Page 40 of Rogue of the Greenwood
They took a few steps and the ground began to slope downward, toward the river. Obviously, that would not be the right direction. As far as he could recall, there was no road in this part of the forest near the river.
“Or perhaps it is this way.”
“We are lost!” she exclaimed.
“No, it must be this way,” he said.
“We should follow the river,” she said. “Comealong. It will eventually lead us somewhere.”
He knew the basic flow and direction of the river, so he knew that it would, indeed, lead them somewhere. Since he particularly did not want to lead her to the hunting box, he decided to follow it downstream.
“This way then,” he said, pushing through the thick foliage and moving toward the river.
Clarence followed along politely. It was good to see the old fellow again. He was glad Much had kept him, even after all these years. He wished the old mule had not been quite so eager to assist Miss Maidland, though. What the devil was she up to?
“Why on earth were you riding Clarence in the first place?”
She paused and chewed her lip while contemplating her answer. She had a pleasantly plump lower lip; it tended to pout a bit when she was deep in thought. With all her recent activity, her lips were rosy red. That was rather pleasing, too.
“Well,” she began after a moment. “There was no time to go hire a horse.”
That made no sense whatsoever. “But why did…”
“Oh look! I believe we’ve found someone’s camp,” she exclaimed.
Robert saw that she was exactly correct. The soggy remnants of a camp were tucked here in a dense thicket under the sprawling embrace of a huge oak. The river was wide in the area which would have provided handy access to fresh water and fish, but when the rains came it no doubt rose out of its banks. The shelters that had been created by lashing sticks into lean-tos were nearly washed away. The only real evidence of human habitation were the remains of afew scattered bits of clothing and broken crockery. One lone, headless doll made of twisted rags was left caught up in a tree root.
Ah, this must be where his men found the Grover family, half-drowned and starving. What a horrible time they must have endured, all in an effort to keep their family together rather than tossed into gaol.
“Who would have been living out here?” Miss Maidland asked, studying the area and moving from one pitiful shelter to another set up slightly higher on the bank.
“Sherwood is home to all sorts of people,” he replied. “People doing whatever they can to stay alive.”
“I fear the ones who lived here may not have,” she said, then noticed the doll and picked it up. “A child! Who would have brought a child out here?”
“Only someone in the most desperate circumstance.”
“Indeed,” she nodded. “People do all sorts of things when they are desperate, don’t’ they?”
She studied the doll and he knew the cloud of worry that showed on her face was not solely for the owner of the little poppet. She had some reason for coming out here today; she didn’t just happen to take Clarence and run away with him. What desperate thing had brought Miss Maidland into Sherwood today?
Before he could ask, something caught his attention. He froze and listened carefully. Clarence perked his ears. Miss Maidland dropped the doll and glanced nervously around. Her eyes grew huge and bright.
“Someone’s coming!” she whispered.
Chapter 12
Voices. He heard them clearly; men’s voices. It was hard to tell where they were, with the sound of rustling leaves, the steady hum of rain, and the rippling water beside them. Eventually, he determined that the voices were coming from the other side of the river.
That probably meant there was little chance of the voices belonging to any of his own people. He’d left them all back at the lodge, and that was very much onthisside of the river. If men’s voices were approaching from the other side, he could be sure they weren’t friends. But were they enemies?
The forest growth was thick, but not dense enough to hide two adults and a mule. The minute they tried to run away, though, they’d make enough noise to alert anyone in the area. What could they do?
“Where can we go?” Marianne whispered, her face showing her fear.
He glanced around, searching for anything in this devastated camp that could hide them. The shelters were fallen, only the merest remnant of them standing to indicate where they had been. There was nothing that could hide them or disguise their position. Nothing but… wait! His gaze fell on the one thing that could be useful.
“Maybe this!” he said softly, quickly tugging the corner of what he prayed would turn out to be an old blanket.
