Original subtitles

anoXmous

https://thepiratebay.se/user/Zen_Bud

- Doc: That's good. - How's Bullock doing?

I don't discuss my patients one with another.

Bleeding through his fucking ear?

He was bleeding through it pretty fucking good out there in the thoroughfare.

Tell me about that other department.

Inform that fucking lunatic next you see him

I'm fit as a fucking fiddle, and ready to play on.

Inform me, Al, to what mark

in your piss-pot did you fill?

The volume was adequate. I didn't check the mark.

Any discharge of gleets, burning or soreness?

(knock at door)

I got your suit back from Mr.-- whoo!

It's kind of, like, aromafied from that solvent.

Why don't you let it cure in the air for a while, huh, Johnny?

Not on the balcony. Not on the fucking balcony.

Gleets, burning, soreness?

(knock at door)

He's come back to my hotel.

Bullock.

Upstairs to the widow.

I can't say if they're in rut.

I didn't linger for the song of the bedstead.

(clears throat) Let me go check on those fucking whores.

No more in that department.

That fucking discussion is over.

I was relieved Mr. Star and Mr. Utter weren't more badly injured.

Yes.

I hope my coming to your store caused no awkwardness.

It was kind of you-- bringing that basket for my family.

May I ask if you had been aware their arrival was so imminent?

No.

She had written that William seemed entirely recovered,

but no mention of intending to travel.

He's handsome...

your brother's son.

He's a fine boy.

I would so like to see to your injuries,

however superficially.

My proposal would be we leave the camp immediately,

or remain and sever connection.

A choice for me to make?

Yes.

I don't seek to absolve myself.

I don't believe I'm to be relied upon for good judgment.

Or even for an account of your own feelings?

I only know

that for us to stay and not sever connection

would add lying to her humiliation,

- renew her humiliation daily. - Yes, I understand.

- You say I must choose immediately? - Tonight.

I'd need some part of tonight to consider.

- Yes. - Others are involved for me as well.

I'll come back in a few hours.

Be very careful in the interim, Mr. Bullock.

All right.

Be careful.

Trixie: ...two, fucking three.

- (Sol groaning) - Charlie: Easy.

A lovely family, the Bullocks.

Grand.

Looked forward all this while, and meet them with my load on.

Charlie: Easy does it.

- Easy! - Trixie: Two, fucking three!

- (all groan) - Sol: Thank you, Mr. Utter.

- Okay. - Much obliged, Mr. Merrick.

- I got him. - (Sol groans)

Look the fuck out.

Look the fuck out.

I ought probably to get some weapons.

Why?

What?

Why would you?

Maybe you didn't notice

Bullock was without his gun.

No, I did.

Perhaps with the ringing in your ears,

you didn't hear Mr. Bullock say he'd get his old weapon back.

You think maybe a new one might be useful

to Bullock arranging his old one's return?

And more backing his position?

May I have a word with Sol?

Sure.

- Will you mind if I hang around awhile? - Fuck no.

(Trixie to herself) Self-deluding, interfering motherfucker.

I'm sorry you got shot.

A man like me gets used to it.

If it had came to it, I'd have seen to dissolving the partnership,

sending your mother the proceeds.

Why would I expect otherwise?

And I know you would do the same...

What are you thinking of?

...along with any funds I might forward.

From the afterlife, you mean?

Any funds I would send subsequent,

I know you would administer in their interest--

Martha and the boy.

Yes, you're correct.

What are you fucking thinking of?

What we've built and been through,

you don't get to walk away without saying why.

You know why.

That don't mean you don't have to say it.

I'm sick of knowing and you not saying.

- I love her. - Good! You fucking said it.

And now I get to tell you you're wrong.

You loved her these months and stayed.

It ain't love that'd make you run, but shame.

Now let me ask you this, you think shame would end

when you cleared the fucking camp?

It's shameful either way, Sol.

It's life either way, Seth!

I'm sorry you got shot.

Well, I am too, but I like being loaded.

I like telling you what the fuck I think, you cocksucker.

I know you will see to their interests.

Yes, I will, you cocksucker!

And I like saying "cocksucker."

What the fuck do you think of that?!

Want a fast blowjob?

What?

Quick open-air blowjob.

(chuckles, stammering) Uh, no, thank you.

- Uh, Bullock. - Charlie.

Maybe Mr. Star will want one.

Thanks for going against orders.

I'll tell you, I got such a fucking ringing in my ears.

Thanks for taking my back before.

Oh, you're welcome.

Hey, I'll bet your wife and son

are overtook by that lovely home you built them.

Ah, and what did that boy say about a creek in his own front yard?

And that's a fine appearance he makes.

And if you don't mind my saying,

she is one striking woman-- Mrs. Bullock.

Sense of dignified and upright.

Thank you.

Anyways, where the fuck you headed?

To get my things from Al Swearengen.

- Oh. - Maybe for a word with Dan Dority too.

Gave me this fucking headache.

To The Gem then.

Jesus Christ.

I'm faint.

A faintness come over me.

Oh, Jesus.

That's a lightheaded fucking sensation.

Oh.

Did you want to go to your place?

Oh, maybe I should.

Maybe that's the fucking prudent course.

Give me some weight.

- (groans) - Come on.

Yeah, to not keel forward

and drown in fucking horseshit.

Ooh.

How are you feeling?

Things are a little wavy-like before my eyes.

Charlie: Fuck The Gem. Gem'll fucking wait.

For what it's worth, Yankton's afraid of Bullock.

Al: Well, say no more.

Refrain from explaining yourself.

Till Congress approves, nothing's to say the Hills get made part of Dakota.

Far as that, Montana's got pull Dakota don't.

Montana's got silver for bribes.

Thieving Indian agents are all fucking Dakota's got.

It ain't fucking fresh money to the game.

And how does that argue for Bullock living or dying?

Yankton thinks Bullock's Montana's man.

On what basis?

He was favorite of a judge in Helena that wanted him in politics.

They figure he's a stalking horse here for the judge's interests.

Then Yankton's got their head up their fucking asses

if they think Bullock's anybody's man.

Hell, Bullock himself don't even know whose man he is.

In the thoroughfare, as I readied to stab the cocksucker,

did you have no impulse to hint at this?

The moment didn't seem right.

Over time, your quickness with a cocky rejoinder

must have gotten you many punches in the face.

Depends what you call "many."

There's another fucking clever one.

To Yankton's thinking,

would Bullock dead curb Montana's interests

or incite them to a stronger expression?

- I don't know. - If he's spoiling to mix it with us further,

they may get a chance to find out.

Alma: He will leave with me,

if I tell him that's my wish.

As to what our life would be, that's another question.

I would say, ma'am, it might be like living atop a volcano.

- That's been done, Miss Isringhausen. - Certainly.

And with a good deal of excitement, I should think.

A sense of high adventure every day.

And, of course, danger.

As to excitement, would you possibly...

add happiness?

Why not, Mrs. Garret?

- Please don't be angry with me, ma'am. - No.

We do love each other.

Our being together ought not to seem so outlandish a proposition...

No, ma'am.

...except for every other single thing.

Charlie: Oh boy.

Yeah, there you go. Thank you.

Thank you, Bullock. Ooh.

All right.

I'm next to completely collected.

(groans)

Three separate occasions I've been shot at, hit and fought on.

And now a miss takes my equilibrium.

Anyways.

You want to get to The Gem, huh?

- Yeah. - Why?

I told you why.

Well, I mean why just this instant,

say, different from later a little while

when a friend could back your play?

I mean, someplace you need to get to after that?

I got the elements stored in the back.

Maddie: I hope to Christ you do.

Come in.

Don't anyone bolt for freedom.

I kept accumulating them secret so Cy wouldn't think I was proceeding.

Maddie: Well well well.

- There's the wallpaper you sent, Maddie. - Yes, ma'am.

Ladies, why don't you put your attention to some of the lighter furniture,

and we'll hire some great minds to do the heavy lifting?

Roll up your sleeves, Doris. Hard work dispels worry.

I pray to God your shoulder pain's

like some sharp-toothed creature's inside chewing at it and gnawing.

How did I give offense?

No one needs feeling as good as you'd feel otherwise.

Hmph.

I say from fucking experience.

And I didn't need the fucking activity today

and the fucking crises.

I prefer sucking prick is the fucking short of it.

I would settle for a vigorous hand-holding.

You are a funny fucking Jew...

(grunts, laughing)

...and type that insinuates himself.

General principle,

I believe in fostering people's tries at improving theirselves,

and I think you all also know that I got a special fondness

for Joanie Stubbs. And if those things wasn't true,

in this camp at this precise juncture,

I, Cy Tolliver, would not have backed

an exclusively high-end whoring operation

at the far fucking end of the camp

without concealed access for its trade.

But, be that as it may,

and wishing Joanie Godspeed,

this congregation gathers so that I can assure each of you

that our operation here, the Bella Union,

is organized exactly

to capitalize on what this camp is ready for

and for what it's going to become.

I want each of you to take one of these...

as a gesture of optimism and good will.

(body thuds, yells)

Jane: Keep your fucking distance!

Remain on your side of the street!

Do not interfere with me in any way!

Chinese cocksuckers!

Aw, Jesus.

(groaning)

(sighs)

Well, you are an entangled inebriate, are you not?

This happens to be a rig and contraption

of my own devising

against repeated accidental falls

that has temporarily malfunctioned.

Very well knotted.

I'm back in camp, Cochran,

'cause I'm dying

and I need a place to breathe my fucking last,

and not for no human aid or consolation.

Jesus Christ, you're bad with your hands!

If I wasn't practically fucking dead,

I'd reach that knife and cut myself free.

And I just farted. So what? Hey! Hey! Hey!

Don't you disarm me, you cocksucker!

Lift me up so I can cut myself free.

All right. You ready?

All right now, give me that hand.

(Jane groaning) Ow.

Now...

step inside

and let me examine you, even if you are past help.

Enhancing my understanding

may allow others the benefit of your mortal illness.

Do you mock me, cocksucker?

No.

Come on inside.

All right, there we go.

Promise when I'm dead, you'll plant me with a view of where Bill is.

He couldn't have meant that, not possibly.

I shouldn't have thought so.

You don't believe he imagines were he and I to go, I'd leave Sofia behind?

I can't be certain, Mrs. Garret. I didn't hear him speak.

Because others rescued her and nursed her,

is the idea that she belongs to the camp?

Are we some sort of vicious filthy outpost of Brook Farm?

She's been with me for seven months.

She's a part of my life as I am of hers.

He couldn't have.

I will not!

Jane, for me the female breast

has long ago lost all mystery or allure.

Open your goddamn blouse.

I'm keeping my eyes shut,

but I'll know every fucking move you make!

I'll have you further promise

that you won't forage in my remains after I'm dead,

as you obviously don't scruple from that type of sick behavior.

I promise.

All right, sit up if you're not too drunk.

Your liver runs from your chin to your genitals,

so I suggest you quit drinking.

I will when you do, you ugly son of a bitch.

Nature is a forgiving mistress,

and you might could have some time to fill

before she collects her due.

As if I'd credit any opinions of yours

on the subject of health.

Well, if you do care to sojourn among us,

Charlie Utter has put aside

a room for you at the freight building.

Does he have any animals in there?

Fort Cooper...

on the Butterfield stage route.

I know that fort.

- On the Brazos. - That's where I found him.

I was 13,

and he had to send me back.

But we had...

a good talk before I left.

Probably I'd have come looking for him again,

but next year was the war.

Robert was cavalry.

No way to locate where he was.

The fucking war had everyone all over everywhere.

We wrote.

Less after my father passed

and I headed to Montana.

I had letters when he married,

when they had their boy.

And we'd threaten visits.

When I finally did come to Fort Quitman

where Robert was posted and...

met Martha and William,

Robert wasn't there.

He was following back some raid across the Rio Grande.

I had let it wait too long.

He got shot and killed in Mexico

and was buried there.

Fucking Mexico.

I went down,

found him

and brought him back.

Wrong to let him lay there...

unless you're a Mexican.

(sighs)

Charlie: My bowels are in an upheaval.

I'll walk off to pass wind.

Don't ever say I'm not a fucking gentleman.

Fuck you too!

Slippery Dan: No. 10...

ruled me off, the round-eyed toads.

Cocksucker.

(groaning)

My concern, past your physical well-being,

is what the dispute portends.

Yeah, I don't know.

Is it settled between you two or still unresolved?

- I don't fucking know. - Your ribs are hurting, ain't they?

Yeah, they fucking hurt.

Well, I always believed, of His sufferings on the cross,

His busted ribs would have hurt Him the worst.

Hey, Adams? Cutthroat friend, huh?

And I thought you was in Florida having your belly rubbed by a Seminole.

What the fuck?

You aren't going to believe what happened to me, boss.

If Kate Hogranch is part of this story and fucking that half-breed,

- go ahead and try me. - That's not the stop that detained me.

I'm past my fill of this shit. Next time don't fucking catch up.

Guess the Day of the Samaritan's passed.

Stopped to help stranded Sisters.

Hi.

Severe reprimand.

Them two seem disputatious as well, huh?

Storm clouds gather.

Think you about got her clean there, hoss.

Another fucking clever one.

I bet when you and your partner's out on the trail,

when you ain't greasing poles and choosing who's going to be rider,

oh, I bet you and him just bust each other's guts

with your little fucking funnies.

Well, we do laugh some about you.

Man: Ho!

Let's hear a belly giggle now, you cocksucker.

- No. - God damn it!

Christ, that's one country ass-kicking!

Shut your fucking mouth!

(crowd gasping)

Oh, he just 12-pointed Slippery Dan.

(shotgun fires)

Next one is to your head, Dan.

Do not doubt me.

Well, that's just fucking great.

That's fucking beautiful.

Feels like a cannonball up my ass.

Fella in Livingston went sweet on me.

Finnish fella from Finland,

hardly spoke fucking English.

Brought me flowers and some dry food they like there.

And, uh, one night,

he takes my arm and he starts in

and he, uh, whispers in his Finland accent,

"I want to suck your cock."

(chuckling)

What do you fucking think of that?

Uh, oh, I missed the end part, Jane.

Uh, can't practically hear fuck-all.

A fucking bullet near creased my ear.

It didn't do your face no fucking favors neither.

- Yeah. - Put him to sleep.

I got to go.

No no no, wait wait wait.

Uh, wait.

- Let me get weapons. - For what?

Charlie: I told you, we was involved in a falling out.

And I guess hostilities

may be about to resume.

You going to tell me now who it was with?

Swearengen.

The limey cocksucker nearly did for the little one?

Charlie: Uh-huh.

Why the fuck was you withholding that information?

In the futile hope

of preventing you roiling the fucking waters.

How is that little one the limey cocksucker nearly killed?

Still in the care of the widow Garret?

I'll have my badge and gun back.

Well, go get the fucking weapons

for us to back him, Charlie.

Let me just wake my fucking watchman.

(bangs)

(squeals)

Doc: Alcoholic encephalopathy.

Wu: Huh?

Um... wet brain.

(groans)

$5.00.

(snorting, squealing)

Hawkeye: Anything else I can do for you, boss?

Keep up.

(tearfully) Just save your fucking words, Al.

Don't waste your precious time.

You got any orders, you just send Adams and he can deliver them.

(sobbing)

- Dan-- - You chose!

You took his fucking part!

As was right and fucking proper at the time.

Yeah, but you pointed the fucking gun at me.

And persuaded you I'd use it in order that I didn't need to.

(sobbing)

Dan?

Where you or me would have slammed that hoople up,

planted him back and twisted the cocksucker

till all the points of that buck's rack showed out his chest,

and then done it twice more in case the fuck mistook the first for accident,

what did Adams do?

He fucking walked away.

Different man from you and me.

Whatever lurks ahead

of grievous abominations and disorder,

you and me walk into it together like always.

As you'd never say to Adams?

As I'd never say to Adams.

(groans)

Send fucking Dolly up, huh?

Yeah, sure thing, boss.

When I first came to this camp

and for many years before,

I depended on spirits of laudanum.

May I ask against what indisposition?

Various indispositions.

The remedy was invariable.

Caring for Sofia has been a great joy

and a great freedom.

To give up her care

in love's name or any other--

the selfishness of that...

I'd be too afraid.

I ain't never seen a man killed like that.

By God, I'll tell you what, Johnny,

there would have been a hell of a lot more than two tines

sticking through that cocksucker's chest if it had been me or Al impaling him.

(Al yells) Jesus Christ!

Either Al got God

or Dolly just stuck her thumb back up his ass.

(groaning)

Now I'm halfway thinking

this exaggerates the condition rather than alleviates it.

If I might should query the doc,

but then that cocksucker will only ask after gleets.

(gasping) Oh my God.

Take it out.

Take it out. Remove your fucking thumb.

(groaning)

Why,

if I was moving forward to get away from you,

would you have fucking pursued me?

When I stopped, pressed on yourself

to drive your thumb into my intestine?

Sorry.

Is it a river of blood, or what the fuck's pouring out of it now?

Nothing.

Huh.

(sighs) Close the ass-flap.

The entire area of my fucking asshole

is now one gigantic fucking throb.

I have no idea what's transpiring in there.

- Shall I suck your prick? - Please.

Does he want to fucking die?

I understand that has its fucking appeal,

but not going out a fucking cunt, taking others fucking with you.

Dulled faculties!

Your fucking stupid fuck of a stupid fucking partner.

Wants to die?

Help me, Trixie.

Even this now gives me no pleasure.

Seth: Swearengen!

Be down in five minutes with my gun and badge!

Start down now, you limey cocksucker!

Allow for getting stuck crawling out from under the bed.

That Bullock's a fucking strategist, ain't he?

Sets terms to publicly humiliate me,

and my penalty if I don't comply

is he walks into the bar downstairs and takes 15 bullets in the chest.

And that ain't no hoople-head, you know.

Bullock, he's one of those special fucking cases.

You don't know what in fuck's going on in their mind.

And he's big with Montana.

Big.

I heard that today.

Because the news earlier from Yankton

and the fucking commissioners wasn't adequately confusing.

Not to mention the fucking telegraph coming in

and four whores that I don't know who the fuck they work for.

Seth: Three minutes!

(Al yells) Shut the fuck up!

I suppose I do fucking understand.

So fucking confused and disgusted

and wanting it to end

and looking for the blessing of a quick way out.

Sets himself to a higher fucking standard than our natures,

- and he wants execution 'cause he's failed. - Seth: One minute!

What the fuck happened to two?

Talk about one person

fucking up another person's entire fucking day.

Wait.

I had best go over.

Wait.

You linger awhile.

Do not think of thieving, huh?

Johnny,

produce that coal-oil-stinking suit.

Unless you'd rather get it for me.

I wish to fuck you two would

let me finish this the way I prefer.

Well, we wish to fuck you would find something else to wish for.

Jesus Christ! I'm unarmed.

He's coming. He's detained.

- Getting dressed. - Jane: Ain't it always a trial

picking out the gown best conceals you fucking pissed yourself?

I recommend the six-shooter,

being this rifle's first recoil's

liable to knock you unconscious with pain.

Thank you.

Selfish cocksucker.

(sighs)

Huh-uh.

That's not to say should the situation deteriorate,

you boys wouldn't open fire from concealment, huh?

(scoffs) Hardware Jew at less than full force,

now they'll be fucking quaking.

I regret the delay. I was sequestered.

Have been, one thing and another, since last we met.

I also apologize for the stink.

Welcome change from your usual odor of skunk.

I offer these,

and I hope you'll wear them a good long fucking time in this fucking camp,

whosever fucking thumb we're under.

And where it come to me just a few moments ago

that the Reverend Smith-- may he rest his soul,

he was found on the road,

apparently murdered by heathens just some months ago--

what he said on the subject of you,

"Mr. Bullock raises a camp up.

And I hope he'll reside with us

and improve our general fucking atmosphere

for a good long fucking time,

even with all the personal complications

and fucking disasters that we all fucking have,

and where running away

solves absolutely fucking nothing."

Did you find my hat?

Dolly!

Would you look for the sheriff's hat?

Remember the Reverend's half-dead face,

the cock-eyed look like he was the victim of a lightning stroke, hmm?

May she sail it down or would that be degrading?

- No. - Toss it, Dolly.

I wish her aim was as good with her thumb.

When the opportunity offers itself,

please return this to Mr. Bullock.

Yes, ma'am.

- Mr. Bullock-- - I don't want to talk about it.

As a practical matter,

self-censorship of the rigor which obtains from this camp

so muzzles the press

as to make the First Amendment a hollow superfluity.

Thank you.

She can situate me.

All right.

The man says he's finished, needs to get to his claim.

Four hours work, he's earned two bucks.

Says he wants to take it in pussy.

No, you want cash, Elmer,

to convert to pussy at The Gem or Bella Union.

All right, Joanie.

And let it be known in camp,

close to pussy as two bucks will get a man in here

is a deep whiff walking past.

Hey, can I, uh, get one of those and keep my money?

Have at it.

Fan some at him, Rosie, as he's leaving.

(deep sniff) Whoo!

Mother, it's the ocean!

There's a rodent-looking creature lamping one of your barrels.

Pay him no heed. That's the mayor.

You're tenacious, Merrick, I'll fucking give you that.

Just tell me how it began.

As to the conflict's genesis,

I'd lay it at cunt's doorstep.

Now has cunt one "N" and two "T"s or the other way around?

(laughing) Jeez, Al.

You solicited the true account.

Within the limits of decency.

You want the decent truth, huh?

I choose to believe that truth and decency need not be at odds.

Oh, you'll hear no argument from me.

Let it help me accumulate capital

or at worst, not interfere,

the story is true and decent.

I would define as true and decent

in such endeavor, the facts rendered fully

within social standards and sensibilities

without bias or abridgement.

Why do I imagine a snake swallowing its tail, huh?

Which is to say

the economic motive is but one strand

in the social tapestry my exemplary account would weave.

Ass-fucking the dirt worshippers being another,

huh, as a pleasure beyond gain?

Now now now now, I, uh--

Wait, was that your heathen imitation, huh?

Jump up and down a few times and shout out "whoops,"

as in, "Whoops, that ass-fucking hurts."

A more elevated perspective

would construe our conduct as white men

to be enacting a manifest destiny.

Whereas the warp, woof and fucking weave

of my story's tapestry

would foster the illusions of further commerce, hmm?

"Tonight, throughout Deadwood

heads may be laid to pillow assuaged and reassured,

for that purveyor for profit

of everything sordid and vicious Al Swearengen,

already beaten to a fare-thee-well

earlier in the day by Sheriff Bullock,

has returned to the sheriff

the implements and ornaments of his office.

Without the tawdry walls of Swearengen's saloon The Gem,

decent citizens may pursue

with a new and jaunty freedom

all aspects of Christian commerce.

In which connection, we particularly recommend--"

There you throw in the names of a few businesses

gave you good-sized adverts, huh?

May I come in with my boots?

Of course.

You haven't slept?

I waited for you.

To show the boy when he awakes,

I've got these back.

I saw that you installed a bundling board in the bed upstairs.

I did.

I hope you don't mind that I removed it.

No.

(Al wheezing) "A full fair-mindedness requires us also to report

that within The Gem, on Deadwood's main thoroughfare,

comely whores, decently-priced liquor

and the squarest games of chance in the Hills

remain unabatedly available at all hours,

seven days a week."

(breathing heavily)

(upbeat country music playing)

♪ Baby, will you please ♪

♪ Don't be late? ♪

♪ The little business you doing ♪

♪ Hurry up and get it straight ♪

♪ Get it straight ♪

♪ Don't make me late ♪

♪ The little business you doing please get it straight ♪

(man humming)

♪ Oh yeah ♪

♪ Get it straight ♪

(instrumental break)

♪ Woke up this morning ♪

♪ Couldn't hardly see ♪

♪ But I see'd a whole lot of girls ♪

♪ They were laughing at me ♪

♪Why ♪

♪ I don't know ♪

♪ I must been the wrong man ♪

♪ Standing on the shore... ♪

(man humming)