Bullock Returns To The Camp

Episode Report Card
Al Lowe: B+ | 1 USERS: A+
Bullock Returns To The Camp
The night is dark as Bullock and Charlie ride into what looks like an army encampment. I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but there are gates. Bullock sees the horse on which McCall made his ride out of Deadwood, and shows it to Charlie. They roll up on some guys sitting around outside and do a little song and dance for their benefit. "Look at that paint, Charlie," Bullock says. "I had a happy just like that." Charlie makes a big deal of rolling his eyes, and tells the men that Bullock makes him miserable reminiscing about that old horse. Bullock asks the men if they know the owner. "If he'd sell the horse," Charlie says, "is what he really wants to know." Grimly, one of the men says that he doesn't know if the owner would sell, "but the fuckin' jerk is in that bunkhouse." Bullock and Charlie thank him and head inside.

They easily find McCall, drunk, with his head down on an empty card table. "Jack McCall," Bullock says, waking the slumbering idiot who slurs that he doesn't want to play anymore. "Being a loudmouth c*nt," Bullock continues, speaking generally to the ruffians gathered in the bunkhouse, "I guess sometime since he's been here, this fella, who don't want to play no more, probably spoke of killin' Wild Bill Hickok. Well, we're Bill Hickock's friends." The place empties immediately, and the three men are left alone. McCall looks instantly sober. Behind him, he hears the two men name themselves. "And if you got your head blown off sittin' here with your back turned," Bullock adds, "that'd be as fair play as you gave him." Things are tense for a moment before Bullock releases the hammer and, instead of shooting McCall like the dirtbomb deserves, he merely pistol-whips him.

We cut to see Bullock hog-tying him over the paint. The man they spoke to earlier wanders up: "I guess you wanted to soften him up some before you made your offer?" Bullock smirks, too exhausted to clench. Riding out, he tells Charlie that his plan is to take McCall to Yankton and let them deliver whatever justice they see fit. "If you got a different idea," he adds, "you can ride ahead." Charlie looks at him for only a second before agreeing. "Let's take the cocksucker to Yankton."

The next morning, Dan is getting the Gem ready for business, talking to two young people who have come in looking for their father. He says he does not know of a Henry Anderson in camp, though that doesn't mean there isn't one. The girl, played by Kristen Bell from your beloved Veronica Mars, looks especially fresh-faced and innocent. The young man says they have a picture they'd like Dan to see, taken of their father twelve years ago in the army. Dan reaches for it, but the girl asks if she can just hold it for him to look at. "With so much showing," she says, "it's pretty near falling apart." You can almost see Dan's heart -- and, excuse me for saying so, groin -- grow three sizes as he leans over her shoulder, taking the liberty to place his hand on hers as she points to her father. He says the man does not look familiar. They say their dad wrote to them from Bismarck, saying he was coming to the hills to prospect. Some random blowhard at one of the tables overhears all this and has to ring in with his two cents. He says there's no guarantee that their father is anywhere near Deadwood. "And there's no fucking joy in me telling you that," he says, "but it's the goddamn truth and the way human beings are." Kristen Bell gets nervous. She says her father said he would send for them and their mother, who has, sadly, passed away since then. Dan looks kind of sad about this, and says that he's sorry, wishing them luck. He shuts down the boy when he asks for work, but Al, descending from his lair and seemingly with hearing more powerful than any creature on Earth since he was nowhere near this entire exchange, stops them all, saying that he can give the girl a job right now. They politely decline. Man. Politely declining a whore job at the Gem would be like sending a rejection letter to, like, anthrax: "Dear Poison, I deeply regret I will not be able to accept your offer of skin-melting death at this time."

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