Over at the Bella Union, things are not pretty for Joanie. She's all drunked up, trying to put the moves on her friend, Jack, the bartender. She asks him if he wants to fuck her. "When haven't I?" Jack answers, clearly uncomfortable. Joanie wants to know if he'd pay for the pleasure. "Can I double your mark and call it a gift?" he asks. "That way, I can keep my illusions." Aw, man. Jack's like one of three nice guys in this whole damn place. Too bad he can't take her out of there before Cy oils up and "borrows" her away. He tells Joanie she seems "subdued." She sets the record straight: "I'm gettin' fucked up, Cy." That's as well may be, Cy says, but tells her she's not getting nearly as fucked up as Wolcott, who just that very day "got his balls beat by Charlie Utter." He then has the audacity to try to get into a poor-pitiful-me contest with Joanie. "Them that's dead is gone," he tells her. "Hell, you didn't have to see 'em...fuckin' throats cut. You didn't...clean up their gore." Now, Joanie may be drunk, but she's not stupid. "Don't tell me you cleaned up anyone's gore, Cy," she says, not even bracing for his guaranteed asshole reaction, which he indeed delivers, as expected.
"Your friend Maddie's problem, young lady," he snarks, "[she] didn't want to get old. Well, who the fuck does?" Joanie tells him to shut up, but he goes right on, saying that people with stamina and fortitude don't go around seeking out maniacs with straight razors to finish them off. She tells him again to stop talking, but he WILL NOT. "I won't stop talking," he says, glaring, "nor show the fuckin' future my neck. Nor I permit it in a fuckin' friend." He's getting nowhere with her, but keeps trying. He proposes that, together, they "wrestle the fucking future to the ground," and open the Chez Amie with all new stuff. She spurns this offer, without even bothering to speak. He sighs, and asks that she at least move back over to the Bella Union where he can protect her from Wolcott. She won't. He asks why she came there that night, then, if not to be protected. "I was just lookin' to turn a trick," Joanie says, and leaves Cy in the dust once more.
Charlie has steeled himself to the point where he can go and meet with Wolcott over this business of Wild Bill's last letter. Wolcott greets him politely, saying he can't guarantee the authenticity of the letter, though it seems to be so, and that surely Wild Bill "would want her to have it." Charlie: "To his wife, then?" Wolcott confirms this, and says that prudence dictates that he ask in return for the letter a full account of what Joanie must have told Charlie to cause the beatdown of earlier in the day. "The prudentest thing you can do is not name that girl again with me in the fuckin' room," Charlie says. Wolcott gets around it, asking if it was this "nameless she" who set Charlie on him. Charlie looks like he's about to reprise the earlier ass-kicking, and Wolcott holds him off by quoting passages of Bill's letter to his wife. Charlie realizes he's dealing with a loon, at this point, and closes the door, threatening to throw Wolcott out the window if he doesn't shut up. Wolcott again says he wants to know what Joanie told Charlie. "And I'm promisin', I'd sooner blow off your fuckin' head and take the fuckin' letter from your corpse than confide any fuckin' particulars..."