Longmire

Previously on Longmire...

You seem more than usually irritated with Branch.

Branch Connally for Sheriff!

Looks like my campaign advertising is working.

He's so focused on the election, he's barely doing his job.

I'm hoping we can find a way to be friends.

You know I'm not gonna invite you in, right?

Did you know Detective Fales was in town?

Would you mind telling me why you were in Denver?

What I need is for you to tell me everything that you told Detective Fales.

The slightest contradiction in our stories, and he will notice.

Well, it looks pretty big.

Should be able to get enough timber to do my cabin steps.

It's a sign that you are a lucky man.

Good timing. The election is a week away.

One day, you're standing tall.

Next day, people are walking all over you.

A lot can change in a week.

Ignore the polls.

I do.

But there are some things I can't ignore.

You still haven't told me

about your chat with Detective Fales.

You know the police.

He asked questions, and I answered.

Worry not... in one week, you will be re-elected

- and life will get back to normal. - We'll see.

That answer verged on optimism, almost excitement.

- You want this job. - Let's just finish this one.

You want Branch to win?

- No. - So you want this job.

Knock it off.

You've never said you want anything. Just say it.

Come on. Say you want to be Sheriff and you want to win.

Okay.

I want to win.

No, no, no. Don't put words in my mouth.

Walt Longmire's done a fine job.

All I'm saying

is Absaroka County deserves more than fine.

We need to look forward, not backward.

I'll call you back.

Return to your vehicle, ma'am.

You know how fast you were going?

- 80 in a 55. - 81.

I'm gonna ask you again... return to your vehicle.

- We need to talk. - Here?

Yeah. Um, I didn't ass-dial you the other night.

I called you and pretended I ass-dialed you.

I mean, I have ass-dialed you, but not that time.

That time, I wanted to see you, and I can't.

My head's not in the right place for a relationship.

I wanted to call you and tell you all of this,

but I'm sick of the phone, and I'm not gonna text,

so I wanted to say it face-to-face.

Well... we could have met for coffee or at the monkey bars.

No, I didn't want anyone to see us and get the wrong idea

and start gossiping. I mean, you know this town.

Right? So...

Now it just looks like you're giving me a ticket.

Yeah. Great.

Now it just looks like candidate Connally

is harassing the competition's daughter.

Don't bring politics into this.

We're friends, right? But that's it.

That I can do... nothing more. I'm done.

You want to say something? Fine.

Cady... we're not done here.

Did you not understand what I just said?

- Barely. - Okay.

- I want to see you again, too. - Not gonna happen.

I think it will.

See you in court.

- Do you see anyone? - No.

All right, let's let it cool down.

Sheriff Longmire, the fire department can handle this.

It's a volunteer fire department.

Today, we volunteered.

Geez, relax, Mathias. He saw the smoke and came running.

Yeah, to a nice photo op.

- This is not about the campaign. - Well, that's funny

coming from Walt Longmire's campaign chairman.

What the hell happened here?

- I don't know. - I do.

This house belongs to Dolan Lone Elk.

He's been protesting a fracking operation just outside the res.

Now his house blows up

from methane seeping into his water supply.

- It's ironic, isn't it? - What's the name of the company

- that's been doing the fracking? - Newett Energy.

You know, Mathias,

the link between fracking and water contamination

hasn't totally been proven.

There's some methane that naturally occurs in sediment.

Not everything's a conspiracy.

Henry! Toss me your lighter!

Walt, we just put this fire out.

I rest my case.

Both spouts are open. Water was running.

Which means the gas was leaking.

Someone was definitely home.

All the windows are closed.

This one's locked.

Build up enough methane pressure in

an enclosed space, you get all this.

Dolan told me the methane levels made him afraid

to even take a shower without opening the windows first.

Why didn't Dolan do it this time?

I got it.

Are you taking the body to Doc Bloomfield?

- Is this suddenly my case? - Ours.

My people, your energy company.

Accident or not, blood is on their hands.

Okay, boys. The sooner we get the autopsy done,

the faster we find out what actually happened.

Ever heard of a burn victim leaking blood?

I don't think it's blood.

- What is it? - Paint.

- What the hell's going on here? - Please, brother. Keep back.

I have a right to see that body.

Sir, you can't come in here. Hey, hey, hey.

It's okay, Philly. It's his house.

That's Dolan Lone Elk.

If you're Dolan Lone Elk, then who's this?

Ethan. It's my brother, Ethan.

Take a seat.

Any idea why Ethan was at your home?

He's family. He doesn't need a reason to be there.

- And where were you? - I was at a sweat.

- For what? - For strength to fight Newett Energy.

Idle No More is planning a protest here today.

- They can't silence us. - You think this explosion

was someone trying to silence you?

Ever since I blew the whistle on Newett Energy

and started telling people what this company is doing

to our land and our water,

they've been trying their damndest to intimidate me.

My brother's murder

will just make our voices stronger and stronger.

Okay. So, if it wasn't an accident, why would someone kill Ethan?

Because they thought he was me.

I guess all Cheyenne look the same to everybody at Newett.

- Was Ethan part of Idle No More? - No.

After he graduated high school, he left the res for college.

He just moved back a few months ago

and accepted a management position at Nighthorse casino.

I guess he figured that white presidents on green paper

would cure all that ills us.

Maybe he just didn't know about the methane problem.

Oh, Ethan knew. All Cheyenne know about it.

We got to open windows and doors just to wash our hands.

We have to sleep with windows cracked and one eye open.

We need to notify Ethan's wife.

Sometimes, this kind of news is better coming from family.

Her name is Lauryn. She works at the casino, too,

and I'd prefer it if you informed her.

So, if you two don't mind, I've got to get back to my people.

I'll see myself out.

Doctor Bloomfield called. He wants you to come over right away,

said he needed to talk to you in person.

Damn it, I really wanted to meet him.

So what is Doc Bloomfield like, anyway?

Ruggedly handsome with a somewhat irresistible air of mystery.

Hey, Doc. This is Deputy Moretti.

My mother's Japanese, father's Scots-Jewish.

Thought I'd be Korean, right?

We didn't come here for your genealogy, Doc.

You said you needed to talk in person.

The, uh, Mayor asked me to personally oversee the autopsy

and inform you of any results.

- Why? - Well, apparently, Newett Energy's C.E.O.

called the Mayor's office this morning,

wanted to make sure no details were overlooked.

Also wanted to make sure no law-enforcement officials

jump to any costly conclusions about liability.

I assume that means me.

Well, you do got a reputation of being a Cheyenne advocate,

and you never really learned

how to properly oil the haunches of power.

- What did you find? - So far, nothing but trouble.

First of all, Ethan Lone Elk had been painted red from head to toe.

Now, the paint fueled the fire on his front, as you can see,

but his back was preserved, most likely 'cause

he was lying down when the blast occurred.

I took a sample of the paint... red, oil-based.

Here. I cut a swatch from his shirt.

And I hate racial stereotypes as much as the next guy,

but it looks like he was one drunk Indian.

I swabbed inside his cheek.

Hardly seems official.

You can't actually get a tox screen back in 24 hours, can you?

We don't have the luxury of time, given all the givens, darling.

So, Deputy Moretti, please do me a favor.

I want you to hold this mouthpiece over Ethan's mouth just like so.

Ah. Grazie.

Walt, I want you to stand there.

Now, on the count of three,

I want you to press down on the victim's chest. Ready?

One, two, three.

He just blew a 0.34.