Redeeming Gabriel by Elizabeth White Page B

down to the fort. Uncle’s right—you’ll raise some eyebrows dressed like that.”
    She shrugged. “I’ll put my cap back on. Nobody’ll know I’m a girl.”
    “Hope you’re right. But remember we’ll be in broad daylight, so keep your hands in your pockets.”
    Camilla replaced the figure of the dog and examined her small, smooth hands. “Only you would notice something that minor.”
    “Anybody with a grain of sense would notice it.”
    She scowled. He was worse than either of her brothers.
    Diron looked over the edge of the loft and cleared his throat loudly. “Anybody interested in this here quinine bag?”
     
    Feet propped on the rail, Gabriel lounged under the striped canvas awning on the upper deck of the western bay steam packet. After leaving Caleb at a livery near the quay at Deer River Point shortly after seven, he and Camilla had boarded one of the little thirty-foot steamers that slogged up and down the coastline. The shallow-draft boat had dodged sandbars and trees and stumps embedded in silt and reeds for nearly an hour, and another two remained before they would reach Grant’s Pass.
    Except for pretty villas dotting the low, wooded shore, the monotonous coastline had changed little from the days Gabriel had spent as a boy hunting and fishing with his uncle. He found himself interested in watching Camilla, who stood at the rail looking pensively out over the water. Her nose was getting pink.
    He nudged her elbow with his foot. “Better rest while you’ve got the chance. Don’t want you fainting on me before we get home.”
    She lifted her face to the breeze blowing fresh off the water and hugged the leather sack holding the bottle of quinine to her stomach. “I like the sun, and I’m not tired.” She turned to look at Gabriel, anxiety filling her eyes. “How long does it take for yellow fever to kill a man?”
    “Depends how long they’ve been down with it. Cuba’s rife with the stuff.”
    “When is somebody going to find a way to prevent it?”
    Gabriel felt the old bitterness take hold. “Maybe somebody’s already found what causes it. Maybe nobody else is listening.”
    “My brother’s such a good man, and he loves the Lord so much. He doesn’t deserve to die.”
    “Camilla, nobody deserves to die. It just happens. Remember, we’re in the middle of a war. A civil war, God help us. Your brother’s a blockade runner. He knew the risk he took.”
    “There’s something you don’t understand.” Camilla met Gabriel’s eyes, her chin set against its trembling. “My mama was carried off by yellow fever when I was four. I’m not losing Jamie the same way.”
     
    As the packet hauled up alongside a jetty off the eastern tip of Dauphin Island, Gabriel told himself it was just as well he didn’t have time to think about Camilla’s disclosure. He and Camilla threaded their way among the civilian passengers headed for the tatty-looking masonry shell of Fort Gaines. The wharf swarmed with army and navy personnel, businessmen and fishermen. The few women in the crowd looked to be of the strumpet variety. Gabriel was relieved that Camilla chose not to draw attention to herself.
    The fort was surrounded by a hot wasteland of sand and tents. A former commander had ordered removal of the trees in order to clear the line of approach from any direction. Much of the activity today, however, seemed to center more around food than defense. Cook fires were in abundance, and the scent of coffee, fried salt pork and hardtack made Gabriel’s mouth water.
    Camilla had to be hungry, too, but she trudged beside him up the hill to the fort without complaint. Though her shoulders drooped, she allowed him to take the heavy bag of quinine from her with obvious reluctance.
    As civilians desiring passage on the ferry to Fort Morgan, Gabriel and Camilla were required to show the pass signed by Provost Marshal G. M. Parker to the commander of the fort. Major Hallonquist, a delicate-looking man with a