Original subtitles

I raise 100.

Back 100.

That man's overplaying his hand.

All right.

Whatever the fuck I got left.

420 back to you.

As advertised,

you got more nerve than sense, huh, Bill?

What have you got?

The man stays on fours.

And they call this a game of skill?

You gutted me, didn't you, Bill? You son of a bitch!

You were told about that talk.

Go eat, Jack.

All right.

I thank you for that kindness.

You just bought yourself something with that.

Some boys can't go near a cliff without jumping off.

20 to the dealer.

Much appreciated.

Any ideas for the rest?

I believe I'll stay with cash.

Montana.

No rest for the wicked.

Well, what are you doing up?

Well, it's cooler working now. Quieter.

Sorry you had to listen to them

drunken fools before, Mr. Hickok.

When you and Mr. Utter was helping us?

I come through unharmed.

And Bill would be easier on my nerves.

Mr. Hickok makes me look for the warrant in your hand.

All right.

Montana okay with you?

The only other nickname I ever had was Sloth.

Don't seem to fit.

Choice was among the seven sins.

I guess I got out before the others surfaced.

Camp looks like a good bet.

My wife and boy are with her people in Michigan.

I hope I can bring 'em out soon.

They'll get the Sioux making peace.

Pretty quick you'll have laws here

and every other damn thing.

I'll just settle for property rights.

Will ya?

I'm recently married myself.

Is that so?

The missus operates a circus.

She's in Cincinnati

waiting for word of my success.

Sol and I put our last sifting cradle aside for you.

Why don't you go ahead and use it, Bill?

What slows me down is thinking about

freezing my balls off in a creek.

Or the cocksuckers I'd lose the gold to at poker.

I'm flat out tired.

Turn in.

I got her covered.

I believe I will.

Good night, Montana.

Good night, Bill.

My pop called me "Kite."

I was supposed to leave for Cheyenne two damn hours ago!

What kept you, Charlie?

You don't fuckin' sleep!

I don't know what in the fuck is happening to you, Bill.

So you stayed in camp to tuck me in?

If you don't want to prospect,

I could put you in charge of that mail route I'm gettin'.

I'm doing what I wanna do.

Bullshit!

Some goddamned time,

a man's due to stop arguing with hisself,

feeling he's twice the goddamned fool he knows he is

because he can't be something he tries to be every goddamned day

without once getting to dinnertime and not fucking it up.

I don't wanna fight it no more.

Understand me, Charlie?

And I don't want you pissing in my ear about it.

Can you let me go to hell the way I want to?

Yeah.

I can do that.

Good luck in Cheyenne.

Good luck to you too, Bill.

You know me, Al.

I don't scrutinize or second-guess.

If you wanted to explain

why I'm to buy the dude out of a worthless claim,

- I'd surely listen. - Jesus Christ.

What is it?

The dude must've had some kind of accident.

My word.

- Looks dead, don't he? - Yes.

See, my reasoning was, get the dude his money back,

keep him from asking in the Pinkertons.

Appears now that's unnecessary.

Make the offer to the wife.

Al, once that dope-fiend

throws her skirts over her head and hightails back to New York,

you think she'll give one wet fart about what happened at this camp,

let alone send the Pinkertons out?

And 20,000's a lot of money.

Let me tell you several things, EB:

first, $20,000 is a lot of money;

second, it's my fucking money;

third, the widow, being a dope-fiend,

might let matters rest;

but fourth,

well, this camp has a lot more to offer me than $20,000

as long as I don't get killed by the fucking Pinkertons.

Why take the chance?

Go see to the grieving fucking widow.

All right, sir.

Mrs. Garret?

What a tragic turn.

Do you require Dr. Cochran?

To treat your terrible grief?

Yes.

I would like to see the doctor.

Of course, who wouldn't?

I'll get him right away.

Ask him, before he sees me please,

to examine my husband's injuries.

I'd like his opinion on how they were sustained.

I assume your husband died in a fall.

All I asked you to do was get the goddamned doctor.

Of course, madam.

Is that what happened, Mr. Dority?

A tragic turn?

A terrible accidental fall?

I'm sorry, ma'am.

Oh yes.

Come on, stupid.

She wouldn't have nothing to do with me, Al.

She told EB

to have Doc go over the body.

You think he smells the gold?

Nah.

EB's too busy sniffin'

what he can steal being go-between.

Whereas you, Dan,

you show me foresight and loyalty,

the way you handled making the find.

Just know when I'm outta my depth.

Amateur. Comes on a lark to dabble,

and falls to his death from the ridge.

Yet the widow suspects foul play.

I know Al wants her leaving here

with as least of a sour taste in her mouth as possible.

Wouldn't you expect her husband's death

to be sour on her tongue no matter how it happened?

Question's whether it's fate she blames,

or people in the camp.

What are you looking for?

Morning, Seth. When did you get up?

I didn't go to sleep.

The woman that newspaperman pointed out to us yesterday

just lost her husband.

Fella bought the gold claim at Swearengen's?

Innkeep just took the body down to the doc's.

You weren't twiddlin' your thumbs overnight, were you?

I've brought the doctor.

Please, come in, Doctor.

I'm very sorry about your husband.

Was he murdered?

I was told that he fell from a ridge.

He had skull fractures consistent with that.

Not been wounded by bullets nor strangled.

No other sign of foul play.

Leaving how he came to fall?

As to that I have no opinion.

And yet...

in treating me,

you were so full of opinion.

You took the most comprehensive view.

I said you needn't make up symptoms

- to get the laudanum you want... - Perhaps you don't feel

at such perfect liberty to opine on my husband's case

as you did on mine.

Do other considerations constrain you?

Do other men?

I do not know how

your husband's skull got caved in.

You're a bright woman, aren't you?

Must've gone through hell here.

Go on home, Mrs. Garret.

What's her mood?

Who is it?

Mr. Farnum, Mrs. Garret.

May I be of further service?

Once I've determined my plans.

I'll certainly need a coffin.

I'll see to it.

Thank you.

What is it?

Would you open the door, ma'am?

I would like to say something to your face.

I'm overcome with remorse, Mrs. Garret,

that I failed to change the course of events.

It was me your husband outbid for the claim.

If it will simplify your situation in any way,

I renew my offer at $12,000.

I know it won't bring him back.

No. We both know that.

You'll have your answer shortly.

All right, madam.

Is this Mr. Hickok's room?

Who's asking?

My husband's just died under suspicious circumstances.

Suspect someone else.

When Bill's killed a man, he says so and states his reasons.

I don't suspect him.

My husband had tried to engage Mr. Hickok

just before his death and I thought, though they hadn't come to terms,

perhaps Mr. Hickok would be willing

to advise me on my current situation.

I'd pay whatever fee he thought appropriate.

To talk to you?

I have no one else in the camp.

I'll get him.

He's sleepin' one off.

Thank you.

I'm sorry about your husband.

May I ask your name?

- Jane. - Thank you, Jane.

Wait in your room.

It'll take him awhile to get the phlegm situated.

All right.

I'm sure you don't need me explaining a place like ours.

A doc in frequent attendance can

sew the seeds of doubt.

All depends on your standards of hygiene.

We want 'em shiny, make no mistake.

There's a wide range of normal.

Friday and Saturday mornings and the mid-week day

of your choice will be right for us.

I can... I can work that out.

So what does Swearengen pay for a visit?

$20 for routine call, all girls in.

Ah. And what's his idea of routine?

Once every three or four months?

Anyway, how's, uh... $50 a visit sound,

three times a week?

Done.

Lubricants.

Well, armed and ready, madam.

Thanks very much.

Howdy.

Howdy yourself. You the operator?

Cy Tolliver.

Name's Crane. I'd like a room,

I'd like exclusive use of the safe and I'd like to shoot some dice.

I'd like to think this is the first day of a long friendship, Mr. Crane.

We'll get you a room. If you'll step into my office

we'll meet your needs for a safe.

Help you with your luggage.

Suitcases go to the room.

Expect you'll keep the valise.

Keep what you expect to yourself

and you'll improve our chances at that friendship.

- Young man. - How are you, Cy?

Done some good work on this place.

Eddie's work.

Hey, Andy.

Hello, sweetheart.

So let's go, let's get something working.

We could rob Cy.

How 'bout a bath first and a nap...

- and sex with an unfamiliar woman? - Sure.

Signal when ready, commander.

If I didn't make my point, I'd like to get something fucking working.

Sure, Andy.

How's Andy look?

Like he spent three weeks on a wagon.

I'm optimistic, Al.

And she's promised a prompt reply.

I'd have thought she'd say yes on the spot.

You did offer her the whole 20?

How can you even ask me that?

- EB? - I offered 12.

Did I ask you to play her?

Can't you follow one simple fucking instruction?

She will take the 12, Al, and be happy to get it.

And all you'll have to decide is

how much of the eight you saved should go to me.

- You're incorrigible. - I do my best.

I'll go weigh the 12.

She says yes, there should be something in this for you.

Hint at the amount.

Don't get ahead of yourself, EB.

When she signs the bill of sale

and you come back here and sign it over to me...

it is your 12 after all.

Once all that's done,

you should walk outta here with 2,000.

Fair recompense.

For saving me money in spite of myself.

I suggested to my husband just last night

that we should try to view our time here

as one experience bought at a single price.

Even now he's murdered, I feel that.

That to stake the boundaries

at... at just that fact is impossible.

For one, this camp

hasn't any laws or courts.

If it did, I've no evidence. I'd have tried to take

the thing all whole if they hadn't offered on the claim.

To receive their money would be a separate matter,

make me an accomplice of another sort.

How have you been an accomplice till now?

A wife inevitably feels

she's had some part in what befalls her husband.

I'm answerable hereafter, on different terms.

I need to know

what I'd be selling them.

You don't believe the money's to keep the Pinkertons away.

Why pay me?

If it were a ransom to keep the Pinkertons off,

why not pay Brom instead of killing him?

It's this saloon operator you think is pulling the strings?

Al Swearengen... it was certainly he manipulating Brom.

The slimy limey cocksucker.

All right, ma'am.

True sounding's not guaranteed

but I'll try for a feel of the bottom.

What shall I pay you, Mr. Hickok?

I prefer you pick the figure.

Is $100 enough?

Perfect.

Whiskey.

And how'd they take to the craps game?

Like chimps at their first fire.

Downstairs.

Thank you, Dan.

I'm Al Swearengen, Mr. Hickok.

In the last few days,

I've been locked in my room weeping,

searching my memories

as to where my path might've crossed yours previous.

And as to how I might've given offense

that you stay in this camp not 50 feet from my joint

and never once walk in.

- No poker. - Is it that simple?

Dan, dismantle the titty corner and set up a poker table.

Not necessary, Mr. Swearengen.

I always felt poker slows a joint's action.

Bit of liquor, pussy,

and faro made my entire fuckin' career,

but certain people I do respect.

This man Garret, who fell off the rocks...

The Eastern dude.

His widow's had an offer on his claim

from that innkeeper sitting in the corner.

But she's reluctant to sell

till she understands what's behind it.

Why have you asked me?

She believes you'd know.

Her husband came here with childish ideas.

Bought himself a gold claim with me an honest broker.

Claim pinches out, which will happen,

but he can't take that like a man,

has to blame somebody.

Seller's left camp so he picks on me.

Says he'll bring in the Pinkertons

if I don't offer restitution.

I got a healthy operation here, and I didn't build it

brooding on the right and wrong of things.

I do not need the Pinkertons descending like locusts.

So I bend over for the tenderfoot cocksucker.

"Reconnoiter your claim fully," I say,

"And then if you're still unhappy, I will give you

your fucking money back." And the tenderfoot agrees.

Just as he's finishing his reconnoiter,

cocksucker falls to his death. Pure fucking accident.

But up jumps the widow in righteous fucking indignation.

Wants the doctor to examine him for murder wounds.

My visions of locusts return.

I see Pinkertons coming in swarms.

Commissioned by the widow.

Who I recognize is grieving, and has better intentions probably

than to hold on the truth.

How's the innkeep come to make the offer?

Underbidder on the sale I brokered

still believes in the claim.

Even though the gold is pinched out?

Well, this camp's expanding.

We've already had one hotel close.

He sees the property as real estate.

I'll take this back to the widow.

I only hope you show it to her

in a favorable fucking light.

What's that worth?

What?

The light I show it in?

What's it worth to you?

Why, Wild Bill.

They certainly don't appear to be at odds.

What happened to this little one

was the same exact cocksucker.

Seems he was pulling the strings

in your husband's fleecing and gettin' him killed.

This Swearengen operated the road agents

that done for this little one's people.

Oh, poor child.

To lose her family, to see them slaughtered.

Very same cocksucker.

It's Bill.

You stole off on me.

I had to come in here to look out for the little one.

I thought she might want me present.

Yes, I... I'm very grateful.

Didn't happen to put one right between

the shithead's eyes, now did ya, Bill?

Unless you need the money right away,

I'd defer a decision until someone honest

and competent did a second reconnoiter.

May I commission you?

Some question my fitness on either count,

but I'll guarantee you I'm not competent.

I do know someone I trust to ask.

Please do.

Name's Bullock.

I'll go talk to him now.

How'd you leave it with the cocksucker, Bill?

On terms he'd understand.

Al, watchin' you even at a distance

was a pleasure and privilege.

If she don't come back to you with an answer inside an hour,

- you pay a call on her. - But Hickok's an ally, am I right?

I mean if that wasn't a damn ally leavin'

my eyes completely deceived me.

- An hour, EB. - Yes, sir.

Pour me a drink.

And ask me the key to a long life.

What is it?

Most important human quality for a person to reach old age?

I'll buy the drink if you tell me.

Same as a dog who keeps his nose.

Don't poke it where it don't belong.

Wise words.

A lesson hard to come by,

but thoroughly learned.

Something else I know.

My knowing what I know

and somebody else knowing it,

is two entirely different things.

I'm near losing your trail, Ellsworth.

Say somebody thought I saw something I shouldn't have.

Whereabouts?

On a ridge.

A man, pushed off or whatever the hell else.

If it meant my leaving camp

to prove I could mind my own business,

it'd be a friend who told me that.

Instead of throwing me to the pigs.

It's my whole philosophy and outlook.

Make use of it as you will.

Well well, if he... if he was here sealing an appearance arrangement,

then I'm glad it was you that tied him up, Al,

not that new fucking operation,

what with them fancy signs and cleaned-up women

where I heard he was gambling all night.

We made no appearance agreement.

Well, uh...

- You and... you and Hickok... - No.

Oh, I see.

Well, I mean, because his game at my place yesterday

was this far from coming to lead.

Him and this droop-eyed hoople-head,

and I had to shut it down.

I mean, if that gives him offense or umbrage,

well, I can't worry about his plans

as far as where he decides to gamble elsewhere,

or this new joint overwhelms the camp.

We made no agreement.

What do you think of the new joint?

Nice sign.

This far from fucking gunplay.

Jack fuckin' high!

That's what I held.

I bet every fuckin' cent.

Miracle to me is you sit here bragging about it.

I ain't braggin',

or a braggart, or a blowhard.

I state a fact. I live by a fact...

Anyways, it's over.

Yeah, you believe that because you're a walkin' fuckin' cunt!

With your cunt... your eye movin'.

No matter how your day's going, Jack,

you're always fun to talk to.

Give me a buck then, Lou.

He sent me off for a meal.

Give me a buck, see what part of you gets shot

because I...

I possess a fuckin' gun that I didn't bet.

I'll pay you $5 for that gun, sight unseen.

'Cause what you need is a stake to make your comeback.

That'll get you out of this brown study you're in.

What'd you take off of me?

The tag from your new suit.

All right then.

Name a price.

If it's close to fair, I'll pay it.

For the suit?

For your gun.

No, I believe not.

I believe no.

He too is God's handiwork.

Oh, double fucking solitaire.

Where's your fucking ballgowns?

Bring a bunch a chips over here

and let's get a poker game going!

I don't know this camp.

I'd have to bring someone from Montana.

Would the widow give it that much time?

Yeah, she would.

She don't wanna be stupid or fooled.

Wants to stand up for her husband better than he stood up for himself.

Not that she ought to stick around.

Far as that goes, she could sign a proxy.

There's her $100 in it,

and what that saloon-keeper gave me if you'd wanna take it on.

All right.

I guess she's all right

till that saloon-keep decides I can't be trusted

to betray her interests.

Trust ain't his long suit.

She oughtta be lookin' for a wagon.

Thanks for the favor, Montana.

Sure.

I like Ellsworth too.

There's a difference between talking a lot,

which Ellsworth does enjoy,

and oversteppin'.

He don't get into other people's business.

Then what are we talkin' about, Dan?

Well, my own standards as to who's reliable

ain't the same as Al's.

So Ellsworth has to leave camp over the difference?

Yeah, he does if it's that or kill him.

He said tell him if those was the choices.

Don't you do it.

Which?

Either.

Asks a bribe for something he never intends to do.

Takes my 150 then tells her not to sell.

Why are you so sure he told her not to?

You went back there, you knocked on her door.

She said Hickok reported to her his conversation with you.

But she wasn't prepared yet to give me an answer.

Does this make sense to you, huh?

She pays Hickok to come talk to me.

He goes back, tells her to sell.

And then she says she needs more time to make up her mind.

That idiot couldn't put one in his ear.

If you're talking about Tom Mason, I'd say that's water under the bridge.

I'd say Hickok has to die if I have to kill him myself.

Jesus, Al, with all that's going on?

How would it sit with the widow, for one thing?

How would that dispose her toward us?

Let me pose you a question, EB, you fuckin' cunt!

Someone comes at you, what are you supposed to do about it?

And I'll pose you a question back, Al Swearengen!

If a friend, or at least a professional colleague,

has a mistaken impression of who's coming at him

and who isn't, what are you supposed to do then, huh?!

You don't think he's coming at me?

I don't think Hickok's coming at ya, Al. No, I don't.

I think you're a man with so many different responsibilities

you sometimes get feeling beset.

And in that frame of mind, take things personal.

I'd sooner the cocksucker was dead. Simplify working the widow.

We don't get to choose the world we live in.

Bella Union cocksuckers to worry about

and every other damn thing.

You got a full plate.

I need to fuck something.

Trixie!

Hey hey hey!

Get the bottle.

That's using your old noggin, Al.

Get yourself some relief.

Let the world do its own spinnin'.

Don't be pointing your fucking thumb for me.

Me and you done talked that subject out.

What's new, Dan?

Nothing.

No news at all?

If I had somethin' to tell you, Ellsworth, one way or another

I'd tell it to you.

Well, then I reckon I'll have another drink.

Who is it?

It's Joanie.

Wait a second, honey.

Give me just a second.

I fell asleep.

I broke up three catfights, Andy.

Girls wanting to give you a bath.

I fell right the hell to sleep.

You ready to meet some strange?

Tell you the truth, Joanie, I'm...

feelin' outta sorts.

Well, you had a long trip.

And I've heard worse confessions.

That's the gospel truth,

which I hope you'll keep to yourself.

Yeah, sure I will, Andy.

I feel fucking unwell to myself.

Why don't you lie back and let me get your boots off?

I don't think you should touch me, honey.

That's the gospel on that score.

No girl in the world ever got sick pulling off

a pair of boots, Andy.

But if you want,

I won't take more liberties.

$50 an issue.

Well, uh, frankly, sir,

that-that would purchase your advertisement an amount of space

wildly incommensurate with the accompanying articles.

See?

I never heard that word in my life.

That's his trade, Cy. He's a wordsmith.

Do you shoot craps, Mr. Merrick?

Excuse me?

Oh oh, oh no!

Uh, no, I haven't shot the craps in sometime.

Perhaps never?

If you'll keep my secret, sir,

no, I've never shot them.

Maybe that would make an article:

a man learns to shoot the craps.

Well, we're agreed on $50 an issue.

Have we actually agreed?

I feel almost duty-bound to remonstrate you, sir.

Three months in advance, Eddie.

$50 an issue.

Let's see the man with the cash.

Seriously?

Don't let him take your money, Mr. Merrick,

while he's teaching you this game.

Who did you give to Andy?

Nobody. He's poorly.

Does he need a doctor?

Maybe he does.

God damn it!

I told you I didn't like the way he looked!

Stand outside room eight, no one in or out.

Get the doc.

Tell him... someone fell.

I told you.

Thank you for your help.

I'll look forward to Mr. Bullock contacting me.

May I ask, ma'am,

when you'd expect to leave the camp?

I'm not certain.

Bullock is honorable.

You can trust him to see to your interests.

He couldn't come more highly recommended.

You know the sound of thunder, don't you, Mrs. Garret?

Of course.

Can you imagine that sound if I ask you to?

I can, Mr. Hickok.

Your husband and me had this talk.

And I told him to head home to avoid a dark result.

But I didn't say it in thunder.

Ma'am...

listen to the thunder.

Very good luck to you.

Thank you for all your help, Mr. Hickok.

Thanks for coming, Doc.

The boy said someone fell?

Room eight.

It's Jane, Bill.

Come ahead.

This little one's cool as a cucumber.

Is that so?

Feel this little one's forehead.

Fever and you parted ways, young lady.

Did she just ask to borrow money?

Anyways, how'd it go with Bullock?

He'll help the widow.

Good for him.

Good for you.

Did you tell her so?

Hmm.

You think she'd want company?

I'll bet she'd enjoy yours.

Maybe she'd enjoy...

feelin' the little one's forehead.

You're probably enjoying your damn privacy

with Charlie headed for Cheyenne.

I'm writing my wife.

Why didn't you say something, damn you!

I owe you a penny.

So long, Jane.

So long, Bill.

All right, breathe big breaths.

Oh, my back!

Oh, my aching back.

I'm gonna get you something to ease that.

What's he got, Doc?

I guess it's his back

is what he landed on when he fell.

My back is wet and broken.

I don't know what he landed on.

Wait, who said he fell?

Course, if little pussy sores

rise up on his trunk and his face,

more likely he's got other trouble.

- Oh, give me a game. How I ache. - Okay, Andy.

I'm gonna give you somethin' to ease that.

You lost your friend in the fire.

Hey! Hey, winkie!

Come here to me.

Does that look American to you?

No, this ain't.

People don't eat this shit!

It touched it!

Meow meow.

Aw hell.

Boys.

Howdy, Bill.

My father was the best company,

from the time I was ever so little.

Problems or...

difficulties or even sadness, no such thing.

Not permitted.

The evening I was presented to society

I found out later he'd

been able to attend only by physically fleeing

some dismal legal difficulty.

In that sense, my marriage

to Mr. Garret was a tremendous solution.

Tremendous.

At the ceremony I remember Father whispered to me...

"Darling,

I can never repay you for what you are about to do,

but I can repay everyone else."

And he said, "To think of you with him

in that godforsaken place

is almost unbearable."

Meaning your husband?

And I said, "Maybe he'll die."

Take that, God damn you!

Hang the bastard!

What happened?

He shot Wild Bill Hickok.

Hey yah!

Do you see that?

♪ Life feels so empty ♪

♪ You feel all alone ♪

♪ How did I wander ♪

♪ So far from my home? ♪

♪ These thoughts run through me ♪

♪ Stolen my faith ♪

♪ Please help me, my Father ♪

♪ For I've fallen from grace. ♪