Original subtitles

Previously, on "Damnation"...

- What's the trouble? - On our way to Detroit.

A friend's leading an auto workers strike.

We figured he could use a hand.

Do you recognize this man?

He was last seen in Marion County, Arkansas,

composing cetaceous pamphlets and inciting riots.

Daddy!

Where are we going?

Detroit, Michigan.

There's some bad men there trying to keep good men

from working their jobs and providing for their families.

Creeley was ambushed. I know where they've got him.

What in the world do you see in him?

He's the one man who looks at me

like I'm an actual human being.

The bank foreclosed on your farm?

Call the farmers. I have an idea.

One penny for the entire farm.

Take her bid.

Sold to Martha Riley herself.

- Who is she? - Her name was Cynthia Jo Rainey

and she's rotting in the ground

because of that strikebreaker.

When working families are under attack,

- what do we do? - We stand up!

We fight back!

Our movement united will never be divided.

Our movement united

will never be divided!

Our movement united will never be divided!

Our movement united

will never be divided!

Our movement united will never be divided!

Our movement united

will never be divided!

No more promises. We want change now.

Yeah!

We're auto workers.

We will stand together.

Yeah!

Mr. Henry's children don't starve.

Why should ours?

What are we doing?

Looking for a bad man.

Am I going to help?

Yes, you are.

Some people are unnerved by my bearing.

Your youth and innocence will provide

a pleasing counterbalance.

Now stay with me and be delightful.

Yes?

Hello, I'm from the California Perfume Company.

I'd love to show you our exquisite line of new products.

Sorry, we're having a hard enough time

making ends meet as it is.

Oh, what a pretty girl.

I brought my own dear child with me as well.

This scent is a personal favorite.

Do you find it satisfactory?

Well, to be honest,

I mostly let you in to get Violet out of my hair

for a few minutes.

Yes, children are such a delight.

Our young daughter is nearly the only thing that can bring

a smile to my poor Leonard's face these days.

Something happened to him?

Oh, cursed strikebreaker shattered Leonard's kneecaps

when he was trying to organize a factory in Flint.

I've been doing what I can to make ends meet myself.

He should talk with my husband.

They could compare notes.

Why is that?

Last week, strikebreakers nearly busted Earl's head open.

Earl?

As in Earl Donahue?

Why do you ask?

I've admired your husband's work for some time.

There is such strength in solidarity.

Now, are you sure you don't wanna brighten Earl's day

with a whiff of Pandora's Delight?

Come along, dear child.

Bye!

What's this?

Honey.

It's good for rope burns.

And rug burns.

I thought my job was tough.

I wonder.

Why do you think the sheriff troubled himself

just to keep me from getting lynched?

He's the sheriff.

That's what sheriffs do.

Eh, not this sheriff.

Maybe there was an angle at play,

or maybe somebody convinced him to help me.

Somebody who knew I'd been ambushed.

Anyone with half a brain would know you'd get ambushed

going around town with a black woman.

Still,

I'd love to know who to thank,

if I were the type to so indulge.

Here.

What's that?

Just a little bit extra.

For saving my hat.

This is still a business arrangement, correct?

'Course it is.

Where you going?

You're not the only one with a job to do.

That's what I got on the Riley farm auction.

I have five more foreclosure notices

ready to serve this week, four more auctions.

Now I gotta freeze them all until I'm certain

the farmers and that damn Preacher

don't strong arm me into another penny auction.

- They won't. - It's easy for you to say.

Where were you when

that Preacher was pulling guns on us?

Taking a bubble bath at the brothel?

I was occupied.

Well, now those damn farmers think they have the upper hand.

And maybe they do.

But they underestimate the power of ice cream.

Ice cream?

It's a frozen dairy treat,

often seasoned with...

Yeah, I've been familiarized with the product,

but how are you using ice cream to bust this strike?

That's Archibald Weems.

Sadly, his lifelong dream is to open an ice cream shop,

but he can't get any milk to make the stuff.

People seem to like the mopey bastard,

so I took liberties to get him that milk.

Turn the town in our favor.

And has the milk arrived yet?

It's en route.

Turns out,

maybe I didn't really need your help after all.

Well, you are gonna have to show me

exactly how you plan on getting this milk into town.

Why?

'Cause if I don't know your plan,

I'm not gonna know how it's gonna fail.

So Wendell here...

he comes out of the latrine

with his pants around his ankle...

and he's like, the bet is off! The bet is off!

Oh, yeah! That shit gets funnier every time, doesn't it?

Well, there he is.

Mister farm auction himself.

I think Calvin Rumple

may have shit his pants when we opened up them bibles.

Well, that banker holds a couple more auctions,

he might make back enough pennies

to buy himself a new pair.

Really, Preacher Seth.

I can't believe you pulled that off.

No, we pulled it off.

We put the fear of God in that man.

Amen.

And that's why I'm thinking now's the time

to sit down at the bargaining table with them

and get a fair deal for everyone.

This is what happens when we stick together as one body...

God's body.

Yeah.

Afternoon.

What's your business in Holden?

Just passing through.

What's under this tarp?

What? Back there?

That's just some old junk we're hauling.

Out.

Junk, huh?

Is this all really necessary?

We ain't asking. Out!

Okay, okay.

You got us.

We're just moving some shine.

Wendell, do you mind if I borrow your rifle?

Not a bit.

I'd step away from that truck, boys.

Son of a bitch. It's milk.

You scabbing sons of bitches.

It's okay.

Set up a couple barrels, boys.

Now go tell every other would-be scab out there

that we won't be so understanding with them

as we have been with you.

Preacher Seth.

Over there.

I'll handle this.

We're ready to negotiate food prices.

Unless you're still too chickenshit

to talk face to face.

Your precious cowboy gonna be okay?

He's not my cowboy.

Just another john.

Didn't seem like that the last time I saw you.

You seemed a bit emotional.

Well, he's got such a big wallet.

Perhaps.

But now I need

information I can use on that son of a bitch.

- Why? - Election's coming up.

He's causing too much trouble.

You spend so much time with him.

You must've picked something up.

I have.

His spunk.

Tastes like salted caramel. Does that help?

How far off are you from a down payment?

Not very.

You get me something I can use

to drive that cowboy out of town...

I'll make it worth your while.

From today's newspaper.

Did DL write a story?

Not the one he should have.

"Carnival coming to town"?

Anything about the Riley farm auction?

No, that'd be actual news.

Newspapers are almost as bad as the banks.

After we save these farms, word will spread.

How are prices everywhere else?

I've called food distributors in about half a dozen counties.

Farmers throughout the rest of the state

are getting double the prices we are

in Holden, Cherokee, and Woodbury counties.

Not anymore.

We're too strong now.

Call Melvin Stubbs, the food distributor

and tell him he has a choice.

He can either sit down with the leaders of the strike

and negotiate, or face the entire body.

It's working.

We're gonna make things right.

I'm not her, you know.

I am nobody's picture of girlish innocence or goodness.

Thank God.

Stings, doesn't it?

Being a full-grown man,

and watching your three kids and your wife, Gayle, suffer...

'Cause you can't make ends meet.

If you threaten my family...

I don't have to do that,

seeing this Preacher's strikes

hurting you enough already as it is.

Besides, farmers are dropping like flies around here.

But not this one.

I appreciate your fortitude,

but I will run this steel through you if you make me.

What do you want?

To help.

Tell me something.

How exactly did those corn farmers talk you dairy farmers

into joining their little strike, huh?

Their goods ain't exactly subject

to the same laws and nature as yours.

We're all making sacrifices.

Eh.

It seems to me that their sacrifices

are a sight easier than yours, and they know it.

They just hoping that you don't figure it out.

Because no matter what that, uh, Preacher says,

it's every man for himself in this world.

Who cleared this land?

Who puts foods on your kids' plates?

Corn farmers?

That Preacher?

No, it's you.

It's just you.

What do you want from me?

I want you to tell me how much per gallon it'll take

for you to go back to being the sort of a man

who can provide for his family.

"Carnival coming to town"?

Glad to see you're tackling the hard stuff, Hemingway.

Look, I gave Babbage my farm story.

- And? - And he gave me, in his words...

more urgent and relevant assignments.

Like the carnival?

And this.

That dickless old fart.

Wait, what are you doing?

So, what's your excuse?

Corruption? Cowardice? Or just plain idiocy?

And hello to you, little lady.

Why are you suppressing news of the farmer's revolt?

I simply print the news that's worthy to print.

Amelia, please, Mr. Bab...

Does your husband know you're here?

Why? Do you need him to protect you from me?

Hardly.

You have a responsibility to tell the truth,

I have a responsibility to sell papers, dear.

Farmers' plight is just sad.

It's difficult enough for people

to live through an actual Depression,

without being subjected to its printed equivalent.

I grew up around men like you.

You have your nice suit and your expensive desk.

And six months after you're dead,

no one will ever remember you lived.

I look forward to forgetting you.

- I'm so sorry, she... - Close the door behind you.

Hey.

Are you trying to get me fired?

I'm trying to wake you up.

If Babbage won't run your penny auction article,

then find an editor who will.

Yeah, and get my name banned from this business?

Oh, if that's what you're so afraid of,

then use a different name.

Or do you really think that Dr. Samuel T. Hopkins

is the real name of the person writing this?

Are they getting the surprise gift?

No.

Surprise gift is for the man of the house.

Not the nice lady and the pretty girl.

You stay here

and enjoy your doll, dear child.

We could get some of those farmers down in Iowa up here.

They got their problems. We got ours.

Hey, can you turn up the game?

Some lady.

Well, see what she wants.

Hello.

I have a gift for a Mr. Earl Donahue,

on behalf of a Mrs. Zelda Donahue?

I'm Earl.

Zelda didn't say anything about a gift.

Well, if she did, then it wouldn't be a surprise.

Here.

Enjoy.

Where'd you get this?

Tell me, and I won't wait around for his wife and child.

A preacher.

Where?

Iowa. Iowa. Iowa.

Where in Iowa?

I don't...

I don't know the name of the town.

Move over.

I was just playing pretend.

We were getting the bad men.

Mm, did you get them?

All of them.

Not all of them, dear child.

There's still one left in Iowa.

The worst man of all.

Give me two.

Hello, Melvin.

Got the message you left with my secretary.

I was hoping you would have a minute to talk food prices.

With your strike going on,

I got all the time in the world.

It's hard to run a food distributing business

with no food to distribute.

Let's see if we can do something to change that.

I'd like to get to the bargaining table

and make a deal.

Now, these farmers do wanna sell their goods,

but at a fair price.

You know what I'm wondering?

Is what is a preacher doing in the middle of Iowa

causing all this hassle over food prices?

Is this some sort of an ambush?

Like I said,

I got your message.

The one you left with my secretary,

and the one you left at the penny auction.

I called Creeley here to make sure

you weren't gonna pull the same trick on me.

See, ma'am,

people just don't feel safe around your husband.

Something about him.

Maybe it runs in his family.

Preacher, we're gonna negotiate food prices.

But we're gonna do it tomorrow at noon.

Face to face.

I'll be there.

Me too.

We should be careful.

That strikebreaker seemed pretty eager

to get to the bargaining table.

I bet he's up to something.

Doesn't matter if he is.

There isn't an ounce of grit to him.

No grit to the murderous strikebreaker?

Are we gonna have to pull off another penny auction

for you to explain why?

What did he mean, maybe it runs in the family?

You really wanna know?

Naw, I just enjoy nagging you.

Really, Seth.

How bad can it be?

The strikebreaker's my brother.

How is that man your brother?

Half-brother.

We had different mothers.

I didn't even know he existed until I was eight years old.

The day after my mother's funeral,

father rolled out of town.

Came back a week later with Creeley.

Hey!

He was scared.

Boys,

And soft.

Your brother, Creeley.

Father tried toughening Creeley up and making

a real Wyoming man out of him, but it never took.

Damn it, Creeley!

- Why? - He was born in a brothel.

He never went to school, never rode a horse,

never shot a gun.

He didn't even have a chance.

All he'd ever done was get doted on by the prostitutes,

including his mother.

Father said he got his softness from her.

Seth, I don't get it.

That strikebreak... your brother...

doesn't seem like the soft and tender type.

Make a man out of you yet!

Lew, where are they?

Deep down, that cold-blooded killer routine is just an act.

Sittin' and pissin' like some broad!

Our father said Creeley wasn't cut out

for the world of men, and growing up,

he always needed someone there to protect him.

I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

Usually me.

Pa! That's enough!

He gets it now, don't you?

See that?

That's how a man carries himself.

And this is how he takes his whuppin'.

So, what's going to happen

when you have to choose between furthering our cause

and protecting your brother?

Any brotherly love we had died with Cynthia.

I never should've protected Creeley in the first place.

If he makes me kill him, I will.

Do you need a hand with that?

Naw, I got it.

I said, I got it.

Everyone can use a little tenderness sometimes.

Especially those of us...

Unaccustomed to it.

I can't grow accustomed to it.

Why not?

'Cause it'd get us both killed.

We're wasting our time.

Don't get your knickers in a bundlerope.

Well, good to see both sides finally coming together

and acting like practical men.

All we want is a fair deal for the farmers.

And you're willing to terrorize

law-abiding citizens to do so.

Why don't you tell us what the farmers are asking for

and we can go from there.

I do agree with the Preacher, though.

These farmers... they've endured

entirely too much already.

First with the death of Sam Riley,

and now poor Pete Collingsworth...

Dead at your worthless hands.

Spirited. I like that.

Not as much as I like that bandana of yours.

Let's hear it, Preacher.

Right now, farmers are getting 12¢ a gallon of milk

and 6¢ a bushel on corn.

They can't live on that.

It's market value.

A market that you're fixing.

But for some reason, you don't want these farmers

to pay off their mortgages and earn an actual living.

I hardly see how it's my fault

if they're incapable of managing their finances.

We want an end to the price fixing

and a hold on foreclosures and bank auctions

until the farmers can get back to even.

A hold on foreclosures? You're out of your damn mind.

That is why you're here, Calvin.

Now you listen to them, they listen to you.

And we want the unconditional release of Sam Riley Jr.

held for a crime we all know he didn't commit.

Now hold your horses.

Don't get greedy.

Indeed, Preacher.

You know, you never explained exactly why you're here.

See, in Wyoming, where I'm from,

preachers stuck to the word of God if they knew it.

It never ceases to amaze me.

how far some people will go to pretend

to be something they're not.

But the lord sees through all

in the end.

This is our offer.

Go ahead and read it for us, cowboy.

This is double the current rate.

- And I'm a reasonable man, but... - I'm not gonna stay for this.

Rumple, hold on.

Hold on, Rumple.

Actually...

I believe we'll be able to accommodate

30¢ a gallon on dairy.

Really?

We can live with that.

What about corn?

Well, unfortunately,

the difference in money on the milk's

gotta come from somewhere, so the absolute best we can do

is 3¢ per bushel.

3¢?

That's bullshit.

- This negotiation is over. - Now, hold on now.

We can still find common ground.

Common ground with these bastards?

Did one of those heifers kick you in the head or something?

Hold on, Wendell, we're on the same side.

Well, that's not how I see it.

See, I see Victor here pouring out perfectly good milk

every day for weeks on end while this man here...

he sits on a barn full of corn.

Have you been talking to this strikebreaker?

Are you accusing me of something?

I thought you were just being stupid.

Never even imagined that you'd turn yellow.

- Come on, boys! - Gentlemen, please!

Victor... Wendell...

You son of a bitch!

You know this ain't right.

I poured my milk down the drain for you!

This is what the strikebreaker wants...

to divide us.

I can't tell Gayle and my kids

that I walked away from a fair deal.

Victor, after everything we've been through,

I'm proud to call you my friend.

But I'd rather see you dead than turn into a scab!

That's enough!

I'm taking that damn deal.

And if you got a problem with it,

you try and stop me.

Let him go! Let him go!

Look, we're all on the same side here!

Well, your brother may be soft, but he's not dumb.

I, uh, thank you for your efforts.

That's from my last test batch before the strike hit.

Granny's Country Pecan.

Holy shit, Archibald.

Granny didn't really care for foul language.

Well, apologies to Granny,

but this is really fu... good.

We are definitely gonna save your ice cream shop.

- Great. - Or die trying.

Delivery happen yet?

Well, when it does,

you sure you want a front row seat?

This could be the end of the strike.

Of course I do.

Well, there's shooters positioned above you.

Might make it hard to tell your story.

Maybe a clear view inside.

Yup.

Maybe so.

Victor,

are you sure about this?

I'm gonna sell the entire load of milk

to that ice cream shop.

Then I'm gonna get us some groceries.

Maybe even buy you a new dress.

But after what happened with Sam and Pete...

You didn't marry Sam or Pete.

Hmm?

You got a weapon hiding in that good book, Preacher?

No.

Just the good will of the Lord.

It looks like you've got some help.

We got mouths to feed.

That's the reason why I'm doing this.

Reason doesn't matter.

If you make this delivery,

you're playing right into the bank's hands.

It's a fair deal to me.

Then you should be getting

30 pieces of silver per gallon instead of 30¢.

- What? - It's a fair deal to me.

I'm pretty sure Judas said the same thing.

Judas?

You're going on two years of y'all Great Depression.

Ours been going on for 300 years.

My kids wake up from hunger at night.

If I deliver this milk, then I can stop that.

I'm done waiting.

If you're set on making that delivery...

Could you at least offer your preacher

a neighborly ride into town?

Hey, Sheriff?

Sheriff, there's men on the rooftops with guns.

Not just men. Corn farmers.

Well, aren't you gonna do anything?

If there's gunplay, chances are

the strikebreaker will get his

or the Preacher will. Doesn't matter to me.

Either way, all this nonsense will be over,

and we can go back to normal.

Look, the bank's reeling.

If you can just hold on one more week...

It's not that I don't understand

what you're saying, Preacher Seth.

I do.

Thank you for this.

Give me just a minute to think things through.

Well, what do you mean a minute?

We made a deal.

I get the milk, you get the money.

Everyone wins.

- I-I'll even throw in a... - That's enough!

I hate that it's come to this, Victor,

but you left us no choice.

You set me up, Preacher Seth.

No.

I'm trying to keep you alive. Both of you.

Now Wendell,

if you'd just lower your gun...

You were saying?

Okay, hold on, Victor and I... we were talking...

No, Wendell's right. The time for talk's over.

Go on, Archibald.

Go get your milk.

Have you seen the multiple armed men in the near vicinity?

I have.

Go on.

I get your back.

- Don't even think about... - Wendell!

They're killing each other.

Aren't you gonna do anything?

I'm sure I'll read all about it in tomorrow's paper.

Paper boy.

You did observe Wendell threaten the life

of Archibald Weems, did you not?

I guess.

And those men across the way, they fired upon me,

so I had no choice but to fire back in self-defense, correct?

It was so quick.

I'm not sure exactly what happened.

I just told you what happened.

Sorry.

Yeah.

Now,

the good Preacher has not given me a justifiable reason

to draw on him, but...

If he were to do so, I would happily oblige.

People change.

Happy news, friend.

Most of your milk was spared.

Now let's go make these good people some ice cream.

A deal...

Is a deal.

Now unload the goddamn milk.

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