AL! IS! BACK!
Alma, on her morning walk to the bank, is the victim of warning shots fired by Hearst's goons. She is rescued by none other than Al, resulting in her first ever visit to the Gem Saloon. Al talks her into taking the sweet, sweet path of revenge served cold. She completes her walk to the bank, solo, under the watchful eye of Al's team, and against the wishes of a nervous Ellsworth.
Drama of a non-theatrical variety is going on with Langrishe's troupe. Two women -- one the dancer who we saw last week at the amateur night, the other the reserved artist staying at the Grand Central (and possibly his...wife?) -- cause Jack no end of personal torment. He invites the dancer to move into the theater, which causes the artist to leave camp. Lord only knows what any of it means, but it really upsets Claudia.
Hearst thinks he's shown Al and the rest of the camp who's boss, and who could blame him? After all, Al's been on the fence for nine episodes, not making any sudden moves. Well, NO MORE! When Hearst sends the Head Brick over with a thinly-veiled brag about the Alma incident, Al stomps the guy nearly to death and THEN slits his throat. Oh, it's good to have him back.
It's morning at the Bella Union and Doc has come to check up on Cy who has apparently messed around and reopened his stab wounds somehow and...nobody cares at all. Doc gives him a speech about how stupid he is, says if Cy ever does this again he won't treat him, and leaves on a powerful, but not quite as painful as earlier this season, coughing fit.
At Shaunessey's, Langrishe is modestly asking the prissy little innkeeper if the mysterious "gypsy" woman who danced at the amateur night is staying there. Shaunessey turns on his snoot meter. "And what would your business with her be, if she had?" he asks, giving Langrishe pause. "To hear my fortune told," he answers, cold. Shaunessey draws himself up, offended. "There'll be none of that on these premises," he says, like a one man chapter of Focus on the Family, and Langrishe calls him out. "Nor were those my true intentions," he says, flatly. "Your query is impertinent." With that, he smacks a handful of coins down on the desk and asks again if the lady is there. The money causes Shaunessey to have the sudden memory that she is in 2-C. Langrishe smiles, looking pointedly at all the innkeeper's self-righteous Bible verse signs tacked up everywhere. "As your faith must proscribe receiving bribes," he drones, "credit the five toward her stay."
Aunt Lou brings Hearst his breakfast in the dining room where he sits with the disgusting Jarry. He melodramatically tells her that he'll call her as soon as hears anything from the freight office about Odell's remains. She barely mutters a frigid "all right" before walking away.
Langrishe has found his mystery woman. Y'all...okay. I have no IDEA who she is. What has become of me and this show? Normally, even if I have to translate it, I at least get it. I have a few theories -- she's Langrishe's daughter; or his lover; or...a really well made-up Thai transvestite he picked up on his travels...I don't know. And this is what makes me sad about this show ending in two episodes -- I bet this storyline was eventually going to be crazy good and interesting. I know we can't see it now, and that the troupe has generally been getting on all our nerves, but...wait, wait. What if she's AL'S DAUGHTER? Huh? Huh? How you like that one? No, fine, I don't really think that, but I'm at a loss. Langrishe is mixed up with two mystery women in this episode, and this is merely the first. Anyway, he is in her room, telling her that should she wish to do so, she can apply to The Countess to join the troupe. "The devout Shaunessey," he says, "has a week in advance to your account." In some indiscernible accent, she tells him to get the cash back from Shaunessey. "I will not," she says, "take money from you." Langrishe is exasperated. "Are you not being quite absurd," he yells, "in the self-serving way of your sex?" She says she's come to Deadwood "for learning." He points out that to learn, she must live, and wonders how she'll make a living amidst the thoroughfare's depravities. Holding her head high, she moves toward him. "Let me stay in the theater," she says, and he is once again nonplussed. "At a minimum for the career to which you aspire," he laughs at the would-be actress, "you show the requisite presumption."