Ignoring him, Charlie crosses to meet Bullock and Sol coming out of the Gem. Much congratulating goes on about the purchase of the lot. Charlie is happy for them. "Never had to strain so to spend a thousand dollars," Sol tells him. Bullock asks if Charlie will let them out of their dinner arrangements. "Just as soon not do it, huh?" Charlie asks. His disappointment is painful. "We'd like to get to building," Bullock answers. Charlie affably says that they can meet for breakfast, instead. "Maybe we'll catch Bill coming back from cards." Aw, man. Bullock, why do you have to be such a damn efficiency expert, or whatever. You can't wait one day to start your little love nest...I MEAN..."hardware store"?

Across the street, E.B. walks into the new Bella Union and stands amazed. He even lets out a "Heavens to Betsey." (Because I am a slight nerd, I had to look up the origins of that phrase. It seems slightly anachronistic, but who knows? Doesn't matter, really, because coming out of E.B.'s mouth, anything sounds funny, and this is no exception.) He immediately approaches Eddie's craps table, where the two have a clandestine conversation. "I'm liable to be killed, Eddie," E.B. whispers, dropping all pretense of being a stranger to Eddie. "Curious, your coming here then, E.B.," the dealer answers.

A-ha. Seems E.B. himself was the unknown source Al was bitching about that helped the Bella Union interests buy Artie Simpson's place. E.B., you snake in the grass. "Al Swearengen's a dangerous man," he says. "Let him doubt those he's trusted, this camp'll run red with blood." Eddie makes a crack, and E.B. wonders aloud how cavalier he'll be with "a pig gnawing through your vitals." Eddie says to bet on him screaming for mercy. In conclusion, he tells E.B. that Al may get him anyway, but that if his nerve goes, Al will get it for sure. E.B. breaks out into (another) sweat as he ponders this.

In his office, Al is buying off the Bella Union's faro dealer with dope. "Now, dope is not my preferred form of relaxation," he says, practically waving a ball of the stuff under the guy's nose, "but I did try the shit and believe me, I nearly converted." The dealer promises to bring Al a daily report of the goings-on at the new saloon. Al says good, and looks out the window just in time to see E.B. coming out of the joint. "Here's the type I'd want to know about," he tells his new snitch, dragging him to the window. "Judas goat-lookin' fella...coyote-movin' type." The snitch says he'll keep a special eye on him.