The Abandons

I just want to be seen as something more than the daughter.

I see so much more, Trisha.

- Does she have your heart? - All I can seem to think about.

I understand you have a formal education.

Year two, university knowledge.

Children, this is your new teacher. Comes from a fine lineage of educators.

Good luck.

Albert is a kind and generous soul.

- You're using him to scratch at me. - Well, perhaps it's not about you.

I'll be riding with your mother and Mr. Roache,

setting up a new interest in the Badlands.

Silver requires too many trades.

Until we have weapons, there will be no talk of any favor we pay in return.

I can deliver weapons.

The rifles are like a bride. They are spoken for.

You have two days to pack your things.

Then I will destroy this sin-stained Russian bazaar.

Of course I sell guns to you.

Splendid.

Marshals. Pulling a body wagon.

These were found with the body.

Forewarning, ma'am. It is a gruesome sight.

Mrs. Van Ness,

is this Willem?

That was lovely, pastor.

Yes.

Thank you.

Garret will follow with our remembrance.

Of course.

Shall we prepare Willem to be buried next to his father?

No.

Remains to be sent to New York.

Buried next to Julia.

His grandmother.

And tomorrow,

at sundown,

everyone in Angel's Ridge is welcome to his memorial.

We need to move on from this tragedy.

Why is brother being buried next to a grandmother he's never met?

Perhaps Grandma Julia is lonely.

God, does it not grind away at you?

Mother's exclusions? The secrets?

I will know things when I need to know them.

For fuck's sake. You sound just like her.

And you, starting to sound just like the dirty orphan.

Seems we all have our secrets.

And yours?

This flirtation with Teller?

It ends badly.

For everyone.

I imagine at first he wasn't frightened.

Willem loved wolves.

And his trouble with people, it…

it went away around animals.

He preferred them.

Yeah, I could see that.

As harsh as the truth is…

knowing what happened, it…

It brings some relief.

Here.

Sorry.

Wipe your cheek with that, you might grow a third eye.

I have not yet cried over Willem.

It seems in your company, I find the comfort to be myself.

Your feelings for me, are they true?

- Shit, that was too forward of me. - No.

I think about it.

Often.

My feelings for you, I…

More than often.

All the fucking time.

I was two years younger than Willem.

But he always felt like a twin.

That just sounds like the prattle of boyhood fuckery.

Willem was two years older than I.

But he always felt like my twin.

Always there.

Sometimes leading, sometimes following.

Growing up in New York, Willem and I always found an adventure.

- Something you need here? - I'm sorry, I heard a voice.

It was sweet.

Your adventures.

It did not feel too sentimental?

No! It felt…

like you miss him.

To have them know your only brother, in a page or two…

The story of a loved one is not for them.

It's so that we don't forget.

Yes.

That is quite true.

Reminding yourself of the truth?

Perhaps.

How's Trisha handling the loss?

My feelings for Trisha,

it was always just a boyish pull, but now…

Albie's right.

I might be putting us all at risk.

Love tends to complicate things.

Sorry.

You have burden enough without the worry of my fool heart.

You're a grown man, Elias.

Your affection's your own concern.

Sorry for your loss.

Willem was two years older than I, but he always felt like my twin.

Some days he would lead our adventure.

Other days he followed.

Growing up in New York, Willem and I would always go on adventures.

Whether it be a race against a cable car,

or a paper boat regatta

after a spring rain along cobblestone rivers…

- Moran. - Ah, thank you. Appreciate it.

- Get to the shop. - What?

- Samara, we need to go! Now! - Why?

But I remember him in the woods.

It was there, lost in the trees, that his eyes were clearest.

His step quick.

His mind bright.

He knew every living thing.

I used to know those men.

Their kind. Very dangerous.

Bar's closed.

Private service.

Buddy, your door's there open.

Whiskey.

Three.

We don't have time for this shit, Pablo. We said we were closed.

No!

My name is not Pablo.

Have the whiskeys waiting when we get back.

Whose guns are those?

- Papa, you're frightening me! - Get to the storage room.

I promise, I won't let anything happen to you.

So now, every time I hear the screech of a hawk,

or the yip of a coyote,

I remember my brother.

Hello, church people.

I'm so sorry to disturb you.

My name is Joaquin.

This is my associate, Joaquin.

And I am Joaquin.

Like you, we are all very sad.

We have come here today to find our friend,

Arkasha.

He will ease our pain.

Who will tell me where he is?

He's here.

The Russian.

My friend, the guns that you sold us,

they're all gone.

Ah.

It's very interesting story, huh?

No. No stories.

The ten cases of rifles.

Where the fuck are they?

Answer!

Yes! Yes!

Yes.

I know where they are.

No, boy! Get down!

This way! Come on!

I'll cover you. Go on, Trisha.

Go!

Winston?

Is that you?

Vamos!

Papa!

I love you.

You're not gonna eat?

Bourbon coils need cleaning.

Coils can wait.

I know you've got questions.

Before I was with your mama, I worked…

for powerful men.

Acquiring land in Mexico.

Our southern neighbors

didn't appreciate Old Hickory's hunger for a new territory, so…

they gathered forces.

Bad men.

Like we saw yesterday.

Tried to stop our efforts. My job…

My job was to not let that happen.

That bag of guns…

Your tools?

Tools of a different trade.

A different man.

Your mama,

she saw to that change.

What are you doing?

The ones traveling,

the fat keeps the flesh from rotting.

Family gets a whole face to say goodbye to.

What happens to them?

Marshals are coming.

They'll match up who they can to wanted bonds.

I thought the Joaquins were still in Sonora.

Fled Mexico a few months back.

Been raiding camps off the Columbia.

Seems they're a bit short on weapons.

Whatever Arkasha did with those guns,

doubt we'll ever know.