lucky

in his female companion.

Good example for
the kid to emulate.

And no fee for the sermon.

Excuse me now.

Hey.

Maybe you oughta think
about running for office?

Outnumbered,
as we are,

by shit-birds.

Food for thought,
Mr. Swearengen.

That idea

is my wedding gift to you.

Thank you.

Heard you was
down here.

This one was Charlie's.

Yours now.

Sure he'd want that.

Past when I took
what Cy gave me,

I'd pray
I wouldn't wake up.

You gutless cunt.
Don't you speak that way to me again.

Nor neither am I saying I feel
that way now, is my point.

You...

gimme a goddamn kiss
and say, "I promise

I won't fold,
no matter how sad I get."

Or just don't say
a word at all then.

Just go ahead and give me a
kiss and don't say a word.

Oh.

All right. Well...

you bring to recollection

you're a hell of
a good kisser.

And you're still
chewing that licorice?

That's my 12th
least-worst sin.

Time comes, I have
$14,057 in the mattress,

which you will
divide equally.

You fight amongst
yourselves,

you will wish
there was no hell

because I will surely come back
and cut your fuckin' throats.

- Well, I don't want your money.
- Yeah...

There.

Gentlemen...

can we not appear
as quadruplets?

Bless you for
being upright,

for letting me have
my hand on your arm,

and for being the showing-up
sort that you are.

What's else is gravy.

Safe passage to us all.

Oh, you're
a picture, miss.

- Means something.
- Mm-hmm.

Three times I go around?

Always coming back.

I ain't gave to flight.

Righteousness.

Loving kindness.

Justice.

For all in my ignorance,

I, uh, do not hew
to the letter of,

uh, its practice,
but I'd hope

the brief ceremony

will be respectful
to... Jewishness!

Level best, Reverend!
A for effort.

Eh, bless you, my son,

and thank you
for understanding.

Sermon's over.

That's all!

I'll now ask
the young Miss Sofia

to come forward with
the nuptial rings.

By the powers of each of
their religions and practices,

I now pronounce Sol
and Trixie man and wife.

Should your husband kiss you?

Lest he be
sleepin' outdoors.

Been thinking, Jane.
Maybe I'd like to see the world.

For instance,
what's France like?

Don't know.

Never wanted to see it
till this minute.

Happy occasion.

Papa!

Are you all right?

Let's... figure out what
to do with that land.

Ah, Jesus, Mary, Joseph,
and all risen saints.

For once in your life,
resist the urge for utterance.

As witness before
my newborn child

my hope in
beginning again,

I pray we forbear from

fucking up each
other's lives further,

and live in peace and quiet.

It seems to me, Mrs. Star,

in coming forward
to conciliate me,

you consign yourself to a misery

not unlike a sort of...

execution.

These two gentlemen
are sheriff and deputy

from a neighboring town,

brought in to
represent my interests.

Sheriff Laraby from Lead.

- We have a warrant for the arrest
of Trixie Star -

for the attempted murder
of Mr. George Hearst.

You get the hell outta here.

Forbear, son,
lest you be undone.

I'm not your son,

no more than you're the boss
of the fuckin' future.

Why, I believe I am
its whole inheritor.

These men have
no jurisdiction here.

I'm guessing these
two you brought

don't know the extent
of your crimes here.

Prime suspect in the murder
of Charlie Utter.

Are you going
to incarcerate me again,

Marshal Bullock?

This time,
for how many minutes?

Let's find out together.

- Little tight on my wrist.
- Shut up.

Come through my town,
you stop at the marshal's office first.

Way a fellow lawman would do,
showing any fuckin' respect.

Sorry for the interruption.
Carry on with the celebration.

Smile, Senator Hearst!

- Get him outta here.
- Good riddance!

'Fore you lock him up,

no harm you letting us have
a word with Mr. Hearst.

Speaking for Charlie Utter,
as is gone from amongst us.

What's going on here?
What's in train?

This United States
of American Senator...

had Charlie Utter murdered!

- Yeah! He's a murderer!
- Without remorse!

- Nor recourse!
- Can't hide behind that!

Nor fucking recollection!

I'll tear your head
clean off, boy,

if that'll help recollection.

Who heaves something
next gets dealt with.

- You entitled motherfucker!
- Son of a bitch.

Steer your people,
Marshal.

- Shut the fuck up!
- Cocksuckers!

Nobody answering no one!

- Do what-all they want!
- You got that right!

Go on now! Go! Go.

- Easy!
- What the hell?

Come on, let us finish it.

Leave him be.

My God...

Lest I arrest every one of you.

I've seen enough.

Ah!

Get the fuckin' Doc.

Oh yeah, let's do allay
the cocksucker in his misery.

Now, Jane!

Hope you die in the street.

Like my dad did!

Go on home, now!

You son of a bitch!

Have you finished
your impotent display?

No, I don't
believe I have.

You're my witness, Senator.

Marshal's trying
to kill you.

Coward was coming
behind you, Bullock.

'Bout to shoot
you back the head.

Jane!

You son of a bitch, Harry.

That was Bill
come into me.

Him come to protect us.

No, Jane. That was you.

The Good Book, Marshal...

says...

the Lord chooses
amongst His witnesses...

them'd be thought
least likely.

Is that so?

You might should
oughta know...

before what happened...

Mr. Utter...

seemed to me...

a different man.

Like a weight had come
off his shoulders.

What else they say

about the Lord's witnesses?

What else?

Their defects...

notwithstanding,

they testify to His

wond'rous glory.

Singing, he was,
at the end, Marshal,

'bout walking the valley.

Joyful to hear and behold.

Singing.

If you have it
in you to abide,

I'd not have
you leave me.

I won't, Al.

Comes to it, Jewel
and me will see to you.

I'll have the little
one brought in.

I heard you singing
the other day.

I thought you'd
stabbed a frog.

If you want, Al,

I can rub your feet.
Shaky hands,

but it works well.

Go ahead then.

Oh...

♪ Waltzing Matilda ♪

♪ Waltzing Matilda ♪

♪ You'll come a-waltzing
Matilda with me ♪

♪ Down came a jumbuck ♪

♪ To drink
at the water hole ♪

♪ Up jumped the swagman
and grabbed him in glee ♪

♪ And he said as
he put him away ♪

♪ In the tucker bag ♪

♪ You'll come a-waltzing
Matilda with me ♪

♪ Waltzing Matilda,
waltzing Matilda ♪

♪ You'll come a-waltzing
Matilda with me ♪

I'm home.

Oh...

Our Father...

which art
in Heaven...

Let Him...

fucking... stay there.

♪ And the Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ Got no reason to cry ♪

♪ He got to chew the angels ♪

♪ Fallen from on high ♪

♪ He ain't Waitin'
for no answer ♪

♪ Bakin' woeful pie ♪

♪ Pie of eyesight,
pie blue-black ♪

♪ Whoa, that pie ♪

♪ The pie of by-n-by ♪

♪ And the Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ Well, he ain't
like you and I ♪

♪ With bones always breakin' ♪

♪ And no place to go lie ♪

♪ He sit in the bog
so dark and wet ♪

♪ He got so much time ♪

♪ He ain't even worried yet ♪

♪ The Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ He is the pork of crime ♪

♪ And the Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ He'll leave you
one more chance ♪

♪ Which if you won't be takin' ♪

♪ He'll leave it for the ants ♪

♪ He sings out in
the wilderness ♪

♪ He sings of friend and foe ♪

♪ He sings of these
and those times ♪

♪ As well as the times to go ♪

♪ And the Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ He swims out into the sea ♪

♪ Find the alligator gar ♪

♪ Chase to leapin' mullet ♪

♪ He chokes
the water hyacinth ♪

♪ Flowin' to the sea ♪

♪ The Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ He is the hog for me ♪

♪ He chokes
the water hyacinth ♪

♪ Goin' to the sea ♪

♪ Hog of the Forsaken ♪

- ♪ He is the hog for me ♪
- That's right!

♪ And the Hog of the Forsaken ♪

♪ Got no reason to cry ♪

♪ He got to chew the angels ♪

♪ Fallen from on high ♪

♪ He ain't Waitin'
for no answer ♪

♪ Bakin' woeful pie ♪

♪ Pie of eyesight,
pie blue-black ♪

♪ Whoa, that pie ♪

♪ The pie of by-n-by ♪