Robyn and the Hoodettes Read Free

falling. Sounds like they hit us up and then moved on to
you.”
    “ They said they were acting on behalf of the Sheriff of
Nottingham. We’ve had tax collectors before, but they were never
that brutal.” Robyn said.
    “ Maybe the crusade’s going badly,” Joan said. “Speaking of, any
word from your Dad?”
    “ Not yet.” Nostalgia pierced Robyn as she remembered the fun
she and her father used to have. Her memories glossed over all the
times they’d argued or she’d been in trouble. “Not even a carrier
pigeon in six months. What about your cousin?”
    At least Joan still had both her parents, elderly as they
might be.
    “ Nothing from him either,” Joan said as she moved in to give
the horse a good pat on the neck.
    Robyn and Joan both shut up about the people they missed the
most. They had a way of almost talking about the things and people
they cared for, before they found a way to change the
subject.
    Joan looked longingly at the horse. “She sure is a beautiful
thing.”
    “ I told her to shoo, but she’s harder to lose than a
shadow.”
    “ Hello Shadow, I’m Joan, lovely to meet you.”
    “ Don’t give her a name!” Robyn threw her hands out in
desperation. “I’m trying to get rid of her! Oh come on, stop with
the cuddles!”
    “ But she’s beautiful. And she smells so nice.”
    “ I know!” Robyn moved in for a smooch, inhaling the horse’s
scent. “But honestly, she’s far too pretty. If anyone saw us,
they’d know we’d stolen her.”
    “ Then we have to make her look like she does belong,” Joan said
with a gleam in her eye. “Come on, let’s give her an
un-bath.”
    With a giggle of conspiracy, they lead Shadow into the stream
and proceeded to splash water on her, then they mussed up her
gleaming coat and mane by brushing her the wrong way. It had to be
done. No peasant could possibly possess such a fine
horse.
    “ Nagging her up. What a shame. Feels worse than when I spilt
mead all over mother’s tapestry,” Joan said.
    “ What about the shoes?” Robyn asked as she smeared mud on
Shadow’s fetlock.
    Joan winked. “We’ll take her to your handsome blacksmith
later, get them taken off. By the way, did you lose a boot or find
one?”
    “ It . . . fell off,” Robyn said, her brain catching on
Joan’s description of her handsome smith. “I hope those ratbags have left something
for Marion to work with.”
    “ He’s a clever man, that one,” Joan said. “He’ll work something
out.”
    “ Do you fancy him or something?” Robyn said with a grin. “You
do, don’t you? You really fancy him!”
    “ Not half as much as you do!” Joan shot back.
    “ I do not!”
    “ Liar!”
    They threw water and mud at each other. A fair amount landed
on the horse, which helped make the three of them look miserably
poor and dirty. Both her feet were soaked, so her soles were
equally numb from the cold water.
    All of which distracted Robyn from thinking too much about
Marion. He’d always been a kid in Robyn’s eyes, although he was
barely a season younger than her. On the other hand, he was
probably the oldest lad left in the village.
    Did that automatically make him a man as Joan had called
him?
    Robyn and Joan stood back to admire their mudwork. Shadow
looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet. But there was
no disguising the fact she was a superior horse with regal
standing, not some village nag.
    “ We could always say we found her, that we’re trying to find
her owners,” Joan said.
    Robyn nodded.
    “ D’you think the tax collectors are gone yet?” Joan
asked.
    “ One way to find out,” Robyn said. “Come on Shadow.”
    The horse and the two girls made their way towards Loxley.
Darkness crept into the sky, so they keep close to the King’s Road
to avoid getting lost.
    “ What’s that?” Joan said, grabbing Robyn’s arm.
    She heard it too, noises made by hooves and people. Possibly a
carriage or two judging from the creaky-wheely sounds.
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