Bill barely blinks when he commands E.B. to "let her in" and staggers off to have some breakfast. As Charlie follows, E.B. jerks down the keys to the room and gives them to Jane, hissing that there will be a rate adjustment. And furthermore, "I heard the stories, madam, I tell you that at flagfall. You are here on sufferance!" Hmph. E.B., as if Jane is any worse a carousing drunk than any other of the fools now puking in the thoroughfare. She rightly tells him to kiss her ass.
In his office at the Gem, Trixie is brushing up Al's suit as he prepares to go and meet the Bella Union cocksuckers. "Where were they when Dan and me were chopping trees in this gulch?" Al mutters. "Hands all blistered... buck-toothed fuckin' beavers rolling around in the creek, slapping their tails in the water like we was high entertainment!" Trixie says she'd have given a nickel to see Al chopping wood. Wouldn't we all? Al harrumphs that he not only chopped it, he was blow for blow with Dan. "I can play that shit when I have to," he says, looking his very dapper self over in the mirror. "But I've been to Chicago, too." Fully turned out, he asks Trixie how he looks. Smiling, she tells him "like Christ crucified." Why that's a compliment, I don't know. Seems like it would be nicer to say "like Christ resurrected," right? Or "like Christ at that party where he turned water into wine...that was a great night."
Moments later, Al enters the Bella Union. He looks over the men unpacking the saloon goods and says he guesses "this place ain't a hotel no more." The saloon's new madam calls out that if he wants to come back when they open that night, they'll find him a place to lay down. Al introduces himself to Cy Tolliver, the man in charge, who then introduces him to Ed Sawyer, and the madam, Joanie Stubbs. Nodding in as much of a friendly manner as he can muster, Al tells them that they "must have trained with the heathens," seeing as how they came upon the camp unbeknownst. Great way to greet the new neighbors, Al. You couldn't have brought a bundt? Cy smiles, nearly putting a crease in his cornsilk.
What passes for polite conversation in the Old West progresses to bloviation on the Indian problem. Al recounts that he has been in camp for -- he talks about having been there before, a year previous, until the cavalry drove all the whites out of the valley. "Deep fucking thinkers in Washington put forward that policy," Al says. "This year, though, so many soldiers desertin' to prospect, [they] gave up the ghost, let us all back in." He continues, grimly: "And, of course, Custer sorted out the Sioux for us, so now we're all as safe as at our mothers' tits."