Alma looks out and sees Brom stopped in the opposite stairwell. Wild Bill is laid out in the hall, seemingly dead to the world. Brom sniffs, saying that this proves his doubts were well-founded. Alma nods, but quickly goes back in her room. This has all been too much for her, I guess, all this, you know, conversation, and we see her readying her next dose of laudanum.
In her own room, Jane leans over the bed of the little sleeping squarehead, singing the praises of Wild Bill. "Too considerate to disturb us," she says, "[and] wouldn't have truck with that room clerk ghoul to get let into Charlie's room...rather sleep in the fucking hallway. That's the kind of man he is." She realizes she's playing blue in front of the little girl, and cringes. "Aw! I owe you another fuckin' penny." Oops. She sighs, and quickly adds: "I owe you another one." Man, if they instituted this penny-for-a-swear policy for the whole town of Deadwood, the squarehead kid would be the richest human being west of the Atlantic.
Jane goes on to tell the sleeping girl that she's not sure she wants her to learn English, that that would spare her knowing how ignorant people are. "But then," she reflects, "I couldn't tell you about Bill...sleeping in the hallway out of thought for others...and I know some other fuckin' stories, too..." Oops. Jane owes her another penny. Very sweet scene.
Outside, stupid McCall is messing around in front of the hardware tent. Bullock clenches out for Sol to "look at that jackass." McCall's upset, or drunk, or both. "I'll tell you who's being done a favor," he slurs. "Or would you care to guess? A favor in this tent!" They don't know what he's talking about, but Sol, ever the consummate customer service representative, answers, "I'd guess it'd be you, yourself, sir. Considering the quality goods." Nice try, Sol, but McCall ain't here to look at shovels (though they are very nice, and certainly of high quality, I'm sure). "The favor here is being done for Wild Bill Hickok," McCall says, and Bullock ever so casually asks him what he's talking about. McCall explains, boozily: "'Cause if I'm out prospectin' in the hills, then he ain't gettin' his just desserts, at the poker table or otherwise." He sniffs, pseudo-slyly, and tells them not to ask him what he meant by that last part. Ohhhh, too late, my friend. Bullock clenches. "What do you mean?" McCall reminds him that he'd "do better not askin'." Bullock's had enough and tells him to get lost, but McCall now insists he wants to buy some supplies. Still clenched, Bullock tells him he "ain't buyin' nothin'.'" McCall staggers and turns, coming face-to-face with Charlie Utter, who is coming into the tent. He does that whole drunk "where do I know you from" thing that has been passed down from alcoholic to alcoholic for generations. Charlie says he can't help him with that, but McCall puts two and two together. Laughing, he says, "You follow him around," and Bullock, who has just been waiting for an excuse, takes McCall by the scruff and seat and slings him into the thoroughfare, announcing that "that tent's shut to you. Don't come back there."