SMARMSLUT MASTER: Greetings again, my friends! Welcome to the next portion of our tale!

SMARMSLUT ADEPT: Our Queen extends her apologies for her absence this week, she's out on a very important Smarm Slut errand!

MASTER: Yes- the local mall is having its annual pre-Christmas sale and she's stocking up on drool buckets and towels.

ADEPT: I have to admit, she is well-prepared.

MASTER: Yeah-too bad she didn't lock her office before she left.

ADEPT: Or think to lock up her leftover Halloween candy!!

MASTER: Well, finders keepers, as our darling Ezra would say.

ADEPT: Yes indeed! *munch munch* So enjoy this part of our story! Hey, pass me that Kit Kat there...

SMARMSLUT QUEEN: (CRASH!) What's going on in here?!?

ADEPT & MASTER: Awww hell!!

*********

Ashes of the Mind, pt 10
by the Smarm Sluts

Chris looked up as he ate the remaining bit of his breakfast. Vin was sauntering towards them. Looking to all the world like he had just gone to the outhouse and was headed back for some food. But the five at the table knew him better, and noticed an air of anticipation in him. Vin had learned something.

Nathan signaled the waitress who smiled and nodded. She had anticipated Vin's return and told them to let her know when he was on his way back and she would have his food at the table when he got there. She went into the back and soon returned with the plates and a fresh pot of coffee.

"Let me know if you need anything more." Her soft voice and gentle smile easing Vin's surprise at finding his breakfast ready for him.

"Thanks ma'am." Vin smiled back at the girl, who blushed and went to another table.

"So?" Buck asked, unable to wait any longer as Vin took a few bites of food.

"You were dead on, Buck." Vin took another bite and chewed, gathering his thoughts. "It's a man inside, and he's been shot. Heard a girl an' him talkin'. I think he's dyin' and fast. We'll have to hurry."

"The girl involved in this?" Chris asked, frowning.

Vin shook his head as he took a sip of coffee. "She's just a poor kid who ain't got no money or family. Seems he singled her out 'cause she can move around the town and no one notices her. Poor kid is pretty much ignored around here. People treat her pretty bad."

"Because of her scar?" Josiah rumbled, taking more coffee. He hated prejudice of any kind, and the poor girl seemed to be ostracized from the town for no apparent reason.

"Yup." I followed her to the dry goods store. She had to beg for help and was charged triple for some goods."

"What kind of goods?" Nathan asked, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Linen, probably fer bandages. Some food. Then she went and bought bread and milk, again she weren't treated like she was human. She was real pretty before she got scarred. Still is if you can see past them." Vin sighed. The pain in the girls eyes haunted him. She had given up on life and looked like she just waited to die. He hated that.

"So what now Brother Larabee?" Josiah looked around the sleepy town. It was little more than an oasis in the desert.

"Buck," Chris looked in the direction of his old friend. "You think you can get close to this girl, get her talkin'.?"

"Sure, Chris." Buck was puzzled. "What do you want me to do with her?"

"Just keep her out of the line of fire. We're going after this guy and I want her safe. If you make her feel better in the meantime." Chris paused smiling. "All the better."

Buck bristled at the thought of being left out of the action, but saw the wisdom of what Chris was saying. The poor girl didn't need to get caught in a gun battle, and he could at least help her and give her some much needed self-esteem. Besides, he agreed with Vin. The girl was pretty, she just couldn't see it anymore.

"When do you want to do this?" Nathan asked, pouring the last of the coffee into his cup. He silently looked around to see if anyone wanted more, and at their nods, signaled the waitress back over.

"More coffee sirs?" She asked, picking up the pot.

"Yes, ma'am." Buck tipped her one of his big smiles and she blushed again as she left. The others chuckling at the by-play.

"To answer Nathans question," Chris tone brought them all back to the task at hand. "We do this tonight, first opportunity. As soon as the girl comes into the saloon, Buck you make your move."

"What do we do until then?" Vin drawled, grinning as the waitress brings the new pot of coffee to the table.

"Relax for the rest of the day, I'll wire the Judge and tell him we're in town waiting for him. He should be in Green Lake this morning." Chris had memorized the Judges itinerary, just in case they needed him faster than he was traveling.

"Sounds like a plan, Chris." Buck grins, looking after the pretty waitress. The other shaking their heads at his obvious thoughts.


Ezra sat shivering in the corner of his cell, staring with unseeing eyes at the small window and the gray morning sky just beyond it. Could the long night really be over, or was it another nightmare?

He let his head drop into his hands, wishing for its spinning to stop. If only he could sleep...but that had not been permitted. Every time his exhausted body had dropped off, it seemed, there had been a guard in his cell kicking him awake again. He'd lost track of how many times that had happened during the night; his ribs were so sore and bruised, it felt like at least a hundred. After a while he had decided to stay awake rather than undergo any more abuse, but now he was so tired he could hardly think straight. And Ezra had to think straight if he was going to get out of there.

He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to the bars, his thoughts turning to JD. Did the kid get away? Or had they succeeded in killing him? Would Ezra ever even know?

With filthy hands he rubbed at his bloodstained sleeves, trying to generate some warmth. God, he thought with disgust, looking at his clothes, I'm as filthy as a mountain man. It made his skin crawl to wear such soiled clothing. He chuckled; what an absurd thing to think about, he realized suddenly, I'm probably about to be killed and here I am contemplating my sorry state of dress.

A frightening thought occurred to him: what if he was going mad?

Ezra pushed that idea away firmly; not only was he going to stay sane, he was going to escape, go back to Four Corners, and bring the wrath of God and the Government down on Jed Maxwell and this infernal place. The light of day would afford him the opportunity, and he had to be ready.

He sat back in his corner and began to go over poker strategies in his head to stay sane. The chance to escape would present itself, if he could only hold out...


"Damn that Yankee brat!"

Branford's angry voice echoed across the scorpion pit, bouncing over the rocks and against the swollen body of the guard which still lay at the bottom of the depression. The warden's grim expression was dim in the morning light, but the fury in his black eyes was unmistakable.

He shook his head. "Leave it to one of their contemptible race to commit such a vile act of murder," he muttered. He sighed, glaring at the body. "I knew Wilson was too stupid for this job..."

"Trouble, Branford?"

The warden turned to see Jed walking up to him from the asylum. With one graceful hand he indicated the dead guard.

"It seems that snot-nosed accomplice of Standish's got away last night."

Jed stared at the body. "Oh, shit!"

"Your powers of expression impress me no end," was Branford's dry reply. "However, don't worry, I've sent some of my men out scouting around, he won't get far. They'll be telling everyone he's a dangerous lunatic, so even if we don't find him he'll most likely be shot on sight by some nervous local. And noone of any worth will try to help him."

Jed grunted. "Glad you got it under control, Branford, but I'd still feel easier if we knew the kid was out of the way. I don't need him gettin' to his buddies an' rattin' us out."

Branford laughed. "He'll be dead before he can tell anybody anything." He looked at the bloating body with disgust. "Damned fool Wilson, letting that Yankee brat get the better of him. Well, he'll pay for it. I'm leaving his body out for a day or two, to warn the others to be on their guard-and that if they fail they can expect no mercy from me. And of course by tomorrow there won't be much left to bury."

"Hmm," Jed grunted in reply. "An' I was lookin' forward to draggin' the kid's body in front of Standish."

"Oh, don't let this stop you from your fun," Branford replied easily as they began walking back to the asylum, leaving the guard to his work. "There's no reason Standish has to know his ally isn't dead-yet. I imagine you could concoct quite a story about the agonies of his friend's demise. Leave it to his imagination-I've found it's even more effective than reality."

Jed smiled. "I like your thinkin', Branford."

Branford smiled and pulled out his pocket watch, glancing at it casually. Jed noticed it and grinned.

"That's Standish's watch, ain't it?"

Branford looked up, pleased. "Yes. The man has excellent taste in jewelry, I'm happy to say. My piece was wearing out, and this one proved quite suitable-once I had the blood cleaned off, of course."

"Ha!" Jed peered closer. "What's that written on th' inside of th' cover?"

Branford looked at the inside of the watch's lid. Etched onto the smooth golden surface was a series of unusual symbols.

He shrugged. "The watchmaker's mark, perhaps. It appears to be a code of some sort. I'll have the jeweler in town take it off the next time I'm there, and like Standish himself, there will be no evidence it ever existed." He smiled and shut the watch. "Now I need you in the violents' ward this morning-I have some correctional measures to mete out and I'll require your assistance. We can put Standish in with the non-violents for the morning, and then he's yours."

"Fine with me," said the other man with a grin. "I could probably use a few hours of practice anyway."


Ezra was still crouched in the corner of his cell when he heard the door kicked open with a bang. He jumped, startled out of the reverie he had placed himself in to keep his mind sharp. The doorway was flooded with harsh torchlight, and in the midst of it was the thin form of Jed Maxwell.

Ezra swallowed but assumed an air of strength; Maxwell wasn't going to get the best of him. When Jed didn't move, Ezra stood up very slowly, bracing himself against the cold, slimy stone wall.

"Get a good night's rest, Standish?" Jed's sneering voice boomed through the small room.

Ezra snorted. "That is deucedly hard when one is kicked in the ribs every hour."

Jed laughed. "That's every half-hour, an' I'm glad the boys are doin' their job. You're never going to have a good night's sleep again, Standish, just so you know. But cheer up-pretty soon that's gonna be the least of your worries."

Ezra stared at him for a moment, thinking, ignore what he says, with any luck I'll soon be out of here.

"By the way," Jed said casually, still not moving, "your little pal's dead."

Ezra felt a coldness grip his heart, but he steadied himself. There was always a chance it wasn't true, and Maxwell was just toying with him.

"Nothin' to say to that, huh?" Jed said quietly, stepping into the cell towards Ezra, the torchlight behind him making him one tall, thin walking shadow. "Guess you guys weren't all that close then, huh. So you won't mind when I tell you how he died screamin' in agony. An' he blamed you, Standish, with his last breath, for gettin' him into this mess. But we can talk about that later."

Ezra remained speechless, trying not to listen. It's a trick, he thought, JD didn't blame him. Even though Ezra blamed himself.

In one quick move Jed darted forward and grabbed Ezra by his collar, lurching him off his feet. Ezra found himself staring into Jed's ugly, scarred face, now only inches away.

"Much as I'd like to," Jed breathed, his voice low and full of hate, "I can't take care of you now. But just wait, Standish. You're gonna wish you were dead way before I'm done with you. See ya later."

With a laugh he shoved Ezra into the arms of the guards and walked away. Ezra tried to stand, but before he got to his feet the guards began to drag him out of the cell, Jed's laughter still echoing in his ears as they moved up the stairway.