Page 37 of Robin and Marian
Little John nodded. “It put a lot of men out of work. Now they can’t pay their bills.” His glare didn’t waver from Robin as he spoke. “I wanted to put on one last Mayfair—not that joke Richard’s putting on. That’s nothing like what we’ve done in the past. I’m talking booths and fairs—ways for the people to make money, ya know?”
“Why didn’t you?” Marian asked.
“It was supposed to be this Friday—we had it set up on Peter Shelley’s property at first, but that was shut down by the city. They said it wasn’t zoned for it… after telling me the usual locations were going to be under construction. In case you’re wondering? They’re not, but none of the local businesses will talk to me now. They say it’s too late. I’m telling you, this town has turned against its own people. It’s only a matter of time before they leave it an empty husk.”
Robin didn’t know what to say. If he hadn’t had the bad sense to date Jana Prinz, none of this would’ve happened. “For what it’s worth, John, I’m sorry.”
The apology was met with a snort of derision. “You’ve got no business talking to me. I was talking to the little lady.”
Marian bit her lip in discomfort and looked away. Robin saw his chances with her fade with every reminder that he was a thief. He slowed to a stop and put his good hand on his knee to catch his breath. “Okay, well, you brought us back to Nottingham. You want to be free of me?”
“Yeah, I do,” John said, “but Main Street puts us in Nottingham County. We’re not there yet.” Robin’s stomach dropped. That meant that they’d have to get to Little John’s place first. Then it was across the street from there. John copied Robin’s dismayed face with a sneer. “They reorganized the county line three years ago. All for you, little buddy!” He slapped Robin in the chest, almost upending him. “The sheriff’s going overboard to get you out. Can’t say I blame him.” He marched on.
Robin straightened and both he and Marian caught up with Little John. “I’m not the only one,” he said. “What’s the sheriff got against you? He was trying pretty hard to pin you for that fire last night.”
“Say what?” Little John whipped around to face him, his chest puffing up dangerously.
Not again! Robin didn’t have time for a fight. He shook his head at him. “I’m just the messenger.” Miraculously, Little John harrumphed and let it go.
As they neared the tumble of wooden gates and chain link fences, they were greeted by loud barking and growls from inside. Peering through the holes, Robin jumped back when a mangy German shepherd lunged at him, snapping its teeth like a bear trap. He spotted Rottweilers in there, Pinschers, and... “Is that a pit bull?” he asked.
Catching sight of John, they leaped over themselves, snarling. Very few of them wagged a friendly tail. Marian stepped back.
“Get inside,” Little John told him, gesturing to his shipping yard. “I want to know what the sheriff said about me.”
If they weren’t eaten alive first. The sheriff could arrest what was left of Robin for crossing county linesandharassing a victim of his crimes. Though in this case, Little John was the offender. “I’ll tell you across the street…” Robin said, “and when I’m standing ten feet from you.”
Marian’s head jolted up to stare down the road. “The sheriff’s right behind us,” she warned.
“Get in.” John’s big hands landed over their heads and he ushered them inside past the shed where the logs were stacked. The dogs barked for joy around them—at least it seemed like it—they were so happy for their next meal.
John uttered a harsh command to get the dogs to stay put just as Marian’s hands went to Robin’s back, her black hair flying over her shoulders, as she hid behind him. “I don’t think the sheriff saw us,” she whispered.
Wading through the guard dogs, John parted them like water and glanced back at Robin. “What are you waiting for?” He pointed to the gargantuan logs. “Get behind those! After this—I owe you nothing.”
“You never did…” Robin didn’t finish that thought when Little John looked like he might rescind his offer of help. “But, yeah,” Robin said, “okay, this’ll clear the slate, I think.”
“Don’t talk.”
He wouldn’t.Already feeling sweaty and out of breath, he edged past the trembling dogs to hide inside the colossal pile of logs. Marian followed him—she didn’t have to, but it would give them all away if the sheriff saw her. Besides, the girl couldn’t lie, especially when she tried to act like there was nothing between them.
“He’s here! He’s here!” Little John hissed to them before leaving to answer the impatient rapping against his locked fence.
Robin wriggled between the piles of logs and hit the dirt. Marian fell on top of him and he let out a grunt of pain as they tried to readjust themselves in their tiny hiding spot. It was too small to keep any kind of real space between them, but even so, a dog wriggled in with them too, clawing at Robin and ramming its excited tongue into his face, along with its stinky breath, before John called sternly to it from across the yard. Robin let out an involuntary gust of air as four legs used him as a springboard to jump from the pile of logs.
Marian twisted like she was trying to give Robin some socially-acceptable space, but finally had to give in to the cramped quarters, and rested her head on his chest, her hair in his face. His efforts were equally as futile, as he tried to reposition his bandaged arm and his shoulder ran up against a sharp piece of wood. He finally settled on wrapping his arm around her.
Little John unlatched the gate, and it creaked loudly open. They were right where the sheriff wanted them—uncomfortable and in pain. Robin listened to him hail Little John, followed by the expectant caterwaul of dogs.
Marian shifted, and Robin tightened his grip on her shoulder as a warning to keep still, and simultaneously got caught up in the intoxicating smell of her hair. Never had a man been crammed into such an uncomfortable paradise. Her elbow dug into his side, and he still couldn’t get enough of her.
The sheriff shouted over the dogs, “John, I need to talk to you!”
Snickering lightly at their ridiculous plight, Robin’s chin brushed against Marian’s ear as he parted her hair to look through the slats of the logs. The wooden fence was open, and the sheriff had poked his head over the chain link gate, his uneasy eyes on the growlers pacing the shipping yard. “You mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Yeah, shoot,” John said.
The sheriff raised a brow. “Shoot?”
