My Unfair Godmother(80)

I didn’t think twice about agreeing.



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Changing the rocks to gold was more difficult than I thought.

“Rock, gold, gold, gold” didn’t work. The same thing had happened last night when I’d first tried to change the kindling. I had to figure out what sort of wood it was—oak—and then use that word.

“What sort of rocks are these?” I asked Robin Hood.

“Common forest rocks,” he said.

Not a really helpful description.

Hudson came and stood next to me. “Try sandstone, limestone, or granite. It’s not volcanic.”

Hudson was obviously not only gorgeous and brave but also smart. It sort of made me regret destroying my English grades. I bet Hudson took honors English. I could have been in his class.

It turned out the rocks were limestone. Each change ripped at my heart, but I wouldn’t pause to rest. Not for the rocks. Not for the wood.

When I was done, Little John took our shovel, proclaimed the blade to be “wonderful sharp,” and began to dig a hole to bury the extra gold.

Hudson helped me to my feet, then took the horse’s reins from Will. Wordlessly, we walked together toward the edge of the forest, the horse tromping nonchalantly after us. My heart was still clenched from changing things to gold, and I had to force myself to keep my footsteps steady. Just before we were swallowed up by the forest, I turned and looked over my shoulder. Robin Hood was watching us leave, his arms folded across his chest.

Even with gold at his feet and our provisions unguarded, he wouldn’t lose track of time. We wouldn’t have long before he figured out what we’d done. Would he come after us?

When we were out of sight, Hudson effortlessly mounted the horse then held his hand down for me. I grabbed it, ignoring the fact 244/356

that the horse was shifting her weight impatiently as though she didn’t welcome another rider.

As soon as I put my foot in the stirrup, Hudson heaved me up in front of him. He pressed his boots to the horse’s flanks and she trotted off through the trees.

“Well,” he said, “it looks like we’re off to see the wizard.”

“Let’s hope he turns out to be more helpful than the one in Oz.” Hudson took the walkie-talkie out of his pocket and turned it on.

Putting it next to his lips, he whispered, “Can you hear me?” Nothing but static answered him for a few seconds, then my father’s voice came over the speaker. “Did you say something?”

“I’m taking Tansy with me. She’ll be safer away from Robin Hood.

Out.”

“What?” Even over the poor connection, my father’s alarm was obvious.

I took the walkie-talkie from Hudson’s hand. “We’re afraid Robin Hood won’t let us reconnect otherwise. If you get back to camp before they come looking for us, don’t tell them what we’ve done.”

“Where are you?” Dad asked.

But we didn’t have time to talk. I scanned the forest ahead of us, half hoping I’d catch sight of my family through the trees and half hoping I wouldn’t. “I love you, Dad. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

It sounded too much like a good-bye. When my father spoke next, his voice rose. “Meet me at the car and we’ll talk about this.” Hudson took the walkie-talkie from my hand. “Here’s the new plan. We’ll bring the wizard back to the meeting place. It will take us at least two days, maybe even four. In two days, turn on your walkie-talkie for five minutes every hour. As soon as we’re within range, we’ll turn on our walkie-talkie and keep calling until we get ahold of you. Out.” 245/356

Hudson had barely finished speaking before my father’s voice came back over the speaker. “You can’t just take off with my daughter.

It isn’t safe—” He said more, but Hudson turned off the walkie-talkie and put it in the saddlebag.

I wished I’d been able to tell my father I was doing this for him, for the family.

In a few minutes, we reached the main road and Hudson brought the horse to a gallop. We were out in the world by ourselves. Fugitives not only from King John but from Robin Hood as well.



Chapter 18

We passed by the first village we came to. Hudson thought Robin Hood would look for us there. I had only ridden a horse a couple of times—always as part of some tourist trip where the horses gently strolled behind a guide. This was completely different. I spent the entire ride grasping hold of the saddle, the horse’s mane, and sometimes Hudson in an effort not to fall off.

Finally, we came to a village Hudson thought was safe, and we bought two fresh horses at an inn. I would have my own horse to ride, which meant it would be easier to stay on, but I would no longer have Hudson’s arms around me. Safety versus romance. It was a hard call whether to be happy or not.