"What . . . who . . ."
Cole rested a hand on her shoulder to hold her down as she started to bolt upright. "Take it easy," he told her. "You fainted. You need to rest for a minute."
Her eyes—those eyes!—flicked from side to side. Her gaze darted past Cole, and the woman said tentatively," "Herman?"
The burly man in the flannel shirt knelt on her other side. "Right here, Miss Annabel."
"Did . .. did you say it was March sixth?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"March sixth, 1906?"
Herman nodded. "Yes, ma'am, that's what I said."
The woman's head sank back down on the makeshift pillow, and her eyes closed. "That's what I thought you said," she murmured.
Cole ran his gaze down her body, hoping he wasn't being too brazen as he did so. He didn't see any blood on the strange-looking yellow suit, and the woman's arms and legs didn't seem to be twisted at any unusual angles. There were some scratches on her face, along with a couple of bruises, but as far as he could tell, she wasn't badly injured.
"Did she hit her head when she fell off the wagon?" Cole asked Herman.
The burly man shook his head. "Not that I saw. But she could have before I run into her in the woods. She's been talkin' kind of crazy ever since I picked her up."
One of the men in the crowd leaned over and asked, "Do you want me to fetch a sawbones or not?"
Annabel's eyes flew open again. "No!" she cried, and this time she was able to sit up despite Cole's hand on her shoulder. She heaved a deep breath, then said in a calmer tone, "No, I don't need a doctor. I'm all right."
"Looks to me like you've been through the wringer," Cole observed. "Let me give you a hand up, if you feel like standing."
"Th-thank you." Annabel clasped his hand, and he helped her to her feet. She was almost as tall as he was, which was somewhat unusual. He picked up his coat, shook it out, and put it back on.
"Well, I got to deliver these logs," Herman said quickly, with a glance toward the dock, where the ferry had come in unnoticed amidst the commotion. "Since the lady's in good hands and all."
"Wait a minute," Cole started to say, but Herman had already turned away and was climbing onto his wagon. He didn't look back. The crowd was breaking up, too.
Cole didn't have time to be saddled with some strange woman, either, but when he glanced at Annabel and saw how lost and alone she looked, he knew he had no choice in the matter. He couldn't leave her here on the docks by herself when there was a chance she was out of her head, or injured, or both. The least he could do was see her safely home.
"Where do you live, ma'am?"
"Where do I live?" she repeated. Her voice had a hollow sound to it. She closed her eyes, gave a little shake of her head, and then opened them again to say, "San Francisco. I live in San Francisco."
"Well, you're lucky, because that's where I'm going. I'll see that you get home all right." He took her arm and turned her gently toward the dock. "Let's catch that ferry."
He felt her muscles stiffen a little under his touch. He wasn't trying to be forward. Surely she understood that.
"I can get home all right by myself," she said. She wasn't afraid of him at all. Cole sensed.
"I insist. Come on." He could be just as stubborn as she apparently was, especially once he had committed to a course of action.
She held back a second longer, then with a shrug relaxed slightly and went with him. He led her over to the line of people waiting to board the ferry. They drew a lot of curious looks, and he knew it was because of the way she was dressed.
"That's a colorful outfit you've got on," he commented once they were on board and standing next to the railing.
"It's a firefighter's suit," she said without looking at him. She was staring across the waters of the bay at San Francisco as if hoping to see something that wasn't there.
"Really?" The exclamation was jolted out of Cole in surprise. "I'm a fireman."
That got her attention. She turned her head slowly and looked at him, really looked at him for perhaps the first time. "You are?"
He held out his hand to her. "Cole Brady, Engine Company Twenty-one."
She took his hand and said, "Annabel Lowell."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Lowell." The ferry pulled away from the dock, and Cole went on, "If you don't mind my asking, how did you come to be wearing some sort of fireman's suit?"
"Firefighter's—," she began, then stopped abruptly. After a second, she went on, "It's mine."
"Yours?"
"That's right." There was a hint of defiance in her eyes as she looked at him. They were still the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.
Cole smiled. "I'd heard that New York had itself a lady fireman now, but I never figured to run into her out here. I didn't know about that fancy new uniform, either. And I thought you said you live in San Francisco."
"I do," Annabel said. "I'm not from New York."
"Then I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Neither do I," Annabel said. "But I'm afraid I'm beginning to."