Free Redeeming Gabriel by Elizabeth White

take advantage of his kindness.”
    Fanny looked ready to fight over the reverend, but her mother intervened. “Fanny does not pursue young gentlemen for any reason.” She quelled her daughter with a reproving glare. “Do you, Fanny?”
    Fanny looked much struck. “Of course not.” She picked up her hoop. “This quilt should be ready to auction next week. I’m confident it’ll bring quite a bit for the Widows’ Relief Fund.”
    “Yes, dear, your work is exquisite.” Fanny’s mother patted her hand fondly. “Lady, may I pour the tea?”
     
    “Hold that still, boy! I know I taught you better than to jump around like a june bug in a fryin’ pan!”
    Gripping a set of tongs, Gabriel used his wrist to swipe at a blinding stream of sweat. It was hot as Hades in the Chambliss Brothers’ Machine Shop, where he’d gotten snookered into helping Uncle Diron work on a boiler. “Uncle, you said we were coming down here to check on a new project design. You didn’t tell me you planned to fire up the anvil.”
    Diron gave one more slam of his enormous hammer and removed the bowed sheet of metal from the anvil, his scruffy gray beard split by a grin. “When you were just a little tad, you used to spend hours with me making knives and tomahawks and horseshoes. The clerical profession’s let you go all soft.”
    “Maybe so.” Gabriel flexed his aching shoulders and looked around the shop. The oily, metallic smell of the place did bring back pleasant memories, but he didn’t have time to think about them. He had arranged to meet Delia at the military’s afternoon parade review. He reached for a rag and began to wipe his hands. “Speaking of my ministerial duties, uncle, you’ll have to excuse me while I clean up. I’ve a patient in the hospital I need to visit.”
    Diron gave him a skeptical look, but shrugged and went back to work on the boiler.
    Gabriel went to the rain barrel just outside the door and brought back a bucket of water, which he poured into the basin on a worktable at the far end of the room. As he soaped his chest and shoulders, he noticed a scrap of wrinkled paper lying on the table. It was covered with his uncle’s spare but painstakingly detailed drawings, four or five views in three dimensions, all of the same object. It looked like a modified boiler, but there were significant differences between it and the boiler on the other side of the room. Finlike projectiles extended from its bottom and sides—and there seemed to be a rudder, and a hatch.
    He continued to stare at the drawings. Excitement burned through every nerve ending as enlightenment dawned. This was the military project his uncle was building for Ezekiel Beaumont. This was the mysterious fish boat.
    His hands itched to pocket the sketch. But perhaps he would learn more by continuing to observe his uncle. Besides, he wanted to see the boat itself. He wanted to touch it and know if it really would do what he’d heard it would do.
    Now, more than ever, he had reason to pursue Camilla Beaumont.
     
    Virgil Byrd was loitering with his mule at the front steps of the Beaumont mansion later in the day when Camilla appeared for her outing. She stopped to pet the mule’s whiskery muzzle and offer a gardenia from her silver posy-holder as a treat.
    Virgil gave her a worshipful grin. “Candy shore does think you’re the beatin’ est thing she ever seen. Man alive, that there’s the purtiest shirt—whatcha call it, now?”
    “It’s a Garibaldi blouse.” Camilla plucked at one thin red sleeve, praying the buttons would hold. It was a couple of years old, but it was still one of her favorite garments. She gave Candy another flower. “Virgil, do you know Reverend Gabriel Leland?”
    Virgil canted his triangular head. “Now, is that the one that rode in here couple days ago on a bay gelding? Got a Bible in one pocket and a derringer in the other?”
    Camilla nodded grimly. “That’s him.”
    “I like that fella! He was real nice to