Heart of an Outlaw *First in the Crane Gang series*

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

 

          Captain J.T. Morgan swallowed hard as the sack of badges was dumped on the polished oak of his kitchen table. The badges were nothing too special. They were simply hand beaten and forged from whatever metal the men could find lying around and their names had been painstakingly engraved upon them—a task each man took upon himself.

          Five badges.

          Five dead men.

          Five dead Rangers.

          J.T.’s fists clenched as he stared at the window. This wouldn’t have happened if the higher ups had listened to him. He’d told them to simply let Gill and Pete go. J.T. had always known deep down that Gill wouldn’t last as a Ranger. He’d seen the free spirit and restlessness inside the man and had known that, eventually, he’d have to take a different road. And it only stood to reason that wherever Gill went, Pete would follow. The two had always been inseparable.

          J.T. had been fully prepared to let them do just that. He’d been prepared to ignore this whole big mess and focus on more pressing matters than The Crane Gang who weren’t killing anyone—or at least hadn’t been.

          But the Crane Gang had pissed off the wrong men—the rich men. Rich men who were lining the pockets of the men who gave the Captain his marching orders and they were in turn handing down orders to him. Orders the Captain didn’t like one bit.

          “I won’t do it,” he said with a shake of his head as he stared hard at those badges. “I won’t be a party to this.”

          “You don’t have a choice,” Major Winfield warned. “You’ll do as we say or their will be severe consequences.”

          J.T. swallowed hard. His stomach was churning with the knowledge that five of his men were dead and two more were going to die. J.T. wouldn’t help kill Gill or Pete but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it from happening. Those five Rangers who were now dead had been sent on a murder mission and instead they’d been the ones to find themselves on the wrong end of a bullet. Gill wouldn’t have killed them if he’d had any kind of choice. Gill might not be a Ranger deep down but he was a good and decent man. J.T. knew that for fact.

          “Major, I don’t appreciate your threats. This is my base, my home and those were my men—” J.T. nodded down at the badges. “—that were killed. But you have no proof that Gilliam or Pete were responsible for this.”

          Major Winfield puffed out his chest and ran his fingers over his thin mustache, reminding J.T. of a bird fluffing its plumage. “Need I remind you that I am your commanding officer and a simple word from me could find you relieved of your duties and your home regardless of what you may or may not appreciate?”

          J.T. bristled at the tone in the man’s voice and stood from his seat. “What do you intend to do, Major? I only have three Rangers left at this base. My entire battalion has been wiped out. If you’re correct and Gilliam Tomlinson and Pete Bardlow are responsible for this, then how do you intend for three men to kill them when they already murdered five without difficulty?”