I stand here before you a TWoP virgin, a hooplehead, a mere Johnny to Al Lowe's Swearengen, so go easy on a cocksucker, will ya?
We open inside the Bullock homestead as William comes down the stairs, buttoning up his shirt like a real little man. Uncle Daddy wishes him a good morning and asks if he is permitted coffee, guessing that a third of a cup would be about right. William says that he does take coffee "completed with cow's milk," and Bullock, in a clenchy version of fatherly indulgence, offers the poor boy three spoons of sugar. My heart is warmed for precisely one and half seconds, after which Bullock clenches out what passes for a joke in The House of Mirthless, "Is this the morning, William, do you suppose, the tip of this lamp, like an Indian spear, goes into the top of my head?" like, ha ha, little boy, why don't you imagine an imminent and arbitrary death for your Uncle Daddy! After this lighthearted moment, Bullock fixes his cold, cold stare on William and asks if the coffee is as good as his mother's. William pauses and says no, but only because his father always made the coffee. Cut to Martha coming down the stairs just in time to overhear an emotionally stunted man try to make nice to a little boy.
Martha smiles ruefully as she overhears William tell Uncle Daddy about how his father liked to sing all kinds of songs, would make his mom laugh, and knew all about duck-callin'. And I would think awww, poor lady, except for the facts that 1) she married her own brother-in-law when a monthly check would probably have sufficed and 2) she seems about as fun to have sex with as a piece of beef jerky.
This heartwarming moment is interrupted by Charlie Utter coming to get Bullock on some official business. Hey, kid, don't forget that your Uncle Daddy has a dangerous job! So that Indian spear quip ain't just idle talk! As Bullock leaves, he offers to take William duck-hunting soon. Martha, preceded, as usual, by her chin by a good three paces, comes all the way down the stairs and says, "Good morning, Mr. Bullock" -- ooh, you sex kitten, you! -- as he leaves, yet receives only a clench in return.
Al's office. E.B. comes in holding his cheek and tells Al about his bad tooth. Al remarks that it is too bad that E.B., being Al's "eyes and ears," was indisposed during such an eventful day as yesterday. I can't remember right now what the hell happened yesterday but, knowing Deadwood, I'm sure it involved public sex, pig-on-human violence, or a can of peaches, or maybe, if it was really good, all of the above! It turns out Al is faulting E.B. for having been asleep at the wheel when the telegraph operator came to town, and strongly suggests that E.B. cozy up to the fellow to keep tabs on messages coming from and going to Yankton.
Dan joins Al and E.B.'s colloquy with newspaper in hand and tells Al to "take a gander" at it. E.B. backs his way out of the room with instructions to find the Russian who Al says "looks like the prize at a carnival," which is sort of like, hey, pot? You're black, too. Or, more specifically, black-and-white-striped. E.B. does another one of those arm flourishes that I love so much and snakes right out.
If you can believe it, Ian McShane figures out how to belligerently put on a pair of glasses (what's , belligerent hair-brushing?), signaling that Dan should get out of his office while he takes a gander at the newspaper. We get a shot of The Deadwood Pioneer over Al's shoulder, initially out of focus and then sharply-defined.
At the Bella Union, we get a lesson on how citizens in the nineteenth century participated in the public sphere through a shared print culture. Oops, I mean "Cy is also reading The Deadwood Pioneer." Tess (the new Lila?) comes down to tell Cy that "he wants 5,000 more upstairs," a request that unsurprisingly chaps Powers Boothe's bronzed hide. It turns out that the "fat bastard" -- obviously Mose -- upstairs has requested to have piles of money to look at while he, ahem, manages some accounts with Tess. Cy tells Tess to get the guy downstairs where he'll be tempted to gamble and so then get the cash circulatin'. First lesson on capitalism of the episode? Done and done. As we see Bullock and Charlie enter behind Cy, Powers Boothe takes this opportunity to chew through a few more lines, telling Tess, "Don't mistake me, honey, I want to take the time to explain myself to you." Hey, Cy? Sometimes sarcasm is lost on ill-educated and abused women.
The camera swings around behind Cy and focuses on Bullock -- it seems they've decided to go with an interruptive narrative technique this episode, with people continually walking in on other scenes -- who requests to "talk with Mose Manuel about his brother gettin' shot." Cy sends Tess upstairs to get him and turns back to Bullock, snapping a finger on the crisp newspaper: "All these rumors, Sheriff, swirling around you. How do you keep your hat on?"
Mrs. Garret's room. It's a special day for Sophia, who gets to play at the foot of the bed instead of in her corner! What luck! Ellsworth and Alma sit at the desk signing papers. Ellsworth tells her to put another "A.G." in the corner, and Alma repays him for his loyal and stalwart service by bitching out, "Is that abbreviation a term of art in financial transaction? Ought I acquaint myself with its meaning?" Um, how about "Arrogant Grump"? "Ellsworth patiently replies that "that abbreviation, ma'am, is your initials." Oh, silly me! I usually hire someone to do my thinking for me! But Alma is chastened, and asks Ellsworth whether, by inquiring as to the whereabouts of her money, does she "reveal an even deeper stupidity?" Ellsworth tells her it arrives from Denver today and then Alma asks about the safe they purchased, "to house the money." Turns out the safe is ALSO on the coach from Denver, or as Ellsworth relates, "Safe's inside the coach, money's inside the safe, is the full picture." Awww, see, they're nervous around each other! The sexual tension between these two, I could cut it with...a weak breath from a pair of asthmatic lungs. Anyway, the tedium of this conversation continues as exposition, exposition, exposition. Er, I mean, Alma asks that Ellsworth see the safe to Star and Bullock's, and that he try not to think too hard about the regular ass-poundings Bullock used to give her. Then she requests Ellsworth deliver a letter to Swearengen, dismisses him, and promptly runs off screen to puke. Which is about what I feel like doing, having wrangled that snooze-fest of a scene to the ground.
Luckily I am rewarded for my televisual diligence in the very scene! Inside the Chez Amie, Joanie raises the purty red drapes only to find Calamity Jane slumped on the ground on the steps outside, cheek smooshed against the glass door. If there was one person on this show I'd want to find drunk and smelly on my doorstep each morning, it's Jane. Joanie opens the door and wakes the groggy Jane up. And, my god, y'all, I didn't even realize it but we haven't had one "cocksucker" yet in this episode until Jane lets it drop here in telling Joanie she saw Wolcott with "a bloody fuckin' mug" last night. Joanie confesses to having given it to him, and Jane rambles on for some time, avoiding stepping inside, about not being sure if Joanie was dead or alive last night. Joanie finally tells Jane that she needs to come inside because "it's nippy on my twat," which, while probably not factually accurate given the velvet dress she's draped in, is maybe the funniest thing I have ever heard. Unsurprisingly the twat comment nearly drives Jane away, until Joanie implies that she doesn't remember being in the Chez Amie the day before. If there's one thing a drunk doesn't like, it's being accused of being a drunk.
Can we take a moment of silence to recognize the unsurpassable awesomeness of Joanie's porcelain-white high-heeled boots? Thank you, Lord, for giving me this glimpse of heaven.
While Joanie and Jane are talking out on the street, we hear a horse whinnying loudly. On her way inside, Jane looks over her shoulder and declares, "NG's got a wild horse on his hands."
Across the way, at Hostetler's Livery of Black Actors Still Being Used Simply to Advance Contrived Plots, the NG wrassles with a bucking horse and lays out his plan to castrate the horse and then sell it to the cavalry for $100. Hostetler tells the NG that the moon isn't right for castrating the horse, but the NG says he won't wait on no moon to get his hundred bucks. Then both Hostetler and the NG turn to the camera and say, in unison, "Uh oh! Looks to be a sitchee-ashun brewin'!" I'm sorry but, come on Milch, this is all you got for us? You have two -- TWO -- African-American characters on your show and THIS is what you give them?
Back at the Gem, Johnny sits on the staircase teaching a whore to read using...The Deadwood Pioneer. Al saunters down the steps, reading aloud from the paper. Fox News-style, the article works by misdirection, noting that Bullock has denied any connection with parties in Montana or Wyoming that may be interested in annexing Deadwood. Johnny, cute as a dumb rock, observes that "You knew Cheyenne'd be heard from" as if the newspaper were relating real news. How sweet of him to think so! Al continues to read, incensed that the paper intimates interest from Montana, Wyoming, and Washington, D.C. in annexing the territory.
Merrick's office where he is running off a hundred extra copies of the paper. E.B. and Blazanov are present, and it appears that the back room of the newspaper-cum-telegraph office is really a tent, which is news to me, but should make vandalizing the poor Russian even easier! E.B. claps his hands like a toddler getting a cookie and Merrick proposes they all take a walk. When Blazanov claims he can't leave his apparatus, Merrick blowhards about all of us being tethered to labor but discovering being tethered to labor and so discovering joy and a path to tethering allowing the rejuvenating pleasures of respite. For once in his life, E.B. speaks for us all when he says, "Take your walk alone Mr. Merrick," before turning to Blazanov and slithering on about wanting to learn how the telegraph machine works.
Miss Iz enters the newspaper office wanting to send a telegraph. Merrick heads up the stairs to the conveniently-discovered secret passageway between the office and the Gem. Good thing this passageway was discovered right about the time Al got interested in managing the media in Deadwood! It'll save both Al and Merrick a lot of extra steps, while also saving the set designer and continuity editor a lot of headaches establishing visual flow!
Meanwhile, E.B. employs the well-proven "pretending to look around" school of spying (most famously used by great detectives such as Nancy Drew and Harriet the Spy) to try to find out what Miss Iz is sending. He is met with a fabulous "Fuck off" from our favorite foul-mouthed steamboat captain.
Merrick jauntily enters the Gem, all good cheer over having been so easily bought by Al Swearengen. Al ignores Merrick, instead soliloquizing to Dan that "the truth, if only a pinch, must season every falsehood, or the palate fuckin' rebels. And mustn't the novice chef be mindful not to ladle out his concoction by the unseasoned fucking ton lest before he perfect his art he lose his clientele?" Jeffrey Jones's reaction shots here are great as Merrick realizes that being a sellout might not pay as well as he originally thought. Al marches upstairs without addressing Merrick, and Dan mutters that, for his part, he'd "like the ball scores a little more fuckin' prompt."
Merrick, surprisingly, grows a pair and follows Al upstairs, yelling that he'd better not go in his office. What follows are a number of non sequiturs as Al and Merrick yell at one another about being or not being born yesterday and having or not having an adult conversation. Meanwhile, Ellsworth has come in and is watching all this, wide-eyed. Al shoves his door open, hooks his glasses on his lip -- for all the world like my strict second-grade teacher -- and motions for Merrick to go in. Merrick exchanges a nervous look with Ellsworth downstairs, and enters. I have to say, I'm not a huge fan of the new Dr. Phil Al (Dr. Al?) -- all motivational speech and management through reason -- but I like how this scene shows us how scary his office is for most everyone. I think we'd forgotten after the whole gleet thing.
Ellsworth gives Dan Alma's letter, telling him he won't wait for Al but that Dan better tell Al "he'd best not serve the sender ill." Tough talk! Upon leaving, though, Ellsworth manhandles a little leather file-folder, which is like the nineteenth-century equivalent of storming out of someone else's cubicle -- i.e., not really tough at all.
E.B. greases up to Al's door, only to be told that Al's busy with Merrick inside. And I swear these writers write these tiny little scenes just to make the recapper's life a living hell.
Inside Al's office, Al explains to Merrick that the newspaper article contained too many "possibilities" and "would make people smell a rat." Well, Al, if the scent fits. Pouring them each a shot, Al tells Merrick that "these interests, coming after us, they're fucking rough! They're going after our nuts, they're hypocrite cocksuckers. And the fucking lying tactics and instruments they use to fuck people up the ass can be turned against them." Frankly, I'd like to hire Al to give this talk to the Democratic Party. Merrick realizes what Al wants him to do, that his newspaper is one of the ass-fucking instruments, and really starts getting into this dirty game. Al commands him to drink his second shot and Merrick says, "I like my fucking liquor...and I like stinkin' of fuckin' ink, too...give it a fuckin' smell, Al." I have to admit, while I love the new direction Merrick's character is taking, I'm not sure I want to hear Jeffrey Jones uttering things like "Give it a fuckin' smell, Al." Because, ew. For a variety of reasons, perhaps best left unsaid out of respect for the Ferris Bueller fans among us.
Al and Merrick continue their little chat while E.B. begins to get impatient outside. He finally knocks on the door and, after beginning to tell his story, is ordered inside by Al. While E.B. informs Al about Miss Iz's telegram and her unladylike rebuke, Dan saunters himself and his sexy beard in to give Al the letter from Mrs. Garret. Al multi-tasks, directing Merrick to put some distance between himself and the Gem for a few minutes, reads the letter, and tries to block out E.B.'s sniveling voice. Merrick pauses as he leaves, kind of like, "Hey guys! I'm cool! Can I hang with you?" No dice. Al wants Miss Iz and the Russian brought to his office. Hopefully the Dr. Al portion of this show is over. Oops, but no! Because Al then takes out a rag and wipes down his desk. WIPES DOWN HIS DESK. Seriously, bring this man someone to kill, because I was under the impression that he had bladder stones, not a Bad-Ass-ectomy.
Oh gosh, and now here we go. Someone is fumbling at my flinty little heart, and I think his name is Milch. Here's William, on the side of his house, unwrapping a little square of burlap to reveal a few sad looking seeds. Martha watches as he kneels down and begins planting them. He's shoving the seeds right up against some kind of lean-to, and I guess it's possible that you are supposed to plant sunflowers right to some nasty, rusty structure, in the shadiest spot around. What do I know, I live in an apartment in Chicago and rarely leave the house. His little garden is pa-thetic, though. This whole scene makes me feel like I do when I pass those billboards with some adorable child's sad face splayed across it pleading that I not drink and drive because her father was killed by a drunk driver. I mean, it's true and sad and all, but COME ON. Anyway, the seeds. Being planted. William saved them from their old garden but only has three left. Did you guys get that? ONLY THREE SEEDS LEFT. Let's see, that's Mommy, Daddy, and Willy makes three. They're becoming a family! William wants to take Uncle Daddy lunch at the store! All right, already. Sheesh.
Thank the sweet lord, a scene full of grossness and depravity. Mose sits at a table in the Bella Union, gnawing on some sort of chop (from Wu's? Eek!), defending his version of his brother's death. Bullock and Charlie repeat the suspicious details about the timing of this "accident" but make no headway, obviously because they have not had a chance to study Vincent D'Onofrio's interrogation techniques on Law & Order: Criminal Intent.
Mose employs an airtight defense strategy consisting of a) crazy eyes and b) telling the sheriff and his deputy to fuck themselves. Take notes, all you juvenile delinquents. Charlie pulls out the big guns when he asks the most penetrating question of all: "Why weren't you two watching Tom Nuttall's bike ride?" Hmmm, why indeed? You can't handle the truth! I wish Charlie had jumped up after he asked this and yelled, "The prosecution rests, your honor!"
So, like I said, this interrogation isn't going so well. Cy tells them to "put together a court or don't" and starts a verbal pissing contest with Charlie while Wolcott enters the joint, declaring that he must report a death to the sheriff. He explains that "a Cornishman in theft was shot at one of Mr. Hearst's claims." This is presumably the death that in the last episode treated us all to such, ahem, realistic depictions of a number of, um, rather elaborately-set family jewels.
Charlie takes this moment to shift out of courtroom drama mode and into History of Economics mode, blurting out that "It's all fucking amalgamation and capital, ain't it, Wolcott?" To which Wolcott rejoinders, in a terribly and unforgivingly smart-ass way, "Are you a student of Hume? Smith? A disciple of Karl Marx?" Bullock, who knows Wolcott is trying to embarrass Charlie by exposing that he doesn't know Hume from a horse's ass, tells Charlie that they should leave. As they leave, Wolcott tells Bullock that his employer "has interests and connections to Montana, sir, as are imputed to you in this morning's Pioneer." This sets Charlie off and the little man leaps up on a dusty red velvet ottoman (I know!), telling Wolcott to "shut your fucking mouth." Bullock drags Charlie out, but not before Charlie prognosticates that Wolcott had "got to you, didn't he, Mose? Now he's got to get you to die!" And, furthermore, why WEREN'T you watching Tom Nuttall's bike ride? Huh? Huh?
Tess sidles up to Mose, and he wraps his right arm around her back and through her legs so he can take a bite of the toast he holds in his hand. Um, okay, whatever, dude.
Out on the street Bullock wrangles an enraged Charlie, who declares he's "leaving the whole fuckin' camp" to bring Wild Bill's wife his final letter. Charlie and Bullock have apparently stopped at some sort of little food stand, which is rather humorous, especially as Charlie is flustered and tells the vendor that they have "camp business" there. Yes, excuse me, I have "camp business" with this here, um, crabapple. Anyway, Charlie explains to Bullock that Wolcott sold him Wild Bill's letter, which really does pour salt in a number of Charlie's wounds. He notes that "money must buy these cocksuckers any fuckin' thing they want! That cocksucker inside -- Mr. Amalgamation and Fuckin' Capital." I so totally hear Charlie on this one. Down with big business, and I mean seriously. During this whole thing, Charlie is absent-mindedly handling the produce in front of him; he chooses some little round green thing, weighs it, throws down a coin, and gestures to the vendor. Ah, do you see? Capitalism even here, but yet without the alienated labor! Lesson Number Two on capitalism? Done and done.
Charlie nearly knocks the little Beans and Corn stand over as he stomps away, muttering again about "Mr. Amalgamation and Capital," causing Bullock to ask him, "What's the import of that expression." And my heart breaks into pieces when Charlie finally admits, "Do I look like I'd fuckin' know? Some big shot eastern magazine reporter interviewing Bill said that was what's changing things around." I want to run into my television and give Charlie a big hug and tell him that he doesn't have to know about Marxism or capitalism to know what's right and what's wrong when it comes to Wolcott. Charlie continues trying to set his house in order before he leaves by instructing Bullock to watch out for Jane and to not get "fucked up over Mose Manuel." He gives us a little bit more Cassandra predicting that Mose'll "be judge on hisself and jury, too."
The coach from Denver arrives just as Martha and William approach with lunch for Clench. Which makes me wonder, can he open his mouth wide enough to take a bite of bread, or is he on a liquid diet? Bullock wishes Charlie luck and goes to his family. Mrs. Garret watches all this from her window.
The Chez Amie. Jane is zonked out when Joanie enters in a new dress, but thankfully still in those divine boots. Joanie begins to pick up the bloody shattered glass from whacking Wolcott upside the head the evening. Jane rouses, and Joanie offers the use of her bath, which please, God, please make that happen. If only for poor Robin Weigert's sake in the make-up trailer. They make small talk about the building and whether or not Joanie plans on reopening the brothel. Joanie pauses and then hesitantly says, "Stay awhile, Jane. Be my guest. Favor me and stay." Jane waits a beat and then tells her, "I get top fuckin' dollar," which maybe brings up unpleasant imagery, but still marks the beginning of a fantastic friendship.
Jane climbs the stairs up to Charlie's place, where he is waiting with a variety of "I insult you because I love you" remarks for her about her alcohol consumption. Charlie really is tied up in knots, and good lord do I want to just cradle that little man and tell him things'll be all right. Jane tells him that when he returns he'll find that she's "moved out of this shitbox so I don't have to embarrass you or have you fucking hovering over me like the fucking ugliest nurse in the fucking universe." These two are totally like a mom and daughter going through separation anxiety. "You don't respect me, or the work I do for you!" "I hate you!" "You're ungrateful!" "Well, you're mean and terrible and I wish I was never born!" "Oh, baby, come here and hug me, I love you!" Jane grabs Bill's coat while Charlie asks her where she's going. When she tells him she's moving into the whorehouse, he seems pleased but wonders if that "indicates some fucking business arrangement." Jane retorts, "Yeah, I'm gonna be queen hooker. You're a keen fuckin' student of the human scene, Charlie." Hee. Jane pauses just before leaving to ask Charlie where he's going. He tells her he's decided not to tell her the specific destination. They say their passive-aggressive goodbyes and Jane declares that Charlie is "not only a fucking pain in the balls...but also the strangest person I ever met." Charlie tells her she'll "find no argument here" and we all can say in unison that Charlie Needs a Break.
Star and Bullock's Hardware Store. William cozies up to Trixie, supervising her accounting. Now I know in the forums some people thought this as evidence of Martha's lax mothering skills, but a sweeter thing I never saw. This is a hooker with a heart of gold, so mothers, let your children gather 'round! Actually the only thing I take away from this little moment is that William has a tendency to be a prick just like his Uncle Daddy, all upright and doin' his math core-rectly. Trixie notices this, too, saying that William is "vigilant to detail, like his pa," but I get the feeling she might really want to call him a "self-deluding, interfering motherfucker" like she did to Bullock a few episodes back.
The men install the safe and Martha gets the idea that the bank's backer, Mrs. Garret, might wish to be present at its opening. She totally has a point. I'm a little tired of everyone looking around the room all shocked at one another about this situation. I mean, sure, it's uncomfortable and all, but Trixie, you shot a man through the forehead and are currently employed as a spy on these nice people; Ellsworth, you witnessed Alma's husband's murder and kept mum about it; Bullock, you never even bothered to rig Alma's bed so it wasn't so damn squeaky; and Sol, well, Sol, will you marry me? Bullock sends Ellsworth to ask Alma if she wants to come. Ellsworth lets go of the rope and the safe thuds to the ground. Oh, Ellsworth, I'll marry you, too.
Trixie follows Ellsworth outside to have a word about the marriage she's trying to arrange. Let me interrupt myself and ask whether or not anyone else has noticed how much Ellsworth has cleaned up since we first met him last year. I mean, that man was like a step away from rotten-mouthed Jack McCall, and now he's all manicured beard, clean face, and leather file folders. After hearing that Alma hasn't given him an answer, Trixie asks, "How did the lady incline, fuckin' Ellsworth," to which my man responds, "I wouldn't guess, fuckin' Trixie." Trixie wonders if Ellsworth presented himself enthusiastically enough. She's clearly recently read He's Just Not That Into You. When she finds out that he's done all he could, she gets mad at Alma, wondering, "What's her fuckin' problem then? You're a worthy enough candidate given all her fuckin' givens." Awesome.
Al's office. He's got Miss Iz in with him, and he's telling her that Mrs. Garret had written to tell him that she'd betrayed her knowledge about Miss Iz being a Pinkerton the other day in the heat of an argument. He lays out her own position for her -- while she remains totally poker-faced -- predicting that she probably thinks he's sold himself over to Alma's side and that she'd probably wired the Pinkertons advising them not to make the planned deal with Al. Iz volleys back to Al that perhaps the Pinkertons want to keep the bidding open on Al's allegiance. He explains to her that he has a price just like everyone, but that the prospect of Alma's in-laws getting control of her claim and selling it to "third-party cocksuckers inimical to the whole of my interests in this camp" would mean that by going in with the Pinkertons, Al would be "buying allegiance against himself." I.e., it ain't happening, Iz.
Al proposes that Miss Iz might change her allegiance more readily than he, and is met with a beautifully arched eyebrow (seriously, where are these ladies getting their brows done?) as Iz asks what she can gain from doing so. Al, obviously bluffing, tells her he intercepted her "shitheel boss's" telegraph and that he'll read it to her verbatim. He does so while looking straight at her, which makes me think that he knows she knows that he doesn't know what her boss said, and that, further, she knows he knows that she knows he doesn't know. Got that? Good. Anyhoo, the gist of "the telegraph," a.k.a. Al's strong suggestions to Iz, is that she sign all the documents, take the $5,000, and disappear. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but with the sums normally bandied about on this show, 20 grand for this, 50 grand for that, $5,000 seems like kind of a rip-off, and I don't think Al should be ripping off someone as wily as Iz. Iz asks to see the money, Al hands it over, and Iz insists that the sheriff be present at her signing the documents and that he escort her from the camp. I just can't believe that she'll go so gently into that good night!
Dan looms over Blazanov, who geeks around about how he can't betray the confidence of the messages he sends and receives. Oh, give it up, pencil neck. Dan suggests that Blazanov "don't guarantee what you'll never do. Not without you imagining your feet stuck to the fire." The Russian takes this opportunity to spin some sad story about pogroms and murdered parents and how this proves he knows what he will and won't do. Dan's all, "Dude, this is America. We have the WILD WEST here! Don't be comin' at me with no namby-pamby Russian story!"
Back at the hardware store, William congratulates Tom on his bicycle ride and asks "how the boneshaker is doing" and Tom replies, "Well jiminy crickets young lad! The boneshake-a-roo is shim-shimminy grrrreeeaaat!" No, seriously, what's with Tom here? I mean, I get that he's a good-hearted man with a soft spot for kids, but when did he turn into Captain Kangaroo? Tom ambles over to Bullock and starts acting more normal, asking him what he's learned of the shooting the other day. Which we all know is a big fat nothin', but Bullock clenches about how they can't prove anything without any witnesses. Tom asks whether William can come help him "calibrate the boneshaker's handlebars." Um, I guess if that's what you want to call it. Martha says yes, and I take this moment to turn to my husband and ask if maybe I can calibrate his boneshaker's handlebars later on this evening.
In Mrs. Garret's room, we see that she is knitting, gripping those two sticks pretty authoritatively, while Ellsworth recaps what happened over at the hardware store when Martha suggested he go get Alma. Alma wonders what Mr. Bullock said to Mrs. Bullock, and gives Ellsworth a hard time over whether or not Clench got clenched up over the suggestion that she visit, and plumbs the poor man's depths over why Martha insisted she come. Ellsworth is clearly hating this errand, and yet Alma persists. God, I love this woman. And her bitchiness, and her privilege, and especially her effing fabulous dresses. Clench doesn't even deserve her!
Okay, deep breath. Ellsworth takes one, too, and broaches the marriage issue. Alma is quick with him, acknowledging that she knows he is still hanging but that she hasn't yet made up her mind. She then looks down at the sticks she's manhandling. Anyone else sense a pattern developing?
Back at the hardware store, four people obviously at ease with one another share a midday meal, taking a long-needed break from their arduous duties around town. Or, let me rephrase that: four people horribly uncomfortable with one another share an oppressively somber meal from which they hope to soon escape. Yes, that's it. Martha invites Trixie to the table seemingly for the second time, but Trixie says no thank you. Apparently she "tend[s] to forego the midday meal," which is just another way of saying "usually I'm busy giving handjobs and shooting up at noon." Sol and Trixie share a very sweet look.
Martha, displaying incredible Corporate Conflict Management skills, brings up that she'd like to reopen a "constructive" discussion about her desire to become schoolteacher once Alma gets there. Bullock clenches out an "I'm delighted" just as Johnny walks into the store to tell Bullock Al wants to see him. Bullock puts him off, and Johnny nervously waits just outside the door.
Out in the street, Tom tells William tall tales: "A man tying the right rope to the frame and the other end to a thunderhead, could use the machine to tow clouds." Can I tell you how much I love thinking about bicycles as "machines"? William says he wishes he was taller, and Tom assures him that "when your legs lengthen, I calculate you'll be one of the great cloud haulers of the world." William cutes back to Tom that he just wants to be able to ride as well as Tom did yesterday, to which Tom responds in his best fairytale voice, "The Bella Union gap was my crucible, William, the fabled mud slick." All right, we get it. Real fuckin' wholesome, now can we move along?
And we do move along, as Steve suddenly appears, lurking around Tom and William, and now we all know it's on like Donkey Kong. Somebody's getting dead and soon.
Back at the hardware store, Alma and Sophia march in like the bitches they are. Yeah, I called Sophia a bitch, what of it? Martha extends her hand in congratulations on the bank venture, and the camera annoyingly shows us the reaction of everyone in the store, making us think that Alma might bitchily refuse her hand, only to pan down and show that they've been clasping hands during the entire conversation. Alma thanks Martha for taking up the education of the camp's children, and look at that, so easy peasy, no need to clench, Sheriff!
Trixie asks Alma if she'd like a "bite of meat," to which Alma responds by giving her the Ice Man front-teeth chomp and then saying, "No, thank you, I've had my fill of the meat in this camp. I've found it tough and unsatisfying and strangely self-important." Or, maybe I just wish she had said that.
Back out on the street, more bicycle mythology, and I'm sorry, I just don't have it in me to deal with it right now. Tom starts to ride the bike off, and as far as I can tell no handlebar calibration has occurred and Tom basically just invited a kid to come watch him have fun on a bike. That just doesn't seem fair to the youngster. Steve leers at the two joking around with one another and utters an obscure "Great." William, small and alone on the rough street, watches Tom ride off.
Back in the hardware store, Alma kneels in front of the safe and declares that "This all seems very much in order." You might want to take that statement with a grain of salt, seeing as it's coming from a woman who earlier this morning didn't recognize her own initials. Trixie pulls a nugget of gold out of her bosom and places it on the scale, declaring herself "first depositer." And, you know, damn it if towns aren't built on the backs of the poor and the whores. Sol balances the scales, if you know what I mean, and Johnny pokes his nervous head in to let Bullock know that it'd "save [him] a beating" if he clenched on over there quickly. Cut to Martha, cut to Alma, cut to Bullock who's nervous about leaving the ladies together.
The Bella Union. Tess is on her knees underneath a table, and as the camera pans right, we realize why. She has apparently not given up on the meat in this town, even though it is disgusting and named Mose and making impossible demands on her. I'm just going to skip the whole "sounds like she's got a mouthful" thing. If you watched the scene, it's burned in your memory. If you didn't, say a quick prayer of thanks. Wolcott stands to Cy, obviously disgusted and agitated, a combo we've learned is not good when it comes to Mr. W. Mose slams his hands on the card table and accuses the dealer, Leon, of cheating him, and things begin to escalate. Mose stands up and draws a gun, as Cy's gunmen train their weapons on him. Cy slimes out an attempt to appease Mose, who is now demanding to have "everything" back. Wolcott steps forward and asks if he means to include "youth, Mr. Manuel? And why not beauty?...Would you not have, too, your brother Charlie resurrected? Would you stipulate your envy of him be purged? Surely, you insist that Charlie retain certain defect," and so on. Wolcott just won't let up here, even as Mose's eyes get even more crazy, and I think we are witnessing just how psychopathic Wolcott really is. He desires not only control but to always speak some sort of ultimate truth, like an avenging angel, and he's scaring me.
Mose cracks under the pressure of Wolcott's jeremiad and begins to raise his gun. He's promptly shot, three times in the chest, and though he continues to gasp for breath, I think it'd be a stretch of a medical miracle if he survives this.
Cy scolds Wolcott for being such a bad, bad boy and demands that he send for the doctor immediately, but Wolcott isn't having any of it. He informs Cy that he can have Lee burn down the Bella Union whenever he wants, and maybe Cy is beginning to regret getting so close so fast with such an unknown quantity. Wolcott instructs Jack to tell Bullock about what just happened before getting Doc Cochran.
Guitar strumming of anxiety begins to really swell in the background as we cut back to the hardware store, where Martha is teaching Sophia arithmetic by using, what else? a sausage cut into portions. And what of it? Sophia needs to learn the ways of the camp before it's too late and she gets a taste for the meat. Luckily right now Sophia only has a taste for candy, and she asks for some for having gotten the math problem right. Alma puts her best surprised face on and disingenuously remarks, "You ask a reward, Sophia, for doing your numbers? Where would you get such an idea?" And so we find that insane mothering competitions are perhaps not a twenty-first-century phenomenon.
Repetitious guitar strumming of impending death continues to play as Sol writes out a receipt for Trixie, who indicates that she should be put down as Trixie, "The Whore," then gasps in shock at having said that in front of Alma, a confusing reaction because Alma is fully aware that Trixie is a whore. In any case, Alma asks to sign the first receipt, which makes my feminist heart go pitter-patter. Jack comes by from the Bella Union to fetch Bullock.
On the street, Tom has apparently forgotten that he is in charge of a small child and goes cavorting off on his bike. As he passes William, Steve grabs the boy and tries to lift him onto the bike but misses. William laughs and Steve good-naturedly tells him they'll try again. Now get this, Steve yells out to Tom, who is now in full possession of the knowledge that the kid he's supposed to be watching is in the company of a certified NEEDS TO DIE hooplehead, and yet Tom continues to goof off on his beloved freakin' bike.
Cut to Hostetler's, where the writers have brushed the dust off our favorite black characters and trotted them back out for this important plot development. They're working on tying the horse down before they castrate it. Oooh, doesn't it all just come together? The sausage, the horse balls, gee, I didn't see this coming at all. The NG is too busy making meaningful comments to the horse about the right to vote, and I wouldn't mind so much if this show ever gave us a serious and complex storyline about African-Americans trying to make it on the frontier in the 1870s.
So. Guitar strumming shifts into high-pitched string-picking as we start looking in on what everybody in the camp is doing. Bullock witnesses Iz signing the documents in Al's office. Steve tries to give William a coin, and when the boy refuses, Steve tells him it can be their secret and implies that it'd be okay if William tells his dad that Steve helped him on the bike. Tom continues to ride around on that bike like a DAMN FOOL. The horse escapes and starts tearing ass through the street.
Ping pingy ping the strings go as we return to Al's office, where Bullock's attention is turned away from Iz and toward the scene outside the window. He notices the commotion and moves toward the window. Tom's damn fool expression is wiped off his face as he watches the horse run toward him. , without the power of TiVo we don't see too much, but with the power of TiVo we can relive the horror over and over. The horse rounds a corner, and we cut to Steve, who grabs William and tries to get him out of the way. We get to see them knocked senseless from two vantage points, from behind the horse and from in front of the horse. It's the latter vantage that gives us the lovely image of a child's body getting flung across the dusty alley like a ragdoll. Hoo-fucking-ray.
Tom finally gets his fool ass off the bike and runs to the gruesome scene. Bullock seems to have witnessed what just happened from the window and rushes out, the folks in the hardware store notice that there is a commotion outside but don't know what about, and then we get an aerial shot of William's Crime Scene Body Outline position in the muddy street. Steve sort of humps himself up to his knees and mutters, "I think my back's broken," like, WHO CARES, STEVE? as Tom leans over William trying to find out if the poor kid is still breathing. All ain't well in Deadwood, folks.