SMARMSLUT QUEEN: Hello again! Uh-please forgive the brevity of this introduction-

SMARMSLUT ADEPT: It's all her fault!

SMARMSLUT MASTER: Is not!

ADEPT: You're the one who opened the closet door again!

MASTER: I was just putting the story polish away! I forgot she was in there!

QUEEN: All right, you two, that's enough!! We're in a low-grade state of emergency here, I'm afraid. Our, uh, 'guest' had disappeared.

ADEPT: Cause this knucklehead let her escape! Now she'll tell everyone who we are!

QUEEN: Calm down, Adept! The Smarmslut Fortress of Ezratude is completely secure. She won't get far.

MASTER: See? And she's just one fic writer-how much trouble could she possibly-

(Transmission cuts off in midsentence, followed by static)

********************

Ashes of the Mind, pt 17
by the Smarm Sluts



The town saloon was quiet in the early afternoon hours, the patrons to drunk or apathetic to take notice of much beyond the glasses and bottles in front of them. So none of them gave more than a glance to the small know of men standing at the end of the bar, involved in intense conversation. Or the well-dressed woman who stepped into the saloon, the anger in her eyes clearly betraying the fact that someone was about to have a bad day.

Maude entered the saloon and stopped just inside the doorway. Her
eyes scanned the crowded saloon until she sighted her prey.

Her determined strides brought her right up behind the dark-clad
cowboy, who was huddled over a beer with Vin, Buck, JD and Josiah
nearby.

Chris straightened as he felt Maude's formidable presence and
glaring eyes biting into his back. He slowly turned around only
to be met with a sharp slap across the face. Josiah moved
closer, prepared to stop his friend from doing anything he might
later regret. Chris only brought his hand up and rubbed his
reddening cheek.

"You sanctimonious son-of-a-bitch!" Maude spat. "You just
couldn't wait, you had to send my son into that dangerous place.
The information I had could of prevented all of this from
happening." Maude glared at the gunslinger then looked over at
the others. "You're all probably glad he's gone, aren't you?"

"Now wait just a minute lady, you're out of line," Buck
interjected. They all felt badly putting Ezra and JD in that
situation, but blaming each other wouldn't save Ezra now. They
had to work together. Chris hadn't said a word, the guilt was
even more heavy with him.

"We'll get him out," Chris calmly stated.

"Ha...you mean we'll get him out. I'm now a part of your little
coterie until my son is safe."

No one noticed Judge Travis quietly join the group. The old circuit court judge had arrived that morning, after receiving Chris's urgent telegram informing him of the dire situation. He also was
trying to deal with his own guilt about sending Ezra and JD into
a situation where not enough was known.

"Mrs. Standish," Judge Travis spoke up, bringing Maude's deadly
glare to bear on him. "We will get him out, I promise you. I
have access to army personnel who will assist us."

Maude stared at the esteemed Judge then a devilish smile came to
her face. "Well Judge you'll be needing an inside woman sort of
speak. I taught Ezra all he knows." She snapped her head around
to glare at Larabee daring him to deny her this. "I believe I
can convice Mr. Brandon that I'm in need of his services,
enabling me to gain access into the asylum."

The Judge stared at the determined woman and knew he couldn't
stop her. The Judge knew better than to get between a mother and
son. He looked over at Chris. "She has a point Chris. She
could get in then help us gain access somehow and maybe find
Ezra," the Judge explained.

"I don't like putting a woman in danger, even her," Chris lashed
back.

Maude just gave the gunslinger a smug smile. "Mr. Larabee you
can't stop me. I will rescue my son with or without you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jed could barely contain his excitement as he strode into the underground room where the criminals were hiding. The rough men all looked up as he called for attention; many of them had been playing cards, shooting dice, plotting their routes to Mexico, or simply idling about, and were open to any diversion. Lem sat in the corner and watched, knowing what was coming.

"I've heard tell," Jed said as soon as he had the ear of the men in the room. "that some of you have had the displeasure of meetin' up with that Larabee gang in Four Corners, just like me."

An angry murmur filled the room as some of the men stood and formed a circle around him.

"They sent me to Yuma," one large, hairy man with a broken nose growled, standing.

"My brother's in jail cause of them, an' I'd be too if I hadn't run off," a scowling, long-haired youth proclaimed.

"I knowed Chris Larabee a few years back," a third man piped up. "He's a drunken killer, an' ain't got no right t'be a lawman an' throw us in jail."

There was murmured assent, which delighted Jed to no end.

"Couldn't agree more," Jed replied. "An' I'd like nothin' more than to be able to put that whole rotten crew right into the ground. Someday maybe I will. But for now, I got a surprise for you men which'll set things right for us, at least for now."

He turned and waved to someone outside. The door opened again, and two guards dragged in the limp form of Ezra. His clothing hung in red-smeared tatters, and his skin was dark with dirt and dried blood. His eyes were open as he looked around, trying to decipher where he was.

The guards dumped Ezra on the ground in the middle of the circle and walked away to stand to the side. The gambler slowly lifted himself on his hands and looked around at the menacing figures surrounding him, too stunned and weak to stand.

"Hey, I know this guy!" the hairy man piped up. "Ain't he one of Larabee's men?"

"He's the one who was gonna turn us over to the law!" another cried. "Geez, Jed, I thought you'd killed him already."

"I had a better idea," Jed replied with a smile. "Thought you boys might be gettin' bored, so I brought him down here for ya."

The scowling youth's expression changed to a smirk as he eyed Ezra with a bloodthirsty expression. "No kidding."

"Nope. All I ask is that you don't kill him," was Jed's final pronouncement. "Otherwise-he's all yours."


Ezra struggled to make out what was happening, fighting the painful fog in his head as he looked around. He was in an underground room, surrounded by huge, menacing shadows whose forms danced eerily in the orange torchlight. His head spun from exhaustion, thirst and hunger, and he could not tell if this was really happening or another nightmare.

Then one of the shadows lunged and grabbed his collar. Ezra tried to smother a yelp of pain as he was hoisted into the air; he was pulled face-to-face with a rough, ugly visage whose eyes burned with hatred.

"Remember me?" the figure cried. "Thought you'd let the law get me again, huh?"

Ezra stared, terrified, as an image floated past his mind's eye; this was a man they'd arrested two months ago, on a bank robbery charge. The fugitive criminals, Ezra realized, as more familiar faces emerged from the nightmare mist. This was where Branford hid them, and many of them had been apprehended by Ezra and his fellow lawmen in Four Corners. A freezing wave of fear swept over the trembling gambler.

The man spit in Ezra's face and threw him to the floor. Anguish sliced through every nerve as Ezra landed on his shoulder. Other angry voices were raised as the crowd closed in on him, striking him with their fists and driving fierce kicks into his sides, his back, his legs. Ezra's hands were free but he could offer little resistance to the attacks which seemed to come from every side.

Rough laughter and shouts rang in his ears, mingling with thudding of his heart and the explosions of agony which erupted with each blow.

"Not so fancy now, are ya?"

"You'll be sorry you tried t'run us in!"

"I been waitin' months t'get my hands on one of you bastards..."

There was nothing Ezra could do but try to keep from crying out, try to fight the wild animal panic that was threatening his mind. Unlike the mindless fury of the violents, the attacks showered on him by these men were carefully deliberate in their cruelty; they seemed to know exactly where to aim their fists and kicks to cause the most pain. The shouts and laughter escalated, mingling into an incomprehensible roar of derision in which Ezra could only make out their joy at having one of Larabee's men at their mercy. The ordeal seemed to last for hours.

He was slammed to the ground on his chest, and a knee stabbed into his back as someone from the crowd held him down. Rough hands grabbed his arms, and he vaguely realized that they were tying his hands behind his back. His mind began to cloud over from the pain and exhaustion, but before he could find solace in oblivion a hand slapped him like a whip across his face. He blinked, startled, then recieved another, even harder slap, then somebody grabbed his hair in a painful grip and wrenched his head upwards. He opened his eyes to see Jed crouching before him, a grin evident beneath his scraggly black beard.

"I'm sure these men here have a few ideas about what to do with worthless scum like you, Standish," he said, leaning in even closer, a hard glint in his eyes as his grasp on Ezra's hair tightened. "An' I ain't about t'let you pass out an' spoil the fun."


Continue to Part 18