[Explaining the markings on the horse of the native that nearly killed Bullock] The three red hands on the pony's flank was three men killed hand-to-hand. The red circle was one killed on horseback. The white lines on the pony's legs was times the heathen counted coup. With them, whether you mean to kill your man after or you're just showing off, you hit 'em with a gun butt or a stick or a club; that's counting coup. That's why he come for you instead of picking you off with an arrow, like he did your horse. [Pause] That was one bad hombre you got by, Bullock.
[at Bill Hickock's grave] Evenin', Bill. Jane ain't with me, ‘cause she's a drunken fuckin' mess, and I don't know what to do about it. I know you want her looked out for, and I'm doin' my fuckin' best. But I won't stand before you claimin' optimism. Other news. That letter you wrote your wife just before that cocksucker murdered you, it come to my hand. I won't even try explainin' fuckin' how. And knowin' what we know about our fucked up postal system, I ain't committin' it to the fuckin' mails. You know I will try to get it to her, which I pray'd be a portion off your mind. When I've found where she's at, on my way settin' off I'll tell you. All right. God bless you, Bill. [starts to leave and then turns back] And as far as Jane, as drunk as you've seen her, you've never seen her this worse. Between us, maybe havin' lost, wantin' to keep on. So I - I don't know what the fuck to do! But you know I'll-- I'll keep tryin.' [leaves]
Some goddamn point a man's due to stop arguing with hisself and feeling twice the goddamn fool he knows he is 'cause he can't be something he tries to be every goddamn day without once getting to dinnertime and fucking it up. I don't want to fight it no more, understand me Charlie? -- and I don't need you pissing in my ear about it. Will you let me go to hell the way I want to?
Don't you want to take him over the ridge? To his fuckin' Holy Ground and put him up there with his headless buddy? I mean, that's what you nearly got killed for: interfering with his big fuckin' medicine, burying his fuckin' buddy, over the fuckin' ridge!
[Speaking to others] Bein' a loud-mouthed cunt I guess sometime since he's been here this fella who “don't wanna play no more” probably spoke of killin' Wild Bill Hickok… well, we're Bill Hickok's friends. [Everyone scrambles out of the room]
Who would argue that the venue was the cause of these happy memories, nor the bill of fare? The bitter coffee, the rancid bacon, those stale biscuits that were tomb and grave to so many insects. No, gentlemen, it was the meandering conversation, the lingering with men of character - some of whom are walking with me now - that was such pleasure to experience, and such a joy now to recall.
That Bullock is a fucking strategist, ain't he? Sets terms to publicly humiliate me, and my penalty if I don't comply is he walks into the bar downstairs and takes fifteen bullets in the chest. And that ain't no hooplehead, you know. Bullock, he's one of those special fucking cases, you don't know what in fucks going on in their mind, and he's big with Montana. Big. I heard that today. Because the news earlier from Yankton and the fucking commissioners wasn't adequately confusing. Not to mention the fucking telegraph coming in and four whores that I don't know who the fuck they work for.
Shut the fuck up! I suppose I do fucking understand. So fucking confused and disgusted and wanting it to end and looking for the blessing of a quick way out. Sets himself to a higher fucking standard than our natures, and he wants execution 'cause he's failed.
[turns to face Utter] If we fight, it won't be a casual matter.
Charlie Utter
Ohhh, I see you got your big fuckin' knife there, and hid somewhere on your persons you've probably got some pussified shootin' instrument. But I am good at first impressions, and you are a fucking cunt, and I DOUBT you've fought many MEN, maybe even ONE!
And you know who fucking give it to me? How crazy life got? And money must buy these bastards any fucking thing they want! That cocksucker inside, Mr. amalgamation & fucking capital!
And god knows who he fucking bought it off of or how many hands it passed through. It fucks me up thinking Bill's missus got to handle something that cocksucker touched.
Do I look like I'd fucking know? Some big-shot eastern magazine reporter interviewing Bill said that was what's changing things around. Jane, I don't know what's gonna come of fucking Jane.
You should lock her in that cell and don't let her fucking drink! And don't fuck yourself up over Mose Manuel. He will get hisself fleeced of what is rightfully his and what he got by fuckin' murder. He'll be judge on hisself and jury too, just like the fucking most of us.
I know that's some clever opening gambit to culminate in breaking my balls.
Charlie Utter
Just saying I checked the usual spots 'cause I wanted to say goodbye before I left camp, so in case you go ahead and fucking die...
JCJane Cannary
Goodbye, Charlie, goodbye. Have a good fucking trip. Shut the fuck up! 'Cause it so happens, when you return, if no trees of animals killed you, that you were fucking driving crazy with criticism, you will find I've moved out of this shitbox, so I don't have to fucking embarrass you or fucking have you hovering over me like the ugliest fucking nurse in the fucking universe.
It means, Mr. Star, after leading him by the ear through camp for all to fucking see, Seth installs Hearst in a cell adjoining a man he's had killed, that the knife still protrudes out of his chest. And as much as me and Hearst conversed, I made him address my ass. So do let's don't pretend Hearst will feel he was treated legal or civilized, or that his business with us is finished. Hearst is fucking coming. Bringing us back to Bill and doing unto others first. Which ought maybe include a visit to Hearst's fucking diggings. And his muscle you fail to murder before they arouse? You bring to chase you to camp, Judas goat the cocksuckers, for Swearengen's men and Tolliver's to mow down from fucking ambush while we're up seeing to Hearst.
Deadwood · 249 quotes
Charlie Utter
