The tent had been deserted when Annabel knelt down on the ground behind it and crawled underneath the canvas. She got grass stains and dirt on her dress, but she didn't care. She wouldn't be wearing it much longer anyway.
Moving quickly, she took off the dress, rolled it into a ball, and stashed it and her hat behind some equipment; she would retrieve them later if she had the chance. She bent over, unbuttoned the high-topped shoes, and kicked them off. There were spare uniforms in the tent, because the men would need to change into them later after the fire hose battle, when they would more than likely, get soaked. Annabel found a-woolen shirt and denim trousers that fit and pulled them on, adjusting the suspenders. Then she stamped her feet down into a pair of boots, glad that she had worn an extra pair of socks so that the boots would fit better. All that was left was the long leather overcoat and the helmet. She shrugged into a coat that was just a bit too big for her, choosing it on purpose so that its bulkiness would help conceal the female curves underneath it. Her hair was already slicked back. She settled one of the helmets on her head. The badge on the front of it indicated that it had come from Engine Company Forty-eight.
Annabel took a deep breath. She wished she had a mirror so she could see how she looked. Lacking that, she would just have to trust to luck and hope that she could pass for one of the firemen.
She went to the entrance, pulled the canvas aside, and peered outside for a moment before leaving the tent. Satisfied that Cole wasn't lurking nearby, she slipped out and headed for the source of the cheers and applause she was hearing.
It was the ax throw, she saw. She sidled up to the rear of the line of contestants from the San Francisco department. Just as she had hoped, no one paid any particular attention to her. She kept her head down so that the short front brim of the helmet would somewhat conceal her features.
She spotted Cole in front of her and was just as impressed as everyone else when his throw not only hit the bull's-eye but split the target as well. She wanted to cheer, but kept her silence.
Things didn't go as well after that The men from the Oakland department were good, Annabel had to admit. Their throws gradually cut into the lead Cole had established, so that by the time the competitors at the end of the line drew near the front, the two departments were almost even. That was going to put some pressure on her.
Well, she had wanted to perform well in these contests, she told herself. Now she had yet another reason to do so. The honor of the San Francisco Fire Department might wind up resting on her shoulders. She grinned a little. Pressure had never bothered her all that much. If it had, she never would have become a smoke-jumper.
She was just as glad, though, to see Cole wandering away from the contest area. Since the score was close, if he had remained behind to watch, his attention surely would have been focused on her when it was her turn to throw the ax. She didn't need that.
She hadn't brought an ax from the tent with her, so when one of the men from San Francisco who had already competed came back along the line carrying one of the heavy, double-bladed tools, Annabel held out her hand, lowering and roughening her voice as she asked, "Can I borrow that, buddy?"
"Sure," the fireman said with a shrug as he handed over the ax. "As long as you're going to put it up when you're through with it"
Annabel nodded her agreement, but didn't say anything. She wanted to talk as little as possible. She'd been fortunate that the man from whom she'd borrowed the ax came from a different engine company.
Annabel knew her height wasn't going to give her away; she was just as tall as many of the men around her. And her athletic build helped, too. She hefted the ax. It wasn't any heavier than her Pulaski, and up at smoke-jumper headquarters, they sometimes passed the time by flinging Pulaskis at trees. She was confident she wouldn't embarrass herself in this contest.
Suddenly, it was her turn. As she stepped up to the line, she glanced at the board on which a running total of the scores had been chalked. The San Francisco Fire Department was still ahead, but by the thinnest of margins. If she lost, it would probably be enough to catapult Oakland into the lead.
"No pressure there," she murmured to herself as she lifted the ax, hesitated only a heartbeat, and then let fly.
The ax flew true, revolving gracefully several times on its way to the target. Then the blade thudded into the wood, not in the bull's-eye by any means, but closer to the center than to the outside of the painted ring. The crowd cheered. It was a good toss. The man from Oakland would have to make an excellent throw, almost as good as the one Cole had made, to beat it