Redeeming Gabriel by Elizabeth White Page A

sardonic look. “An angel of compassion, indeed. Dr. Kinch, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”
    With Gabriel behind her, Camilla entered the ground-floor ward and led the way among the patients. These visits broke her heart, but she had to come. She had no formal nurse’s training, but the doctors were glad to get any help available.
    She was very conscious of Gabriel’s dark presence. Once or twice he seemed about to speak, but when she turned to look at him, he avoided her gaze and clasped his hands behind his back.
    Camilla stopped at the bed of a seven-year-old girl who had caught her leg in a coil of baling wire. “This is Lecy Carrolton—” She gasped as two strong hands clasped her elbows and moved her aside.
    Gabriel knelt beside the cot and gently brushed the hair back from Lecy’s hot forehead. Her delicate brows remained knit in pain, her eyes closed. “Hello, little one,” he murmured, “having a bad dream?”
    Silken lashes fluttered, then lifted. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.
    “How long has she been like this?” Gabriel’s hands gently explored the swollen angry flesh above and below the bandage.
    “Her daddy brought her in over a week ago,” Camilla said, nonplussed. “She doesn’t seem to be getting better, no matter what the doctors do. They’re afraid they’re going to have to—” She bit her lips together and brushed the little pink toes of Lecy’s good foot. “We need to pray for her.”
    “We need to do more than pray for her.” Gabriel looked around and snapped his fingers at an ancient orderly in a stain-spattered coat. “You there! Bring me some—” He caught Camilla’s eye. She stared at him wide-eyed. He raked his hand through his hair.
    “Who are you?” she whispered.
    He glanced at Lecy. “If the oafs would treat their instruments with carbolic acid before they operate, most of these gangrenous infections would never occur. I’ve—I’ve followed enough field surgeons to know that.”
    “Dr. Kinch is one of the finest surgeons in the South. I’m sure he’s doing all he can.”
    “He’s doing all he can to line his pockets.” Gabriel rose and stalked toward the doorway.
    Camilla hurried after him and grabbed his arm. The muscles were corded, his expression angry. “I won’t let you speak that way about the greatest doctor who’s ever lived in this area. You don’t know him.”
    His black glare scorched her. “You’re right. I don’t.”
    Camilla dropped her hand. “What’s carbolic acid? It sounds dangerous.”
    Gabriel took a breath and looked away. “It’s an antiseptic. If it’s sprayed onto wounds and the instruments used to operate, it somehow keeps infections from growing. Nobody really knows why.”
    “Do you think we could get some? Maybe Dr. Kinch doesn’t know there is such a thing.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t.” Gabriel was silent for a long moment, then gave her an enigmatic look. “Listen, Miss Camilla, I’d like to help that little girl, but I’m just a traveling preacher. If you want to inquire about carbolic spray, go right ahead, and I’ll try to convince your famous doctor to try it.”
    Camilla stared at him, confused by his sudden coolness. “We should help Lecy if we can.”
    He smiled. “Ah. There’s the rub. Should and can are often mutually exclusive.”
    As Gabriel helped her into the buggy and started the horses toward home, Camilla’s heart was heavy. She hoped her unhappiness had nothing to do with the door Reverend Gabriel Leland had just very firmly shut in her face.
     
    The sun was going down and mosquitoes were beginning to spread out from the swamps as Gabriel made his way on horseback down to his uncle Diron’s shack on Dog River. He couldn’t stop thinking about that little girl in the hospital with the infected foot. Maddening that, without the necessary medicines, he could do so little. He could only hope that Camilla would be able to locate the carbolic spray. Then he would think about