Complications

S02E05

Looks like Mrs. Garret is knocked up. She turns to Trixie and Doc for help. Looks also like Miss Isringhausen is more than she first appeared. She turns to Adams for some hot bag man lovin' after implying further that Mrs. G is a menace to society, having had more than one person killed. The camp gets into turmoil over an ambiguous statement posted about the claim titles and whether or not they will be overturned. Hell breaks loose and it goes against Commissioner Jarry. Bullock has to step in -- on a suggestion from the recovering Al -- to save the guy's life. He also ends up saving the life of "The N*gger General" recently returned to town after some time away. This is good, as Jane and the General had made friends earlier in the day. Al is pushing himself to get well in time to keep his controlling hand on the camp. He and Bullock share a whiskey, and prepare for a fight for the future of Deadwood.

Good morning, Deadwood! Mrs. Garret is barfing. Hollywood's old jewel foretelling of pregnancy is trotted out, again. She's pretty miserable, but we don't have time to think about it, because over at the Gem, Al is waking up.

Doc, Johnny, and Dan have been holding a vigil, and as Al comes around, they smile over him like a bunch of old church women with a newborn baby. He rolls one very gross-looking eye over to Dan, the smiliest of the bunch, and asks, "Did you fuck me while I was out?" Dan is incredulous! "Hell, no!" Well, Al tells him, "Quit looking at me like that."

Johnny laughs and says that, except for talking "a little cockeyed," Al's back to his old self. Doc counsels that Al's recovery will be uneven, parts of his body healing at different rates. Johnny babytalks Al, telling him to talk as cockeyed as he wants, as long as he wants, until he is once again miserable and mean. Al has the presence of mind to ask just how cockeyed he looks, and Doc tells him "appropriately cockeyed," considering the injuries he has recently sustained and all the bladder stone drama.

Al asks if Bullock looks worse than he does, and Doc looks on the bright side, saying that naming his adversary shows that Al's memory is in good shape. Dan jumps in and talks overly loud to Al, cheerily telling him he's going to have to get himself together ASAP in order to deal with all the "developments that need interpretatin' on every front." He's just trying to make Al feel useful, but Doc warns them all that Al is out of commission for the time being. Dan rattles on, unabated, reporting that "Wu's got a big tall celestial hauntin' him. He's invisible!" Doc gets mad and tells him to shut the fuck up, that Al needs to rest. Dan looks nervous, and when Al asks what else is new, goes overboard the other way along with Johnny, saying that there's nothing much going on: "Not a goddamn thing that can't wait until you get well, boss."

Al starts to say something: "There is a bell, behind the bar..." Johnny interrupts him, nodding condescendingly, as if he understands, saying, "Absolutely." Al says that he KNOWS there's a bell behind the bar: "I'm telling you to bring it here." Oh. Johnny gets it and goes to get the bell. Doc gives Dan a look, telling him to leave, as well, and Dan goes out: "Oh, uh, I best help. If there's anybody that can fuck up the gatherin' of a bell, it's Johnny."

As he leaves, Doc asks Al if he wants some water. "Yeah," Al says, "fuckin' water." Doc pours the water and leaves it on the table, an arm's length away from Al. His patient stares at him with his messed-up eyes and tells him not to be a fuckin' jerk. As Doc helps him drink a sip of water, he explains that Al's right eye is filled with blood. He asks him if he can use his right arm at all. "Put your nose between my fuckin' fingers," Al says. "You'll find how much I can use my fuckin' arm." Doc takes this as a good sign -- Al's curmudgeonliness proves he's on the mend. Al: "Don't bullshit me." Doc: "I won't." Doc says Al might have had small stroke, possibly caused from the straining trying to pass the bladder stones. Al: "Keep bullshittin' them." Doc: "I will." Al says if word gets out about this stroke, he'll slit Doc's fucking throat: "I wield a blade good with my left." He means it in a nice way, you know.

Doc assures him it won't get out. Al changes the subject. "If I need it," he says, "you will fuckin' kill me." Doc tells him to shut up. Al tells him that if Doc finds him no better, he'll wish Al was worse, and repeats that he wields the blade good with his left hand. Doc tells him not to put a clock on his recovery.

At the Grand Central, E.B. is practicing a speech of refusal to Mrs. Garret concerning the offer she made on the hotel. He is Shakespearean in his grandeur, and when Richardson drops a pot of stew in the background, even throws in a few words of kindness for his "half-witted" employee. The lady in question descends the stairs just as he is warming to his theme, and he greets her smarmily, as usual. She asks to borrow Richardson, needing him to escort her on an errand. E.B. sidles up, shooting a look back at Richardson and asking if perhaps she'd prefer other company, "less mysterious..." Beautiful. She declines, and E.B. calls Richardson over, telling him to accompany Mrs. G, and to keep his eyes down. He follows her out, a few paces behind, like he's Tuptim in The King and I.

Commissioner Jarry enters the offices of the Deadwood Pioneer, where Merrick is bent over his work. Jarry introduces himself as commissioner of the county. "Of this county?" Merrick asks, excited. "And...has our county a name?" Jarry tells him it's been named Lawrence County. Merrick rolls it around on his tongue as Jarry wanders among the cool printing stuff. His father was a newspaperman, he says, and he has a great respect for the fourth estate. Wasting no more time, he gives Merrick a statement to be printed regarding the claims. Merrick reads it aloud -- it is a piece of work, all jargon and doublespeak. "Uh," Merrick says, "if I discern this correctly, sir, this statement could be taken to mean, uh...nothing." Jarry tells him to turn the page, and Merrick reads the last of it: "New title will be awarded on claims to which title is denied at set prices, via lottery, by the county commissioner." Merrick makes a face like he knows what all the words mean, he just doesn't understand what they mean, you know, together. Jarry tells him to put it in the edition, but Merrick says the true meaning of the statement eludes him. Jarry evilly says that he didn't realize Merrick's edification was a bar the statement had to hurdle. He says some other mean stuff about how he expects it to be in there, and on the front page, and stomps out.

Mrs. Garret is standing outside the Gem, leaning on a big pile of whitened bones, when Richardson comes out, eyes still downcast. She's sent him in to find Trixie, and he tells her he's learned Trixie's over at the hardware store. She asks if he'll take her over there, and if he has time. "Yes," he mumbles humbly. "I only have the stew to mop before lunch." They head down the thoroughfare, and Mrs. G realizes she's made off with one of the bones. Actually, I think it's buck antlers, not bones. She's wondering what to do with it when Richardson breaks the silence, saying, "I like you." Aw, damn. Don't make Richardson creepy! Please! I guess it's too late, because when Mrs. Garret thanks him, he says, in an even creepier voice, "You're purdy..." Come ON. I loved Richardson before, and now he's ruined. I like my local color with an inbred vibe, not a molester vibe! Mrs. G thanks him once more, though she is clearly disgusted, and says that's all either of them ever needs to say on the subject, ever again. Ever.

They arrive at the hardware store and she dismisses Richardson with a few coins. Inside, Trixie is trying to balance two columns of figures, and it's not working out too well. She exclaims in rage over the accounts as Mrs. Garret walks in. Bullock, who is there working with Sol, looks so surprised, he doesn't have time to clench. Mrs. G asks Trixie to step outside for a private word, and the two of them go onto the porch. Trixie lights a cigarette and gets right to the point. "You knocked up?" she asks. Mrs. Garret looks at her in surprise, wondering why she'd ask that question. Trixie says she figures Mrs. G wouldn't have come straight to the hardware store, so she must have gone first to the Gem "that you've never once stepped foot in." Mrs. Garret says yes, she sent in Richardson. Trixie jokes that hanging out with Richardson opens the possibility that Mrs. G has only been puking because of the company she keeps. Mrs. Garret then says out loud that she thinks she's pregnant.

Trixie cuts to the chase. "We make tea," she says, perhaps speaking for all the whores of Deadwood. "Pennyroyal and cohosh...if that's what you come to find out." But no, that's not it, exactly. Mrs. Garret is afraid of dying in childbirth. "Holy cow," Trixie snarks, rolling her eyes. Mrs. G explains that really, an illness from when she was young altered her shape (of her uterus, I guess?), making it dangerous for her to be pregnant. "Why not take your tale o' woe to the Doc?" Trixie asks. Mrs. G says that she feels Doctor Cochran judges her. "Lucky then you came to me," Trixie says, smirking, "that takes you to my bosom and smoothes your hair, and tells you all will be well." Mrs. G looks duly chastised as Trixie lays the hammer down: "I can tell you this much, Mrs. Garret. If you take the tea? Lay plenty of dope in. 'Cause I've killed seven, and every bleeding out, I laced on good and tight and for a long fucking while after." Mrs. Garret looks on the verge of tears when she whispers that she wants children "of [her] own." What's Sophia? Chopped hoople? Who else does the kid belong to? Mrs. G, you said just two weeks ago that she's yours, right? Siiiiiiigh. I really hate the "of my own" thing, is all -- especially after the big deal she made about not running off with Bullock because of her beloved Sophia.

Trixie nods. She's going to help her, which is far beyond what Mrs. Garret deserves from Trixie, frankly. "Let me finish up my Jewish lessons, here," she says, "then come find you."

Molly Parker and Paula Malcomson bring tears to my eyes in the moment as Mrs. Garret fumbles out her thanks: "Thank you very much. Thank you, Trixie." Trixie: "All right." Mrs. G: "My name's...Alma..." Trixie walks away, muttering over her shoulder, "I know your name."

At the Grand Central, Adams has knocked on the door to his room, which he has given over to Miss Isringhausen. He needs a change of clothes. They make small talk. She feels bad for him having to give up his bed, but he says it's all right. He wouldn't have her feeling unsafe in her room. For being such a tough guy, Adams is no swashbuckler with the ladies. Miss Iz repeats that she knows Mrs. Garret has had other people killed. She asks for Adams's given name. "Silas," he says, smiling a little, "if I remember correct." Miss Iz gives a speech about him showing great charity to one in need, all the while moving closer to his bearded hotness. "Thank you," he says, uncomfortably. "Or, you're welcome, I guess." Oh no, Silas, Miss Iz says, all closey-closey now, thank YOU, and, in saying so, PUTS the man's HAND inside her GOWN on her NAKED BREAST, closing with "and, you're welcome." Heavens to Betsey. I have to get up and pace around from the steam coming out of my Tivo as Adams throws aside his change of clothes and gives her a faceful of mustache.

And now we come to the part of the episode where new characters are introduced as if they are old characters we've been watching for years and, on the fly, we have to figure out who they are and what they're talking about. I appreciate that the writers of Deadwood assume outright that their audience is smart and can suss out the necessary background from the dialogue, but...sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't, and this is one of the times it sort of doesn't. I feel like something important might have been left in the cutting room where this storyline is concerned -- especially as we go forward -- so bear with me.

By Al Lowe

Trixie nods. She's going to help her, which is far beyond what Mrs. Garret deserves from Trixie, frankly. "Let me finish up my Jewish lessons, here," she says, "then come find you."

At the Chez Amie, Carrie is having a bath. Joanie comes in, asking if she'd like some hot water. They make small talk about how they had each slept the night before. Joanie offers to wash Carrie's back, and Carrie sits up, very deliberately flashing her breasts at the camera. Carrie says she knows Mr. W upset Joanie last night, talking to her the way he did. Joanie says she had been with him the night before; she had guessed Mr. W liked to watch. Carrie asks how that worked out. "I guess he don't," Joanie says. "Or, anyway, not that night. Or maybe just not me." Carrie asks if Joanie wants to know what she and Mr. W do together. She describes how she gets him off through his pants, while both of them are pretty much fully dressed. Joanie asks detailed questions, making Carrie jokingly ask if Joanie would like to write it all down.

Trixie storms in to Doc's shack, already yelling. "Congratulations, Doc, on your high and holy bullshit," she says. She goes on to say that his sanctimony is bearable for some, "but others still got feelings." Doc asks, "Of whom are we fuckin' speaking?" Trixie explains that this mystery individual is one who might die in childbirth, but who was so "sponged down in your disapproval when she was kickin' the fuckin' dope, she's afraid now to seek your care." Doc understands, and says he'll call on her. Trixie won't let him off that easy, though, and smart-mouths that that's "mighty fuckin' big of you, Doc." He sighs and tells her she has about as miserable a disposition as her employer. Pausing dramatically as she stomps her way out, Trixie turns and announces, "I ain't exclusive to him no more."

But who IS still exclusive? That's right: Calamity Jane and her bottle of booze. She's kicking back on a bench in front of Charlie Utter's place, enjoying her morning swig, when she is suddenly and surreptitiously addressed by the NG, who offers to buy her bottle away from her so he can have a drink. He's trying to do it on the sly so no one will see them talking. She sees his hat and asks, "What the fuck are you supposed to be?" He thinks her rudeness is racially motivated, but in fact, she just wonders if his outfit is some dilapidated kind of uniform, because she "scouted for fuckin' Custer!" The NG, still not looking at her, says Custer was "a great man, who would have wanted you to sell me that bottle."

Jane is not sensitive to the man's booze yearnings, instead going on a little rant about Custer wasn't all that great, and that a lot less people would have died if that "long-haired cocksucker" had just spent more time drinking. The NG is amused by her analysis of Custer, and finally looks around to get a load of Jane. Getting a good look at him, she smiles and declares, "You're a short n*gger, aren't you?" NG: "For a fact." Jane introduces herself, and he does the same in turn. She offers him a drink, but he says again that he wants to buy the bottle. "Well," Jane says, "you ain't buyin' it. But you can have a fuckin' drink!" He's surprised, and thanks her. He takes a swig, and scans the street, nervously. In her boozed-up state, Jane notices and tells him not to "fuckin' look around...I don't care who sees a n*gger drinkin' with me, or drinking from the same bottle, or how...stupid his fuckin' outfit is." The NG gets persnickety and points out that that "this, here, is the epaulet of a Union army general." Jane doesn't care. "Well," she slurs, "this here is the ass of a drunken shitbird!" Jane is like a one-woman United Nations, sharing in the universal language of booze. She tells him to sit and finish the bottle with her, "if you can sit beside someone and not stink, or fart." He sits down, and tells her he's been known to cut the odd fart, but they've never stunk. Nodding, Jane tells him, "I've got the self-same gift."

Rrrrrraaaaaaar, now we're back in the post-coital room of Adams as he lounges with Miss Iz. He says that he wants to apologize if she feels he's taken advantage of her. "You took no more advantage, Silas, than the Good Samaritan did the traveler from Jerusalem," she tells him, twirling her hair. Adams looks a little confused -- perhaps he needs a tune up on the Scripture knowledge -- but he smiles and says, "Good."

Miss Iz, who has been behaving more and more unlike the straight-laced tutor we'd all come to know and love, drops the big one. She tells Adams that Mrs. Garret had named Al as "her instrument" in the murder of her husband, Brom. Adams looks shocked to hear this, and so disturbed, he has to get up and have a drink. He chooses this moment to ask Miss Iz her first name. It's Alice. "Well, Alice," he tells her, "your story don't get less strange the more of it you tell." Miss Iz wonders if that's because Al would never do something like kill Brom Garret. No, Adams says, what's weird about the story is that Mrs. G allegedly said Al was her hire. "I see," Miss Iz says. "Yeah," Adams responds, "that makes fuckin' one of us." Adams smells a rat, I think, but before he can route her out, she makes her move. Miss Iz asks to be introduced to Al. Adams again has a moment of surprise. "Why do I feel lucky," he asks her, "we didn't meet across the poker table?" Before he can get any more curious about her true motives, however, Miss Iz lies back, once more offering up the goods. Ahem. We are to assume, I guess, that he takes her up on it.

In Mrs. Garret's room, Doc is examining Sophia. He says his notes indicate that it's been a year since Sophia's last exam, "and with the day-long lull between gun fights, I thought I'd have a look." It's a ruse, really, devised just to get him in the room to eventually examine Mrs. G. The two adults step into the anteroom, and Doc says that since he has also cared for Mrs. Garret herself, he'd like to ask after her health. She takes a beat to look him over, and says that she continues to be relieved of the "weakness" for which he previously treated her. "And you have nothing else to report," he asks, pointedly. Cold as ice, Mrs. G thanks him for examining Sophia. Doc gets frustrated. He rants a little, speaking in generalities about how there were sources of information in the camp on folk wisdom and remedies. These, he says, are often quite adequate to the requirements of health. "However," he reminds her, "I do have some particular competence as to the implications of anatomical anomalies -- congenital or related to a illness -- and I would hope that you would avail yourself of this, notwithstanding my idiosyncrasies and my defects of character." He's making Mrs. G sweat. She can't bring herself to ask for his help, and he goes to leave, only to stop at the door and add "please."

Back in Cy's office, Wolcott is there, examining the claims Cy has already purchased off the dumbass prospectors who have bugged out due to panic. Commissioner Jarry, who I am really starting to hate, comes in to announce that the notice about the claims has been delivered to Merrick. He has a good laugh about how disturbed Merrick was about the statement. Except he doesn't laugh for long. Leon bursts through the door to announce that Merrick has posted the statement outside the press office, on the door, and that the smelly men of Deadwood are going batshit over it -- "people are fuckin' riled." Jarry asks for clarification, curious if they are "riled or frightened?" Leon: "Riled, sir." Cy says that's not exactly the kind of unsettlement they were banking on. Wolcott sends him out to handle the situation.

And what a situation it's become. The gathered men can't quite translate the notice Merrick's posted, and are taking it out on him. The head honcho hoople, Steve, can't figure out what the word "mitigated" means, and Merrick's attempts to explain it are only making matters much worse. Steve threatens to punch Merrick in the nose, just for posting the crazy statement, and demands to know where the commissioner is. Cy walks up at this moment to pour his snake oil on the waters. He asks, all innocence, what's going on. "New commissioner in town," Steve says, "give Merrick a statement mitigating us into an ass-fucking." Cy, ever the wordsmith, gives a flick of his mustache, and simply says "ouch."

In Al's room, visiting hours are in full effect. Jewel is giving him a blow-by-blow of how they had all rallied around to save him. "And THEN, I yelled, 'Break the fuckin' door down, Dan!'" Al rolls his eyes, such as he can, seeing as they're all messed up, but looks more amused than annoyed. Johnny bursts in, admitting that he's not supposed to disturb Al, but that he believes "Merrick might be in the fuckin' soup." Dan busts on Johnny for having a big mouth, but Johnny goes on. He explains about the county commissioner giving Merrick the statement to post, and how "that hooplehead, Steve, is about to punch Merrick for postin' the notice, and I know that you got a liking for Merrick." Dan gives Johnny a sarcastic thumbs-up for doing the exact thing the Doc told them not to do, because now Al's riled. He makes Johnny shut up and tells him to answer only the question he's about to ask. "Where is the commissioner, now?" Johnny tells him -- Jarry's over at the Bella Union. Not skipping a beat, Al tells Dan to get Bullock. Dan's surprised, but Al insists. Dan heads out, leaving Johnny to act like he understands what's going on, which he totally doesn't. He does, however, help Al get himself situated for his meeting with Bullock.

Over at Merrick's, the hoopleheads are still in a boil. Cy gives the statement a glance and says that the thing seems to him to be "inclinin' towards the present titleholders." Steve: "Yeah, but then they start to fuckin' MITIGATE!" Cy seems at a loss. He turns back to the statement, mumbling, "Yeah...they do get to...mitigatin' this last part, here." He starts going all Branch Davidian about how isn't this just typical of the damn government, and that no one should be surprised they're about to get screwed. He reminds them that he'll buy up any claim they want to sell, and that Jarry doesn't seem to be such a bad sort, considering what he is, and agent of the government.

The rusty wheels in Steve's brain click into gear on that last one. He asks Cy if that means Jarry's over at his joint. Cy gets defensive, saying he never said the guy wasn't there, and that if Steve doesn't watch his tone, his question might land him a broken jaw. But Steve doesn't need another question, now that he's found out where Jarry is, and he leads the Hoople Rebellion in the direction of the Bella Union, out for blood.

Al's having tea in his room when Bullock comes in. "You've got gall," he tells Bullock, "coming before me prettier than ever." Bullock asks if Al's all right, and Al says he's on the fuckin' mend and that's all he's got to say about it. He asks Bullock what he knows about the commissioner, and Bullock confirms that the notice on the claims has got people in a snit. "I wouldn't want the cocksucker harmed," Al says. "I don't intend him any," Bullock clenches quietly. Bullock's being real quiet, as a matter of fact, I suppose feeling a bit guilty about what a state he put Al in. Al tells him not to be fucking clever, and asks Bullock if he's aware that the commissioner is allied with Cy. Bullock didn't know that. "Bedridden," Al says, "I know more'n you." The point is, he goes on, that if the commissioner is allied with Cy, and harm comes to him, Yankton will blame Al for the crime. "Do they understand," Al says, "how most of what happens is people being drunk and stupid and trying to find something else to blame besides that that makes their lives totally fucked?" He goes on to say that no, Yankton doesn't understand that, because they're too busy stealing to understand human nature. Ah, yes. Al understands human nature. I suppose he does. Freud...Jung...Al...the holy trinity of the study of the individual.

By Al Lowe

They don't have time to come up with anymore, because across the thoroughfare, they see Steve and the Goodie Mob rolling out of the Bella Union. They remain riled up. The NG takes this moment to make his exit, thanking Jane for the conversatin' and the whiskey. Jane, for her part, sees Bullock walking in her direction. "Who is that, the fuckin' Sheriff?" she asks. "Flanked by some assholes?"

Indeed it is. Jarry tells Bullock that he feels no less manhandled by him than he did by ol' Steve. Bullock assures him that if "they still had you, by now you'd be feeling worse." Bullock sees Jane and tells her he needs the lock-up. Jane drunkenly and officially asks him to wait until he's cleared out Bill's robe. Jarry looks disgusted. Steve is looking on at all this, and turns his head just in time to see the NG run around the corner.

Jarry complains about the mounting indignities he's suffering, culminating in having to stay in the jail. "A beating short of murder," Bullock suggests, "might have done you considerable good." Heee. I like how low-key Bullock is in this episode.

Back at the Bella Union, Cy's people are picking up the place, while Wolcott quizzes Cy on his behavior in this scene. Cy says the commissioner had to "work "some dogs to learn how the world's tail wags." Wolcott: "Not coming to his aid...you mean to build his character?" Cy says that, well, not everybody is of sound body and mind like Wolcott, who has a solid character, nothing about which is "sick." Crafty, Cy. I suppose this means he's going to eventually make the stupid mistake of using Mr. W's proclivities against him. Anyway, after dropping this subtlety, he turns and gives quite the Clintonian thumbs-up to lackey, and cruises up the stairs.

At the livery, Hostetler is hiding the NG in the hay, mad as hell that he's having to do it, as it is at considerable danger to himself. He calls the NG a fool, and tells him he hopes he strangles under the hay. The NG sticks up a hand, giving him a Cy-like thumbs-up, and Hostetler tells him to get his fuckin' thumb down before he stabs it with his pitchfork.

In the thoroughfare, the Genius Steve and his Dumbass Band of Greasy Hooples are concocting a plan to distract Bullock long enough for them to go in and attack Jarry. The plan is to drag the NG from the livery, where they know he's hiding, to their pitch pot, located in "Chink's Alley," and make a considerable enough racket to get Bullock running out after them. Then, the several left behind will swoop in and grab Jarry. One of his gang asks, "Suppose Bullock comes out shootin'?" Their feckless leader thinks on it, and says, "Or...we could just grab the n*gger!"

Back at Mrs. G's room, the Doc has apparently conducted an exam of her baby-making parts. He tells her that her "pelvic girdle" does show the effects of her childhood illness, but that it's not as bad as she thought. Her labor, he says, may be difficult, but that does not think she will be in danger carrying or delivering a child. Delivery will just be painful for her, he says, especially since she might be unwilling to cut the pain of childbirth with opiates. Doc seems downright happy to give her this news.

He asks that now that she knows what's going down down there, if that helps her make a "choice" in one direction or the other. She responds in the most confusing English that "to be honest, Doctor, I'm living into the thought that I've any choice at all." I wish I could tell you exactly what she means...but in this case, your guess is probably as good as mine.

Hostetler is still complaining to himself and anybody that can hear him, while he writes his will on his chalkboard to his "ingrate sister," Etta. I hope we see more of Hostetler, because I really like him. What I hope we see him do, actually, is KILL STEVE, who sneaks up on him at this moment, sneeringly asking what else Hostetler learned in that school where they taught him how to write. Hostetler stands up straight and pauses just a moment before saving his skin and giving up the location of the NG. Steve pours salt on the wound, saying that that school taught him good. We cut away, but I like to imagine that Hostetler whips out an eraser, wipes everything off his chalkboard, and writes in all caps, DEATH TO STEVE.

The mob swings into action and is dragging the poor NG down the thoroughfare as Charlie rides up in his wagon, seeing all. In Al's room, E.B. runs in, announcing this latest development. Al finds it irrelevant and busts them for it, and the only reason I mention this scene is Al's crazy, crazy eye that causes me recoil in horror every time he's on screen.

Bullock locks Jarry up in the holding cell -- for his own protection. Jarry offers Jane twenty bucks to let him use Bill's robe as his bedroll. She tells him he's got about as much chance of getting at as he does of waking up "looking normal." Good one, Jane. Charlie busts in all in a hurry, asking, "Is the N*gger General back to camp?" Jane tells him that he is. Charlie gets frustrated with her. "Don't act like you know, Jane," he says, "just because you're already drunk." Jane's offended, and calls Charlie an ignorant cocksucker. It's just that Charlie thinks she can't know what she's talking about, since the NG last came to Deadwood over the winter while she was gone. "That's ignorant," Jane tells him. "I met him today!" Bullock interrupts this tiff, wondering why Charlie is asking. Charlie describes the scene outside, saying that it looks like the NG is "gonna get done for."

By Al Lowe

Johnny interrupts YET AGAIN, asking Al if he's rung for him. Al picks up his bell and clangs it around to remind Johnny what a bell sounds like, and tells him to beat it. Johnny can't stay out of the grownups' business tonight. Al goes on, saying that seeing as how Bullock and Jarry are both government officials, "you ought to fuckin' look out for each other...Sheriff." Bullock clenches kind of guilty-like, and heads out under the watchful, fucked-up eye of Al.

Oh, yes, Jarry's stepped in it, now. The angry mob has him on the ropes, and he's trying to protect himself, staying inside the cashier's cage at the Bella Union. This whole thing ain't going his way. At all. Steve is still leading the charge, pacing opposite Jarry as he tries to convince them that he's not only a man, but as a representative of the government, he's an "institution, and the FUTURE, as well." Steve doesn't take kindly to this. "Fuck you, fuck the institution, AND fuck the FUTURE." Jarry gets serious. "You cannot fuck the future, sir," he says. "The future fucks you."

In the hardware store, Trixie is mad as hell, still trying to balance the figures Sol has given her to practice on. Sol's lying down and asks if he can please go over the columns with her. "What is the fuckin' point of YOU going over the columns?" Trixie asks. "You know the method of this shit already -- took in, probably, at your mother's tit!" Trixie's not quite ready for business school, y'all.

Sol says that despite her verbal abuse, he sure is enjoying her being there. "Although," he adds, "I also wouldn't mind getting fucked." She tells him angrily that as soon as she can figure out the accounting, he'll have his wish. "The correct answer in each instance," he quickly responds, "is $127.49."

She doesn't have too much time to get mad at his cheating, because Mrs. G knocks at the door. Trixe goes to let her in, saying, "I was coming to you, once I'd done these columns and...fucked a friend." She asks Mrs. G if anyone else had looked in on her today. Mrs. Garret smiles and says yes, Doc had come by. Trixie lights a cigarette, and asks how Doc's visit went. "I am as we thought," Alma tells her. Which...I am not sure how possible it was to determine a pregnancy from a pelvic exam in 1870, but whatever. I ain't a doctor.

Trixie wants to know what Mrs. G is going to do now. Mrs. G tells her that Doc said she would have most likely have an uneventful course, "though not without difficulties." Trixie: "I love how they put it." Mrs. G: "Well, that's my formulation." Trixie wants to know if "formulation" means "plan." Alma says that her plan at the moment is to watch and wait. Taking another drag, Trixie decides to make this friendship a bit less one-sided. "I couldn't help noticin', Trixie," she says, playfully mocking Mrs. G, "you're occupied now at the hardware store." She then answers as herself: "Yes, Alma, I am. I'm spending time at Bullock and Star's, learnin' to do accounts." Mrs. Garret wins me back over when she smiles and says sincerely that she's delighted. "Though," Trixie cuts in, "I'm also fuckin' one of the owners." The two women share a girly moment, laughing, and Mrs. G says she's delighted about that, as well.

She asks Trixie for a puff of her cigarette, and suddenly my inner Stockard Channing kicks in, singing: "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee, lousy with a pregnancy! Won't go to bed with a man 'less he's wed! I can't, I'm Mrs. GEEEEEEEE!" Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. Try the peaches. Tip your whores.

Trixie asks her if she's ever smoked before. Mrs. G proves that she hasn't when she takes a small drag and chokes on it. It's cute. She turns to leave and Trixie stops her at the door, saying "congratulations." They can't really look each other in the eye over this, but it's still sweet.

Trixie goes back to Sol and tells him she's balanced the columns. "Lying with aplomb," he jokes. "You've got the true calling." She tells him that what he heard otherwise didn't concern him, and he lies with equal aplomb, saying he didn't hear anything else, just in time to receive a big smooch from Trixie, who moves her hand down his body, saying "let me work on your column, now." Man, is that what accounting majors say to each other in the throes of passion? Because, wouldn't it be awesome if it was?

At the Chez Amie, Mr. W and Carrie are hanging out. He's reading aloud from Wild Bill's last letter, critiquing Bill's story and spelling. Though they both regard it cynically -- Carrie interrupts to ask if it's "a very long letter" -- something about the way they react to the letter indicates that they are both moved by Bill's sentiments of love for his now-widowed wife. After a moment of silent reflection on the letter's closing postscript, Carrie asks Mr. W if he's "a man who needs his trousers rubbed." He takes a deep breath as if to give himself courage, and answers, "I am a man...who needs his trousers...taken off." Carrie says she can do that, and turns to face Mr. W, who suddenly seems terribly vulnerable.

Doc is doing another exam of Al's eye. It looks better. Al wants to know what good is less blood in his eye. He wants use of his limbs. "I have spent my last day abed, hearing secondhand news from imbeciles." Doc asks sarcastically whether it strikes Al as "overweening" to set terms to Nature. Al argues that he's not setting terms to Nature; he's setting them to himself. Doc pushes it. "Who has dominion over nature! Al Swearengen, owner and proprietor!" Al: "As to when he takes his leave, you're A-1 fuckin' right."

Poor ol' Johnny comes in, trying to pantomime to Al that Bullock is there to see him. "Why the fuck do you whisper?" Al asks in frustration, calling out for Bullock to come in. "I coulda said you was asleep..." Johnny says, helplessly, getting it wrong yet again.

Bullock comes in and Doc stands to leave, telling the two men to keep it "pithy and civil." Bullock reports to Al that the commissioner is all right. Al extends his whiskey bottle, offering Bullock a swig. "You wipe the rim of that bottle," he says, "and I'll knock you out from my present vantage." You know Bullock was going to wipe it, too.

The sheriff sits and swigs as Al says Yankton is coming against them. Bullock agrees. "Posting notice like that," he says, "not award[ing] even one commissioner of the three to local citizenry." Al says that as politicians "ain't got balls for this type of unsupported move, someone's backing their play, else they'd be here, bending over for us." Bullock asks if Al thinks it's Cy Tolliver. "Tolliver is us," Al says. "They ain't gonna pick Tolliver over me this early in the game." Al says it's someone from outside the camp. He asks after the N*gger General, whether the hooples killed him. Bullock says they tarred his shoulder. "What stopped them with that?" Al asks. Bullock: "Me." He stands to leave, and Al tells him that when he gets "back on my fuckin' feet, I'll carry my share of the water." Bullock, clenching ever-so-slightly: "My money's on you."

Over at Charlie's, Jane is performing the unenviable job of removing the tar from the shoulder of the NG. What an absolutely disgusting and horrible assault tarring was. I don't think I've ever thought about it, and to see its effects, even via the magic of make-up, is difficult to stomach. "Here comes some pain for you," she tells him, ripping off a strip. He bites his lip to deal with the anguish, and Jane suggests that he scream to help with the pain. They argue about the best way to handle it, and Jarry sits up in the cell and snottily tells them to be quiet. Jane ain't havin' it. "Not only will we not be quiet, you frog-faced fuck," she yells at him, grabbing up a piece of wood, "I'm gon' take this stick, and drag it back and forth across the bars of your cell!" Jarry VERY snottily reminds her that he is not a prisoner, he's in protected custody. And Jane reminds HIM that he's "in care of a deputy deputized by the deputy sheriff, who orders you to shut the FUCK UP!"

By Al Lowe

Bullock and Charlie head out to do some ass-busting. Jarry, in the cell, complains to Jane that he's thirsty. With unparalleled swagger, she tells him to "lie on your back, take aim and piss." Damn, now. I don't think he'll surely ever get that thirsty.

By Al Lowe

Down in Chink's Alley, things are getting ugly. REAL UGLY. The mob, led by the butt-faced Steve, has dragged the NG to the middle of the street and is stripping him. He is panicked, of course, asking what he's done to offend these assholes. Steve reels off a stupid list of racist injustices: "You want to start with me getting drafted? So my cousin got the fuckin' confectionary?!" Ah. Putting to rest that old idea that members of the Union army were all high-bred moralists fighting the Southern beasts to end slavery. Not Steve, anyway. He's blaming the NG for losing the family business to his non-drafted cousin. "And that's why you're going to vulcanize me?" the NG asks. Steve tells him to shut up, but the NG keeps trying. He tells Steve that if he had never been drafted, he'd never have had the chance to come to Deadwood and strike it rich. Somehow, this does not fill Steve with gratitude. The pot of boiling tar is brought forth, and there's lots of yelling and grabbing the NG is brought into a sitting position. Just now, Bullock comes clenching around the corner to see what's going on, and is witness to this mess. He watches, frozen with disbelief, as Steve stirs the tar and yells at the NG that he and his "fuckin' monkey cousins" stole his "look at riches." It takes ol' Butt Face slapping the tar on the shoulder of the NG to snap Bullock out of his state of shock. And oh, what a snap it is. One and a half seasons of developing the clenching have led Olyphant to this shining moment.

Ripping his gun out of his holster, he fires into the air, yelling, "Disperse this riotous assembly!" Charlie translates that somewhat formal command for the ignorant masses before them: "Leggo of the N*gger General!" Steve tries to defend himself: "That monkey just motherfucked me!" Ohhhhh, Steve. STEVE. Bullock ain't gonna play that! "I'll motherfuck you," he clenches, clenchingly, "AND, blow.your.head.off."

Steve decides, wisely, to believe him as the NG writhes on the ground in pain.

That evening in the thoroughfare, we see Mrs. Garret making her way...somewhere, under the watchful eye of Richardson, some paces away; he's still clutching the buck antlers she'd given him earlier. True love knows no logic, does it, Richardson?

By Al Lowe