Deadwood
The Trial Of Jack McCall

Episode Report Card
Al Lowe: A | 2 USERS: A-
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The Trial Of Jack McCall

When all is said and done, Sol and Bullock wait while the Rev says a final word of prayer. Bullock is impatient and angry. "Can we get started?" he asks Sol, who says that the Rev is nearly done. "Oh," Bullock smarts back. "You can tell?" Sol gives him a "damn, girl" look and the Rev finishes up. As they head back to the camp, he blabs on and on about how thankful he is for both men's kindness toward him. He recalls their original meeting and asks Bullock what he feels will now be "his part" regarding the death of Hickok. Bullock rudely responds that he doesn't know what the Reverend is talking about. Sol tries to make it up, telling the Rev that the camp was lucky he was there today. "Oh, I'm a frail and feeble vessel," he says, "but none of us can deny our parts..." He's interrupted by Bullock, who asks if they can continue their damn walk in silence. Shamed, the Rev says certainly. "Sorry, Reverend," Sol says, tipping his hat a little. I'll say it again: poor Sol, having to deal with his PMS-y friend who is so upset about the (albeit unfair) death of a man he met like, five days ago, he bitches out the sweet Rev.

The Gem is back to business as usual when Merrick comes in and orders a drink. Down the bar he sees McCall signing autographs and bragging, and he just can't stand it. Loudly, he declares that anyone ever having the misfortune of needing to kill a man should do it in Deadwood so as to avoid justice. Jack looks only slightly chagrined at this, and anyway is distracted by Al. "Hey, what's your name?" Al asks, sidling up. "It's Jack, isn't it?" Jack brashly says that it is, and waving his glass at Al, he says if Al will buy him a drink, he'll make his mark. Uh, Jack? All these days you've been in camp, gambling and killing people and stuff...did you not hear about Al at any point? Obviously not. Al pulls away his glass. "Stick around camp, Jack," he says, "and I'll make [my mark] for you." Nervous, Jack asks him what the hell's that supposed to mean. Al does not mince words. "It means there's a horse for you outside you want to get on," he says, "before somebody murders you who gives a fuck about right and wrong. Or I do." This is the kind of direct communication which cuts through the grime in Jack's ears. As if to a child, Al continues. "It's the paint, Jack," he says. "Right outside my joint. Run for your fucking life." Jack need hear no more. Looking around, he declares that "Jack McCall runs from no man," and, having said that, runs. Shaking his head, Al tells Dan to remember, someday when he's running his own place, not to let guys like McCall hang around. They agitate the customers, he says, and while this brings a nice bump in whiskey sales, it results in a reduction on the whore trade. "That's why I often wonder," he says, referring to a great American agitator of a different nature, "if I should take that fucking picture of Lincoln down." Outside, Jack jumps on the paint and rides out of town, past Bullock and Sol, the latter of whom gives the former an "aw, shit" look.

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Deadwood

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