Page 50 of Robin and Marian
“That’s my Maid Marian,” he said.
Guy straightened. “Careful, Marian,” he told her. “Watch out for the trickster.” His eyes went meaningfully to the tattoo on Robin’s arm. “That’s what the other prisoners carved into you, isn’t it?”
“They knew who they were dealing with,” Robin answered coldly.
“But do you?” Guy asked. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, too.”That he did.Glowering, Guy took aim, his eyes going from Robin to the target, like he was shooting his cousin instead. After the first bull’s eye, it didn’t help his score. It made it worse. Robin was next and did his best to ignore Guy so he wouldn’t make the same mistake, but he was irritated to see that his aim wasn’t improving. If anything, he felt like he was turning predictable. Anyone could use that against him.
Midge scored one more bull’s eye than last time, though, much to everyone’s entertainment, his other shots sailed free. It wouldn’t beat Guy. At the three whistles, Robin checked out his score over Tuck’s shoulder. His was 47 again. It beat Midge by seven points, but Guy beat Robin by three. So far, his secret weapon wasn’t working.
Guy turned smug until Tuck read out the score for little Missy Brandon. “52!”
TheHunger Gamesgirl had won that round. There was one more before the knockout matches, and Guy still had the highest cumulative scores so far. Little John did his last round. He vacillated between hitting the center rings to the farthest ones. Marian was next, and she bit her lip as most of her arrows went into the far black and white rings of the target. She was getting tired. When she returned to the back line, Robin rubbed her arm, and she ducked in embarrassment and mopped playfully at her forehead.
Showing his disapproval with a frown, Guy stepped up to the shooting line at the blow of the whistle and kept up his winning streak as his revenge, though he was lagging slightly by hitting more blues than his usual reds and yellows. Robin went next. He’d have to pick up his game to beat out Guy. Devising a different strategy than before, he slightly adjusted his form after each shot and worked his arrows closer to the center of the target, from the blues to ending with two straight shots into the gold center.
It was the appetizer the crowd wanted before Midge’s shots. The kid stepped forward and made a bull’s eye as his first offering. He then proceeded to blow every other shot until his grand finale. His last two arrows hit dead center. Scarlett couldn’t be prouder. She sneaked up behind him when he stepped back from the line and hugged him tightly. The rest of the archers, including Scarlett’s husband, who didn’t get nearly as warm a cheer from his wife, finished up the last round.
Tuck, followed by the dutiful sheriff, scored the final tallies. Somewhere, Tuck had found some glasses, and he wore them like they were his. When they got to Robin’s arrows, Tuck cheerfully announced that Robin had made the exact same score as his other two rounds. It sent laughter rippling through the assembly. Tuck played it up and dragged out the suspense by scoring Guy’s points last, doing Marian’s and Little John’s before his. Finally he announced the results. “Guy lost to Robin by one point this round!” He gave the spectators time to react with boos and claps, while the sheriff smirked behind him. Then Tuck finished with a dramatic flair, “That puts Robin firmly in second place behind Guy’s first place.”
Robin bit down his retorts. Tuck was a special kind of friend. It was time for the elimination rounds, and Robin hoped he had more fight in him.
Richard clapped as he stood at the front of the crowd of spectators and media to name off the first six placers to participate in the knockout matches. “In first and second place, we have my grandsons, Guy and Robin.” Then he pointed out theHunger Gamesgirl, who curtsied happily. “Missy Brandon for third, and my son, Midge, as fourth. My son-in-law, Alan, as fifth, and finally, Little John for sixth.” Robin noticed how easily Richard had used John’s nickname. His friend hadn’t fought it.
“Congratulations!” Richard said. The final contenders would have their names pulled randomly to go up against each other. Guy and Little John were called to shoot first. The match would go to the one who won the first three sets.
Refusing to make any small talk with the giant, Robin’s cousin shot his first three arrows then proceeded to handily win his first two rounds. Little John held his own until the last round, and then his arrows flew all over the place in his fury. Guy was getting into his head with his self-satisfied grins. After completing his steady winning streak against the man he’d ruined, Guy brushed past Little John without a word.
Robin played Alan next. His former best friend lifted his chin stiffly, his every move awkward as if going up against Robin was below his dignity. It didn’t stop Alan from giving Robin a competitive game. Their arrows mostly landed in the reds and blues, and it took Robin four rounds before they came even close to a resolution.
Tuck watched closely as the sheriff scored up the points with a scowl. By now the crowd was divided in their loyalties. Little John shouted out Robin’s name, and it confused the locals who thought they should hate him. Their applause was scattered when Robin was declared the winner.
Midge and Missy were next on the shooting line. It was the young twenty-something against the ten-year-old. Cameras flashed more during this match than Robin’s, with the throng sitting on the edge of their seats, whistling and cheering. The kid beat her out of pure luck. It was the only way to describe it—sadly, that meant that Midge’s luck would take a turn for the worse. He was due for it.
There were only three contenders left. And Robin tensed when his name was called. That had better not mean that he was going up against Midge first. He needed that kid as his wild card. The Fates intervened, however, because Richard called out Guy’s name next. His cousin sneered at him and the crowd went crazy. He had no sense of subtlety. Apparently Robin didn’t either. He returned the disdainful look when Guy joined him on the line. It would be the biggest match of mediocrity this town had ever seen.
Running his tongue across his teeth, Robin reached up to massage his tight jaw while he measured the distance between himself and the target. Guy raised a brow. “The target’s not going anywhere.”
Robin let out a disgusted laugh. “Neither am I. I know what you’ve been doing, and it’s over.” Guy froze at that. Robin knew that what he’d said could be interpreted as anything, but he sealed his meaning with his glare. No matter what happened today, he’d fight Guy until the end.
“Robin!” Marian cried behind him. “You’ve got this!”
Guy flinched at that. If anything, that revealed that this was more than a friendly competition. Marian wasn’t one to pick sides between the cousins if she hadn’t suspected something bad about Guy. “She knows you’re guilty,” Robin said. And he picked up his bow.
Tuck blasted the whistle—extra long, if anyone asked Robin, which they hadn’t. His friend was hamming it up. In response, Robin stepped up his game, and the cousins took turns each beating out the other for the first four rounds. The final one would win the game for Guy if he came out ahead. Guy took his last three shots. He got two bull’s eyes and an eight. When it was his turn, Robin took his time with his aim, tuning out the crowd and using his full two minutes to concentrate on the center, but after his second shot when he landed a blue, he knew he was out of the running.
The future of this town now lay in Midge’s immature hands.
The crowd couldn’t be happier. Little John switched allegiances from Robin and turned into Midge’s biggest fan. He clearly wanted the kid to win. It wasn’t about the prize anymore. It was ripping that smug look off Guy’s face. Everyone knew it!
Marian wrapped her arm into Robin’s good one and leaned her head into his shoulder. “You were amazing. You had to relearn how to shoot. Who does that?”
Guy’s head shot up and he glared at Robin. “What are you still doing here, cousin?” He brushed past Robin without a glance at Marian. “You’re out.”
Out of the game or something else? Before Robin could decide, Tuck blew on his whistle and Midge gathered his bow. Robin wanted the kid to win more than anything, but as soon as the match began, Midge plowed through his shots in his usual reckless way. Guy took advantage of it, not taking any chances, but keeping his aim steady.
“Midge?” Robin approached him after he lost another round. If Midge lost the next one, it was over. He immediately realized what the problem was when he noticed how tense the kid’s shoulders were. “Hey, Uncle Midge. You’ve got this. Just have fun out there.”
“I want to win this bad, Robin! I need you to do me this one favor. I need it!”
