Al shivers in the cold morning as he stands on his balcony, looking hard down the thoroughfare. Bringing his boss his morning tea, Dan is smart enough not to talk. Who knows what's on his mind, there are so many possibilities, but it could be...
...Reverend Smith who, at this same moment, is in the throes of his brain tumor, involuntarily shaking, muttering what sounds like a letter to his wife as Doc sits silently by, working on Jewel's boot. Between verses of Psalm 44, a gorgeous piece of Biblical poetry in which David admonishes God for abandoning him, the Rev speaks of important personal matters. He's laid by $68, he says. "I hope to be home soon, Amanda," he mumbles in closing. "I'll help with the cider pressing." Doc rushes now to the poor man as he goes into a big seizure, and the sadness overwhelms him to the point where he has to step outside his shack and cover his face while he sobs. He is greeted by the arrival of none other than the hated Magistrate Claggett, accompanied by some other men. Al sees this, too, and is not happy. "Tell Johnny to brew some coffee," he orders Dan, resigned. "[And to] open some peaches."
"Who are they?" Johnny asks Dan, looking through the curtains. Dan tells him it's the magistrate, and "some in soldier's saddles." Johnny smirks, saying Al knew all along they were coming. "Well," Dan says, "he knew somethin' was coming." Johnny nods, looking again to the balcony where even the back of Al's head looks worried. "I'd about decided," the goof says, "that he just couldn't sleep without Trixie."
Downstairs, Al meets with the magistrate and General Crook, who, Claggett points out, "bears victory's garland for having routed the Miniconjou at Slim Buttes." Al feigns interest, giving the General a "well done." The General narrows his eyes at Al, asking if he's right to recognize him from last year in the hills. "Amongst them that you gave the boot to?" Al snarks. "You said you'd see us back once the treaty got amended." Claggett jumps back in, saying that that whole treaty thing is, actually, about to happen. He says the genera is on his way now to Fort Robinson to do some other impressive General thing. We don't hear what, because Johnny, in a whispered aside to Dan at the bar, says he's surprised Al hasn't already jerked Claggett up by the scruff of his neck. Seriously, it must agitate Al to no end that this guy isn't dead yet. The General says he's brought his men to Deadwood for some rest and to resupply, but that he is not interested in them getting full use of Deadwood's, you know, facilities. He's extremely concerned about desertion, he says. Al says he'll make his feelings known to the other operators in town. As the General and his officers go off to sample the luxury of the bathhouse, Al stops him. "For those that avenged Custer," he says, "if it ain't too dissolute, the camp will want a parade." General Crook rolls his eyes, but finally and unwillingly says that a parade would be all right.
The army dudes leave, and Al is left alone with his old pal the magistrate. "So," Al asks, "did young Adams deliver my message?" Claggett sighs, saying he hasn't even seen Adams -- he left Yankton with the General before Adams could get back there. Al's not really buying it, but no matter. "Well," he says, giving Claggett the recap, "as to bribing you further for help with that warrant against me -- beyond the five thousand you've already pocketed -- the gist was, 'Fuck yourself.'" For his part, Claggett makes the increasingly frequent stupid mistake of a small-time crook going against a big-time badass. "Do you now reconsider?" he asks, full of smarm. "No, Magistrate," Al responds as to a child. "I do not." Claggett somehow does not smell the winds of doom that surely swirl about him. He tells Al that refusing the bribe will be imprudent on his part, considering that, if Al values his freedom, he is Al's only chance to be released from that warrant. "Maybe you don't value," Al says, "keeping your fucking guts inside your belly enough." The magistrate audibly scoffs, saying that those days of such threats are behind them. "No," Al says, nodding his head towards Dan who waits at the bar, "those are the days to my fucking left."
Even after all this, damn Claggett won't let it go. He says he isn't the one who generated the warrant and his death won't quash it. "You can't murder an order," he says, "or the telegraph that transmitted it, or those that are content to put food on the table simply be being its instruments. It can't be done." Al is unmoved. "Get the fuck," he says, "out of my joint."
Outside, Claggett sees Merrick, who has sidelined the General and his officers for a photograph. "Better make your first effort count," the General says, gruffly, and Merrick asks for his most victorious smile. When the man's expression doesn't change, Merrick goes bravely on. "All right," he says, "stern and resolute!"
Back at the bar, Al is bitching to Dan about Claggett. "I guess he bought his bag man back," Dan says, with a hint of jealousy. Aw. He still hasn't gotten over Al taking such a shine to Adams. Al says, yeah, he had commissioned Adams to kill Claggett, but the magistrate claims their paths never crossed. "I guess he would," Dan says. E.B. comes in, pissy. He's mad that no one told him, as mayor, that the cavalry was in town. "Cavalry's in camp, E.B.," Al says in mock geniality. "A parade's in the offing. They've had a big victory over the dirt-worshippers. Will you lead the hosannas?" E.B. puffs up. "Well," he says, "I suppose that's part of my mandate." He volunteers himself also to coordinate the force's logistical needs. "I hope you charge something," Al says, full of beans, "for your service." E.B. scurries out, passing Doc in the doorway. "Cavalry in camp, Doc," he trills. "Can I number you among the reception committee?" E.B., now's not the time. "Fuck the cavalry," Doc growls, "and the committee that receives them." Doc doesn't support the troops, y'all. You'll find no yellow ribbon sticker on his wagon. During this exchange, Trixie has come out from the back, unseen by all. She says hello to Doc, giving Al pause. He gives a final order to Dan about the magistrate's impending death, and strides away, not even acknowledging Trixie.
Doc heads to the back, looking for Jewel. "Hey, Doc," Dan calls from the bar. "What you got in your tote sack?" Holding aloft the bag carrying Jewel's new apparatus, Doc simply replies "lettuce." He finds Jewel sweeping the common room, and tells her to sit down and put her broom aside. She does the first, but can't manage the latter. "You'll have to remove it from my clutches," she jokes about the muscular rigor that makes it impossible for her to let it go. "Okay," Doc says, prying it from her hands. He sits before her and starts explaining how he wants her to use the new boot. She's not to conceal any stiffness or numbness from him, he says, just because she wants so badly for the thing to work. Jewel is too excited to take him seriously, but he goes on. "You lose a leg," he says, "your other conditions will prevent you from moving around at all. And I will not have you lose the mobility that you do have for the sake of a few weeks' illusion." Jewel sees how much he means it, and swears she will report stiffness or numbness. She's very excited about the boot, and Doc probably is, too, though he's too worried to say so. He reiterates that she is not to be the doctor. "You report the symptoms," he yells. "I'll determine their significance!" Jewel tells him not to yell and promises she understands. Geri Jewell is just an incredible performer. She's so sweet and so strong and she infuses this character, who literally lives and survives at the whims of others, with such an individual personality. Finally, Doc unwraps his new creation. "Here's your goddamn boot," he says, quietly, and Jewel is full of wonder. "Help me put it on," she says, smiling.
In his office, Al stews. The door opens and he swings swiftly around to see Doc. "Walk in unannounced is a good way to get yourself killed, Doc," he says. "Especially as the cavalry has got us besieged." Doc's in no mood for jokes. "I'm here about the minister," he says. He goes on that the minister's illness is past anything Doc can do for him. "Well, you're preachin' to the fuckin' converted," Al tells him. "I would have seen to him but, I've been fuckin' busy." Doc shakes his head. "He doesn't want to be seen to like that," he says. Al is confused. "Well then," he asks, "what the fuck are we talking about?" Doc takes a shot of whiskey and sits down. "A man being cared for and made comfortable until he expires," he explains, slowly. "The girls you put to the task, deduct your time from my pay." Al snorts. "I get the bag of shit," he says. This makes Doc mad -- it's all he can do just to ask for this, I'm sure. "You get to care for a human being in his last extremity," he says, and Al responds that a human being in his last extremity is a bag of shit. Doc has had enough. "OH," he yells, like a man with a death wish, "FUCK YOU, AL!" And frankly, it does cause Al to raise his eyebrows at least a centimeter towards rage, but knowing the Doc, and seeing him like this, he understands what he needs to do. He says he'll send someone over to pick up the Rev. Sighing, Doc gets up to leave, stopping to tell Al about the boot he made for Jewel. "Does it allay the fucking noise she makes," he asks, "when she drags her leg about?" Doc smirks. "If the noise bothers you so much," he says to his old ally, "put cotton in your ears." Al nods, and tells Doc to go on. "I'm working," he says, "on my deployments and flanking maneuvers." Before he can get out the door completely, however, Al calls to Doc again, asking, "How about that other one?" Doc looks back. "Trixie's fine," he says. Al steps out onto his balcony and, seeing Johnny in the street, orders him to take the sled to get the Rev down at Doc's. "And tell that other one," he says, again refusing to refer to Trixie by name, "to make up the fucking room."
Machinations are going on down in the Chinese part of camp. Cy's stooge, Leon, is setting the stage for trouble, arguing with the laundry guy over some shirts he's picking up. Things are getting tense between them as Cy, off to the side with Sheriff Stapleton, comments significantly that the situation looks to be deteriorating. He nods to Stapleton to stir the pot a little more. Wu, coming out of his shack, looks suspicious and worried.
In her room at the hotel, Mrs. G's dad is lecturing her about her gold claim, and how difficult it will be for her to run it. She's annoyed by his condescension, and when he suggests that he become her New York representative to see to her credit interests, she says she's not sure that's the way she wants to go. "Why not?" he asks, brusque. "I'm not sure I can explain," she says, "beyond saying the prospect frightens me." He gives up the ghost: "Must the pretense of my behavior generating from parental concern be abandoned so quickly?" Mrs. G almost giggles. "If you acknowledge what else it generates from," she says, "I'll not abandon the prospect at all." She's not laughing, however, when he finally admits that he's in debt again. "Alma," he says, seeing how upset she is about this, "watching you struggle with what is beneath your spirit to understand is always painful for me." Oh, Daddy. You are a baddie, indeed. He says after she got him out of debt the first time, he got himself back in. Mrs. G reaches for, and then restrains herself from, the laudanum glass. Apparently, Pops promised he would never do this again, complete with weeping and begging. "Conceive my own disappointment," he says, like an asshole, and then reveals the magnitude of the situation. He's $47,000 in debt. Mrs. G is even more breathless than usual. "Who," she asks in a rage, "would give you that much credit?" His daughter becoming a Garret, he says, raised his standings among his various creditors. She sighs, wondering if she could borrow that much against her gold claim. "In an instant," he says, "and considerably more." Mrs. G thinks it over and strikes a deal. "All right, Daddy," she says. "But in consideration, you will remove yourself from further connection to the venture; I'll have that in writing before I'll help you."
And this man...this CHARLATAN...instead of, in the immortal words of the immortal Eagles, taking the money and running, has the unmitigated gall to smirk. "No, darlin'," he says, leaning down to Sophia on the floor, and pinching her cheek. "You'll help me, and you'll have no such thing." He does the money-behind-the-ear trick again with the little girl, and it just goes all over Mrs. G. "Get away from her..." she whispers, and when he doesn't, she says it louder, jumping up, grabbing Sophia, and lunging from the room.
Downstairs, Joanie and Charlie are dining together again when they see Mrs. G pulling Sophia down the stairs. "My friend Jane repaid some money I thought never to see," he tells Joanie as they watch this scene. "Plus, sent $2 some-odd for Mrs. Garret to give that girl. Fines she levied against herself for saying 'fuck' or the like." Mrs. G makes it to the lobby, picking up Sophia again, all in a state and charging out of the hotel. "I'll..." Charlie finishes, uncomfortable, "give her the money later."
He'll have to, since Mrs. G is now rushing across the muddy thoroughfare, trying to get to the hardware store. Sol, seeing her arrive in such a panic, makes his excuses and leaves her alone with Bullock. "Whatever impression my father has made on you," she gasps, "please believe me, Mr. Bullock...that is he is here in his own interests, and against mine and this child's." While she's saying all this, Bullock is closing and locking the store doors, better to give her his undivided attention. "I'm asking," she says, "for your help." He does not hesitate to put on his best clench as he steps over, practically standing right in her face. "You have it," he says. With interest, Sophia watches all this drama go down between them.
Sol watches from across the street, listening to Merrick natter on about how his photo of the soldiers did not turn out too well. He rushes to Bullock, who has just ripped open the door of the store and is striding purposefully toward the hotel. Sol asks what's going on. "Get away from me, Sol," is all Bullock will say -- it's a warning, not an insult. Panicky, Sol asks if he should stay with Mrs. G at the store. "Please," Bullock clenches, never slowing down.
The unsuspecting Bad Dad, in fact, is just coming downstairs. "Antemeridian constitutional, Mr. Russell?" he asks, smiling a knowing smile. "Or will we roll the bones again?" Russell looks at him with total disdain. "It must cost you sleep," he says. "The guests you drive off, the chances of thieving and bilking you lose, needing to rub against your betters." Ugh. Now, hold on a minute, Bad Dad. Seriously, how big of a dicksmack do you have to be to make me feel sorry for E.B.? Plus, who is this butthole, anyway? For his part, E.B. doesn't seem all that upset about it, even exchanging a little look with Richardson like "well, he told me." And Russell barely has time to enjoy his insult, confronted as he is now with a Bullock in high clench. "You and I are gonna talk," Bullock says, meeting Russell in the doorway. "You don't account for my preferences, Mr. Bullock?" Russell asks, trying to play it cool. "I will beat you here in the street," Bullock assures him, but Russell suggests otherwise. Beating him down would only cause people to be more suspicious of Mrs. G's role in Brom's death and widen that suspicion to include Bullock. From their window at the hotel, Joanie and Charlie have seen this triangulation of events -- Mrs. G rushing to the store, Bullock clenching to the hotel, Russell blathering as they walk to the Bella Union -- and they look worried. As Mrs. G comes out on the porch of the store, they also emerge from their place, as does E.B. from behind his counter. The tension rises all across the thoroughfare as Russell ramps up his insults.
"Were you bullied as a child, Mr. Bullock?" he snarks, walking into the Bella Union. "When young and incapable? So now you see wrongs everywhere and bullying you feel called to remedy?" Russell lays ten down on the craps table, while Eddie tries to ignore contention between the two men. Charlie and E.B. both sneak in the door -- one to stand ready for his friend, the other to get the best look at the action -- while Russell goes on. He says he's not victimizing his daughter, "but merely asking for a small portion of the ample proceeds...from her veins." Bullock, whose mustache is about to leap from his face and strangle Russell where he stands, continues to clench in silence. "Alma is hurt only in your particular view of things," Bad Dad says, and speaking of Mrs. G, we see her now, across the street, accepting Joanie's generous offer to stay with Sophia a moment so that she can run over and see what's going on in the saloon. "And while I'll sign no guarantee not to return, or against any future claim on her compassion," Russell continues, "realize, I do hate it here." Bullock is close to losing it, now, more intense than we have ever seen him. Oh, but he's about to get intense-ier. Mrs. G and Sol arrive now, just in time to hear Russell say that it might be a bad idea for Bullock to get tough with him, considering the fact that he's perfectly willing to testify in court that not only did Mrs. G say, five minutes before her wedding, that she wished her husband dead, she also admitted to him that she had conspired to his actual death on the gold claim. So, he sarcastically concludes, having said all that, he supposes Bullock best take his swing. Now, y'all, here is a man who did not do his research. Just like Claggett going up against Al and not understanding that in the face of evil, Al will rise to the occasion with more powerful evil, this dude clearly does not get it that with Bullock, the physics go the other way -- for every evil, there is an equal and opposite act of righteousness, and as we have come to expect and appreciate, Bullock does not even pause to clench before taking that swing. And what a swing it is, leading to a beatdown of highest quality. Cy and his staff look on with detached interest. Mrs. G makes no move to stop it, and though she does look away, her face shows zero affection for dear ol' Bad Dad, rather plainly revealing her excitement and lust for her brawny hero. Sol lets the smacking go on for another minute before calling Bullock off.
Reluctantly, he gets off the bloodied man, clenching out a warning. "Leave this camp, and draw a map for anyone who wants to believe your fucking lies," he says. "Anyone who wants to put your daughter or her holdings in jeopardy, you show 'em how to get here. And you tell 'em, I'll be waiting." With this, Bullock swings around and fixes Mrs. G with a look of such white-hot intensity, I have to get up and stick my head in the freezer for a second. He walks out, pausing only a second to Mrs. G, who eventually catches her breath enough to ask Cy's substitute-Joanie, Lila, to see to her bleeding, moaning father. Out in the street, the cavalry is parading, and the beat of the marching drums does nothing to help Bullock, whose eyes are still bugging out so dramatically, you can practically see the "What have I done?" thought balloon over his head. Just when you think the fever pitch is at its highest, we hear a shot fired somewhere down the thoroughfare. Automatically, Bullock takes off toward the sound. He is followed by Cy, whose face is clouded with annoyance.
We find out why when Bullock reaches the Chinese section of camp and finds Wu crying out in agony over the dead body of one of his friends. Above him stands the "sheriff" Con Stapleton, he of the stupid stovepipe hat, yelling for everyone to stand back. This has all been a set-up, of course -- Leon is there, loudly making claims that the laundry guy we saw him bitching at earlier had tried to throw lye in his face, thus making it necessary for Stapleton to shoot him. Wu is furious, raging in Chinese, and things are getting out of control -- Leon pulls a knife and Con looks ready to shoot again -- when Bullock arrives. "All right, that's enough," he clenches. All the men turn to look at him. He doesn't say anything else -- just fixes all gathered, especially Cy, with a look of disgust, and strides away.
By the time he makes it back to the main thoroughfare, the parade has hit the grandstand. General Crook is doing his best to inspire the common people, dramatically recounting the cavalry's journey across the plains, battle with various Indian tribes, and inhuman hardships through wind, rain, and cold. Bullock stops to listen to a soldier; the dude has gone around the bend, and Bullock's eyes widen as he hears the guy mumbling about having to eat his own horse in the Black Hills. It's a rough scene. The crazy soldier is all gross and can't stop scratching his head. Bullock just stands there, soaking in the surreality of it all. As Crook goes on and on, Con Stapleton sidles up to Bullock, saying he's glad he was there to witness that scene with the Chinese. Bullock doesn't want to make friends, though. Sorry, Con. "murder you do on an errand," he says, "you ought to take off the fuckin' badge." Stapleton tries to act offended. "I'm not sure I take your inference," he says. "And if I do, I'm not sure I like it." Bullock's done. In one movement, he pulls off Stapleton's badge and throws it in the mud. Poor, conflicted Tom Nuttall -- who, having orchestrated Stapleton's whole position has now seen it already corrupted much further than he ever expected -- mutters to his former friend to "leave it there, you bought-out son of a bitch."
As Merrick harasses Crook to confirm quotes for his story, and E.B. makes arrangements to see to the troops' supply needs, Bullock contemplates the sheriff's badge he's thrown in the mud. He looks up at Al, who has seen all from his Balcony of Omnipotence, and heads toward the Gem. "I don't care if the whole U.S. Cavalry walks in here," he says to Dan on arriving at the bar, "you don't want to pour another drink. You just want to listen to me." He says that if Mrs. G's dad doesn't end up dying, he will no doubt go to New York City to tell Brom Garret's family that it breaks his heart to say so, but his daughter had their son murdered. "And those society people in New York City," he says, "who live with their heads up their asses anyway, will believe him." He tells the increasingly uncomfortable Dan that whoever is sent out from New York will take about fifteen minutes before deciding it must have been Dan and Al she hired to commit the murder. "Course, they'll be wrong about Mrs. Garret," he continues, squeezing the sheriff's badge that's still in his hand. "But they'll be right as rain about you two cocksuckers. You tell him all that upstairs." Dan takes a puff of his cigar and recaps the situation. "Just so I understand you," he says. "If he don't die, you're sayin' the man's luck don't have to hold out. Now that's the message you want me to take upstairs." Bullock looks hard at him. "I don't swim in that shit," he says...which is strange, seeing as how that's exactly the shit he's swimming in. Dan is amused by this. "You ought to pin that on your chest," he says, nodding at the badge. "You're hypocrite enough to wear it." Bullock clenches. "You just tell him."
Upstairs, Wu rips open the door of Al's office where he's no doubt been drawing out the story of the shooting that just went down, and stomps out, clearly disappointed. "When did you start thinking every wrong had a remedy, Wu?" Al yells, kind of chasing after him. "Did you come to camp for justice, or to make your fucking way?" Wu never looks back and just goes stomping down the stairs and out the back. I love it -- Al looks like a husband trying to explain his actions to a stubborn wife. Wu passes Johnny, dragging Reverend Smith in to the room Trixie has set up for him. Al sees all this and sighs, going back in his office and slamming the door.
Night has fallen, and a few cavalry men are picking up provisions at the hardware store as Sol watches over his pensive friend. "I'm sensing," he says, "you've done things today you wish you could amend, Seth." Bullock is depressed, most likely because he just basically told Dan to murder Mrs. G's dad. "What kind of man have I become, Sol?" he asks. "I don't know," his friend replies. "The day ain't fucking over."
In his office at the Gem, Al is having a staff meeting. "Under what provocation," he asks, "was that clown-hatted cardsharp when he slaughtered the chink?" See? Al doesn't like Stapleton's hat, either. Johnny says he didn't see what started it, having been "head down, towing that minister like a canal mule" at the time. Al asks if, after shooting the guy, did Stapleton act frightened. To the contrary, Johnny says, he was "struttin' like a dunghill rooster." Al nods. "Put-up fuckin' job," he says. "That fucknut Tolliver's moving on Chinatown." E.B. agrees: "The devious fucknut!" Al moves to the order of business: the matter Bullock brought to Dan. "Well," Dan says, clearly in support, "it's the exact type murder you preach, Al. Head off trouble down the road." Seriously, people, if only Al were alive today, he wouldn't have to waste his time running whiskey and whores. Seven Habits of Effectively Ridding Yourself of Cocksuckers would be a bestseller, and he'd have his own talk show on UPN, and a blog, and a weight loss program, and a whole line of motivational posters...like one with a picture of Dan with a knife in his teeth that said something along the lines of "Life Is a Journey: It Ends Here."
Al says yeah, but more importantly, one must deal with the trouble ON the road before heading off trouble DOWN the road. E.B. plays teacher's pet, and tries to explain to Dan, who needs no edification, that the trouble on the road at the moment is Clagget and his seemingly cozy connection to the military. "If genuine," he says, "Al must decide -- ought he seek some alliance with Claggett, however temporary or dissembled?" Al sighs. "At least," he snarks, "until you're paid for the army's order, E.B." Dan cuts to the chase. "They're all in the same fucking place," he says. "Tolliver, the widow's father, Claggett...I can take care of all of them in one fell swoop." Al asks why he just doesn't take out half the cavalry while he's at it. "I tell you," Dan says, "you cut that fuckin' general's throat, you'll hurry the pace of desertion." As Dan and E.B. compete to be the best in the class, Al steps out on the balcony to see none other than Adams and his side man ride up. "That cocksucker Claggett's bagman," he says, showing the staff the door. As Dan passes, Al reminds him: "Moderation in all things." Good one, Al.
Back at the hardware store, Bullock continues to wrestle with his conscience. Finally, he apparently makes up his mind on his course of action and, wordlessly shaking his friend Sol's hand, leaves the store.
Meanwhile, Claggett continues his attempts to kiss up to the General as they dine together with Cy at the Bella Union. They have a complicated-on-the-Yankton-Scale conversation, the upshot of which is this: Clagget and Cy are in cahoots to bribe the General to leave behind some of his men to control the "criminal element" in town. What they mean, of course, is that Cy will control those men, who will then do whatever he says. Despite his name, General Crook is unmoved, even when Cy offers him $50,000 in gold. They are interrupted by Bullock, who introduces himself and gives a little résumé of his relationship to the law and to the military: he is a former marshal, his father was in the British army, his brother was killed in cavalry service. He tells the general that Mr. Russell, laid up in that very establishment, is in need of protection. "I beat him badly," he says, clenching in half shame. "Others in the camp have reason to wish him dead, and the camp sheriff can be bought off for half a can of bacon grease." Cy rolls his eyes at the meddlesome Bullock, but the general is on Bullock's side. "While we're here," he says, "I will hold Mr. Russell under protection as a gesture to your brother's sacrifice." Bullock is relieved, but the General is not finished. He says that a man such as Bullock, an experienced marshal who understands the dangers of his own temperament, might consider serving his community as sheriff. "We all have bloody thoughts," he says. Before he can respond, they are interrupted by the supply master, who has come to complain about E.B.'s scheisterism. "I'd rather," he says, "we provision with the fucking Sioux." He goes on to say that they've already had several men try to go AWOL, and several more who tried to barter their weapons for the various vices to be found in camp. General Crook is annoyed -- this is happening just as he expected. He tells his captain to form up the men, that they'll bivouac outside of camp tonight and head for Camp Robinson in the morning. Claggett tries one more time to get in good with him, but Crook brushes him off. "Twelve men, General, $50,000..." Cy says, making a last ditch effort. Disgusted, Crook pushes past him, saying that if he were sheriff, he'd have Cy hanged.
Joanie has come to see Mrs. G in her room at the hotel. "I brought these," she says, turning over a handkerchief containing several of Bad Dad's teeth. "Collected off the Bella Union floor," she says. "Maybe [to] model replacements after; maybe just [to] remind him not to run his mouth." A little green, Mrs. G invites her to come in for a moment and asks if her father will live. Joanie says that it seems he will. "Mr. Bullock," Mrs. G says, guilty, "was my agent in this." Joanie pauses before taking her hands. "On our way from Syracuse to Indiana so my daddy could try farming," she says, "my mama got cholera and died." Mrs. G listens as Joanie tells how her father didn't make much of a farmer, but had a way enough with words to get her believing that her mama in heaven wanted her and her sisters to see to his needs, as well as those of the men he brought home, until he eventually sold her to Cy. Mrs. G lowers her head in sadness at this story, but Joanie goes on. "If he was here," Joanie says, almost smiling, "I'd wish a beating mornings and evenings on my daddy like your pa took today." It's beautiful writing, and Mrs. G is comforted.
They are interrupted by a loud knock at the door. It's Bullock, who clearly has not thought past the knocking and is a little speechless when faced with Mrs. G. "Evening," he manages, and she breathlessly returns the greeting, taking his bruised hand in her own. Joanie, ever helpful, invites Sophia downstairs for dinner, and takes her out. Alone, Bullock freezes for a moment by the closed door. Mrs. G asks if he'd like to sit down, and it all comes pouring out. He tells her about asking the General to see to Russell's safety, and that if her father leaves only to come back and act against her interests, they'll deal with that when it happens. Suddenly, he looks up at her with tears in his eyes. "I stand before you," he says, "a married man." She says yes, she knows, he's married to his brother's widow, after he was killed. Bullock says it again, though: "Married." Mrs. G gets it -- in these very few words he's telling her he wants her, knows she wants him, but that they should both be aware that he is, in fact, he'll say it again, married. They acknowledge this with their eyes before finally going for it, lunging into each other's arms and kissing. After a moment, she starts to undress. Bullock is wigging, slightly. Averting his eyes, he politely asks if she'd be more comfortable undressing behind the screen. "Wouldn't that," she asks, surprised and touched, "defeat our purpose?" With that, she pulls off her dress, revealing, I must say, some really lovely underthings. Bullock's mustache nearly bursts into flames, and he takes her to bed.
Al and Adams meet in the Gem. Adams says, just as Claggett had earlier, that he missed the magistrate in Yankton. Al wonders aloud if this is not all just a ruse to trick him. "I guess you chew at it a while," Adams says, "you could work out how it could be that way." Al says the magistrate is to be there any minute to attempt to extract further bribes from him, which should give Adams a little time to work out whose side he's on. Adams gives him a look like he's tired of having to prove shit to people.
Al hears one of the room doors open and turns to see Johnny coming out of the Rev's sick chamber. He sighs and walks in there to find Trixie administering to the Rev the best she can as he gasps and rambles on from his sickbed. This time, the Biblical anvil is even bigger -- he quotes a verse from Romans lamenting that he is unable to do what he knows is right; that he continues to do the things he hates most. Al tells Trixie to leave. She does, pausing at the door to give him the cloth she's been using to bathe the minister's brow and give him a pleading look. He calls Johnny in the room, telling him to shut the door.
In his shack, Doc is on his knees in prayer. I'll just go on and say that I am unequal to the task of writing about these two scenes -- the whole sequence is so absolutely, unbelievably brilliant. At first, Doc sort of cajoles God, joking about how one of his knees is jacked up and how getting on the floor is uncomfortable. He can't make it through the joke, though, without breaking down. "Jesus Christ," he whispers, tears starting to come to his eyes. "Jesus Christ, just please, God...take that minister. What conceivable Godly use is his protracted suffering to you? What conceivable Godly use?" He is really crying now, screaming, begging to be enlightened -- what conceivable need did God have to hear the death agonies of the men in the fields of the Civil War as they begged for their mothers to comfort them as they died? He loses it for a moment, remembering those men, thinking of the sweet Reverend whose own pain seems so needless and undeserved. "Admitting my understanding's imperfection," he says, "trusting that You have a purpose, praying that You consider it served, I beg you to relent. Thy will be done, amen."
Brothers and sisters, what we're about to see is an example of the Lord's using His mysterious ways His wonders to perform. Back in that dark room at the Gem, Al is sweetly soothing the addled Rev. He gently shushes him, taking the moaning man in his arms, as Johnny watches frozen on the sidelines. Al places the cloth on the Rev's forehead. "You want to be a road agent?" he asks Johnny, reminding him of their conversation. "Deal out death when called upon?" With no fanfair, he unrolls the cloth now over the Reverend's face, clamping his hand over the man's nose. As the Rev flails and Johnny tries to hold himself together, Dan steps in the room, and is there in time to see Al go on with his lesson. "Make a proper seal; stop up the breath; apply pressure, even and firm like packing a snowball." He leans over the Rev's face now, as the man finally dies. "Shhh," he says, so quietly. "You can go now, brother."
Choking back tears, Dan tells Al that the magistrate has arrived and he's sent him and Adams and his friend up to Al's office. "Join 'em," Al says, quietly, and tells Johnny to get the sled for the minister. Leaving the room, he takes a moment to pause and, I don't know, perhaps reflect on the meaning of life, or something. Seeing Trixie watching him, he takes a deep breath and goes back to business.
Upstairs, Claggett is confronted with Adams and his buddy. There is a minor mental showdown. Al points out to Dan, who is sitting stonefacedly at the desk, that Claggett is no doubt wondering about whether or not Adams is still on his payroll. Since Adams has yet to do the job for Al, there's equal question as to whether he's on Al's side, too. Claggett, who surely has balls as big as church bells, lies to Al that he has the General in his pocket and that Crook is thisclose to leaving a garrison of men in the camp to enforce territorial laws. He says if Al should make an "appropriate gesture" to him, he could no doubt persuade the General against this idea, and, by the way, he'll still clear up that warrant he mentioned before. Al asks if he has the warrant on him, now. "Yes," he says. "Make the appropriate gesture, and the constable hand of the past will no longer weigh on you." Al cuts his eyes to Adams. "What man," he drones, "couldn't that be said about?" So, you know, Adams makes the appropriate gesture. His sidekick grabs the magistrate around the waist, and Adams swiftly slits the throat of his old boss. Whipping open Claggett's coat, he pulls out Al's murder warrant. "I'll be happy to give you this paper," he says to Al while looking at Dan, "when you take that fucking gun off me." Reluctantly, Dan pulls a revolver up from under the table. "Both of them," Adams says, and Dan's other hand reveals a shotgun. Al tells them to dispose of the magistrate's body and take whatever money and effects he has on him. "That," Adams says, fitting in nicely here in Deadwood, "don't count towards the two thousand."
At the hotel, Bullock and Mrs. G are relaxing, post-gettin' it on. They hear a shot go off and the cavalry bugle call to mount up. "I didn't think your father would have to travel so soon," Bullock says, but Mrs. G whispers that she doesn't begrudge Bad Dan an uncomfortable journey. "I'll see him secured," Bullock says, smirking. "But after that, he's on his own."
Doc is tying one on in his shack when he is interrupted by Al, banging on the door. "It's here," he says, still in prayer. "Your competition." Awesome. Al has personally come to deliver the minister, who he is carrying over his shoulder. "He passed," he says. "Waited until I got him off the fuckin' sled. I would have let him lay in state, but I needed the room for my whores." Doc is actually smiling. "Thanks for seein' him through," he says boozily. Al asks if Doc is going to probe around in the Rev's brain to see what went amiss. "No," Doc slurs. "Not tonight. Tonight, I plan to drink in!" Al looks at him. "Announcing your plans," he tells Doc, "is a good way to hear God laugh."
In the thoroughfare, Bullock and Sol tie the unconscious Mr. Russell over a donkey and send him out with the troops. Bullock goes into the Gem, where Dan tells him they haven't quite had time to get to his murder request. "It's been a busy night," he says. Hee. Bullock says he knows. He sees Al come in the back with the drunk Doc, and says he needs a meeting. "Yeah," Al says, distracted, "okay." He helps Doc over to the shoeshine stand and pushes him into the seat. "See this man gets his shine, huh?" he tells Dan, and leads Bullock to his office. Dan comes over with a shot: "Here, that'll give you a shine." Jewel sees her friend and dutifully reports that she feels no stiffness or numbness. Doc has her do a few turns to show how the boot's working. She says she feels good and asks him to give her a whirl around the dance floor. Hanging his head like he's embarrassed, he says no, no.
Upstairs, Bullock steps over the fresh bloodstain left by the magistrate and to tell Al the events of his own day. Al's surprised to hear that Mrs. G's dad is leaving the camp alive, seeing as how Bullock told Dan in so many words that someone should kill him. Bullock covers his eyes in exhaustion for a moment, and says that no, if Russell returns to Deadwood, he'll be Bullock's problem to deal with. "The way," Al smarts, "you and Hickok dealt with Ned Mason?" Bullock clenches fully. "No," he says. "I'll be the fuckin' sheriff." Awesome. They have a rapid-fire showdown. Al: "Startin' when?" Bullock: "Startin' now." Al: "You have the tin?" Bullock: "I do." Al: "Produce it." Bullock stands up and whips it out (not like that). "On the tit," Al says. "I know where it goes," Bullock clenches, and with Al's sincerely meant "huzzah," they wordlessly toast to Bullock's righteousness, which will no doubt serve Al well, he thinks, when the time comes to annex the camp.
They step out on the balcony to watch the troops take their leave. Al looks across the thoroughfare, sees the striking Mrs. G looking down from her window as her father is carried out of town. "You know," Al muses, "I haven't spoken to her once since she came to camp? You reckon that's another reason not to kill her old man...besides whatever's going on between the two of you." Bullock doesn't bother trying to hide it. "Yeah," he mutters. "Anyways, Sheriff," Al says, noticing that Bullock can't take his eyes off Mrs. G, "I'm gonna walk past that bloodstain that mysteriously appeared and go oversee my business interests. Take your time." Bullock does just that, and he and Alma stare hotly at each other across the thoroughfare.
Opening his office door, Al leans over the railing to see Jewel and Doc waltzing below to the strains of the piano. I recognize the tune, but cannot think of the name right now. My apologies. Al's face is inscrutable as he watches -- a mixture of compassion and detachment. His eyes linger especially on Trixie, who has come in to watch. She feels him looking and turns her head to meet his eyes. He stares harder, as if to dare her to look at him. "Say 'I'm as nimble as a forest creature,'" Jewel says to Doc, who laughs and tells her she is. "No," Jewel insists. "Say it about yourself!" Doc laughs again. "I'm as nimble," he says, "as a forest creature." Above, Al looks on, watching over his family, such as it is.