Page 68 of Robin and Marian
“He’s not stopping me from getting to her.”
“If he catches you…”
Robin launched out of the vehicle and headed the back way to her house. “Wait up!” Marian called, breathlessly. Luckily, there were no fences or dogs. Ducking through the shadows, they reached Sierra’s backyard where they knocked on a flimsy plastic door. Her small daughter came by in her flannel pajamas to push it open. There were no back stairs, so they peered up at her legs.
“Hey?” Marian asked in her sweetest voice. “Is your mommy home?”
In reply, the toddler sucked on her fingers and treated them to an unwavering stare. The front doorbell rang at the same time, and her very pregnant mother passed behind the child, oblivious to the drama unfolding on her back porch as she shuffled away. Before they could get her attention, Sierra pushed open the front door. It squealed on its hinges, revealing the sheriff behind it. He murmured something and handed her the notice.
Sierra’s legs buckled and she settled into a chair near the door, putting her hands on her swollen belly and breathing hard. “You’re early! My husband is on his way here now… but, but we can’t pay this. Where will we go?”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The sheriff’s eyes darted from her to the child. “These houses look pretty mobile. It’s just the land he bought. Maybe you can move this to a different property?”
“Where?” her voice cracked and Robin was reminded of the scolding she gave him last night. “Every place here is owned by Guy King!”
Robin held out the basket to the little girl and she took it in her grimy hand.
“Give that to your mommy,” Marian whispered.
They watched as the kid swerved from side to side, making her way closer to Sierra then getting distracted, especially by what was in the basket. The child dug through it until she found the jewels. They clanged together as she toddled over behind the talking adults. Luckily that caught her mother’s attention. “What is that, Lily?”
Marian let out an audible breath and Robin willed Sierra to find the basket too, which she immediately did. She cried out as she pulled out the paperwork and her gaze swerved to the opened back door. Robin and Marian dove back into the darkness, but not before their eyes connected. She turned back to the sheriff. “No, I don’t believe you’ll take my property today.”
She could take it from there—if those scratches that throbbed on Robin’s cheek were anything to go by. Nudging Marian to follow him, Robin fled back through the yard and returned to where they had parked. A dog barked loudly as they landed against the vehicle like they’d reached the safe zone in an extreme game of tag.
They straightened and, with relieved laughs, got back on the hybrid and raced to the next home. At least that one was in Nottingham County. There were five more households on their list and they were going to have to beat the sheriff to them all. They’d reached a small ranch house and were only there for six minutes before the sheriff came, the next one three. He was gaining on them. There was no rhyme or reason to the homes, except proximity.
“Did someone tip him off?” Robin asked. He drove full speed to another property. “He’s on our beat.”
Marian leaned into him, shouting through the wind, “I’m terrified he’ll evict someone before we can get to them.”
“Just three more houses,” Robin said. They parked off the road with two farmhouses on either side, each with long driveways. He recognized the area from his childhood. Marian would too.
Burning up, he unbuttoned the brown shirt that Little John had given him one-handed and peeled it from his damp t-shirt before tucking it into the back. “Let’s split up. You bring a basket to your friends and I’ll do mine.”
Nodding, she dashed up the long driveway and he went to his. The biggest family in town lived there. They’d filled up all the grades in their tiny elementary school growing up, and when they’d gotten older they had dominated every sport. They could’ve made their own sport’s team if they had wanted. Their father was John’s head foreman, and if ever there was a stereotypical lumberjack, he was it. Across the way were the Smiths. Their kids were all grown now, but one was Scarlett’s age and Robin was fairly sure Marian would know her too.
Flying around the bend, Robin saw a black dog growl at him from the graveled road. Before he could figure out a way around it, he recognized the click of a gun behind him. “You planning on robbing the place? We got nothing.”
Robin held up his one good hand and turned to see his friend’s father—he was six-foot-four, with broad shoulders that made a silhouette against the lights of the house. “Mr. Black?”
“Robin?” Logan Black stepped closer and fumbled with his flashlight so that it shone straight into Robin’s face. “What are you doing?”
With his heart racing, Robin brushed his face with the hand that held the Mayday basket. “I think I found something that belongs to you.” He held it out, hoping Logan would take it from him.
He did, but Robin wasn’t sure if he’d throw it back in his face. The man wasnothappy to see him. Robin lifted his other hand to the sky. “Look, it’s just a little something to get you by until money kicks in at the sawmill.”
“This isn’t a little something.” It sounded like an accusation.
Robin didn’t know what to say. The flashlight lowered in Logan’s grip and he noticed those massive shoulders slump. “How’d you know this was what we owed, Robin?”
“John.”
“Yeah, good man.”
“Yeah.”
Logan’s face crumpled. “I didn’t know what to do.” He sniffed and Robin stepped forward. Shoving out an arm to keep him back, Logan burst into a watery laugh. “Put your hands down. This isn’t a stick up, you piece of garbage.” The teasing was something Robin was more comfortable with and he let his arms fall to his side. Logan straightened and wiped at his cheeks. “How about we consider this a loan? I’ll pay you back after we get the money in?”
