Leon is at the bank, meeting with Mrs. Ellsworth under the close eye of Trixie. He tells her he's laying by for the future and makes a deposit. Their whole conversation is loaded with a weird tension, which we will no doubt come to understand at a later time. He mistakenly calls her Mrs. Garret and is very apologetic when corrected. They are interrupted when Bullock strolls in. "I'd like that drunk Steve to have a loan," he says. "Twelve hundred, title to the livery as collateral. I'll cosign the note." Alma calmly asks if Steve has clear title, and Bullock says he will, once he's bought out Hostetler. "What is Steve-the-Drunk's surname?" she asks. Um, Asshole? Buttface? Chickenshit? No, apparently, it's Fields. Hello! Isn't that also the NG's surname? How I love it. She takes him over to Trixie and asks her to write out the paperwork, which she does, though it's clear Trixie hates doing anything for Bullock. Leon makes a big show of signing his deposit slip, causing Alma to look on in what appears to be fascination and disgust.
At the big meeting in Hearst's rooms, Al stands right by the door as Cy sits before Hearst who, complaining of back pain, leans back against an angled board. "We pass another milestone," he says. "Bank of Deadwood opens its doors. Is not Mrs. Ellsworth a dynamo?" Al ain't in the mood for chit-chat. "What's the occasion?" he asks. "I've my physician to see." Hearst asks how he's indisposed. Maybe, Hearst, he's indisposed by that missing FINGER that YOU chopped OFF. Al says instead that he's sick at his stomach. Hearst begins his roundabout discussion. The camp's progress impedes his own, yadda yadda, blabbity blab, he doesn't like Bullock, etc., etc., and Al finally has to interrupt and ask if he's leaving and, if so, "can you say it straight out before I have a fucking birthday?" Awesome. Hearst confirms that yes, he'll be coming and going from camp for the foreseeable future -- which is weird and makes me wonder why he had Aunt Lou come all the way there -- and Al again grows impatient. "What's the task you'd give us?" he asks, belligerently. "And what's our fuckin' piece for doing 'em?" His directness makes Cy nervous. "Al..." he cautions, but Al tells him to shut up. Hearst says their task will be "to not let become over-onerous my interests encounter with the camp's retrogressive elements." Oh, okay then. This is too circumspect even for Al, and it pisses him off. "Meaning what, you phony bastard?" he yells. "Who do we kill? What's our pay?" May I say how happy I am to see Pissed Off Al returned to us? Thank you. Cy, ever cautious, remarks that it's not fair for Al to put it in such simple terms. "Fuck you," Al counters. "He took the pick to me simple enough." Hearst says they will get to numbers quickly once they've agreed in principle. "Numbers," Al explains, "are the only principle I believe in, and naming what the numbers buy." He looks at Cy. "When you and [Hearst] come to 'em," he says, "tell fucking Adams and he'll bring you my reply later." He points a thumb at Hearst. "Him and me," he tells Cy, "we've had our last word." With that, he makes a swift exit. Downstairs, E.B. jovially asks what the gods have decreed. "Too fearful and upset to relive it, E.B.," Al declares, not at all fearful, and waves his bandaged hand.