Redeeming Gabriel (24 page)

Byrd didn’t know how long he lay on the hard damp ground watching Laniere, but his arms and legs got numb and he got a crick in his neck. He almost yelled out, but Laniere halted at the end of the pier, staring out across the water. Laniere pulled out a pocket watch and held it up to the moonlight.

After another eternity of waiting, wondering what happened to the Thing, Byrd couldn’t stand the pain in his limbs anymore. “Can’t you come let me loose?” he called. “I promise I won’t tell nobody.”

Camilla sat straight up in bed. She had been dreaming again, the wedding dream. Jamie had escorted her down the aisle toward Gabriel Laniere. Gabriel calmly pointed a long, cold Colt .45 at Jamie’s heart. He was laughing.

With trembling hands Camilla yanked off her nightcap and shoved her fingers into the wet ringlets at her temples.

She was going crazy.

Since she was awake, she ought to check on Harry.

She ignored the dressing gown lying across the foot of the bed and padded across to the door. It was too hot to put on extra clothes. Anyway, Harry would be asleep. She’d look in on him and come right back to bed.

Wearily pushing the long full sleeves of her gown to her elbows, she descended the stairs. She thought about last night as she left the kitchen, the way she’d turned her head at the last minute before kissing Harry on the cheek. He’d looked disappointed, but she hadn’t been in a kissing mood after Gabriel left the room. Gabriel had closeted himself with Schuyler in the game room for the rest of the night, and she hadn’t seen him since.

She stepped through diamond-shaped patches of moonlight cast by the mullioned windows above the front entryway, then headed through the central hallway toward the kitchen. It seemed to be a clear night. Maybe she’d step outside and cool her hot face before she checked on Harry.

She passed the dark, quiet little sewing room and stepped out onto the screened porch. Odd to think that Gabriel was asleep in a guest room in her own house. Or maybe he was out spying on somebody else—although, as far as she knew, anybody he might want to spy on was right here in the house.

Except Jamie.
Father, bring Jamie home.

She sat in Lady’s rocker and tucked her feet up inside her gown. A sweet peace enveloped her as she prayed for her brothers, for her father and grandmother. For Harry and Gabriel. For the men giving their lives in the foolishness of war. Fretting wasn’t going to change anything. Only God could resolve the conflict.

Sometime later she heard odd noises coming from the back drive path. She got up and shoved open the screen door. It sounded like a horse clopping with a staggering gait down the path, its breath heaving.

“That you, Missy? I come to tell you—”

Heart pounding in her throat, Camilla hurried down the steps while Virgil caught his breath. “What is it?” She snatched Candy’s tattered rope harness.

“It’s Mr. Jamie—the Thing swallowed him!”

“What thing?”

“That shark-thing. He went down in it and never come back up!”

Camilla’s knees buckled. Jamie had been in the fish boat. “Where did it go down?”

“Down at the end of Theater Street. They was a man named Laniere there, but he untied me and took off. Said for me to come get yore papa.”

Virgil had been tied up at the river by Gabriel’s uncle? Camilla had no idea what he was talking about, but she’d better do something. “Virgil, go wake up Horace and Willie. Tell them to get the wagon out and meet us at the place where the—where Jamie went down.” Running toward the porch, she threw over her shoulder, “I’ll be there soon as I can dress.”

As she reached for the kitchen doorknob, it turned under her hand. She slammed full tilt into Gabriel’s chest.

Gabriel had seen Camilla in men’s pants, in a ball gown and in everyday working garb. The sight of her in a white cotton nightgown, limned by moonlight, her long curly hair glittering against her shoulders, knocked the breath out of him.

He steadied her, gripping her forearms against his chest. “I heard voices. What are you doing out here?”

“Get out of my way.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. Where’s Harry?”

She jerked against his grasp. “As far as I know he’s sound asleep.”

Gabriel let go of her to push her hair out of her face, cool silk against his fingers. “You’re upset. What’s wrong?”

Trembling, Camilla closed her eyes, and tears seeped from under the thick lashes. “I need you, Gabriel. I need your help. Byrd just came to tell me the boat sank.” She began to shudder violently.

“The torpedo boat?” Gabriel cupped her shoulders. “But that can’t be—I—”

“Virgil saw you looking at it two nights ago.” Camilla’s eyes flew open as she grasped his wrists. “Did you do something to it? Sabotage it? You knew my brother would be on it!”

“Camilla, no—”

“I hate you!” She wrenched away from him. “You have no conscience, and you’d rather tell lies than eat. You’ve used me and my family. Don’t ever ask me to trust you again.”

Gabriel allowed her to shoulder past him. He stood there staring at his own trembling hands. Hands that in the past had done despicable things. He’d entered the church that night, intending to loosen one of the ballast tank valves—just enough that the pump wouldn’t function properly.

But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to jeopardize the life of Jamie Beaumont. Something else had gone wrong with the blasted vessel. He hadn’t done his job, yet he was going to pay the consequences anyway in the most hideous way possible.

Looking up, he lowered his fisted hands.
God, are You there?

He shook his head. Since when did God talk in audible voices anyway? He shoved open the outside screen door and headed toward the carriage house.

The building was lit by pine knots burning in iron baskets. The wagon was already hitched, with Horace at the reins and Willie helping his mother into the back. Good to know he’d have help, though the responsibility of the rescue lay on his shoulders.

Portia gave Gabriel a murderous glare as he vaulted into the wagon. “Where you think you’re going, preacherman?”

Gabriel ignored her. “Let’s go.” Horace started the horses, and Gabriel glanced at him. “Any of the three of you swim?”

Portia and Willie exchanged an uncomfortable glance. “Naw, sir,” Willie said.

“Didn’t think so. Where are we headed?”

“Theater Street.” Portia’s tone was still surly. “Just hope it isn’t too late.”

“Where’d the old man go?”

Portia snorted. “The Birdman? Scared to death. Said he was going to check on his still.”

Gabriel grabbed the side of the wagon as it lurched over a pothole. “I might’ve known.”

The remainder of the short trip was accomplished in silence until they turned onto Theater Street, which dead-ended at the river. As the wagon rolled to a stop, Gabriel and Willie jumped to the ground and ran toward the pier.

With the dawn beginning to spread across the horizon Gabriel distinguished a prone figure at the end of the pier. Uncle Diron.

Diron looked up, face ravaged by tears, pushed himself up onto his knees and clutched his head. “This is my fault, Gabriel. They’ve been down too long. They’re dead.”

Chapter Nineteen

G
abriel took a shallow dive off the end of the pier. He swam hard and swift out into the center of the river, where Uncle Diron had said the boat disappeared. No telling how far it got before the air inside dissipated. He’d have to simply guess which direction Beaumont had steered the boat.

He came up for air, tired by the current forcing him downstream. It seemed the height of idiocy that they would have tested the vessel in such shallow water, especially in the dark. Gabriel could only assume that Jamie, having grown up fishing these waters, trusted his own navigational skills. The men had probably also feared that the farther they had to transport the boat, the greater their chances of discovery.

The current would have affected the course of the little underwater boat. Treading water, Gabriel took his bearings. Lights from downtown cast a misty glow above the warehouses lining the water’s edge, while trees on the opposite side of the river shrouded the moon, casting deep shadows across the water.

Please, God, give me success,
he prayed and started swimming again.

Gabriel swam and dove, searching, until his strength was all but gone. On the point of giving up as his uncle had done, something told him to try one more time. He stayed under until his lungs seemed about to burst, then as he turned to push to the surface, his foot brushed something hard and metallic.

He surfaced for air, panting. If by any chance those men were still alive, the minute he opened the hatch, four of them would die. He couldn’t rescue more than one. Jamie Beaumont would be forward at the helm, nearly impossible for him to reach.

He heard a shout, looked toward the shore and saw a small fishing boat approaching with two men aboard. One of the figures he recognized as his uncle. If he could work quickly, they might be able to bring up more than one man. He dove again.

Thank God he’d explored the boat so carefully that night. He found the central hatch cover, lifted the latch and heard the horrid bubbling sound of water pouring into the interior of the boat. He entered, praying for grace. This was too much like going into a grave alive.

He felt his way forward, past four bodies floating against the hull. He reached the helm and felt for Jamie Beaumont’s body. He grasped the captain’s lax body and pulled him toward the hatch. It seemed they would never make it and Gabriel would die, too. He forced down his panic.

Almighty God, if You love me—if You love Camilla—help me get her brother to the surface.

After an agonizing struggle to squeeze past the mechanical apparatus of the boat, Gabriel pulled himself through the hatch, maintaining a tenuous hold on Jamie’s collar. When they were both through, Gabriel shoved with his feet against the boat and swam one-armed toward the surface, towing Jamie Beaumont’s dead weight.

Sweet, blessed air. Gasping, Gabriel filled his lungs with it, at the same time looking for the boat. “Uncle!” he shouted hoarsely and swam toward it.

With the last of his strength he clambered into the boat and helped his rescuers pull Jamie’s body aboard. Coughing and sucking in great lungfuls of dank air, Gabriel flipped Jamie onto his back. He began to force oxygen into his lungs.

After several minutes he sat back on his heels and felt for a pulse, any twitch or sign of life. Nothing.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” The trembling little voice came from behind his back.

One hand on Jamie’s sodden chest, Gabriel twisted his head. Camilla stared at him, eyes like black holes. “What are you doing here?”

“Never mind that,” she said. “Try again.”

It was hopeless, but he bent to shove air into Jamie’s lungs. The moment he moved away in despair, to his utter astonishment Jamie suddenly jerked, lifted his head, heaved and coughed. Water spewed out of his mouth, wetting Gabriel’s already sopping chest.

“God, my God,” Gabriel whispered in a delirious prayer of thanks, clutching the sides of the boat. He looked at Camilla.

She flung herself on her brother, who continued to heave water out of his lungs with single-minded concentration. “Jamie—oh, Jamie,” she groaned over and over, patting him on the back, kissing his shoulder, wiping her eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

Overcome, Gabriel gathered his wits. “Uncle, take us back to shore. We need to get him dried out and in bed.”

Nodding, Diron began to ply the oars. “Brave little girl you got here. Them three darkies was too scared to get out on the water, so the little one insisted on coming with me. I figured they’d all be dead. Can’t believe you found the boat—”

“Uncle, how could you let her come?” Gabriel rounded on his uncle.

“I didn’t make them boys get in that thing. They was all being well paid, and they wasn’t supposed to get this far out from shore.”

Camilla collapsed, weeping across Jamie’s shivering body. “You did this, Gabriel. Four men dead, and we almost lost Jamie.”

There was nothing Gabriel could say that would bring those men back to life. At least Camilla had her brother, but she clearly hated his very soul. Misery swamped him.

Only the quiet dip of the oars broke the silence. As the boat neared the pier where Portia and Willie and Horace waited, Camilla refused to look at Gabriel. After they tied in at the dock, she assisted in moving Jamie from the boat to the wagon. She climbed in, leaned into Portia’s embrace and sat staring into Jamie’s slack face. He had fallen into a sort of stupor.

Gabriel turned to his uncle. “Round up whoever else is in on this little project with you and get those other men out before daylight. Notify their families that there was a fishing accident.”

Diron nodded and headed toward town on foot.

Gabriel turned to Willie, who stood beside the wagon. “Ride Camilla’s horse home. We’ll meet you there.” After Willie was gone, he climbed onto the seat beside Horace.

The ride back to Dauphin Street was accomplished in tense silence. Jamie’s body had undergone enormous trauma. They could lose him yet.

As they drew up at the rear of the house, the sun was peeking over the ridge of trees to the east. Gabriel took charge, watching Camilla and hoping she would speak to him, absolve him of his part in the accident. Her eyes were glazed and dry as she allowed him to lift her from the wagon, while Portia and Horace took Jamie through the kitchen entrance.

“Camilla—”

“I’ve got to tell Papa and make sure Jamie’s settled.” She looked away. “Let me go.”

Gabriel held her shoulders. “Jamie knew there was a risk.”

“Yes. I should have stopped it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” She looked up, her unfocused gaze so full of worry he would gladly have soaked it into himself. “
You
could have stopped it.”

“Camilla, listen to me. This is war. You and I have been pulled in whether we like it or not. I can’t stop this thing overnight. All I can do is accomplish my mission the best I know how. I’m beginning to believe…” He found himself thinking the impossible, wanting to offer her the fragile seed of his new faith. He didn’t know how, and she wouldn’t believe him now. He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “I’ve got to believe there’s hope. That somehow you and I will come out of this alive and together. I swear I didn’t sabotage the boat.”