Original subtitles

Engine room!

This is the Captain!

Throw coal to the fuckin' boiler!

And a hard right rudder!

Hello, the galley!

Fuckin' jeroboam of champagne to the bridge immediately!

Uh, Mr. T.

Brief, uh, idle time,

a harmless wilin' away.

I'm considering, Con,

being Swearengen's decided a underling'll represent him

in certain of our mutual transactions, would it be my seemly tactic

to do likewise?

Hmm.

I'd need to know my man had discipline

and appetites in fuckin' harness and the like.

Well, what this is, sir, uh...

yesterday I occasioned to fuck a woman

after a considerable period of abstention,

and that seems now to have

throwed me unawares

into a fuckin' spasm of sex interest,

which I...

fuckin' pray will be brief.

Well...

I believe I'll defer enlisting you in this other aspect.

Prudent, sir, till I get well on the other fuckin' side.

Iceberg fuckin' avoided.

Looming fuckin' catastrophe.

Mr. Tolliver and Mr. Swearengen are...

- uneasy colleagues. - I wouldn't know, sir.

That feels to me less than a full verity.

I don't know what that means, Mr. Hearst.

That you not knowin' about any...

uneasiness between Tolliver and Swearengen

- sounds to me like a lie. - Yeah.

- I guess so. - Better.

Would you want me saying my first loyalty was to you, Mr. Hearst,

or to verity instead of Mr. Swearengen?

That'd sound like a lie too and peg me a liar in the bargain.

So I'll have to win you away.

I guess so.

But I oughtn't to imagine the process will be quick.

Guess not.

Good, Adams.

Did he coach you long?

Didn't fuckin' coach me at all, Mr. Hearst.

Captain Turner?

Go tell your friend I know he's afraid of me.

Dority? Big guy?

I guess he looks big to you.

Is that what you brought me here for? You want me to take that back to Dority?

I guess so.

Crazy nigger at the livery is in your debt.

Crazy nigger at the livery

ought not plan on this becomin' no habit.

No chance of that. He's bound for Oregon, Miss Lady,

with the handsome nigger you're talkin' to right now,

- if our luck holds to the afternoon. - Get off your ass and start to walkin'...

your friend might get to eat that warm.

Go ahead. Put a hole in that thing.

I'm measurin' the stroke to move you along with the rest of this shit.

Much obliged.

Travel safe.

Biggest day of my goddamn life

and I get a fuckin' spittoon spilled over my head.

That you already knocked on its side

when you were fuckin' dozing.

I'm glad I did it.

I've enough blood and guts spilt in my goddamn place, Steve.

For a lifetime, you understand?!

If it takes the contents of a spittoon

to make you fuckin' wash, then so fuckin' be it!

What does washin' have to do with the other, Tom?

Well, to put you on the fuckin' path!

Fuckin' respect yourself and the fuckin' occasion,

and bring no more fuckin' shame onto my place, God damn it!

After I own the livery, you slanty-eyed bastards,

maybe you'd like to come by and look at me then!

Now get the fuck outta here!

Here! Harry, what time is it?

Hour's 17 minutes till 10:00.

67 minutes until my fuckin' luck changes forever.

No harm in him showin' up early.

You've done this camp a great service, Mrs. Ellsworth.

You're very kind.

And yet, Mr. Merrick, in candor,

witnessing the events of late in the East,

oughtn't any depositor pause and consider

before trusting his savings to a bank?

Uh, well, I suppose that's true.

Which is why

a bank owned locally,

wishing to make available funds to organize

- and develop our community... - Mm-hm.

...to build businesses and homes,

and whose deposits are guaranteed by gold

not two miles distant from this building

in which we sit,

isn't that

why the depositor at the Bank of Deadwood, having considered,

ought come forward in assurance and confidence?

Yes.

Yes.

Have you any questions for me?

I have not, madam. Not... not at the present moment.

Well, I guess that argues for me showing

Captain Cuntface how goddamn afraid I am.

It wasn't aftertalk between you and Turner?

Hearst was there when Turner said it,

and Hearst I asked did he want it brought back to you.

Hearst says to me, "I guess so."

"Guess so" don't sound like Hearst.

I'd said "I guess so" before. I think he was making small of me.

What is there to consider over, Al?

That sea creature Turner called me out.

It's Hearst calling you out. I'm trying to decipher his reason.

Me seein' to Turner will not delay your goddamn decipherin'.

Can you shut up now, Dan, that you fuckin' couldn't before?

He hurt you, then he calls you like a dog.

I had to tell him to fuck himself.

Even as I forbore till I could see to my fuckin' arrangements.

Think they'll get seen to by the snows?

Ready your pen.

Your addressing me like a fuckin' field hand

won't impede me cooperatin'.

Now go!

That... that's it, Hostetler.

'Cause I keep my sense of priority

on what the fuck is important.

I broke your fuckin' tip.

"Mrs. Alma Ellsworth,

serene and comely principal of the just opened Deadwood Bank,

assured this reporter that depositors need fear no local echo

of Eastern financial panics.

A locally-owned bank..."

- Careful, be careful. - Thank you.

Uh, "lending to develop businesses and build homes in the region,

and backed by the underground assets

of one of the strongest mining concerns in the Dakota territory,

such a bank cannot help but..."

Do you mind if we

walk on more level ground, Mr. Blazanov?

- Oh, no no no. I'll watch out for livestock. - Thank you.

"Such a bank cannot help

but draw prudent customers in great numbers

from every area of our Black Hills."

Mrs. Ellsworth, being so elevated,

so sweetly radiant in spirit,

I wonder if her words

resonated with me at the time

as being more poetic and compelling

than now they seem in cold transcription

and with the lady herself absent.

This is bad.

To abandon a friend like that when he's overtaken by drink!

I think this is more woeful, Mr. Merrick.

We shall fetch the sheriff, Mr. Blazanov.

Leon.

Mr. Tolliver.

That's a guilty skulkin' fuckin' look on your features, son.

I'd think by now you'd be more come to terms

with your weaknesses.

Merciless conscience, sir, since childhood.

You're buyin' drugs?

I was buying drugs, yes, sir.

That is the fuckin' cross my weakness has to bear.

And do you bear it for yourself alone, Leon, or long as you're about it,

with others as well and earn the extra dollar thereby?

I do not do that, sir, no.

I got to wonder, son...

is it you that's been helpin' Lila in her fall?

It is not, Mr. Tolliver.

Lila drops her own bucket down the well.

I'm telling you, sir! Takin' a whore of yours down,

that's next to directly robbing you.

Fella like me that's been...

indisposed,

to show he's back in play

might cut a thief's throat.

You're fuckin' misinterpreting it.

I-I was copping for another but it wasn't fuckin' Lila.

I was copping for that cunt at the bank.

Their faces weren't familiar,

the men who left him here.

His name was Pasco.

Does Pasco have a friend here?!

How do you know his name?

Cornishman, talked union,

worked for Hearst.

Do you feel there's a significance to that?

The third of those Cornish organizers's been killed.

You've got nothin' to say to that or on any other fuckin' topic.

On Hearst's orders, you believe?

A knife to the chest, body atop Hearst's works in the thoroughfare.

I withdraw from our agreement.

I'd ask its very brief extension.

No.

No. Or we're both just fuckin' cowards.

I ain't no fucking coward!

Though Dan might support your position.

What's he talking about?

Wait a bit, Bullock.

Don't go for Hearst yet. You know Al.

I've got the briefest of other business.

See to it.

Yes, s-see to it, Bullock.

Watching us advance on your stupid teepee, Chief,

knowing you had to make your move...

did you not just want first

to fucking understand?

Huh?

Your repayment of the loan we make you now, Mr. Fields,

whose proceeds purchase Mr. Hostetler's livery,

is secured by the livery deed itself

to be held as collateral

in the possession of the bank until the debt shall be satisfied.

Understood and agreed to.

And don't lose one second to wakefulness or worry.

I'll repay in a timely fashion.

Will you be paid in specie or currency, Mr. Hostetler?

Gold, please.

Thank you, Trixie.

I don't suppose a handshake

signaling the transaction's completion

is absolutely required.

Then I guess we won't have to do it then.

And if you're hoping to pass as a man before you hightail it to Oregon,

you will return to me that board you made me sign.

Thank you so much for squiring me,

these gentlemen being so obviously compelled by other responsibilities.

Such acid scrutiny by former boon companions.

We was never your fucking boon companions, EB.

Forgive my confusing, Dan, my own deep feelings for you

with what yours may have been for me.

I did not offer my hotel to Hearst,

which sale has made me outcast among you.

Hearst forced the transaction upon me.

I miss our morning coffee.

Yeah?

Being no one is frequenting the main bar, Davey,

what in fuck business you think you're gonna do standing behind there?

Boss says I'm to attend the auxiliary bar.

The auxiliary bar ain't made a cunt hair's bit of business sense

since its fuckin' inception!

Go on up and set the boss straight.

Hey, you don't want to take that smart-aleck tone,

that fuckin' attitude with me, Davey. You hear me?

Hearst organizes violence between his man and Dority.

- Does he? - Orchestrates combat between them,

mutilates me, plants that organizer's body like a flag in the fuckin' thoroughfare.

That last is fresh news.

Makes of me and Tolliver a two-headed beast

to savage what might be healthy borne out of the fucking election

and gnaw its own privates off-hours.

Plans keep coming to the cocksucker

that their final sum is this:

but for what brings income to him, break what he can;

what he can't, set those parts

against themselves to weaken.

Scoundrel!

Hearst.

The why's what fucking confounds me.

What's in his head I cannot fucking find in mine?

Don't suppose you talk to the captain?

Hails and farewells, but he never replies.

- Or the cook? - The negress and I are not intimate.

All right, EB.

- May I ask your plans, Al? - No.

Only to further their achievement.

- No. - All right.

All right.

Yeah.

Glad to have been of help. Always available to counsel.

I dare not think what you've been through to reach us.

It's been a crucifixion.

Too painful, even the merest details.

Formidable, even at bay.

My last camp, Jack.

As it may be for us all, young man.

The place is yearning for elevation

and festering with wealth.

Oh dear.

Augment of cupidity in the iris,

a healthy augury.

We must help them however we can.

Heave ho, young man,

but slowly.

It's past me. I cannot figure the fucking angle.

Go ahead and fucking fight him.

All right then.

What you want to be carrying, Dan?

Nothing I would want found secreted on me,

worse comes to worst.

Well, don't say you ain't bringing your blade.

Naked, visible in its fucking sheath

and dispensable before we join.

If he dispenses with his.

If it's getting to go wrong, Dan,

you just drop down flat.

What the fuck did you just say?

Drop flat if it's going wrong

and I'll blow his fucking head off.

You do and it'll be the last goddamn thing you do on this fucking earth.

Going wrong is not the end of fucking things, Johnny.

Fuck no!

I have come back from plenty of shit

that looked like it was going wrong.

All right, Dan.

He's got the advantage on you there, don't he?

That short-cropped fucking hair?

Well, he's not lacking for brass.

"Come scare me in the thoroughfare."

Star City, Captain,

you remember the man's name?

Leonard.

That was a fight.

Not how I remember.

...As an object lesson to every man watching.

For not much fight, it did not end quickly

I suppose is what I'm trying to say. Do you understand me?

Yes, I understand.

Oh, you son of a bitch!

Thank you, Jack.

I am your Jack, Chesterton,

but your producer too.

A rigor we've always sustained.

To carry a performer through illness

when recovery is in prospect

is an indulgence one can sometimes justify.

But support of idleness

destined for the grave,

that, Chesterton,

the narrow economy of our art does not permit.

You would have me die destitute?

You will purchase your keep with that voice...

intrusive and incessantly opinionated...

no vagary of our past has yet stilled.

The subject?

We have but one. In this instance,

the theater is formerly a bordello.

The eye lines must be quite wrong.

In the morning, it meets

with your atrabilious scrutiny.

Oh...

I must rest.

Bellegarde?

We proceed.

- Costumes, Countess, will you chair? - Ja.

Props and scenery, chair?

Only if you serve as second.

I'm so so so so sorry. Is costumes taken?

- Are they performing now? - Quiet.

Civic relations...

I'd appoint myself...

without objection?

Will we continue as if all among us are well

when one so plainly is not?

And what committee, Bellegarde, to address the old man's mortal illness

- would you have us fucking form? - No committee.

Committees is the task before us.

- No business as usual. - Business and tasks is what we'll have,

just as you are tardy and ginger on your bum

for the usual fucking reasons,

despite your deep personal grief.

Not offered as a case for change.

Civic relations is me,

and we'll include here a subcommittee

for the renovation of the bordello.

Supervision of the work, subcommittee head... Countess, done, with thanks.

Civic relations,

construction subcommittee, Claudia.

Countess is the second.

Hiring laborers.

A truth divinely writ:

We make more devotees of theater

engaging 20 laborers at $2 apiece

than two of the same at $20.

Busy busy busy.

Is he receiving as yet?

Let me go see.

Tell him last fucking call.

Broken bones mortally interfering with organs

is what I would like to rule out.

Doc's back, Dan.

I don't need the fucking doc.

Come on, Dan. Let him look at you.

He come back special.

You heard what the fuck I said.

He wants to poke around in some innards,

tell him to work on the one I killed.

Bottle?

One of the girls?

There's a clamoring line to see to you.

Get the fuck out of here, Johnny.

Sure.

Listen for raspy

fucking shallow breathing

in the course of the fucking night.

Him going blue too, would hint to you

- to fucking come get me. - Definitely.

Have you ample towels?

Uh, ample, thank you.

Enough hot water?

Well, I could almost wish it cooler.

May I help you with your back?

What?

Scrubbing your back.

Uh, I'm out now.

Thanks anyhow.

Does it occur to you, banging repeatedly on the fucking wall,

either I'm not in... which makes what you're doing stupid...

or being in, don't want to see you...

which makes you a pain in my balls!?

Doubtless now nodding agreement like Little Boy fucking Lost.

What?

Hello.

You fucking work at the bank.

I do now.

Not a noble "hello" at opening

and regal fucking look-by at the closing up of shop.

I'm at the hardware store all day, Trixie.

I'll switch with you.

Bank's a Jew's proper province anyways...

along with the addled self-deceived.

Our depositors?

The bank's founder and president,

chief officer, as well, of air-headed smugness

and headlong plunges unawares into the fucking abyss.

- I don't understand. - You wouldn't.

You're too fucking healthy-minded.

You'll sit here waiting for me to materialize from a piece of fucking furniture

and think the world is normal.

Do you want to get fucked or not?

Please.

Your hair looks like a porcupine's.

Forgot the brush.

Do you mind?

Well, no no no.

That's...

- How's it now? - Better.

Thanks very much.

I haven't finished.

Oh, go ahead then. Go on.

- Presentable? - Very.

You're young for failing eyesight.

Spiny too, like a porcupine.

Huh-uh.

I guess it'd be unmanly

to fear I may faint.

Please don't.

I'll make some arrangement.

What do you mean?

For my things and the like...

arrange to collect my things.

Will you have me...

bring the little one back?

- I'll collect Sofia. - Don't forget.

Five hours looking for this goddamn board.

Come on, come on, come on, come on, yeah.

You think this is pretty fucking funny,

- don't you, Hostetler? - No.

Watch me crawl around here like a goddamn fool,

and you laughing up your fucking sleeve.

Hostetler don't know where the board is. I'm the one hid it.

Oh, I believe that. Definitely.

Assistant fucking baboon. You hid it,

he don't know where and you can't remember where it is!

I wasn't too drunk not to know I should hide it,

but I was too drunk

to keep track of where.

Is this it? Is this the board?

Clean it the fuck off!

Well...

Yeah.

Bring it here. Bring it in.

Unwrap that cocksucker!

What the fuck is that supposed to be?

Give him the board.

You think I'm a fucking moron?

You think I'm a moron

- to fall for your fucking lies. - Don't you call me dishonest.

I'll call you that and worse.

You hand me that and then ride off with the actual board?

This is the actual board, wrapped in the cheesecloth that I stole off a horse.

I never knew this board was took

from where I had it until I looked for it during late last night,

and that's when he told me that he had hid it.

To keep you from doing something stupid.

This is the board, for Christ's sake! What difference does the rest of it make?

I don't know it's the actual board. There's no more fucking writing on it!

Shall I accept myself as satisfied,

only for Hostetler once escaped

to send the real fucking board back from Cheyenne

while he's laughing up his lying sleeve?

For Bullock to open the package and humiliate me?

Or for the fucking bank woman to humiliate me

with the true fucking board? Or to revoke my fucking security

on my fucking loan?

Or whatever your fucked-up plan is to make me a fucking cunt!

I will not be called

a fucking liar.

I didn't live my life for that.

Yeah, fuck you, Steve. We're leaving. Talk stupid to our fucking dust!

Yeah?

I wish you'd look in on Dan, boss.

Not for being poorly as...

down.

Johnny,

some shit's best walked through alone.

Dan's killed people before. You have too,

but neither've been solitary after.

A fair fight,

something Dan and I have always struggled to avoid,

is different.

You see the light go out of their eyes.

It's just you left

and death.

So that's why Dan wants to be alone.

He knows where to find me.

Sit down if you want to.

What are... what are we waiting for?

To see what kind of hell breaks loose.

Whiskey, please.

And leave the bottle.

I just saw to the remains of a friend.

Yes, sir.

George Hearst.

Jack Young.

- Jack Young. - Yes, sir.

- How do you do, Jack? - How do you do?

- Sheriff. - Is he up there?

- Who? - Is Hearst fucking up there, Farnum?

I cannot say. I cannot say.

I cannot betray the whereabouts

of an owner-guest.

Mr. Hearst...

I regret not being out here with you before, sir.

Help too stupid to wake me from my nap.

Not at all.

Go on down there now, Jack.

At least do that much right.

Hell of a fucking day.

How much do you know?

I heard there was a set-to in the thoroughfare.

Did you know it was my man killed?

Was that the outcome?

My man was killed, yes.

I'm sorry.

It happens. It's the nature of things.

It don't lessen the sadness

when it's a friend.

The sheriff joins us.

Whiskey.

The sheriff recently put me on notice

he is vigilant

of my possible transgressions.

You sound drunk to me.

Whom are you addressing?

You. You sound drunk.

- Do I? - Mm-hmm.

When I say "Fuck yourself, Sheriff,"

will you put that down to drunkenness

or a high estimate of your athleticism?

Did you just tell me

to fuck myself?

I think I did, and to shut up

or I'll quiet you myself.

- You're under arrest. - Fuck you,

and shut up

or I will shut you up for good.

Threatening a peace officer,

I'm taking you into custody.

- Don't be stupid, Bullock... - Don't you be fucking stupid.

Fuck you.

Johnny.

The sheriff eliminates several of our options.

Not a fucking word comes to print.

Understood.

♪ Jaybird pulling the turning plow, sparrow pulling the harrow ♪

♪ You gonna pull it today, big boy, and I'm gonna pull it tomorrow ♪

♪ I'm going home, son, I'm going home ♪

♪ I'm going home, son, I'm going home ♪

♪ Go on, old nigger with the black boots on ♪

♪ I sure do wish 'twas slav'ry ♪

♪ I'd take this trace chain here and run you stone crazy ♪

♪ I'm going home, big boy, I'm going home... ♪

You like that all right, boys?

♪ I'm going home, son, I'm going home ♪

♪ Grandma had an old bulldog, she swore he's double jointed ♪

♪ She sent that dog to the blacksmith shop and had his nose pointed ♪

♪ I'm going home, big boy, I'm going home ♪

♪ I'm going home, boy, I'm going home ♪

♪ Girl, bring me my shotgun, rifle ain't got no trigger ♪

♪ We going down to party tonight, might meet another nigger ♪

♪ I'm going home, big boy, I'm going home ♪

♪ I'm going home, son, I'm going home ♪

♪ I'm going home, son, I'm going home ♪

♪ I'm going home, big boy, I'm going home. ♪

That's enough of that, eh, boss?