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

Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

Gill had never been so happy to see the ranger base come into view as he was at that exact moment. Between the stench of the body draped over the pack mule and Pete’s complaints over the stench of the body draped over the pack mule, Gill had been fully preparing to gouge out his eardrums and hack off his nose. 

“”What the hell you got…. Oh god!” Harry Matthews gagged and stumbled back as he covered his nose and mouth with his hand. “What the hell are you bringing a rotten corpse back to the base for, Gill!?” he demanded. 

Gill shrugged as he leaned his arms against his saddle horn and pulled the bandana off his face, “The boss told me to bring him back.” 

“And Gill is nothing if not obedient,” Pete added, his voice muffled behind the bandana he had crushed against his nose. 

“I think the Captain would have preferred him alive when you came back through the gates,” Harry noted as he pushed open the gate to let the duo and their rather smelly cargo pass. 

“Well do ya have a witchdoctor handy? Maybe he could bring the bastard back from the dead so we can fulfill the Captain’s wishes,” Gill stated as he pulled off his hat, swiped his shirt sleeve over his sweaty brow and then plopped his hat back on top of his thick dark hair. 

Pete shivered, “I think this bastard is beyond resurrection.” 

“Yeah, well get on in here and let’s figure out what to do with that before the buzzards take over,” Matthew grumbled. 

One of the black birds called out from above and Gill chuckled, “Too late.” 

Harry just mumbled under his breath as Gill and Pete rode past him and onto the base. Family cabins for the married Rangers were in the distance with women hanging out clothes while kids and dogs ran and played. Horses milled around the corrals and men lounged around talking about whatever it was they talked about… Gill didn’t know--they never allowed him to take part in their discussions. If he happened to approach they would get quiet and stay that way until he awkwardly walked away. 

It seemed that while he had managed to earn some respect as a ranger, no one wanted to be friends with a man who was half-colored and shared blood with a man who had given them the slip more than a few times before succumbing to a snake bite. And he could forget about being invited to any of the family houses for dinner--he might run off with someone’s wife or kidnap their baby, perhaps kick their dog or kill their kitten--you never could tell with the son of an outlaw like Rafe Tomlinson. 

Gill growled under his breath and Pete moved his horse closer so he could reach out and shove him. Gill scrambled to maintain his seat upon his mare and glared at the man, “What the hell was that for?” 

“For getting lost in your melancholy! Quit giving two hoots in hell about what those jackasses think about ya! You are Gilliam Tomlinson, Texas Ranger, and my best friend. That alone should be enough to keep you warm at night and make you feel all fuzzy inside.” 

Gill rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from curving his lips. His best friend was brain addled but Gill didn’t know what he’d do without him.