Stepping out of his office, Al sees Jen emerge from another room with a customer. Nice and friendly, he asks the guy how Jen was. "Good," the guy says, happily, "wonderful. I don't mind a small pair of tits." Al gives a mirthless chuckle. "You sure you're done?" he asks. "You look the sort could turn right around and drop the hammer again." You've got to feel for Al, here -- at least he's reluctant to do the job. The trick says he'll take another turn if it's free, and Al gives him the brush. Sweet as pie, he tells Jen to "c'mere" and, though she ain't the brightest bulb, you can see in her eyes when he closes the door that she is smart enough to be afraid.
Charlie is over at Bullock's house, reporting on the whole Pinkerton incident he just had at the polls. Bullock asks if he thinks Hearst ordered the behavior. "Uh uh, being stupid on his own, that strong-arm was," Charlie says, before adding with a laugh when he sees Bullock clench in disappointment: "Or if you want, I could say 'Yes.'" Martha makes tea as Charlie and Bullock talk about the election and they are all surprised when Sol literally barges in. Bullock asks him what's wrong. Sol: "Uh...everything."
In Hearst's rooms, Langrishe pays a call and, after some small talk about Hearst's recent wounds and his back ailment, goes full-on Greek Chorus on our asses. I'm already on page two trillion, so allow me, please, to break it down. He tells Hearst that Deadwood is not the town in which Fate has chosen Hearst to meet his Destiny, but that the same cannot be said of his friend, Al. "And Mr. Bullock," Hearst smarts, "who took me by the ear?" Langrishe says that Bullock, too, "less possessing his character than possessed by it," is also someone for whom the outcome must be soon. But for Hearst, Langrishe says, the earth entertains some larger purpose to be told to him elsewhere, and at another time. Ah, now Jack is speaking his language -- that whole "Boy the Earth Talks To" thing we so love to hear Hearst repeat. Not. "I imagine she still speaks to me still, the earth," Hearst says, "what's inside her, how to get it out." Ugh. Langrishe somehow listens to this without calling Hearst a drama queen, and says that listening and following the directions of the earth can mean a lonely life for any man. "The mountain I must go up on, Mr. Langrishe, I have ascended before," Hearst tells him. "It's in Montana, and I came down it with silver, suspecting there was copper too, and now I'm told that's true." Jack is shocked. "Do I understand you to say," he gapes, "[that] you're leaving us?" Hearst: "For the Anaconda, yes," he says. That's right! He's taking his ball and going home! But first, he says, he'll hear the election returns and see the whore who shot him in her coffin. Yes, well... priorities, right? Langrishe leaves, his face registering much shock.