Page 36 of Robin and Marian
“I know what hesaid!” There was an edge to Robin’s voice that gave her pause.
“Well, the maypole’s not down there at the bottom of the creek,” John said abruptly. His eyes danced at the sudden joke. “It’s in the back of my truck. Now what? Game’s over!”
Chapter 10
Robin’s eyes lifted to Marian and John as he listened to the two argue about the stolen maypole.
“I’d love nothing better than to see you fools wander the forest all day in search of it.” John laughed.
“Why are you even out here?” Marian asked. Her hair was wet, and the dirt hid the freckles on her face. “Poaching?”
“I can be out here, woman.”
“Not if you’re causing trouble.”
Robin didn’t care about the maypole, especially since he’d been almost killed for it. He gasped for another breath and thought darkly of his cousin. Had Guy set him up? Did he want him dead? But the sheriff had been in on this too… and he thought of another possibility. “What county are we in?”
Little John smirked. “You aren’t in Nottingham anymore. It’s King County now.”
Robin was over county lines. Now he knew why they’d done it. His arm ached and he straightened, looking over the water. He’d have to go up the way Marian had come to get back across and in the right county before the sheriff arrested him.
“Which way did he go?”
Robin jerked upright when he heard the sheriff’s voice like it was next to him.
“Last I saw him he was heading for the creek. I know he’s over county lines.”That was Guy’s.
Little John took out the receiver of his sopping wet walkie talkie from his jacket. “It still works,” he said, brightly. “I’ve been listening to these guys all morning.”
Then it had been a trap. Marian stiffened, listening too.
“Towards the bridge?” the Sheriff asked.
“I think so.” Guy chuckled. “Tell me when you catch him.”
“I’m almost there.”
Little John’s friends began to shout at him from across the way. “Someone’s coming!”
Robin groaned. He was as good as caught. Little John turned silent, staring down at his former friend, then he circled to his hunting partners. “Take their horses and lead away whoever it is. Don’t get away too fast. Give them a chase.”
His friends didn’t question. They took hold of Robin and Marian’s horses and mounted. They were obviously as inexperienced as Marian, and laughed amongst themselves as they charged the other way. Little John circled back to Robin. “What are you waiting for? Come with me.”
He couldn’t believe that Little John was helping him. “Why?”
“You want to get caught? C’mon!” He dragged Robin up. Marian took Robin’s other side, taking his good arm and throwing it around her shoulder. He smiled at that, and she flushed. He probably didn’t need the help, but accepted it anyway. They ducked and rushed through the brush. A noise behind them alerted them to pursuers on this side of the bank, plus the occasional narration from the sheriff in Little John’s walkie talkie.
“I’m on their tail!”His voice resonated loudly through the forest.
“Turn that down,” Marian hissed.
Little John grappled with it at his side until he got the volume. He needn’t have bothered since the sheriff didn’t talk through it after that. He must’ve been close enough to hear it echo back at him. This only made them move faster. The fugitives tried to find a way through the creek as they ran, but it widened and became more impassible until they were forced to take the long way around. Soon Robin recognized where they were. Little John’s property would be west of them.
Just past the trees and down the road, he spied John’s mill. It was painted brick red with a chute that went out into the water. The glittering Raspberry Lake that wrapped around the King Estate and Sherwood ended there. That and the creeks streaming from Sherwood fed into a great water wheel that was hooked onto the side of the mill and powered the hydraulic belts, though they’d modernized most everything else years ago.
Little John led them down the road. The mill was a massive place with heavy machinery gathering dust in the shipping yard that was connected to the warehouse where most of the cutting was done. Stacks of logs were piled outside of the mill–the last of the inventory before the mill had gone down. Close by stood a quaint log home where Little John had grown up. His parents were long gone, his father dead, his mother in another town living with her daughter. And still John had stayed.
Marian’s eyes were big as they neared the shipping yard. “John! I’m so sorry it closed down.”
