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We spun to find a tall man I recognized, arms folded over his barrel chest, shoulder-length locks whipping in the wind. He was nearly as large as Little John, and that was saying something.
I recalled his name as Brandon, but the Merry Men called him Stump because of his stout, tree-like stature.
He scowled at John, thrust a finger at me. “Let’s not honeycoat it, eh, boss? The four of you are lost to this girl—our prisoner—and putting the rest of us in danger with your antics.”
Will Scarlet noticed the argument and sauntered over to listen, placing himself to my right, while Little John took my left. Despite Stump’s anger, I felt safe with the two of them around.
“It’s one thing to want to pry her cunt open and enjoy what’s inside—”
“Careful, Brandon,” Little John said. Calling him by his real name was as much of a threat as anything.
Stump flared his nostrils. A few others joined the fracas—this time on his side. He started over, speaking louder so everyone in camp could hear. “Bringing the half-dead squire here was foolhardy and stupid. All it did was invite the law to our doorstep.” He jabbed his thumb into his own chest. “A man like us goes missing? It’s buried under the rug. But a noble-born brat like him? Or her?” His chin nudged in my direction. “It’s careless.”
It was hard to argue against what he was saying.
I feared the worst. The voices behind Stump grumbled, getting louder, their faces growing angrier.
Then I felt bodies behind me, heat washing in from all directions. Friar Tuck and Alan-a-Dale joined Will, John, and me.
My racing heart slowed. For the first time, ensconced by the four gang leaders, I felt completely protected. Shielded from whatever might happen here.
Tensions were high.
Stump pointed at each man in turn, skipping over me. “Little John, you are our tactician. We rely on your expertise in the forest. Will Scarlet, you are our brawn. Angry and short as you might be, nobody doubts your bravery or strength. Friar Tuck, you are our heart. We need to remember why we do the things we do—who we do it for. Alan-a-Dale, you are our soul, providing entertainment and high spirits when we’re at our lowest. You are integral men to our operation.”
My heart fluttered. But . . .
“But who is our fucking brain, eh? We’ve cheated death more than we deserve. How long will our luck last without a plan?”
Loud voices agreed with Brandon Stump.
Even I did, to some degree. The problem was, I knew where this was all going—who was going to be blamed for their lapse in judgment.
The one lady in the group. The new girl.
Little John stepped forward. He was never one to shy away from conflict, from what I’d seen, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He set his broad body in front of me. “Is this a coup, old friend? A challenge?”
Stump’s head shot back with confusion. “Hrm? No—”
“Do you think you could lead the Merry Men better, son?”
Stump opened his mouth to say something. It stayed open for a long time, and then he seemed to think better of it and shook his head slowly. “No, boss. I don’t. I just want to know what we’re doing. We all deserve that.”
“We’re trying to stay out of harm’s way, men,” Little John said loudly. “If we’ve not been meeting you on that promise, then I am sorry.” He stepped away from our group to speak to the rest of the Merry Men. “Our way of life requires high risk for high rewards. We all know that. We can only do so much to avoid the authorities.”
Little John paced in front of the dozen other men, who stared at him with various degrees of curiosity, anger, and questions.
I soon saw what made him the leader of the Merry Men.
“Chance, you could go back to being a farmer, right?” he asked, pointing at a short man with reddish hair and big teeth.
Chance bowed his head. “Nay, sir. You know the score. Mama won’t take me back after I stole our neighbor’s cattle. Calls me a disgrace.”
Little John grunted and moved onto another man, pointing with his beard. “How about you, Benny? Can you reclaim your land, open your blacksmithing shop?”
“Not after the Plantagenet scum burned it down to make way for their own smithy. I haven’t the coin to do it, boss. You know that.”
