Deadwood

Quit your goddamn knockin'. I'm comin'.

Casket's come with your name on it.

Why tell me in the middle of the night?

- Body's inside. - Evidently not mine.

Well, I'd as soon make delivery.

You'll find out where when I decide, goodnight.

I don't like your tone of voice.

Who are you, Mr. Utter, for me to care what you like or don't?

I'm the guy that the next time you see me,

you'd better take a different fuckin' tone with.

Given what's in store, I'm not sure I'll ever learn

what price I'd have paid for not complyin'.

Oh, I guess someone lookin' hard

might could find you in there somewheres,

peekin' from under the covers

to make a fuckin' threat.

Their quality apart, Claudia, failing reception,

our efforts are lost to the void.

I understand.

Don't say so! Please!

I lose my thought!

This camp is in mortal danger.

The man Hearst is a murderous engine.

My friend Swearengen,

aware their combat is unequal,

feels the appeal of the gory finish.

Others I've just come to know stand candidates

in the elections,

whose results they know may be moot.

What, one is disposed to ask,

in fuck ought a theater man to do?

Of a certainty, our debut's postponement is necessary.

But unless of one's own volition,

certain is it, too,

that one would not be canceled.

To prevent that, if need be,

even off the boards, one would take steps

of one's fuckin' own!

Why did you bring me here?

I don't know, child.

What's the point Al having us leave I.O.U.s

when Wu can't read fuckin' English?

Wu gets back, he'll take Al the I.O.U.s for interpretin',

find out Al did the rightful thing

- while he was gone. - It's a big point with Al, ain't it?

When he ain't lyin', Al's the most honorable man you'll ever meet.

Silas Adams: Johnny, balance up against this fuckin' Chinese sign

- while I lay my rack on your shoulder. - Why?

Just shut the fuck up. Get this meat inside.

What are you gonna do?

Murder.

Where the fuck you been?

I fuckin' vouched for you!

We're camped up at the Spearfish Meadows,

as not to tip Hearst off

till Swearengen can deploy us.

I mean, I rode into town to tell you,

but I fell one saloon short.

Come on.

A lot of chinks in that Meadows up there.

Is the railroad comin' to camp?

To have kept our claim,

we'd have had to leave here, you and I,

so that thugs we'd have had to engage

could counter Mr. Hearst's thugs

without having the further responsibility

of defending us.

So...

we are to sell, Sofia,

so that we may stay.

To be fair to Mr. Hearst...

which is more than he deserves...

the price he is paying assigns a great worth to our holdings,

which lacking expertise of our own and others

now being absent who might have provided it,

as a practical matter

makes refusal absurd.

But how I hate to give that man what he wants.

Your hair has survived my diatribe.

If we left,

we wouldn't be able to see Mr. Ellsworth.

And we are not leaving.

Silas: Your fuckin' throat's gonna be at risk, Hawkeye,

in case you don't fuckin' realize,

which wouldn't bother me, except mine's gonna be, too.

George Hearst: Advancing your interests,

Mrs. Ellsworth,

mine

and all others,

what we do here seems

natural and proper.

Mr. Newman, I ask you

to ready payment

to the officers of Mrs. Ellsworth's bank.

We'll receive it where we can put it in her safe.

May I hope, madam,

you do not subscribe to this insulting

and juvenile precaution?

I do not find the precaution juvenile,

so many having been murdered

with whom you've had dealings in this camp.

At least you acknowledge the insult.

I acknowledge the pretense to civility...

in a man so brutally vicious...

as vapid and grotesque.

Have the gold seen to her bank, Newman.

Have its purity assayed.

Let her or her seconds choose the man.

When that tedium is completed, have the documents witnessed

as though we were all of us Jews.

And bring the business back to me.

Excuse my absence, Mr. Star,

as I hope you'll forgive

my thoughtless aspersion on your race.

You stand for local office,

but some contests being countywide,

I await wires from the other camps.

You've changed your scent.

Can't shut up!

Every bully I ever met

can't shut his fuckin' mouth...

except when he's afraid.

George: You mistake for fear, Mr. Bullock,

what is, in fact, preoccupation.

I'm having a conversation you cannot hear.

See, that's just Ms. Stubbs now answering my message I sent her

by secret thinking, requesting unguent for my bruises.

Hello, hello, Ms. Stubbs.

Hello, hello, yourself.

- Hello, Sofia. - Hello, Ms. Stubbs.

I'm just going to the center.

- I wondered if you needed anything. - I've let her in on it.

You needn't tell a stretcher how it is you come to appear.

You told?

Asked for unguent by secret thinking for the beating

- she was giving my hand. - That's my purpose in the center.

Stopped to ask if you needed aught else.

If I did, I believe

you'd already know.

Hit her a good one for me.

Sofia: I will.

- (knocking on door) - George: Come in!

I was looking for Mr. Hearst.

Who do you think you're talkin' to?

Candidly, of late,

I'm at pains to be certain

which voices are within me and which without.

This one is without, telling you to come in.

Of course.

What is it, Mr. Hearst?

I've sensed for some while we owed each other a talk.

Let the outcome be grim or worse,

I'll at least be relieved

that it's past.

May I look at the addressee?

How will you know to whom it is be delivered

if you do not?

Oh, dear...

well, I'll be on my way, then.

Must have shook 100 hands in Sturgis.

When you declared for sheriff, Harry,

I feared you'd be a poor campaigner

and derelict in your duties here.

You've held your end up and more.

Ache in my hand and wrist, the deep-set dirt defies me.

Well, if sweeping, you don't raise your usual simoon,

it's a paltry price to pay.

Fuck if you saw that comin'.

I have something to show you, Harry.

The Finster Model 60

steam pumper fire wagon.

Harry Manning: 120-gallon boiler?

Three brass nozzles.

Nickel-finished firebox?

I believe that to be the case.

Did the hats come?

Is that a checker in Steve's mouth?

Samuel Fields: You don't want to look after him, just say so.

Rutherford: Who says I don't?

Only he kibitzes my moves.

- Where are you goin'? - Takin' him to vote for Bullock.

This may require my supervision.

I'll vote just before lunch.

And I'll go once you've relieved me.

You don't expect me to believe you didn't steam this open

and reseal it for me to open again.

I didn't wanna know.

This motherfucker!

For my complicity in his shooting, he orders my death.

- You did read it. - (gasps)

Be quick then, please.

Your complicity's mostly in your noggin', E.B.

It's the whore he wants dead.

By what vile method, then?

Is Trixie to be drawn, and quartered,

and set aflame?

Say he'll have my answer in an hour.

- Al. - E.B.

I can't, Al.

I can't engage him in further conversation.