A/N: More of a project imagining a 4th season of Deadwood
Spoilers for Season 3
Language is Deadwood language (expect bad language)
All characters belong to HBO and David Milch. No money being made off this. Liberal liberties have been taken with historical figures.
Pairing: Al/Alma, no sex here
Set after "Everybody Needs That"
Prelude to "Offering and Acceptance"
Rumors and Truths
Alma had heard the whispers that she was a dangerous woman. Not so much as by anything she did, but by the misfortune that she seemed to draw to anyone close to her. Two husbands dead in two years, by misadventure and murder. Al Swearengen, beaten clean off of his balcony by Seth Bullock for making an untoward remark involving her. Mr. Bullock had beaten her father for trying to gull her out of her gold mine. He had beaten the mayor to a bloody pulp over a misunderstanding over what might have been said about her past affairs.
She had gotten used to those whispers. As her bank continued to be an asset to the recovering camp, and those needing loans to expand their businesses found themselves in front of her desk seeking approval, the talk had shifted more to her decent business sense.
But the latest rumor was new and worrisome. A drunken late-night ramble by Mr. Swearengen, a whore with a talent of drawing people out (or at least keeping her ears open while her mouth was full), and the details of Hearst and the missing finger began circulating through the Gem. Picked up from the girls by Johnny, verified by Dan at some risk of personal peril from Al, and with its own nature as being worthy of tall tale status, the story was soon known to everyone at the saloon.
How Al, disarmed and at gunpoint, had been threatened by Hearst and his thugs to provide information to assist Hearst in taking Mrs. Ellsworth's gold mine. How he had stood his ground at "no" and earned a pistol butt to the head. How, even being pinned down, left hand splayed on the table and Hearst with a raised miner's pick, he offered up only a sarcastic rejoinder: As far as making your way into her, act adverse to nasty language and partial to fruity tea. And then, the story went, the tough bastard grinned in Hearst's face as the pick was swung down on his finger.
It was too good a story to stay in one place. One chilly October morning, she went to the Gem to bring a secondhand rip-free dress for Jewel and another ladies' magazine that the whores seemed to enjoy. Annie and Wanda were still up and eager to share what they had heard, going back and forth on how many men Hearst used to hold Al down.
Alma was horrified as the women chattered. She knew Hearst had chopped Mr. Swearengen's finger off, but this was the first she had heard of the particulars. The girls were trying to reconcile the cold, pragmatic Al they knew with an Al so gallant that he would allow that kind of damage rather than to agree to take advantage of a woman. They found it confounding…and intriguing. They were quite oblivious to Alma's rising color and increasingly stoic expression, although Wanda briefly wondered why the widow didn't seem to recognize the compliment she had been paid.
Mangling the details and motives as they talked, they concluded that Alma must be something special to inspire that kind of chivalry. The realities of the financial and political angles were nowhere near as interesting as the dramatic details they spun in their heads. They either didn't know or didn't care that he had been the first person who tried to rob her of her claim, by a variety of nefarious means (now largely forgiven, forgotten, or never fully known). Alma continued to be horrified as she left the items with Dan and walked briskly back to the bank, muttering "idiots!" under her breath, thinking of the damage men had done in her name.
.
She bustled around her office area, barely looking at the other employees. She began neatening up her desk, lining up stacks of documents to be reviewed, pens to be filled. Trixie used the excuse of her own near-empty ink well to come over to Alma's desk to borrow more.
"Already back from your morning constitutional to the Gem?"
Alma stiffened, a cross look on her face.
"Already back to questioning my personal life, Trixie?"
Trixie shrugged. "Just notice what I notice, is all." She softened just a touch. "The girls kinda like you going over there of a morning. Times I go by, they look like they're takin' better care of themselves."
"Al even sprung for all of the whores to get a new outfit apiece, once he started seeing business types givin' the Gem their custom." She lowered her voice. "Of course, he raised the rates to seven dollars for pussy and ten for an ass-fuck, so it ain't like he's still not coming out ahead."
"And you would credit the…increase in their value to me?" She had to finally smile at that.
"No," Trixie said thoughtfully, "but some improvement in their attitude…maybe. You and Mrs. Bullock are the only townswomen that act like the whores are part of the community. And you're the only one who's let them in her home." She looked out the window. "Whores remember who did them a kindness, and who gave them hurt. We…they might can't ever act on those feelings, but they hold those memories real fuckin' close, not havin' much otherwise."
She stood there, looking at the sunlight play against the shadows on the hills behind town, lips turning up in a shy smile.
"And who's not to say that your visiting don't give 'em a kind of hope, especially them that might be fightin' battles similar to what you've faced in the past? I think one might be close to askin' for that tea I made you when you were comin' off the laudanum." Her smile faded at the memory of the aftermath of her attempts. And about got my guts ripped out by him who wanted her high and gullible back then.
The bank was still quiet, the occasional customer going directly to the new teller's cage. The morning rush was still an hour away. There was still work to be done, to prepare for the bulk of the day and plan for the next. Best to go ahead and speak her mind, Alma thought. Get back to work with a clear head.
She turned to look directly at Trixie. "Is it your memories, Trixie, that make you voice your annoyance so vehemently when you know I've been to the Gem, and even more so when you know I've met with Mr. Swearengen? "
Trixie sighed. "Maybe. But probably not in the way you're thinking."
She reached for the ink bottle on Alma's desk. Alma touched her sleeve to stay her.
"One more thing, Trixie, please." She cleared her throat. "Have you heard rumors that Mr. Swearengen lost his finger somehow…protecting me from George Hearst?"
Trixie's look became wary. "There's been some recent talk, yeah. Kept to the Gem, though, far as I know. They see you going over there, seein' him…they can get fanciful, make things up for their own entertainment."
"They might make up stories that look like he's got feelings for you or the like, but he ain't any kind of hero and he don't have feelings like that. Whatever he did, he had his own reasons and it served his own purpose. Now can I borrow some ink, please, or should I fetch my own from the store?"
Alma handed her the squat bottle. "You really find him to be completely without feelings, Trixie?"
Jen's face flickered through Trixie's mind. "We're done talking on this subject, Alma."
She turned back as she held the door of the teller's cage. "Some things, it's best if we just figure 'em out on our own, not looking to third parties' opinions." She shut the door with a sharp click.
.