"No."
"Praise the Lord!"
There were murmurs of relief and disbelief. They all frowned when she started running her hands under the child's stained clothes.
"What are you doing?" the Father's deep brown eyes were leery as he stepped closer, a worn black Bible now in his beefy hands.
Angela ignored his tone as she turned to him, thinking his slicked back, brown and gray hair had probably been an attempt to show her he could "clean up." She wasn't impressed. "Where's her injury?"
Her breath streamed out, clearly visible in the cold air, and Warren's eyes narrowed, dropped to her red lips as his grip on the holy book tightened: So beautiful!
He pointed, and Angela rolled the sick girl over on the dusty green couch, exposing the ugly, swollen gash.
"This is causing the fever. See the red lines coming over her shoulder? That's an infection. If those lines get to her heart, she'll die."
"You can stop it? Help her?"
The only doctor in Cincinnati still treating patients nodded. Male eyes lingered on her slender hips and the long black braid that brushed against the floor as she knelt down. Feeling the increase of testosterone in the room, Angela concentrated on the words instead of the fear.
"I have to clean it out first to be sure, but yes, I think so."
Relief flooded Warren's face, and he was very glad he hadn't waited any longer to seek out the (Witch!) woman's help. Amy was the only family he had left. He would kill himself if she died.
"We'll try not to let that happen," Angela said it without thinking, and kept going as if nothing had happened. She ignored her pounding heart and the sound of glass breaking in one of the rooms above them. Sometimes her abilities made people unsure of themselves when they dealt with her, something definitely required while alone in a small lobby with armed men.
"I need some things. Two bowls of hot water, rags, and a sheet."
Warren exchanged awkward looks with the other men before turning to Aaron, the black man's face never losing that contemptible expression. "Get what she needs from my share of the supplies."
The man moved reluctantly and Warren turned back to the doctor, willing himself to ignore her pull, to feel only loathing for her strangeness. He could have in the old world. He'd been so strong then! The woman's eyes were a clear, crystal blue and when she gave him a tiny, knowing smile, Warren turned to keep her from seeing the want on his face.