Damnation

Previously on "Damnation"...

We're burying the bodies of three men we just killed.

When these three don't show up back in Chicago,

whatever doctor hired them will be sending more.

You get me something I can use to drive that cowboy

out of town, I'll make it worth your while.

One penny for the entire farm.

- Take her bid. - Sold to Martha Riley herself.

Why are you suppressing news of the farmers' revolt?

Are you trying to get me fired?

I'm trying to wake you up.

We agreed we wouldn't talk about our pasts.

- If you'd just lower your gun. - Don't even think about it.

Wendell!

People change.

Mm, Mr. Turner.

So how goes your bold Iowa escapades, hmm?

I think I'm making real progress in ending the strike.

Yes. Real progress.

And yet I've seen you bust citywide industrial strikes

in less than 72 hours.

You've been in Holden, Iowa, for nearly 2 1/2 weeks.

Why are you having so much trouble with these farmers?

If I recall, you even requested this particular assignment.

Things are in motion.

Very soon these farmers,

they're gonna take themselves down.

Is it the preacher?

Sorry?

Well, is he the reason this is taking so long?

I've heard rumors of his agitations, Mr. Turner.

And I was dismayed to hear my colleague Tuck Tandy's manhood

was threatened at knifepoint by this same preacher's wife

at what they're now calling a "penny auction."

This particular hayseed town is, uh...

It's complicated.

When I secured your release

from that wretched Wyoming prison,

it wasn't so I could listen to you stammer out

sub-mediocre excuses.

I secured your release

so you could help my client and I optimize the pace

of American progress and prosperity.

Of course.

When I assigned you to Iowa,

I also paid off three common Chicago street goons

to intimidate the preacher at the same time.

I have yet to hear word from those goons.

I've taken liberty to hire a professional

to dispense of the preacher and his wife

so you can get back to focusing on the farmers

and swiftly, Mr. Turner, ending the strike.

Who did you hire to... to kill him?

It would seem that, uh, information such as that

would be legally perilous for someone in your position.

End the strike.

I would so hate to see you return

to that insidious prison.

The enemy isn't just out there.

The enemy is inside us.

It's there when we doubt each other

and God's role in our lives.

Alive or dead, we are all one body,

one community.

If Wendell Davidson was still among us,

I have to believe he'd agree.

We're here because I let the strikebreaker divide us...

because this is what the rich and powerful want...

for the rest of us to be too demoralized,

too angry at each other

to recognize that they're our real enemy.

Subtitles by explosiveskull

Why'd you drag me out here?

Well, I said I'd make it worth your while

if you got me information on the cowboy.

Here we are. Make it worth your while.

There's something between that cowboy and the preacher.

I saw it at the bargaining table.

This is about more than the strike.

I can't stop those two and get things back to normal

if I don't know what it is.

That cowboy'll never know.

I told you... he's just a john.

Who'll be on to the next town and the next.

Sporting girl.

Fine.

$332. That's how much I've got saved.

Get me the rest for the down payment,

and then we'll talk.

What are you doing all the way out here?

I've been writing about the life-and-death struggles

of my fellow man.

I didn't know if you had it in you, DL Sullivan.

Be right back.

So? What do you think?

Let me guess. Half-baked Hemingway?

- You have a gift. -

"And before the dust had time to settle,

"the deal was already done.

"Four men were dead at the strikebreaker's hand.

"Their children orphaned. Their wives widowed.

"But at least the rest of us will be spared

paying three cents extra on our next gallon of milk."

This is what people are hungry for, DL...

not Hollywood gossip, real news about real people.

- Written by a fake staff. - A fake staff?

For our underground newspaper.

Our what?

The "Tribune" has a printing press, doesn't it?

Yes, but if Mr. Babbage finds out I'm using it,

I'd lose my job.

Well, then we will just have to make sure

that Mr. Babbage doesn't find out.

Has anybody new come to town?

You know, anything out of the ordinary?

Hmm.

That'd be one way of putting it.

The damn carnival's here?

- Here. - I'll come with you?

Eh, better not. Work's sloppy enough as it is.

Yes?

Y'all seen any, uh, strangers lurking around here?

Every man is a stranger to himself.

Precious.

Answer the question?

The only stranger here is you.

Doesn't feel the way you wish it would, does it?

What doesn't?

Freedom.

Revenge.

The world of men.

Look, peddle your bullshit to someone else, okay?

Uh, you seen any suspicious figures around here?

You know, anything out of the ordinary?

All I see is marks and carnies,

just like anywhere else.

Fair enough, I suppose.

I saw you wrestle once.

When I was a boy, I went with my daddy

on a business trip to Cheyenne, and I snuck into this building.

And it was Pitchfork Perry

versus Ed "The Strangler" Lewis.

And I thought you were done for,

'cause The Strangler, he had you in the sleeper hold,

but I'll be damned if somehow you didn't reverse out of it

into this full nelson.

It was over in 15 seconds.

Anyway, uh...

I don't think I'll ever forget it.

Hey.

We actually picked a guy up outside Des Moines.

Dropped him off at a church. He didn't give us a name.

And he just kills you again.

Lew?

I heard you might be out here.

I wanted to surprise you.

Happy to see me?

I'm not sure that we've thought this through.

Oh, come on, DL.

Did Thomas Paine get cold feet

when he wrote the "Rights of Man?"

Thomas Paine was arrested for treason.

Now, this is beautiful.

Sure beats a hand-cranked mimeograph.

It's a Super Heidelberg...

One horsepower, 3,000 impressions an hour.

Now let's get to work.

At least tell me you still drink.

Not tequila.

Oh, tequila's your drink.

I keep pretty dry these days, Lew.

So this is you?

Living in the middle of nowhere,

not drinking, not shooting or riding,

just eating beans and conversing with the Lord?

I'm doing what preachers ought to be doing...

comforting the troubled and troubling the comfortable.

You sure you don't want some tequila?

It loosens you up.