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

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Gill watched Jebidiah fall to the ground and he quickly stepped forward and took the outlaw's gun.

"You'll be giving both those guns to the officers now," Major Winfield warned.

Gill thought about disobeying. He thought about turning on that worthless Major and blasting his head clean off his shoulders but Gill knew he couldn't do that. Not with Preston, his mother and Jeb to think about.

Knocking Jeb out had been had for Gill but he'd had to do it! Jebidiah would have been shot and killed if he hadn't.

Gill thought back to the look of shock and betrayal that had been on Jeb's face when Gill had held him at gunpoint. Would Gill have killed him? No. He couldn't have. He couldn't have pulled that trigger on the man who had loved him unconditionally and shown him that the man he was inside wasn't something he needed to hide.

He held out the guns in his hands and one of the Major's men was quick to relieve him of them. Gill glanced toward Preston before looking back into the Major's icy blue eyes. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're using a child to get what you want—you must be real proud of all those medals you've earned hiding behind old women and crippled boys."

Major Winfield chuckled and twirled the end of his mustache between his fingers. "Eventually you'll learn that your insults won't rile me, negro."

Gill felt his own gut burn and twist at the insult. He refused to let the Major see that he'd struck a nerve. He wasn't about to give the bastard the satisfaction.

"You have Jebidiah and you have me. You can let the boy and my mama go now," Gill urged, knowing his mama was being held just outside of town.

Major Winfield clicked his tongue. "I could," he agreed. "Or I could keep the boy just to insure that you and Mr. Crane there, don't get any ideas between here and the base. And as far as your mother goes, she's dying with her son when we return to the base in Amleston."

Gill's fists clenched as the blood began to pound in his ears. "You'll let my mother go."

Major Winfield laughed as Gill was cuffed. "No. I won't."

Gill knew he couldn't fight. He was cuffed, unarmed and outnumbered. He struggled against the men holding him as they led him to his waiting horse and shoved him into the saddle—his horse was secured tightly to the Major's so he couldn't even ride away and hope to escape that way.

"So you used my mother to gain my help but it was all a big joke, wasn't it Major? You didn't need my help at all. You had the boy all along."

Major Winfield nodded, his laughter ringing out in the quietness around them. "I find that there are many ways to make people pay for their crimes, Gilliam. Mental anguish is often much worse for some than the physical."

Gill sat tall upon the horse, refusing to let the Major see just how desperate and sick he felt inside. "Have your fun while you can, Major. When all this is over, I might die, but I can promise you now that you'll be lying dead beside me."

Preston began to cry as they men road out. The officer the boy was riding with smacked him on the head sharply and Gill twisted in the saddle. "You'll keep your hands off that boy."

The officer sneered. "You'll keep your mouth shut negro."

Gill ignored the man and instead focused on Preston. He saw the boy was struggling to breathe. His every breath was heaved in and his tiny chest was expanding and deflating rapidly. The color had been drained from his cheeks and his eyes were wide with panic.