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We pick up where we left off in last week's episode -- Bullock has yet to retrieve his gun and badge, and everybody's worried about how he's going to do it. He gives Mrs. G an ultimatum of sorts, laying out their options to either stay in camp and sever their relationship, or run off away, together. Al is still being tormented by his urinary problem, along with his fresh injuries from the beatdown. He seems to take Adams's side over Dan's in an argument, but then later confirms that he'll always stand by his man, Dan. Cy continues to stew and rage about Joanie's new business venture, and seems to be concocting a creepy plan to carry out in his creepy way. Al hears from his sources that Bullock may be a VIP in governmental circles, due to his former position as Marshal in Montana. So, against his nature, but to protect his future interests, Al settles things peacefully with Bullock, returning his gun, badge, and hat. And Bullock, against his deep feelings for Alma, returns home, to his wife and son. This episode is all about loyalty, really, and who holds it and who breaks it. Looks like, in Deadwood, that score is about even. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
We open in this current episode in Al's office, where he is finally seeking decent medical treatment for the beatdown he received the day before. Doc is binding his ribs, and trying to distract Al from asking about Bullock's condition. Al brags unnecessarily about the wounds he gave Bullock -- though we all know Al took the worst of the beating. Doc says won't talk about his other patients, and wants to know about Al's "other" problem, the urinary issue. Al won't go for it, though. He tells Doc to "inform that fuckin' lunatic [Bullock], you see him, I'm fit as a fucking fiddle, and ready to play on." Doc tries again. "Inform me, Al," he says, "to what mark in your piss pot did you fill."I have to say that Doc has what must be the most difficult job in Deadwood, the whores included. At least they know what they're working with. It's not like Doc can do an X-ray on somebody to see what's going on in their prostate should they not be able to fill their piss pots to the appropriate mark.
Al tells him that the volume was adequate, which is a lie. Doc asks if there has been "any discharge of gleets, burning or soreness." Need I get into how gross the words "discharge" and "gleets" are, together OR separately? Oh, and for the unmedically schooled, here's how the dictionary defines a gleet: "Inflammation of the urethra resulting from chronic gonorrhea and characterized by a mucopurulent discharge. Or, the discharge that is characteristic of this inflammation. In men, can cause stricture of the penis."
Mucopurulent! Stricture! Of! The! Peniiiiiiiiiiiiis! Sweet dreams, y'all! If you're trying to convince your teenager of the importance of safe sex, whip out gleets time.
We're all thankful when Johnny bursts in and interrupts this doctor-patient interview with Al's suit back from Wu's laundry. It has been "aromafied" in some kind of strong solvent. He's making a face like it's an overwhelming smell. What do you want to bet it's just soap? Because, as we know, not many in Deadwood would recognize such an odor. Al suggests quite calmly that perhaps Johnny should let it air out somewhere for a while. Al gets annoyed that he takes it out to the balcony, but doesn't have the strength to get mad about it. As Johnny leaves, Doc asks again about the possible gleets and whatnot, and before Al can answer, the door opens again and in walks a smug E.B. Farnum, announcing that Bullock has come back to the Grand Central and gone upstairs to the widow Garret's room.
"I can't say if they're in rut," E.B. says. "I didn't linger for the song of the bedstead." The lines E.B. gets never cease to delight me.
Al is either in terrible pain or is just so over it he doesn't have anything to say, and after E.B. stands silent for a moment, he realizes he'll get no reward for this bit of info, and walks out muttering about checking on the new whores in town. After he's gone, Al turns to Doc, before he can ask again, and says the subject of his piss pot, and anything having to do with it, is closed.
In Mrs. Garret's room, Sophia is sleeping as her fake mommy and fake daddy pensively talk in the anteroom. Mrs. G says she was relieved Sol and Charlie weren't too badly hurt. Bullock is kind of clenching along, his eyebrows working overtime, and she continues, chit-chattedly on, talking about how she hoped the delivery of her welcome basket to his WIFE didn't cause any awkwardness. Oh, sure. Who would've guessed that a man's mistress delivering a welcome gift to the man's wife would make anyone uncomfortable?
Instead of asking what the hell she might have been thinking and was she back on the dope, he says politely that it was kind of her to come by. She cuts to the chase and asks if he had known his family was coming to town that day. Bullock says that his wife had written that "William was entirely recovered," but had made no mention of traveling to Deadwood. Mrs. G says that William is handsome (making sure to demarcate Bullock's relationship to him, by calling him "your brother's son"), and Bullock very sweetly says that "he's a fine boy."
Alma is overcome and sits down in front of him, quietly saying she wishes she could see to his injuries, "however superficially." Now Bullock cuts to the chase: "My proposal would be that we leave the camp immediately, or remain, in severed connection." Mrs. G is taken aback. "A choice for me to make?" she asks. Bullock says yes -- it's not that he seeks to absolve himself from the decision; it's just that "I don't believe I'm to be relied upon for good judgment." Now you're talking, Bullock. Too bad you didn't have that brainstorm 24 hours ago. Mrs. Garret wonders if he's to be relied upon for an account of his own feelings. He says he only knows that for them to stay in the camp and not sever their connection would be to add lying to Martha's humiliation, and renew that humiliation daily. Alma snarks out that she understands, but it's evident that she is not thrilled to be moving into the secondary spot in Bullock's consideration. She asks if she has to choose tonight, and he says yes. She says she needs some part of tonight to consider, since others are involved for her, as well. Bullock says he'll come back in a few hours. She tells him to be very careful in the interim. He says he will. He's not really looking her in the eye, much, and there's no romantic clench of any kind before he leaves without even so much as a look back at her.
Back at the hardware store, Merrick, Trixie, and Charlie are still seeing to Sol. They're lifting him off the counter to move him to a table, as Trixie gives the count-off. "One, two, fuckin'-three." Funny.
Sol's still a bit wasted from the laudanum Doc gave him for the pain. As they help him into the other room, Charlie makes small talk about how lovely the Bullock family is. Trixie agrees that they're grand. Sol, however, is a little disappointed in himself. "Looked forward all this while," he says, "and I meet 'em with my load on." Poor Sol. This has been one hell of a day.
They get him to the table in the back and work together to lift him, again. Trixie: "One, two, fuckin'-three." Again. She then tells Charlie and Merrick that she's got Sol under control and that they should go on and "look the fuck out." Merrick hesitates and she brushes him to the door, saying again to "look the fuck out." Now, I get it, and everything, but these and Trixie's subsequent lines kind of make me feel like nobody really knew what to do with her in this episode and that maybe they penciled her in here in the beginning with some kind of direction like "Walk around with your boobs half-exposed and say 'fuck' a lot. No, a lot."
Charlie and Merrick step into the store, where Charlie immediately starts fretting. He wonders aloud if he ought not acquire some weapons. Merrick wonders why. Charlie gets snippy. "Maybe you didn't notice," he says, "Bullock was without his gun." Merrick says yes, he did notice, but also knows Bullock said he intended to get it back. Why isn't Merrick dead yet? Because it seems he doesn't quite get the "lawless" aspect of the Wild West. Charlie snarks, "You think maybe a new one might be useful to Bullock arrangin' his old one's return?"
Speak of the devil, Bullock at this moment strolls into the store. He passes the spatting supporters and goes directly to the room in which Trixie is hovering over the laid-up Sol. He asks Trixie to excuse them. She, in turn, asks Sol if he minds if she hangs around a while. Sol: "Fuck NO." Ha! DruggySol is better than all other Sols combined, as is about to be further illustrated in his conversation with Bullock. But, before they can start, Trixie twitches out, looking at Bullock and saying under her breath, "Self-deluding, interfering motherfucker." Good one, Trixie. She goes outside, Charlie following, also in a huff.
At Sol's bedside, Bullock opens his big speech with, "I'm sorry you got shot." Which...is hilarious. Sol says a man like him gets used to it, I assume in a dig to always having to back Bullock, even to his own detriment. Bullock jumps about ten steps ahead in the conversation, and starts yammering on about in the event of Sol's death, he would have fairly dissolved their partnership and sent Sol's mother the proceeds. Sol says of course, he never would have expected otherwise. But he's starting to catch on that there's more to the conversation when Bullock says "and I know you'd do the same." Sol: "What are you thinking of?" Well, we're all thinking that Bullock means that if he, himself, had died, he knows Sol would have given the proceeds of the partnership to his family, right? Until he tacks on "along with any funds I might...forward." Sol: "From the afterlife...?" Bullock doesn't even acknowledge what he's really talking about, just barrels forth that he'd want Sol to administer any funds sent "subsequent" to his wife Martha and the boy. He says he knows Sol would look to their interest.
Sol agrees, but he ain't having it. "Yes, you're correct," he slurs. "What are you fucking thinking of?" Bullock sits, clenched in silence. He shakes his head, unable to say what's hanging in the air -- that he's thinking of leaving the camp with Mrs. Garret. Sol's got his load on, you know, so the stoicism is falling flat with him. "What we've built and been through," he says to Bullock, "you don't get to walk away without saying why." Bullock: "You know why." Sol: "That don't mean you don't have to say it. I'm sick of knowing, and you not saying."
Bullock's mustache is clenched so tight, he can hardly get it out, but finally, he says it. "I love her." Sol is smug. "Good! You fucking said it," he says. "And now I get to tell you you're wrong. You loved her these months, and stayed. Ain't love that'd make you run, but shame." Beautiful. Sol may be doped to the gills, but he's still got more sense than his friend.
"Now let me ask you this," he continues. "You think shame would end once you cleared the fucking camp?" Bullock says, in very serious tones, "It's shameful, either way, Sol." But no -- don't be trying to clench that one past him, buddy. "It's LIFE, either way, Seth." Snap. Sol's laying it down. This is apparently not the conversation Bullock expected to have. No doubt he's accustomed to his little friend always agreeing with him. Coolly, he stands, ready to leave, and says again that he's sorry Sol got shot. Sol: "Well, I am, too, but I like being loaded. I like telling you what the fuck I think, cocksucker." I'm not positive, but I think this might be the first time in two seasons Sol has used Deadwood's favorite word. Bullock clenches out again that he's sure Sol will see to his family's interests. Sol lets loose another round: "Yes, I will, you COCKSUCKER! And, I like sayin' cock-sucker! What the fuck do you think of that?!" Uh, Bullock doesn't think much of it, I guess. He leaves.
Outside the store, Trixie and Charlie are standing around, waiting. Randomly, she turns to him and asks, "Want a fast blowjob?" Hello! I guess Trixie is nervous and feeling out of place, and is looking for something familiar. Though, damn. Girl, get a hobby. Charlie is, to say the least, surprised by this offer. She suggests again a "quick, open-air blowjob?" Like, in the street? Charlie stammers and kind of laughs, "Uh...no, no thank you." He is grateful when Bullock walks out of the store, and moves to follow him. Trixie heads back in, saying maybe Sol will want one.
Charlie and Bullock walk on, and Bullock takes this time to thank him for going against his wishes and having his back in the fight, before. Charlie can see Bullock is headed back toward the Gem, and to try to dissuade him from further bullshit, steps in front of him, and starts talking about the house Bullock built for his wife and son. Bullock won't be delayed, though, and kind of blows him off (but not like Trixie wanted to do) and continues on his way. Charlie's not so easy to deter, either, though, and he keeps up with him, complimenting him on his son William and how nice he seems and how striking Mrs. Bullock is. At this, Bullock's manners finally overtake him, and he turns and thanks him. Charlie then unnecessarily asks Bullock where he's headed, and Bullock confirms he's going to the Gem to get back his gun and badge, and "maybe for a word with Dan Dority, too." Charlie is at a loss on how to slow him down anymore, so when Bullock turns to head on his way, Charlie pulls the classic fake swoon to distract him. "A faintness come over me. Jesus! That's a lightheaded...fuckin'...sensation." Of course, Bullock comes rushing over, asking him if he wants to be taken to his place. Heeee...tricksy Charlie. It worked. Charlie says that sounds like the fuckin' prudent course, so that he doesn't "keel forward and drown in fuckin' horseshit." Bullock bears his weight and walks him over to his place. For ten seconds, he stops thinking about himself and asks Charlie how he's feeling. Charlie says thinks are a little wavy-like before his eyes, and to "fuck the Gem. The Gem'll fucking wait." Brilliant!
Speak of the devil's playground, in the Gem, Al and Adams are conversing at the bar as Dan looks on, shotgun in hand. Adams tells Al that, "for what it's worth, Yankton's afraid of Bullock." They all stop and look at each other, but Adams does not elaborate. "Well," Al says, "say no more. Refrain from explaining yourself." Adams rolls his eyes and explains that until Congress approves it, Deadwood is up for grabs for annexing between Dakota and Montana. And Montana's got a little edge, because they've got silver for bribes. Al says all Dakota's got are "thieving Indian agents." Adams agrees that Dakota ain't got "fresh money for the game." Dan wants to know how all this argues for Bullock living or dying. Adams says Yankton thinks Bullock is "Montana's man" because he was a favorite of a judge back in Montana who wanted Bullock to go into politics when he was Marshal. "They figure he's a stalkin' horse here, for the judge's interest."
Busting in, Dan says that "Yankton's got their heads up their fuckin' asses if they think Bullock is anybody's man." Adams has to roll his eyes, a little, because Dan's getting so uppity, like he wants to tell Dan not to interrupt the adults when they're talking. "Hell," Dan continues, "Bullock himself don't even know whose man he is."
Al wonders why this is the first time he's hearing all this Montana business. "In the thoroughfare, there," he asks Adams, "as I readied to stab the cocksucker...did you have no impulse to mention this?" Adams says the "moment didn't seem right." Al: "Over time, your quickness with a cocky rejoinder must have gotten you many punches in the face." Oh, how I love it. My band? A. Lowe and the Cocky Rejoinders. Adams rejoinders, cockily, that it depends on what Al would call "many." Dan can't stand it. "There's another fucking clever one!" Man. Dan's dad-likes-you-best jealousy is making his trigger finger a little itchy. He waves his eyebrows at Al, trying to get him to join him in his Adams hate.
But Al wants to know if, to Yankton's thinking, "would Bullock, dead, curb Montana's interest, or incite them to stronger expression." Adams can't answer that. "Well," Al says, "if he's spoiling to mix it with us, further, they may get a chance to find out."
At the hotel, in Mrs. Garret's room, Sophia is sleeping while Mrs. G, still in her gorgeous Infidel Red dress, tortures the tutor by hashing out Bullock's every clench and nuance. "He will leave with me," she says, "if I tell him that's my wish. As to what our life would be, that's another question." Huh. What's so great about their life right now, I wonder?
The tutor, Miss Isringhausen, who I love, but whose name I hate to type, says that going off with Bullock might be like "living on the top of a volcano." They talk in more direct terms about how exciting and dangerous that would be, and I have to pause to wonder again -- what about their life now is not like a volcano? And, why, exactly, would it be so dangerous to run away together? It's not like they'd be on the lam or anything. Mrs. G has all that gold and all, so I assume they could even travel in style. Not that I want them to run off together, because I really don't, but still, I don't get this part of the discussion. Alma asks if Miss Isringhausen thinks they'd be happy. "Why not, Mrs. Garret?" she responds, but immediately apologizes for overstepping her bounds. Mrs. Garret goes to the window and looks longingly through the grime, into the night, saying that she and Bullock do love each other, so being together shouldn't seem such an outlandish proposition, except for other elements of their situation, which does, truly, make it ridiculous.
Bullock has made it with Charlie down to his storehouse. Charlie says he's kind of feeling better, but opines that on three different separate occasions he's been shot at, hit, and fought on, and that now this winging his ear has taken has messed with his equilibrium. Bullock gives him a not so empathetic "anyways..." Charlie asks if he's trying to leave to get to the Gem. Bullock says yes. Charlie asks why. "I told you why," Bullock clenches. "I mean," Charlie says, "why just this instant...different from later, a little while, when a friend could back your play? Someplace you need to get to after that?" Well, yeah, Charlie. He might need to run off with the randy widow. Bullock mulls it over and slowly sits down, to stay with Charlie a while.
In a quick scene over at the new Chez Amie, we see Joanie showing Maddie and the new whores the new place. She's been secretly storing new goods so Cy wouldn't know how she was coming along with the plans. I can see now that Bullock's going to have some clenching competition when we finally get to see more of Maddie on the show. Her mouth never moves! Together, they could build a race of very sexy and compelling robots!
Back at the hardware store, Trixie is still minding the recovering Sol. Except...she suddenly doesn't seem so sympathetic. "I pray to God," she tells him, "your shoulder pain's like some sharp-toothed creatures inside chewin' at it, and gnawin'." Sol wonders how he gave offense. Trixie: "No one needs feelin' as good as you'd feel otherwise." I had to watch this several times before I figured out that she's saying she's upset she can't have sex with him, because he's hurt. "And," she says, "I didn't need the fuckin' activity today, or the fuckin' crises...I prefer suckin' prick is the fuckin' short of it." Sol says he'd settle for a "vigorous hand-holding." Hee. The bad girl/nice guy combo is one we just don't see enough. She laughs at his answer and calls him "a funny fuckin' Jew...and type that insinuates himself." She takes his hand, as we cut away to Cy, who is having Deadwood's craziest staff meeting.
He has gathered the employees of the Bella Union and is raving on and on about how Joanie may have screwed him over -- though he is very happy for her, personally, of course -- but despite her leaving, the Bella Union was still going to kick ass over all other businesses in the town, and as a gesture of optimism to that effect, he gives all those gathered a gold coin. Cy doesn't want anybody else quitting on him.
In his office, Doc is cutting up the brain of one I assume to be Bummer Dan. Ew. He is getting into the delicate process when he hears a familiar voice outside. Calamity Jane is drunkenly yelling at some "Chinese cocksuckers" to keep their distance and not interfere with her in anyway. Doc leaves his brain and goes outside to see her, where she's fallen off her horse, though she still seems to have one foot stuck in the stirrups. "Well," Doc says. "You are an entangled inebriate, are you not?" "This happens," Jane answers, "to be a riggin' contraption of my own devising, against repeated accidental falls, that has temporarrrily...malfunctioned." In all the great Jane moments in this show's history so far, this is my favorite.
Doc says her contraption is very well knotted, and starts to try to get her loose. She tells him, from the ground, that she's back in camp because she's dying, and needs a place to breathe her "fuckin' last, and not for no human aid or consolation." She then yells at him for taking so long to untie her, and as he tries to figure out how to do it, declares "yeah, I fuckin' farted, so what?!" Finally, she makes him lift her up so she can cut herself free. Doc helps her to her feet and insists on taking her inside to examine her, "even if you are past help...advancing my understanding may allow others the benefit of your mortal illness." Doc knows he has to patronize Jane to get her to submit, and she does, after smacking him in the gut and asking, "Do you mock me, cocksucker?" He says no, and helps her inside. As they go in, she boozily asks him to "promise when I'm dead, you'll plant me with a view of where Bill is..."
Back in Mrs. Garret's room, Alma is continuing to use Sophia's tutor as her own personal sounding board. Apparently, off camera, Mrs. G has gotten some wild hair, wondering if Bullock thinks that if he and Mrs. G run away together, he might want to leave Sophia behind. Miss Isringhausen says she can't know if that's what he meant, having not been privy to their conversation. She's getting a little weirded out by her boss's obsessive ranting, and has to sit back and watch her meltdown. "Because others rescued and nursed her, is the idea that she belongs to the camp?! Are we some sort of vicious, filthy outpost of Brook Farm?!"
Whoa, now, Mrs. G! Nobody said anything about leaving Sophia behind, a point the tutor tries to reiterate. She keeps on that Sophia has been with her for seven months and that she is a part of her life, as she is a part of Sophia's life. I wish we had seen some of this bonding they supposedly did over the last seven months, because I just haven't really felt anything maternal so far in the way Alma deals with Sophia. I trust we will. Anyway, she finishes her conversation with herself, saying that surely that's not what Bullock meant.
Back at Doc's, Jane is rethinking her agreement about the exam. She doesn't want to open her shirt for Doc's stethoscope. "Jane," he tells her, "for me, the female breast has long ago lost all mystery, or allure. Open. Your goddamn. Blouse." He shoves a thermometer in her mouth, and she finally lies back and lets him get on with it, saying she's keeping her eyes shut so she'll know "every fuckin' move" he makes. She then asks him to "further promise that you won't forage in my remains after I'm dead, as you obviously don't scruple from that sick behavior." He grunts out a promise and tells her to sit up, if she's not too drunk. He delivers his diagnosis: "Your liver runs from your chin to your genitals, so I suggest you quit drinking." Jane's not interested. "I will when you do," she smirks out, "you ugly son of a bitch." Doc assumes the stern tone all must take when dealing with a drunk friend who won't do the right thing: "Nature is a forgiving mistress. And you might could have some time to fill before she collects her due." Jane just smiles at this: "As if I'd credit any opinions of yours on the subject of health." Doc knows when he's beaten, but he strives on. "Well," he tells her, "if you do care to sojourn among us, Charlie Utter has put aside a room for you at the freight building." Jane screws up her face, thinking it over, and asks, "Does he have any animals in there?"
Speaking of Charlie, right now, he's still playing his Distract the Clench game, and has somehow gotten Bullock talking about his late brother, Robert, cavalry hero, who was killed in the war. Bullock recounts how he went out in search of his brother as a foolish 13-year-old, and though his brother had to send him back home, they had a good talk before he left. Bullock says he'd probably have gone looking for him again, except the war moved his brother around so much, there had been no way to locate him. Charlie commiserates that "the fucking war had everyone all over everywhere." Bullock goes on to say that he and his brother wrote back and forth -- Robert wrote when he married and when he and Martha had their son, William. Bullock smiles remembering these letters. He says that they were always threatening to visit each other, and that finally he did go to the fort where Robert was posted, and met Martha and William, though Robert wasn't there. "I had let it wait too long," Bullock says, and saying it, Olyphant breaks my heart into a million pieces. Robert was shot and killed in Mexico, and buried there. "Fuckin' Mexico," Charlie says, quietly.
Bullock tells how he went down and recovered his brother's body. Charlie, wanting to be supportive, agrees that it would be "wrong to let him lay there...unless you're a Mexican..." but now the events of the day plus these sad memories are getting to his friend. Bullock breaks down, clenching out some tears. To relieve Bullock's embarrassment over his crying, Charlie pretends not to notice and says he needs to get up and walk on a little to pass wind, as his "bowels are in an upheaval...don't ever say I'm not a fuckin' gentleman!" But nobody has time to either cry or cut the cheese or anything, as Jane walks up on them both at this moment, hollering, "Fuck you two!" in greeting.
Business is hopping over at the Gem, especially over in one corner, where Slippery Dan is mourning his lost friend, Bummer Dan. He's mostly mad that Nuttall cut him off down at the No. 10 and he's had to move his drinking elsewhere. Nuttall himself is over at the bar, talking to Al. His main concern about the fight that went on that day between Al and Sheriff Bullock, he says, aside from Al's well-being, "is what the dispute portends." Al is in so much pain, he can't even be mean, and says he doesn't know. Nuttall wonders if the fight is settled, or will go on. Al looks crazy in pain. Nuttall asks if his ribs are hurting, and Al says, "Yeah, they fuckin' hurt." Nuttall chooses this moment to wax Biblical: "You know, I always believed that, of His sufferings on the cross, His busted ribs would've hurt 'im the worst."
Al rolls his eyes and sees that Adams's little henchman from last season is entering the bar. Apparently, this guy's whereabouts have been a bit of a mystery. Al says he thought he "was in Florida, having your belly rubbed by a Seminole." Adams goes over to lay the smack down, telling him he's sick of this bullshit and time, not to bother showing up. The henchman, who looks like a leprechaun, sidles over to sit with a whore, while Adams grumps back to the bar. Al teases him for his somewhat light handling of his employee. I guess anything less than a pistol-whipping does not send a big enough message, to Al's way of thinking. This is not Adams's night -- Dan sees his cue to get some attention, and as Johnny is pouring the two men shots, Dan makes a point of having his be much larger, throwing it back and slamming down the empty glass in front of Adams. Nuttall sees all from his location at the end of the bar, and says to Al that "them two seem disputatious as well, huh?" Al: "Storm clouds gather."
And gather they do. Dan walks over to where the leprechaun is sitting, shoos away the working girl, and feigns like he's wiping the table down. "Think you 'bout got her clean there, hoss," the henchman says, and Dan sees his opening. "Another fuckin' clever one," he smarts off to the dude. "You know, I've got a bet when you and your partner are out on the trail -- when you aren't greasin' poles and choosin' who's gonna be rider -- oh, I bet you and him just bust each other's guts with your fuckin' funnies." Somehow the guy does not seem concerned that Big Dan is trying to start some shit, and thus comes back with, "Well...we do laugh some about you," choosing that last word to emphasize the head butt he throws into Dan's gut. And DING, it's on!
Dan full-on body-slams the guy to the floor, and starts beating the lucky charms right out of him. From the bar, Adams looks on, wanting to get in to help his man. Al, shaking his head and smirking, is watching it all, as if to say, "Good ol' Dan." He won't let Adams get into it. This frustrates Adams so much, he has to kill somebody, so he chooses Slippery Dan, who is watching from the sidelines in his coat of many colors, yelling helpful commentary like "that's one country ass-kickin'!" Adams grabs him up, telling him to shut his fuckin' mouth, and proceeds without further ado to ram his body right onto the horns of one of the mounted buck plaques. In cringing response to this, Nuttall delivers the best line of the episode: "He just twelve-pointed Slippery Dan." Thank God for Tivo, on which I will replay this scene for time immemorial.
Meanwhile, Big Dan is still whaling on Adams's buddy. Finally, Al puts a stop to all the action with a single blast from the shotgun. Dan looks up in surprise, as Al points the gun right at him, saying, "one is to your head, Dan. Do not doubt me." And, brothers and sister, there will BE no doubting of Al at this moment -- his face is so jacked up from the fight, he's only got one good eye working, and the horror of his stare is a sight to behold.
Dan cannot believe what is happening. "Oh, that's just fuckin' great! That's fuckin' beautiful!" He stomps off like a teenage girl whose best friend has just given a "Be Fri" necklace to someone else.
At the freight building, Charlie and Bullock are (not) enjoying a little comic relief in the form of Jane's story about the time she just had in Livingston. Apparently, a "Finnish guy, from Finland" went sweet on her. He gave her flowers and presents and stuff, "and, uh, one night, he takes my arm, and he starts in, and...he, uh, whispers in his Finland accent, 'I want to suck your cock.'" She pauses for the guffaws we might expect to hear from the men, but no such guffaws are forthcoming. These two guys are way too sensitivo right now, and she wonders what the hell is wrong with them. Charlie tells her he didn't hear the last part of her story, as the wound to his ear has made his hearing spotty. She remarks that it didn't do his face any favors, either. She nods to Bullock, saying she must have put him to sleep. He just breathes a deep, clenching breath and says he's got to go.
Charlie jumps back into action now, asking Bullock again to wait and let him get some weapons. Jane wants to know what all this weapons talk is about, and they explain to her it's to do with the falling out between Bullock and Al. Jane wants to know why the fuck they were withholding this information. Charlie: "In the futile hope of preventing you from roiling the fucking waters." Too late! Jane wants to get involved, and how. When Bullock mentions going now to get back his gun and badge, she orders Charlie to go get them some weapons to back him. Charlie sighs, beaten, and goes to wake his night watchman.
Over at Wu's, the sty is getting a little crowded. Doc is there with the corpse of Bummer Dan, gleefully trying to explain to Wu that ol' Bummer had alcoholic encephalitis, or "wet brain." Wu makes a face like he's revolted. You know, I don't think Wu ever expected his man-eating pig biz to be so busy. And truly, it is busy -- just now, here's Adams walking up with Slippery Dan over his shoulder. At least the two compatriots will have this final reunion. Just like the old Baptist hymn, "In the Sweet By and By," tells us: we'll all one day meet again "on that beautiful shore." I'm guessing no Baptist would ever consider Wu's sty to be a shore of any kind, but in Deadwood, the dead take what they can get.
Relieved of his load and sighing heavily, Adams turns back toward the Gem. The leprechaun -- whose name is Hawkeye, according to my closed captioning -- asks Adams if there's anything else he can do for him. Wearily, Adams simply tells him to "keep up," biffs him on the shoulder and heads back up the road.
What he'd see if he were there now is a breakdown of PMS proportions going on with the toughest tough in Deadwood, Dan Dority. He is hunched over, crying, in his room when he hears the door open. We see in the mirror that it's Al. Dan tells him to save his words, and not to waste his precious time. W. Earl Brown, who plays Dan, is unbe-fucking-lievable right here. I mean, AMAZING. He continues to sob, telling Al, who has not moved from the doorway, that if he's got any orders to just give them to Adams, and he can deliver them. Watching Al in the mirror, my heart nearly breaks again -- he looks like a sympathetic parent, watching his kid fall apart over nothing. Dan finally turns and yells at Al: "You CHOSE! You took his fuckin' part!" Al: "As was right and fuckin' proper at the time." Dan: "Yeah, but you pointed your fuckin' gun at me!" Al: "And persuaded you I'd use it in order that I didn't need to." Dan is still sobbing, not buying Al's words of comfort (such as they are). Finally, Al comes in to put a stop to this nonsense. "Dan," he says, "where you or me would have slammed that hoople up, slammed him back and twisted that cocksucker up 'til all the points of that buck's rack showed out his chest -- and then done it twice more in case the fuck mistook the first for accident -- what did Adams do?" Dan is beginning to feel better: "He fuckin' walked away." Al nods. "Different man from you and me." He goes on: "Whatever lurks ahead -- of grievous abominations and disorder, you and me walk into it together, like always." Dan: "As you'd never say to Adams..." Al spits in his hand, to illustrate his sincerity: "As I'd never say to Adams." They shake on it, and I don't care how many women and children and beautiful scenes of familial or romantic love they squeeze into this show in the future, nothing will beat this scene for pure affection, ever. The adoration of these two sweaty murderers, one for the other, is plain to see.
On his way out, Al cringes from his myriad pains and asks that Dan send Dolly up to his room. Dan gives him a "yeah, sure thing, boss" and we cut to damn Mrs. G and her endless ponderings on the clenching love she has for Bullock. She's still talking about how caring for Sophia has been a great joy and a great freedom, and how, even for love, she can't give it up. Unspoken is the idea that caring for Sophia helped her beat her laudanum addiction. She doesn't want to return to the life she had before the child came into her care. The thing is, as I said, we just haven't been allowed too many real glimpses so far of the real love she has for the kid. It's a bit hard to swallow, is all -- plus, Bullock never suggested in his ultimatum that she'd have to leave behind Sophia. I can see where she might figure that to be the case, but no one's actually said it but her.
Back at the Gem, Dan's talking to Johnny: "By God, I'll tell you what, Johnny. There'd have been a hell of a lot more'n two tines sticking through that cocksucker's chest if me or Al impalin' him." This speech is like any big brother might give his little brother after getting in a man-to-man with Dad. Dan might have gone on, but from above we hear that...well, Al's most likely getting impaled, himself. Johnny tells us, "Either Al got God, or Dolly just stuck her thumb back up his ass."
The latter is true. Jeeeeez. I am not sure, but I assume it was thought to be some kind of home remedy to alleviate kidney or prostate problems by, uh, massaging the problem, er, you know, directly at the source. Dolly is the whore of choice for this, for some reason, but apparently it's not working out for Al this time. "Now," he says, "I'm halfway thinking this exaggerates the condition, rather than alleviates it. I might should query the doc on that, but then that cocksucker would only ask after gleets!" GLEETS!
Oooohhhhh, Al is in pain. His face is like a mask of hurt, as Dolly silently and patiently continues her duties. It hurts him so bad, he starts to walk forward as if to get away from her invading thumb -- but she follows, dragging her footstool behind her -- until he finally yells at her to "oh, my God, take it out! Take it out...REMOVE YOUR FUCKING THUMB!" She does, but he has to ask, "Why, if I was moving forward to get away from you, would you have fucking pursued me, and when I stopped, pressed on yourself to drive your thumb into my intestines?" Blurgh. Dolly simply says "sorry," and Al asks after the condition of his ass. "Is it a river of blood, or what's pouring out of it now?" Dolly tells him, "nothin'" and Al heaves a frustrated sigh, and asks her to "close the ass-flap." He goes on to say that "the entire area of my fucking asshole is now one gigantic fucking throb. I have no idea what's transpiring in there."
Ever the nightingale, Dolly asks, "Shall I suck your prick?" Al figures, what the hell, I guess, and says, "Please."
Trixie outside the hardware store having a smoke, sees Bullock heading towards the Gem with Charlie and Jane. She stomps back inside, where Sol, who perhaps is finally getting some much-needed rest, remains laid up. "Does he want to fucking die?" she asks about Bullock. "Because I understand that has it's fuckin' appeal. But...not going out a fuckin' c*nt, taking others fuckin' with you!" What was that, fuckin' Trixie? I didn't fuckin' quite understand what you fuckin' said? Sol waves his hand around his head, reminding her of his "dulled faculties." Trixie is harshing his buzz, but he catches on that she's trying to say Bullock's on a suicide mission. He asks her to help him up.
In his room at the Gem, Al is now enjoying the second portion of the patented Dolly Treatment. Well, I guess he's enjoying it...pleasurable though it may be, it still allows him to give one of his famous Blow Job Monologues (BJM). My husband suggests calling it the "Blow Jobologue." AAAAA-HA-HA-HAAH! He wishes.
Actually, Al says in the BJM that he is receiving no pleasure from this treatment, worried as he is over his mess with Bullock. And, like Beetlejuice, Bullock seems to appear beneath his window, outside in the street, yelling for Al to bring down his gun and badge in five minutes. Jane, backing Bullock's play, suggests that Al start down now, to allow for the time it's going to take him to crawl out from under the bed. Al shakes head and tells Dolly, "That Bullock's a fucking strategist, ain't he? Sets terms to publicly humiliate me, and my penalty if I don't comply is he walks in the bar downstairs and takes 15 bullets in the chest."
Al goes on to explain to Dolly that Bullock is no average hooplehead. No, Al believes this story about Bullock being some big shot with Montana backing. And, if that's not enough, he's still got all this other shit on his mind -- the Yankton commissioners and Bullock and the telegraph and the new whores in town. It's too much. Sigh. Bullock gives the three-minute warning from outside, and Al hollers down for him to shut the fuck up. He then goes on to tell Dolly, still busy about her "work," that he supposes he does understand Bullock -- he, too, considers him to be on a suicide mission, and can see how he would have come to that decision, seeing as how everything in Deadwood is so confusing lately and how Bullock must be realizing his own weaknesses. I'm giving you the gist, here, as it's a rather long BJM.
Finally, Al is done, goes out on the balcony, tells Bullock to wait, and heads downstairs, telling Dolly to stay there and not think of thieving. He has Johnny produce his smelly suit, so that he can get dressed for his meeting with Bullock. Outside, Bullock tells Jane and Charlie that he wishes the fuck they'd let him handle this the way he wants. Jane says they wish the fuck he'd find something else to wish for. Johnny comes out and explains that Al is detained, getting dressed. Jane: "Ain't it always a trial, picking out the gown best conceals you fuckin' pissed yourself." Johnny goes back in, and we see around this little area that the peanut gallery has gathered again to watch a showdown. Merrick lurks in a corner with his pencil in hand, ready to record it all, while Trixie brings Sol out, giving him a six-shooter. The shotgun she is keeping for herself, she explains, as its recoil would likely knock Sol unconscious with pain. He thanks her and heads to stand with Bullock and the others. Trixie puts the hammer down and seems to get Bullock in her sights, muttering to herself, "Selfish cocksucker." We can only assume she plans to shoot Bullock before his selfishness gets everybody else shot.
Al's gotten himself dressed. Dan tries to hand him a dagger to take as protection. Al declines. Nodding, Dan gives him a gun. Surprisingly, Al turns that down as well. He's going out unarmed. Dan and Johnny are taken aback. "That's not to say, should the situation deteriorate, you boys wouldn't open fire from concealment, eh?"
As Sol staggers over to stand by his man, Jane gives a little scoff at their situation. "A hardware Jew at less than full force...now they'll be fuckin' quakin'."
Finally, Al emerges with the infamous gun and badge. Everybody gets ready. "I regret the delay," Al says. "I was sequestered. Have been with one thing or another since last we met. I also apologize," he says, indicating his coal oil-soaked suit, "for the stink." Jane remarks that it's a welcome change from his usual odor of skunk. Ballsy, Jane. Charlie smacks her. Everybody, especially Bullock, is looking surprised by Al's magnanimous behavior. Al continues, handing over the gun and badge, that he hopes Bullock will wear them a long time, no matter "whose fucking thumb" the camp will be governed under. Al goes on to recall the words of the dear Reverend Smith -- who Al says was killed by heathens on the road, when we all know he actually died graciously by Al's hand when in the last throes of a brain tumor -- who once said to Al that "Bullock raises the camp up, and I hope he'll reside with us." Al says he hopes Bullock will reside, as well, despite all the personal complications going on -- everybody is looking on now in total shock -- and Al closes by making the general (but, we know, pointed) statement that running away from complications "solves absolutely fucking nothing."
Pretty much speechless, Bullock somehow finds the words to also ask for the return of his hat. Al calls up to Dolly, who produces the hat out on the balcony above. "Can she sail it down," Al asks, "or would that be degrading?" Bullock says fine, and Dolly tosses it like a Frisbee. As Bullock makes a perfect catch, Al remarks that he wishes Dolly's good aim extended to the use of her thumb. And again, I say, ew.
Smirking at his successful parlay, Al strides back into the Gem, leaving all of those outside surprised but relieved. Trixie lowers her gun, Bullock replaces his hat, and upstairs in the hotel, everybody sees Mrs. Garret close her curtains.
To Miss Isringhausen, she hands Bullock's watch, and asks the tutor to return it to him when the opportunity presents itself. She then goes in to check on the precious Sophia, who has slept through it all.
On the thoroughfare, Merrick is chasing down Bullock, who is going after Sol. He tells Merrick he doesn't want to discuss the scene that just went on, causing Merrick to rant a little about freedom of the press. We leave Sol with Trixie, who will situate him for the night.
Back over at the Chez Amie, the ladies are sorting out payment for a man they've hired to move their furniture around. They agree to give him two bucks, though he says he wants to take his payment in sex. The women scoff at this. "No," Joanie tells him. "You want cash, to convert to pussy at the Gem or the Bella Union...and let it be known in camp -- close to pussy as two bucks'll get a man in here, is a deep whiff walkin' past." Heh. The guy asks if he can have one of those, and keep his money, too. Joanie tells him to have at it, and one of the ladies fans her skirts at him as he takes a deep breath. Lord. He walks out, saying, "Woo-wee! Mother, it's the ocean!" We see E.B. Farnum skulking around the outside of the building, trying to fulfill his Al-given duty to spy on these new whores. Joanie tells Maddie to pay him no heed, adding snarkily, "That's the mayor."
Merrick has looked elsewhere for a source on the evening's goings-on, and is now trying to interview Al. "You're tenacious, Merrick," Al says. "I'll fucking give you that." Merrick just wants to know how the whole fight got started, and Al says that "as to the conflict's genesis, I'd lay it at c*nt's doorstep. Now, has 'c*nt' one N and two Ts, or the other way around?" Merrick laughs uncomfortably, probably making a note to himself to look up that word in his AP Style Manual, and says he wants the true account within the limits of decency. He chooses to believe truth and decency can live in harmony. Amusingly, Merrick gives his opinion on what truth is: "I would define as true and decent in such endeavor, the facts rendered fully within social standards and sensibilities, without bias or abridgement." Al laughs and asks, "Why do I imagine a snake, swallowing its tail?" They have a conversation now in which the language becomes downright Shakespearean in its impenetrability -- and take it from me, I can penetrate some language -- one theme of which is Al making fun of the press for presenting the story of the Indian beatdown whitewashed and decent, when really, the Indians are getting screwed every which way but loose. Merrick prefers to think of it as the white man enacting his manifest destiny.
To help Merrick out, Al voices over a few paragraphs of his possible newspaper story about the fight as he climbs into bed. "Tonight, throughout Deadwood, heads may be laid to pillow, assuaged and reassured, that purveyor for profit of everything sordid and vicious, Al Swearengen, already beaten to a fare-thee-well earlier in the day by Sheriff Bullock, has returned to the Sheriff the implements and ornaments of his office." It's very funny, especially when, at the end, Al is considerate enough to leave space for Merrick's advertisements.
It looks as if morning is breaking as Bullock finally, finally goes home to the house he built and into which he had placed his family just a few hours . He asks Martha, who has waited for him, if he can come in with his boots. He places his gun and badge in the basket by William's bed. Martha tells him she has seen the bundling board he had installed on their bed. She hopes, she says, that he doesn't mind that she removed it. He clenches, slightly, in surprise, and then quietly says no, he doesn't mind.
We close with Al closing out his story, listing the attributes of the Gem, in the interest of full disclosure. "Comely whores, decently-priced liquor and the squarest games of chance in the hills remain unabatedly available at all hours, seven days a week."