Cassidy Red

Long day?

Long life.

What's your name?

Susannah.

Ooh! Lovely.

What's you real name, sugar?

I don't even tell my customers that.

Why should I tell you?

Don't tell me, then.

Quinn, I suppose.

Even lovelier.

What do they call you?

Can't remember.

Make it Cricket.

Yeah, them boys outta Texas know a lot more about cowhide

than they do about a woman's.

Where you from, Q?

It doesn't matter.

It's my gift to you.

Obliged.

New Orleans.

Amarillo, El Paso, Tombstone.

You may have seen more of these territories than I have.

Well, they can keep them territories.

Got any smoke on ya?

Ain't proper for a young gal like yourself

- to be poisoning your... - Either you give it to me

or I start scratching around on the floorboards

for a soggy little stub.

Obliged.

My playin' may be poor, but I'm not entirely sure that's necessary.

Found it under my bed.

I suppose a little friend in your garter could be a blessing.

- Don't play that. - Oh, I like this tune.

- Well, I don't. Stop playing it. - I gotta play something.

You looking to play it with a harp? I think I told you to stop.

I ain't them boys, Miss Q.

I ain't never even been to Texas.

Do you suppose a gun this small

would be enough to put me down?

You think it'd kill me outright,

or would I have to bleed to death?

So much tawdriness comin' from such a lovely place.

This is how you like your women, piano man?

Everything looks much lovelier when the sun comes up.

Or at least less ugly.

This territory can be punishing.

But you strike me as especially stubborn.

Survivors are stubborn.

I knew a survivor like you once.

She was the meanest, stubbornest,

most savagely beautiful, hellfire-and-brimstone,

spittin' she-devil to ever spread hateful blood

on the same boards you're standing now.

You offerin' me a bedtime story?

Thought you had a date with a Derringer.

Some years ago

when the brass on that bar wasn't quite so tarnished

and the flies in them whiskey bottles

- still had... - Wait.

- You told this story before. - I reckon' I have.

And that's the way you start it?

That's the way it starts.

Ain't you gonna give it a name?

Any good story's gotta have a name.

The Tale of Cassidy Red:

A ballad of love and hate.

Can I get something for ya?

You had me worried you weren't gonna

make it tonight, handsome.

What's a girl gotta do to get you alone?

Sounds fun.

What do you say we go upstairs

and get a little cozier?

What the hell are you thinking calling me that?

Why don't you just use my real name while you're at it?

Well, maybe I should have just called you Ginger?

Did you even bother reading my letter?

I gave you specific instructions, Rowena.

I thought you wanted to be invisible.

Invisible like water, not molasses.

Well, they don't serve either in this place.

He's gonna be here any minute.

He's not coming in here until I says so.

- What did you tell him? - Don't you worry.

I told him exactly what he needed to hear.

And he'll definitely be here?

What did I say?

I need a brush.

Give me the belt.

You have to be joking.

Where are you gonna hide holsters in a corset?

Give me the belt.

Look, I'm just gonna drop them the minute he closes the door.

And make a goddamn racket doin' it,

but you get close enough, and you can choke

the sound of this little bastard off in his beard.

It's a whore's gun.

Well, that sure as hell ain't no missionary costume.

Anybody washed this thing since Harley died in it?

You ready?

I'll take that as a yes.

That was fast.

Too drunk to get his boots off.

Left him passed out in my bed.

Want me to get Davy and Elle to toss him out?

Let him sleep it off for a few.

When he wakes me might not remember he already paid me.

Whiskey me, honey?

You may want to rat hole some of that silver, Rowena.

He's here early.

Yours?

All yours.

Is she here?

She certainly is.

Think I'll like her?

Oh, I think you'll be very...

what's that word you always use?

Satiated.

You'll be that.

You give her the twice over?

I don't wanna go up there and get a switch blade in between the ribs.

Don't you trust me, darlin'?

You got something for me, Kearny?

It's, uh, Saturday.

Has been all day.

Will be for a few hours more.

I mean, isn't Monday the day?

You can't expect me to cancel my plans

and come all the way across the street

to settle something that could have been sorted on Saturday evening.

Can you?

You gotta give me some time to get my affairs in order.

I can give you an hour to get your affairs in order.

How about that?

Apologies for my rudeness...

though I must admit, I was selfishly hoping

I might catch you in a moment of impropriety.

I just want you to know how happy I am

to have you with us.

See, I pride myself on being a good host,

so any girls that join us here in a professional capacity,

well, I like to welcome them... personally.

I like to think of myself as the Royal food taster,

risking harm to my person, so as to shelter our customers

from any potential poison in the product.

Now there's no need to sequester yourself in the shadows.

If an egotist, like Rowena admits

to a new hire being attractive, well, then it certainly

is not a matter of opinion, so come on out here.

Let's have a look at you.

Well, if it isn't Miss Josephine Cassidy.

Make peace with your God, Tom.

For what crime do I owe this death sentence, hmm?

Loving you?

How about killing an innocent man?

Doesn't a dying man deserve one last smoke, Cass?

How'd you do it?

- How'd I do what? - How'd you kill him?

The red skinned paramour.

Wasn't Rowena supposed to talk you into using a Derringer?

You think I'd trade my weapon for an empty garter gun?

I suppose the daughter of a whore is smart enough to know never to trust one.

You've got exactly five seconds to unburden yourself and confess to me

how you killed Jakob. Or I could leave it a mystery

and splatter your brains all over the wall.

- Who told you I killed him? - Five...

Oh, your trustworthy old pal, Rowena.

- Four. - Scrupulous to a fault, that one.

I mean, when was the last time a hooker lied to get something they wanted?

- Three. - Who says Jakob is dead?

Or maybe she told you exactly what you needed to hear

to get you to come back.

Back to this town.

Back to me.

You're lyin'.

Am I?

I am so happy that you're home, Cass.

We all are. Aren't we boys?

Y'all remember Joe Cassidy?

Of course you do.

Who could forget a prickly pear like her?

I like your new hair, darlin'.

It softens your face.

I am sorry if I hurt you, Joe,

but you hurt me first.

Matter of fact, you shattered my heart

into jagged shards and then sprinkled them pieces all over that campfire.

If you have any heart still left to beat,

I aim to silence it for good.

That's my girl,

staunch to the last.

Let's find this heartbreaker a soft place to lay down

them fiery locks, shall we, boys?