The guy didn’t appear to hear her. Or if he did, he was too weak to respond.

Normally, she would hesitate to get closer, but her motherly instinct was telling her this man needed help. He wasn’t acting. He wasn’t faking it. He was deathly ill.

She slung the shotgun over her shoulder and marched up to him. Gripping his thin coat with both hands, she tugged on it. “Come on. Get up. I’m taking you into the house.”

“No.” He tried to push away her hand but he didn’t have the strength. “Leave me be.”

“If I leave you there, you’ll die of exposure. Now, get up and throw your arm across my back. I can’t drag you by myself.”

A watery cough in lieu of a chuckle answered her. “Madam, I cannot die. Suffer, yes. But not die.”

She didn’t need to look at him to know he had a raging fever. She could feel the heat coming off his body. No wonder he was delirious.

“Damn it! Let me help you! Come on! I’m not leaving you out here when the temperature’s supposed to drop into the single digits tonight!”

She expected him to protest again. Instead, he managed to get his feet under him and got to a wobbly stance before leaning heavily on her. It wasn’t until he was up that she noticed the well-used backpack propped against the trunk of the tree.

“I can’t handle you and your backpack,” she informed him before he had the chance to mention it, if he remembered it, considering his frame of mind. “I’ll send my son to fetch it. Don’t worry. It’ll be safe here.”

He gave another sickly chuckle. “Of that I have no doubt.”

Clea mentally shook her head. The man was definitely missing a spark plug, considering his odd way of speaking and slight accent. Or maybe he’s a foreigner, she surmised.

It took a lot of effort to get him up the slight slope before the farmhouse came in view. She wasn’t surprised when she saw her son running toward them once he caught sight of them. As soon as the boy was within earshot, she called out to him.

“Go fetch the backpack sitting against the tree!”

Joey took off to get it as she struggled to get the man to the house. She’d been tempted to ask her son to help her get the guy inside, but since she didn’t know what kind of sickness this stranger was suffering, she didn’t want to chance Joey catching it. Her getting ill was one thing, but in no way would she jeopardize the boy’s health.

They were nearing the back door when Joey caught up with them. “Where do you want me to put it?”

“Put it in your room. That’s where he’s going to stay until the roads are clear enough to let me take him to the hospital.”

Joey wrinkled his nose at her. “My room? Where am I gonna sleep?

 “You’ll sleep in my room with me.” She used that tone of voice he knew meant there was no arguing her decision. “After you drop off the backpack, go wait for me in the living room.”

The child trudged off to hold the door open for his mother before going to leave the man’s backpack in the back room.

The stranger groaned softly when they entered the kitchen. The wall of warmth that met and surrounded them felt good, and she almost moaned with him. It also seemed to give the stranger a boost of strength so that she didn’t have to carry him into her son’s bedroom.

She dropped him onto the bed and managed to peel his coat away from him. It was then she discovered he was wearing a knitted cap that blended into the man’s gray-blond hair. The edges were iced over to the point that she had to peel it off his head. His gloves were next, followed by his boots.

His jeans were soaked, leaving her with no choice but to undo his belt and tug them off. Thankfully, he had on a pair of boxers underneath. Although they also felt wet to the touch, she knew they’d quickly dry. His underlying shirt was sweat soaked, but she decided to let it remain.

By the time she got that much done, she was too exhausted to do anything more. The man was dirty and unshaven, and looked like he hadn’t bathed in days, but that could wait. Right now he needed rest and to be kept warm. Pushing him down onto the mattress, she pulled the comforter and blanket over him and turned to leave when he spoke for the first time since they were in the field.

“Do not be…alarmed…if I…disappear.”

Clea stared at him. “If you what?”

“It’s part of…of my…curse.”

“Your curse? How are you cursed?”

A weak smile curved the corners of his lips. “I am…immortal.”

She continued to stare at him and briefly wondered if she should block the bedroom door in the event he got up in the middle of the night. Right now, however, her thoughts were on trying to keep him alive.

“I’m going to get you a cup of warm tea and some aspirin. Try to get some rest.”

The stranger gave a single nod.

And then vanished from sight.