Lily, still filthy and bloody from her long journey, has decided to stop by her husband's grave for a bit of gardening. Also probably for some mourning. She uses her trusty knife to hack away a few weeds and pats at the freshly mounded soil. She's so engrossed that she barely notices when Doc and a few others come up behind her. "Mrs. Bell? It's me, Thomas Durant." He takes a few cautious steps towards her and tips his hat. "I know who you are, Mr. Durant," she says without looking up from her weeding. After a while, she hoists herself up onto her feet and manages to make a crack about her appearance. Even covered in dried blood and dirt, she's still cleaner than the working ladies in town. Doc offers her his arm, offering to get her some medical attention. She looks at his arm like it's the last thing she wants to touch. He notices she's still clutching that knife and reaches for her, but she draws back slightly and grips it tighter. "You won't need this anymore," he says gently. "Your ordeal is over." She gives it up. I hope she gets that knife back someday; she sure as hell earned it and a lady needs to be able to protect herself. When Doc offers his arm again, she grits her teeth and accepts it. As they walk back toward town, Doc offers his condolences and wonders with amazement how she managed to make it back. She tells him about Cullen, except she doesn't remember his name. She just remembers that he was a Southerner. And kind of an asshole, but that part remains unsaid. "Bohannon?" Doc asks, sounding a bit surprised. "Yes, I believe so," she says. Doc makes a funny grunting noise that on first watching I thought came from one of the nearby horses.
In town, a supply train has just arrived. The men are unloading the goods when Mr. Toole decides to regale them with tales of his night in the brothel. "Did I tell you about me rendezvous with the tattooed harlot?" he asks nobody in particular. Elam pauses in the middle of the unloading, but just for a second. "The scarlet whore of Babylon had nothing on this lass, I tell ya," he goes on. Someone -- curse him -- asks for particulars. Toole gladly obliges: "She used her organ like a velvet hand on me tallywhacker!" She probably wished she had a glove for that hand. Elam does his best to ignore the grody little leprechaun, but he just keeps going on and on. He's talking about how the lady with the velvet vadge has been known to do it with both men and beast alike. "Chinks, monkeys, horses," Toole prattles on. "In fact, there is but one creature in all the world with whom she refuses to copulate -- the common American nigger, of course." Elam loses his temper, as was Mr. Toole's aim, and rushes toward the unseemly little braggart. Psalms grabs him before he can get far, no doubt saving his life.