“He’s not a monster,” Catherine said firmly. She took the socks away from her gawking son and put them on the man’s feet herself. “Come on, help me get him into the wheelbarrow,” she said, standing up. “The sooner we get him back to the cabin and I stop that bleeding, the better we’ll all be.”

“We ain’t gonna be able to lift him,” Nathan said, grabbing the wheelbarrow.

Catherine didn’t bother correcting his speech but squatted beside the man’s head and grasped him by the shoulders. “When I lift him up, try to wedge the nose of it under his back,” she instructed. “Okay, now.”

She lifted him only a few inches, then had to ease him down and get a better grip. Good God. The man was solid dead weight.

“Again,” she said as she lifted, grunting against the strain. “Push it under him, Nathan.”

Nathan wedged the nose of the wheelbarrow under his back. Catherine pulled the man more upright, carefully eased him back against the wheelbarrow, then moved to between the handles and took hold of him again, this time under his arms.

“Okay, Nathan,” she said, panting from the exertion. “I’m going to give him a final tug while you push on his legs.”

“I don’t want to touch him,” Nathan whispered.

Catherine didn’t much care to be touching him herself. The guy was solid muscle, with not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. He was so warm to the touch, and so frighteningly male, she wasn’t sure if she was trembling from being this close to such an imposing man or if her muscles were quivering from moving his dead weight.

“Then get on the side and try to pull the wheelbarrow under him,” she suggested. “You can help, too, Nora. Get on this side, opposite Nathan, and pull when I lift him up.”

Neither child moved. “Come on, you two,” Catherine pleaded. “Don’t wimp out on me now. It’s going to take the three of us to save his life. This is our chance to be heroes.”

Just as she thought it would, the wordswimp andheroes galvanized Nathan. He bent down and grabbed the side of the wheelbarrow and looked over at Nora.

“Come on, sis,” he urged. “You can be a hero, too.”

Not looking all that convinced, the six-year-old hesitantly took hold of the rusty metal and looked at Catherine.

Catherine nodded. “Okay. On the count of three. One. Two. Three!” she growled, pulling on the man with all her might.

He rose only about six inches, but it was enough for Nathan and Nora to slide the wheelbarrow under his backside.

“We did it!” Catherine cried, grabbing the handles and pulling them down.

The wheelbarrow dropped level with a jarring thud, and both Catherine and Nathan scrambled to stop it from tipping sideways. Nora scrambled back to her pine tree.

“You’re both my heroes,” Catherine whispered. “Now we just have to get him to the cabin without bypassing it and rolling him all the way down the mountain.”

Her plan was easier said than done. They nearly lost him out of the wheelbarrow more than once and almost ran him into the side of the cabin. Getting him through the narrow door was even more of a challenge, but they finally wheeled him up to the bed and rolled him into it. All three of them were panting by the time they finished.

“Are we a great team or what?” Catherine said, tightly hugging her two kids. “Good job, guys. Nathan, take the bucket and the large pot, and get some water from the spring.

Nora, you carry in what’s left of the wood from the pile outside.” She patted both of them on the backside to get them moving. “We have to hurry,” she said, going over to her suitcase and rummaging through it, looking for her sewing kit. “I have to get him cleaned up, warmed up, and sewn up.”

Nathan stopped by the door. “And then what?” he asked.

Catherine looked up from her suitcase. “And then… I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess the three of us head down the mountain and tell someone he’s up here.”

Both children appeared to like that plan and hurried to do their chores. Catherine set her sewing kit by the bed, lit the last of their candles, and turned and stared down at the man.

He looked vaguely familiar.

She might have seen him in Dolan’s Outfitter Store when she’d been buying the hats and mittens, or they might have passed on the street.

She suddenly stepped back. No, it couldn’t be him. But the more she studied the giant, taking in his size and build and auburn hair, the more she realized who he was.

Well, darn it to hell. Of all the blasted bad luck she’d had lately, this was the prize. The man she’d stolen from—and had outrun twice—was bleeding all over her bed.

Chapter Six

Robbie came awakewith enough presence of mind to keep his eyes closed. He held himself perfectly still and listened to the hushed conversation of at least three people while he considered his situation.

He was warm, stiff with pain, and apparently alive. Those were the pluses. He didn’t know which time period he was in, couldn’t decide how badly he was hurt, and for some reason, he couldn’t move his hands.

The good seemed to outweigh the bad, but the conversation was proving a bit hard to grasp—something about a pretty sword, a Sasquatch, a dead car, a job, sewing, and cookies.

It was the mention of the Sasquatch and car that made Robbie think he was back in the twenty-first century.

But apretty sword?

That remark had come from a young girl.

He could make out the soft voice of a woman, her tone sometimes coddling, sometimes instructing, and often-times trying to restrain laughter. He also heard a young boy whispering—he was the one who had called the man in the bed a Sasquatch.

Catherine Daniels, and Nathan and Nora.

Robbie stifled the urge to shout with joy.

He didn’t have to find his little thief—she’d found him!

None of which explained why he couldn’t move his hands.

Robbie cracked open his eyes and looked through his lashes, squinting at the candlelit scene. Catherine Daniels was sitting beside the woodstove, facing her two children sitting at the table. The boy was dividing his attention between his mother and the sword standing in the corner by the door. The girl was watching Catherine sew his MacKeage plaid as if that needle and thread were the most exciting thing since sliced bread.

“Where will we sleep tonight?” Nathan asked softly, darting a frown at the bed Robbie was in, then back at his mother.

“We’ll pile our jackets and some blankets on the floor by the stove,” Catherine told him, not taking her eyes off her work.

“I thought we was going to tell somebody he was here,” Nora whispered, scooting off her chair and moving closer to inspect her mother’s sewing.

Catherine finally looked up. “We’ll have to wait until morning.” She glanced at Robbie, then back at her children. “I don’t dare leave him alone. Not until he wakes up.”

“What if he don’t wake up?” Nora asked.

“If he’s not awake by morning, I’ll stash you guys someplace safe and run down the mountain.”

This time, Robbie had to stifle a snort. That should take the lady only half an hour, the way she ran.

The lure of Robbie’s sword finally defeated Nathan, and the boy slid off his chair and sidled over to the corner.

“Stay away from that,” Catherine said. “It’s quite heavy and the edges are sharp.”

And bloody,Robbie wanted to add. He assumed she’d noticed that fact when she brought it in and hoped she thought it was his blood on the blade. It wouldn’t do to have Catherine Daniels thinking he was in the habit of maiming people. Not with what he had planned for her.

“Could I have something to drink?” he asked.

Three pairs of startled eyes rounded on him. Nora squeaked and moved to the other side of her mother. Nathan stepped forward as if to defend them but changed his mind at the last minute and grasped Nora by the shoulders.

Catherine Daniels, once she got over her surprise, broke into a beautiful smile. “You’re awake,” she said, standing up and setting her sewing on the table.