Mara Mercer is the kind of girl who's used to making a life out of not much. She's tough and smart, and she's been running the farm on her own since her dad passed. When she pulls up in her pickup and sees the barn's gone up in smoke, she knows this is no ordinary situation.
Eli fills her in on the half-dead stranger in his barn, and she's got a look that says she's seen enough drama to last a lifetime.
"Need to get you to a doctor," Eli told Grey, but the guy was surprisingly strong for someone in his state and stopped him with a firm grip on his wrist.
"No hospitals," Grey managed to get out between gasps. "Can't... they'll ask for... papers and stuff..."
Eli got it. Whatever Grey was running from, a hospital wasn't going to help—it'd just add to his troubles. So, he called Dr. Morrison, the local doc who'd been around the block a few times.
"I've got a military guy here," Eli said over the phone. "Looks like he's seen some rough times. High fever, infected wound. Can you swing by?"
There was a long silence. "What kind of military?"
"Looks like infantry to me. Been in combat for sure."
Another pause, even longer. "Eli, I'm not running a charity here. These soldiers come back with all sorts of issues—drug problems, violent tendencies, PTSD. Take him to the VA in Pittsburgh."
"Pittsburgh's too far. He's not gonna last."
"Not my circus, not my monkeys." And with that, the line went dead.
Eli stood there, feeling like the world had gone cold. In his day, folks helped each other out no questions asked. Now it seemed like everyone had gone all selfish.
He went back to the barn with some aspirin and a few first-aid supplies he had lying around—peroxide, bandages, a bottle of whiskey that hadn't seen the light of day since his wife passed. Grey was out of it, mumbling some tune over and over.
The nights passed and Grey grew worse. Then, on the sixth night, disaster struck. The barn caught fire. Eli had to drag him out, yelling, "Fire!" They barely made it, the barn going up like a matchstick. Grey was pretty out of it, but he whispered, "I'm sorry."
It was like the fire was a sign. Eli knew Grey couldn't stay in that barn much longer. But where was he gonna take him?
And then, as if the universe heard them, a truck pulled up. Out hopped Mara Mercer, tall and tough looking, ready for whatever came her way.
"What's going on?" she called out.
"Found this guy," Eli said, panting. "He's sick. Called the doc, but he wouldn't come."
Mara took one look at Grey and knew he was in bad shape. "He's not gonna pull through here," she said.
"Can't take him anywhere else," Eli said. "No family, no money for a hospital."
Mara recognized Grey's last name from his tags and realized he was family—her cousin. The one everyone talked about like he was some kind of hero. The one who got to leave and have adventures while she had to stay and deal with real life.
"I'll take him," she said, a bit too sharply. "But just till he's good enough to go on his own."
Eli was grateful. "Thank you."