Lilith and Ficfangirl - you made this chapter better. Readers and reviewers - you're awesome!

Warning: This chapter mentions attempted rape.

~ J *+* D ~

"But my later experience has taught me two lessons: first, that things are seen plainer after the events have occurred; second, that the most confident critics are generally those who know the least about the matter criticized."

~ Ulysses S. Grant ~

Chapter 12

Ace

Two weeks have passed since Preacher Man first arrived. He's staying away from Crowley and has come to grips with the aches and pains of his body. His back is slowly healing, but some of the deeper wounds that needed sutures are still a problem.

Wash time is on a rotating basis of every seven days. Two cells are opened at a time and we are given twenty minutes to undress, turn in our dirty clothes and towel, collect clean clothes and towel, shave and clean up in one of the two wash tubs. This morning our cell is one of the two to use the facilities first. You always want to go first because the water doesn't get changed out during the process. If your cell is opened last, it's usually as a form of punishment. You have to clean up in the others' filth, so what's the point of trying to clean yourself? If our cell is one of the last, I will shave and get clean clothes, but I will use the little sink in our cell before I use the grey water.

We let Preacher Man wash up first. He easily fits into our little of group of cell and chain mates. He hasn't shown any signs of needing special attention and hasn't complained about his current circumstances. If anything, he's trying to prove he's worth being part of our work crew. His back has been itching badly. Using the same dirty towel, day after day, to clean the wounds, isn't helping them heal. I'm actually surprised he hasn't gotten an infection.

Five minutes later, I am on my way into the wash room when I hear a commotion. A low threat of one inmate telling another, "Stop struggling and take it like a man," in the only toilet stall. I notice Preacher Man is not among the men using the tubs. Walking further into the room I hear his voice hissing, "Get off of me, asshole."

"That's just where I intend to use you, boy." I recognize the panting voice of Jewels. A beast of a man, who is proud of his family jewels, and can't seem to stop himself from satisfying his basic needs.

I round the corner and briefly see a naked Preacher Man, squeezed against the wall between the toilet and the stall panel, trying to push Jewels back, sweating and fighting for all he's worth. "Back off, Jewels. He's obviously not your type if he's fighting this hard."

"Keep out of this, Ace. If you haven't claimed him yet, then he's mine," Jewels snarls.

I ignore his comment. I quickly glance around the room wondering where the guards are. There are usually 2 or 3 in the room who are supposed to prevent these acts or fights in general. I should have paid attention to which other cell was opened. I was side tracked by a conversation with Blue and Tiny. Jewels has been making suggestive comments all week. Preacher Man has tried to ignore him, but you could tell he was embarrassed by the remarks, which only egged Jewels on. I should have known he would pounce at the first opportunity to waylay Preacher Man.

I'm on my own it seems, but then I notice Blue and Tiny coming into the room and I know they will back me up. I reach up and grab Jewels by his shoulder to pull him out of the stall. He wrenches away easily and turns to face me, standing with his pants around his ankles, at his full height of 6'7". He's huge, which is why Jewels' cellmates, the other men in the room, are not willing to help Preacher Man. Most would say you have a death wish if you go up against him. His cellmates, confined with him, have certainly paid the price more than once from his overly active libido and wouldn't take the risk of being assaulted again.

"Are you thinking of taking me on, Ace, or do you want to take his place?" He cocks he head as he stares down at me. "What do you think your chances are of living out the rest of the day if you deny me my fun?" His loud voice bounces off the walls and freezes those who remain in the room.

"I don't have any plans of taking you on or taking his place. I happen to think my chances of living out the rest of the day are pretty good," I smirk. From the corner of my eye, I notice Preacher Man is quickly getting dressed, which is what I'm sure he was doing before he was accosted.

"Think again, Ace. You interfered with what I wanted and now…" His little speech is interrupted by another booming voice of none other than McCarty. "What is it you wanted, Jewels?"

At this moment, Preacher Man pushes past Jewels as he squeezes out of the stall. "He wanted to initiate my backside into the seamier side of life. I fought back until Ace got his attention and then you came in." Preacher Man snarls out his side of the story, still breathing hard from his struggles.

McCarty lifts his brows at Jewels. "You would have sodomized Preacher Man? You know, Jewels, you just aren't thinking with the right part of your body. He said, no." He stops his speech for a moment and looks at Preacher Man, with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did say, no, didn't you?"

Preacher Man's face is a combination of anger, embarrassment and incredulity, as he looks first at Jewels and then McCarty. "Yes, he was definitely informed that I was not interested." He underscores his words by shaking his head in disgust.

McCarty's glare returns full force as he stares back at Jewels. "You know what the punishment is for breaking the rules, don't you? You'll be spending 10 days in solitary, Jewels. Get dressed."

"No! You aren't locking me up in solitary. The act wasn't committed," Jewels argues, suddenly not looking so fierce, while he pulls up his pants.

"The act may not have been completed, but you were the aggressor with intent," McCarty snaps back. It's then I notice the missing guards are coming to stand behind McCarty. I wanted to ask, 'where the hell were you, when Preacher Man was being assaulted?' But I didn't want to call attention to myself when all eyes were focused on Jewels. No one wanted solitary. For one, it is a dark cell located in the basement of the prison. Second, it's where the more violent inmates are sent and they usually don't return. Those who do survive are returned to the dormitory, beaten to within an inch of their lives.

"You ain't taking me to no solitary! You'll have to take me down first, McCarty," Jewels warns, becoming belligerent and taking a fighting stance.

"No problem," McCarty chuckles. With astonishingly quick reflexes, he pulls back his fist and plows it into Jewels' nose, rocking his head back.

Jewels grunts from the blow and tries to throw his own punch, but McCarty grabs his arm with such force, Jewels is pulled forward and then his arm is pushed up behind his back, dislocating his shoulder. Crying out in pain, Jewels is easily forced down to his knees. McCarty quickly stands behind him and grabs his other arm, pulling it up behind him, as well.

I'm stunned. McCarty, for all the kindness he's shown, is not a man I ever want to have pissed at me. The other guards move in, relieving McCarty of his burden. Jewels is effortlessly led away, begging not to be sent to solitary, and promising never to force anyone against their will again.

Once he's out the door, McCarty looks at Preacher Man, asking quietly, "Are you okay?"

"I… I'm good. Thank… thank you for helping me," Preacher Man stammers, in awe of the performance McCarty just gave.

"Good. You need to wash your back again and then get a clean shirt. You're bleeding and you don't need to get an infection. These walls aren't the cleanest," McCarty glances at the stall wall which is smeared with his blood.

Preacher Man does what he's asked to do, while McCarty takes up his guard position to ensure no more problems occur in the wash room. I haven't moved since McCarty first entered. I'm amazed at his willingness to take a stance when no other guard was interested in getting involved. It's as if he has become Preacher Man's personal protector, making sure he's kept safe from the evils of this place. His eyes are scanning the room and they land on me. He cocks his head to the side, as if reading my thoughts and then nods his head, as if agreeing with me. I nod back in gratitude and wondering if it's true.

~ J *+* D ~

After bathing, we all return to the cell. It's decided from now on, we clean up two at a time. We don't expect a repeat performance. Jewels was the only man I'd ever heard of to use brute force to satisfy his needs. He's not popular with the inmates and most steer clear of him, so we don't fear retaliation. Just in case though, we figure a united front will see that no one else tries to take advantage of us individually. Plus, at the same time, we ensure no one tries to steal anything from our cell. Every bar of soap, towel, blanket or deck of cards is precious to us.

We settle in for a full day of rest. Since today is visitors' day, the cell doors are currently standing open. Blue is the only one who holds out hope his family will visit, but he tries to hide it. I can't imagine what the loss of a child or children would do to me, if I had any. Tiny's family had long ago moved out of the area and like me, he never expects a visitor.

Several guards line the wall by the only doors of the cell block, while two guards walk on either side of the cells, calling out names for those men who have visitors. I'm surprised when I hear McCarty call mine. I jump down from my bunk and stand still as the rules mandate. I'm curious who it might be, hoping against hope, it might be Peter.

"Mr. McCarty, Sir. Does it say who the visitor is?" He's the first guard I've ever actually shown respect for and I want him to know it.

He flips the page which lists the names and replies, "Miss Maria Guerra."

Surprise is my first reaction and then anger quickly surfaces. "With all due respect, Mr. McCarty, Sir, as is my right I refuse to see the woman who put me in here," I grimace, but politely decline the visit.

Mr. McCarty takes note of my stance, which had involuntarily stiffened. I was completely caught off guard by her audacity in coming here. He nods his head and I return to my bunk, while McCarty shuts the cell door, signifying that there are no other visitors. Blue's shoulders sag, both Preacher Man and Tiny notice it too, but say nothing as they continue their card game.

Once McCarty moved on to the next cell, I realize how much this place is starting to knock down my usual defenses. I'm not a man who is easy to read and yet McCarty intuitively understood my reactions. I'm going to have to remember to keep my wits about me. I refuse to let this place get the better of me.

~ J *+* D ~

"The general will rules in society as the private will governs each separate individual."

~ Maximilien Robespierre ~

Warden Jacob Black

You would think being the Warden of a prison would be a highly complex job. Dealing daily with the issues of 250 prisoners' health and welfare in a facility that was built to house 150. It's not. My only concern is for the guards, should an uprising occur in these overcrowded conditions. However, since convict labor creates a wealth of income to the State, the State ensures the guards are numerous, well trained and armed. It's up to the guards to choose how they want to equip themselves. Each are given the option of revolvers or rifles, billie clubs or blackjacks, whips and knifes. Plus, they are never supposed to be alone. Especially outside the walls, usually working in teams of a minimum of seven to nine, for every 16 to 20 convicts. One boss guard is assigned to each crew of four. The rest protect the perimeter with dogs and rifles. While one, usually the chain boss, watches the cook and water boy.

It's a monotonous environment and it's not unusual for an inmate to go insane. The same holds true for the guards. So, as long as the guards' lives are safe, I allow them to let off a bit of steam and have their way with the inmates. If they want to beat the shit out of a prisoner, I couldn't care less.

I've laughed heartily when an inmate has complained about inhumane treatment. Idiots! Don't they get it? Once they walk through these doors, they are mine to do with what I will. If they die on the first day, so be it. More are crowding jails elsewhere and those jailors can't wait to push their less than desirable inmates our way. Not that this is where the inmates want or feel they deserve to be. Ha! See, that right there is their main problem. They come in with an attitude. Well, we show ours, too. That thought alone makes me laugh out loud.

We get inmates from all over the south. Some come with special requests or instructions for their treatment. The newest is Preacher Man, as I hear he's called. Edward Masen. A priest sentenced for third degree murder. A hand written letter, with $100 check enclosed, came by mail from Judge Banner, days before he even arrived. Some inmates travel by train. Most are brought in by vehicles, which is a long hard ride.

Banner insisted Preacher Man was not to be given any special privileges, such as light duty or working within the prison itself. No, he is to be out working with the gang immediately, and should he be abused, oh well, he surely must have deserved it. I wonder what he did to piss off a Judge. Then I chuckle out loud again. I don't really give a rat's ass. I have no problem granting the Judge's request. Maybe I can create another incident and have him accused of a misdeed? Today's incident didn't work out the way I planned. I want to keep Banner happy. The happier I keep those in the justice system, the better my life is. Banner and I have worked well for years and I have the money to prove it!

Thinking about Preacher Man reminds me of his cellmate and the guest I had in my office today. Ace had a visitor he refused to see. I walked into the noisy dining hall which is used for visiting day. It's filled with family or friends of the inmates as usual every Sunday. One woman caught my attention. She stood out with her shiny black hair and eyes, in a dark red dress. She was sitting all by her lonesome, at one of the tables, furtively scanning the room.

I walked over to the table and asked if she needed help. She informed me, with tears welling in her eyes, she was here to see Jasper Grant. She had traveled for two full days and he didn't have the decency to meet with her. Her name was Maria and she was a pretty little thing. I decided to take her into my office to give her some privacy in her humiliation. Once she was inside my office, I offered her a chair while I closed the door.

I walked behind my desk and grabbed the water pitcher and offered her a glass. She accepted it with gratitude. After a few minutes, I politely asked if she was feeling better and it opened the flood gates. She explained how she and Jasper had a long standing relationship. She thought he loved her and had visions of wedding bells in her future. She even gave herself to him. Now she felt he had used her for his own base needs. She didn't realize he was involved in criminal activities. She even divulged, with embarrassment, how he had damaged her personal property. And now, because Jasper was in prison, refusing to see her, she was unable to ask him for compensation from the funds she knows he has hidden away.

She hoped, that by coming here today, she would be able to convince him to tell her where his money was kept and she would forgive him. She wanted to tell him she would wait for him. But, it seems it was all for naught. The bastard. How could he treat this sweet, broken woman like this?

There's a knock on the door. I was angry by the callous disregard Ace showed to her and annoyed with the interruption. I yelled, "Enter," startling her.

Emmett McCarty opens the door and walks through the doorway. He sees Maria sitting across the desk from me and stops. "Excuse me, Sir." He looks apologetic for disturbing me. "I'm here to inform you visiting hours are over. All of the visitors have left except for one, who is unaccounted for," he stiffly explains.

"I believe Maria here," I nod to her, "is the missing visitor and I will ensure she is escorted out."

He returns my nod in understanding, turns to leave and stops again, "I'm off duty now. Have a good night, Sir. I'll be back on Wednesday." Then he quietly shuts the door behind him.

At the sound of the click, Maria looks up at me with a gentle smile and thanks me for being so considerate to her. She gathers up her gloves getting ready to leave. I stand and walk over to her side leaning back against the desk and smile. "I'll tell you what. I'll make sure Jasper pays for his crudeness. He should never have treated you so poorly."

She shyly smiles up at me, stands and puts a hand to my cheek. Then she surprises me by standing on tip toes in an attempt to kiss my cheek. She wobbles a bit, trying to stretch up and my hands reach out automatically to her hips to steady her. I turn my head because it's my nature to take advantage of any situation and find her lips on mine. Next thing I know, I'm enjoying a very pleasurable tryst with a very stimulating and aggressive Maria. If I didn't know better, I'd say she planned it, but I think it was her loneliness getting the better of her.

Half an hour later, I've personally escorted Maria out the visitor's door with a promise to make Jasper Grant's life a living nightmare. She's pleased and offers me a place to stay should I ever find myself in her neck of the woods and left with a smile on her face.

From what I hear, Ace and Preacher Man are fast becoming friends. It pays to have a few stoolies in the prison population. Maybe I'll take care of both of them at once. What do I care if I lose one man or two? They're nothing to me except a number, a paycheck, and now a new pleasurable benefit. That thought stops me in my tracks. Maybe I'll take care of Preacher Man first and use Ace to my advantage for a few more times with Maria. Rubbing my hands together, I smile. That's a great idea!

I return to my office as I let my mind wander to the pleasurable benefits I would love to exchange with the songstress, Tanya. Lord knows, she is a true beauty. The first time I went to see the new singer at the club was merely out of curiosity. Rumor had it, an angel had descended upon us lowly men and every man who wasn't working that night was sure to attend. It wasn't just the single men either. Married men were flocking to take a gander and listen to the lovely nightingale.

When I first laid eyes on Tanya, I felt as if I was viewing a work of art that I could gaze upon forever. Blonde hair piled high on top her head, showcasing her flawless features and slender neck. Her expressive sultry eyes, irises in the most exquisite shade of brown, held mystery and promise. Her luscious mouth was sin personified. Her lovely lips wrapping around lyrics of love, need and desire were almost carnal. Her lush full breasts topping a tiny waistline then flaring out gently to generous hips made my hands itch to feel the skin hidden under her dress.

Watching her sway to and fro on stage and then seductively walking between the tables as she sang to various men, was both alluring and frustrating. I happened to be one of the blessed she bestowed attention on that night. Some men she seemed to favor more than others. Emmett McCarty being one of them. I had reached out and grabbed her hand to draw her in closer to me when he stumbled between us, setting my teeth on edge.

After the first night of sharing a table with Emmett, I've made it a point to get a private table. One closer to the stage. Yes, it costs a pretty penny, but to be closer to the beautiful songbird is worth the price. Unfortunately, the half a dozen times I've seen her since, she's remained on stage. I've tried to touch her, wanting to pull her down onto my lap, only to have her coyly dance away as if playing some cat and mouse game. Once, I stood up, pulling her to me for a kiss, and was rudely interrupted by three men who threatened to kick me out if I tried it again. Well, I'm a tomcat, no doubt about it, and I fully plan on catching this little mouse.

I've tried to approach her after her show to ask her out, only to be detained by the same men who refused to allow me backstage. I've run around the building expecting to catch her leaving by the back door just of have a word with her, but she seems to disappear into thin air. She's so mysterious, it's fueled the fire burning in me. I've waited for I don't know how long, walking around the club to watch every exit and I've never seen her. I've even left before the show was over to try to catch her leaving right after a performance. All I've ever seen are a young man and a small woman. The woman is too short and has the wrong coloring to be Tanya. These two identified themselves as backstage workers and they haven't paid attention to anybody or anything else. Idiots! The world is full of them.

Tonight, I'll try again. I'll get her to go out with me somehow. How can she resist? I'm a man with power. No, she won't keep snubbing me. Once she realizes my love for her, she will return my affections and then I'll make her mine. If not tonight, then the next time she performs. I can be patient. I rub my hands together in anticipation.

~ J *+* D ~

"There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort."

~ Jane Austen ~

Esme

It didn't take us long to pack our clothes and valuables so we could head back to Alabama. In fact, there seemed to be many who couldn't wait for us to leave town. I felt as if we were escorted to the train station with so many prying eyes on us. Many people recognized us and jeered, while a few others actually thanked Carlisle for taking the stand on behalf of Mr. Masen.

Before we arrived at the train station, we stopped at the post office and I posted a letter to Rose. I asked her if she would find us reliable movers for our furnishings and provided the information on where to ship them. Before I sealed the envelope, I added enough money that should cover the cost and our house key. After the trial, we continually drew a crowd. I wasn't sure our home was safe from vandals or looters. I told Rose where we were headed and offered her a place to stay whenever she and Mr. Uley came to visit Mr. Masen. I was even forward enough to offer Mr. Masen a place of respite, when he was ultimately freed.

There is no doubt in my mind that we will be seeing Rose and Mr. Uley at some point in the near future. I didn't for a second believe either of them would simply shrug their shoulders and say, 'Oh well, you can't win them all,' and continue on with their lives. This was not simply losing a murder case; this was about an innocent man who should never have been arrested in the first place. A man who should have been set free, but instead has been sent to endure one of the cruelest forms of existence.

~ J *+* D ~

With all the transfers at various stations, it took four exhausting days to return to the place of my birth. Three days of train travel and one day spent in Birmingham. Carlisle needed to purchase a new vehicle. We left our other one in storage in La Porte, in case we ever decided to return. I spent my time buying food to stock the bare shelves. I also bought a rooster and a few laying hens, a milk cow and a sow. The livestock would be delivered within a few days.

The air was stifling and dry later in the day as Carlisle drove us home. I immediately missed the cooling breeze off the Gulf Coast. It's a different world here. Quiet and slow compared to the hustle, bustle and constant chatter on the touristy streets of La Porte, not to mention the big City of Houston. But when the old, stately home came into view, even in its boarded up condition, it was just what the doctor ordered. I smiled to myself as I looked over at Carlisle. He, too, looked happy. We needed this reprieve to clear our heads and simply breathe.

It took weeks to reopen the grand old estate. Removing the boards from the windows. Removing the dust cloths and polishing the furniture. Airing out all the rooms. Adding fresh bed linen and dusting every nook and cranny. There were repairs made to the roof where we found leaks and Carlisle enjoyed the physical labor. He enjoyed spending time in the office, sorting his medical books on the shelves, changing up the furniture and creating an examination room in what was the smoking parlor off to the side.

He spent hours writing letters, thanking those who offered Carlisle employment, explaining that currently he was unable to accept the positions. Then he wrote letters to various pharmaceutical companies, requesting various medicines, and to medical supply companies for necessities to stock his cabinets. I added to his list, requesting various women's remedies and supplies you would only find in the big cities. Items women in the countryside don't have easy access to or most likely don't even know exist. It was our hope that someday in the future he would create a little practice in town to keep active in the medical field, but he also wanted to try his hand at being a gentleman farmer.

Money has never been an issue for us. Carlisle came from old money. His family were from upper class society in England and they traveled around the world. When Carlisle was twenty, he fell in love with the vastness of the States and chose to complete his studies here. At that time, he was given the inheritance left to him from his grandparents. Two years later, he inherited from his parents.

They were en route to visit him on the maiden voyage of the new ocean liner, the RMS Titanic, which sank in the Atlantic Ocean. They were not among the survivors. They were hailed as heroes for saving the lives of the many children they came upon and transferring them into life boats. Carlisle returned to England to settle their estate, closing up his family home, and transferring funds to his bank account in the States. He returned more determined to become the best doctor he could be in honor of his parents' heroics. We met shortly after his return.

What made Carlisle a better doctor, in my opinion, was his ability to give his full attention and whole heart to his patients, without worrying about money or position. His patients loved him for it. His compassion helped his patients heal faster. While he regretted the loss of any of his patients, it is Miss Mallory who still haunts his dreams. Had she received immediate attention after the assault, he felt sure she would have survived and this change in our lives wouldn't have occurred. Nor, he felt strongly, would Mr. Masen have been accused or convicted.

We received a letter from Rose not a week after our return to the plantation; letting us know our furnishings were on their way and should arrive by the end of the month. She also thanked us for the invitation to stay, when she and Mr. Uley came to visit with Mr. Masen, which she hoped would be soon. She informed us they were still working on obtaining information for his appeal and felt a higher court judge would look fairly at the previous court record and Mr. Masen would eventually be freed. She ended her letter by thanking Carlisle again for his testimony and she felt sure Mr. Masen would welcome their hospitality when he was released.

I couldn't help the smile which worked its way into a full grin. I knew she wouldn't let that poor man down and I was looking forward to the time when we would welcome him into our home.

~ J *+* D ~