Over at the Bella Union, other bad stuff is going down. Joanie comes down the stairs to find a fretting Cy. He wants to know how Andy's doing upstairs, and she tersely replies that "he's sick." Ever the humanitarian, Cy growls that "we ain't no hospital," and calls over one of his goons. "Number eight's relocatin'," he says. Cy tells the guy to bundle Andy up, shoot him up with dope, and take him to the hills. The goon has a pang of conscience. "Can someone else do it, Mr. Tolliver?" he asks, all guiltyfied. But see, Cy is in no mood for goons and their pangs. He gives the guy the eyebrow: "Sure they can," he says, full of sarcasm. "Shall I get someone else to take him?" The dude gets it, and says no, he'll do it. Cy snarls at him to burn the blanket afterwards, and shuffles off. Joanie is upset. "Some do get well, Cy," she says, though she doesn't say it with much confidence, and Cy snaps back that "his chances will improve outdoors." Oh, certainly. I believe the winter, 1878 issue of The Old-Timey Journal of Medicine recommended slinging smallpox victims out into the harshest climate possible and praying for their timely demise. Alternative therapies included dipping them in frozen lakes and/or covering them with scorpions.
Things are tough all over. At the Gem, Dan is setting up the room for the trial. From above, Al wonders what the hell he's doing, and Dan snappily asks if he wants the tables together, or not. "I don't want anything done that can't be undone five minutes after this fiasco concludes," Al says, adding in a sharp aside to Jewel to "clean somewhere where I can't see you." For someone who volunteered to have the thing at his place, he sure is being a bitch about it. Seeing the whores looking with curiosity on the preparations, he commands them to "Go on! Get fucking!" Sometimes I hate to love Al so much, actual tears come to my eyes. Speaking of tears, E.B. oils in and reports about the widow signing over her proxy to Bullock. This is the last thing Al wanted to hear. "Hickok," he says, "breaks my balls from the afterlife." E.B. shares his lament that Hickok, before his murder, orchestrated this whole thing to Mrs. G, and suggests a cunning plan. "She's trying to get off the dope," he says. "Maybe loaded, she'd get her self-confidence back." Al snarks that he'll go right out and suggest it to her. E.B. further relays that because "Hickok's half-woman friend," Jane, has gone off somewhere, Mrs. G needs to find care for the little squarehead girl. "I suggested the gimp," he says and, as Al gives an emphatic no on that subject, continues, "so as not to put a whore up, first off. Now I will propose Trixie." Al is intrigued. "As a get-acquainted gift," Al says, "she could bring the widow a good-sized ball of dope." Farnum says yes, that was just his idea. "Well thought through, E.B.," Al says, in congratulations, and E.B. says he's off "to see to my roast." Hee. Well, ain't E.B. a regular Betty Crocker. I shudder to think what he'll be serving with it. In the thoroughfare, Bullock is stopped by an anxious Rev. Smith. He wonders who will be "standing" for Mr. Hickok. Bullock doesn't know what he's talking about, and the Rev. says that since Charlie's traveling and he can't find Jane, he needs someone to guide him on certain matters. Bullock is still unclear. "For example," Rev. Smith says, trying to clarify. "I thought 'How Firm a Foundation.'" Bullock...still doesn't get it, which is sad, and Sol has to explain that the Rev is asking about which hymns to use for Bill's service. "Sounds a good choice," Bullock says, and just tries to clench himself together as the Rev continues his blabbery about other details. From the Gospel, he's thinking Corinthians 12 -- the salient portion of which, by the way, is "Now hath God set the members every one of them, in the body, as it hath pleased Him." Bullock is just OVER it, and Sol is giving the Rev a worried look, not only because of Bullock's obvious irritation, but because the Rev's frankly got a case of the weirds. Holding on tightly to his patience, Bullock says these are good choices, and the Rev wanders off, looking crazy but gratified. Giving Bullock a chance to take a deep breath, Sol asks if they're ready to open for business. Bullock can't answer, though, because...well, y'all know how like, in The Highlander (the movie, not the series -- hello, I don't watch that much bad television), that quickening feeling comes over the immortal dudes and they get all serious and gaze meaningfully stage-right as if guided by an unseen force, good or evil, they know not which? That's what happens to Bullock here. The Clenching. He goes all slo-mo, wordlessly walking away from Sol and into the thoroughfare. He is in high, hot rage, his mustache bristling with emotion as he heads toward Wu's -- who gives him a knowing, sideways glance -- and to the meat locker where the prisoner, Jack McCall is being held.