My Unfair Godmother(81)

We had to wait both for the horses to be saddled up and for the blacksmith to melt down the gold Hudson gave in payment. The innkeeper wanted to make sure it was real. Apparently not many people came through the village with gold acorns. While we waited for the stable boy to ready the horses, we bought provisions—food, blankets, cloaks—and studied the innkeeper’s map. At least, Hudson studied the map. I mostly paced near him, nervously checking for either Robin Hood’s or King John’s men.

The only people who paid extra attention to us though were two barefoot little girls who kept casting adoring looks at Hudson. They even followed us into the stable when we collected our horses. While Hudson put things into his saddlebag, I told him, “You have a fan club.”



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He glanced in the girls’ direction and they erupted in giggles.

Hudson winked at them, then turned back to me. “It’s only because women love a man in uniform.”

I leaned against the stall door. “You’re so right. I found those police officers who arrested me irresistible.” Hudson grinned. “You’re an exception to many rules.” Instead of putting a couple of the apples we’d bought into his saddlebag, he held them out to the girls. “Would you like to feed our horses?” The youngest girl took an apple but instead of offering it to the horse, she bit into it, devouring it in a few bites. Hudson watched her, then without saying another word, he took the bread and eggs from his saddlebag and gave them to the children. The younger girl grabbed her share, wide-eyed, and ran away, as though Hudson might change his mind and demand it back.

“Beg your pardon,” the older girl said. “My sister’s too young to say thank you.”

I hadn’t noticed until then how thin the girl was, how ragged her clothes were. I took the food out of my saddlebag and handed it to her as well. I reached for some gold, but Hudson grabbed my hand and shook his head. “Not that.”

The sternness in his face warned me not to argue, so I didn’t. I just stood silently by the horses while the girl left and Hudson went to buy more food. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. After we rode out of the village, I said, “Why didn’t you let me give that girl some gold? It probably could have fed her family for a month.” Hudson looped his reins around one hand. “If the village men knew we had enough wealth that we could afford to give gold to children, we wouldn’t make it a mile out of town before someone came to rob us. Or kill us. Less chance of reprisal that way.” 248/356

I looked back in the direction of the village, a sudden chill wash-ing across me. “But the people there were so nice.”

“One of the things I’ve learned here is that when your children are hungry, even nice people do bad things for money.” That thought sat with me for a long time. When I had asked for this ability, not once had I considered the problems of having magical wealth. Now it seemed to put me in danger everywhere I went.

We left on the main road in case someone asked the villagers which way we went, but as soon as we were out of sight, we cut through the forest to a different path. According to the map, in about ten miles, we would reach a river. We needed to travel alongside it for several miles, then cross a bridge and take a road to the wizard’s village.

Sunlight streamed through the forest, making the leaves look like jigsaw pieces of a hundred different shades of green. Birds trilled so loudly they nearly drowned out the sound of our horses.

My horse rode almost alongside Hudson’s. Close enough that I could peek at his profile without him noticing. His dark eyes were alert, scanning the forest and he looked all the more handsome for his seriousness. No, that wasn’t right. He was more handsome when he smiled. He didn’t do that enough.

“Did you learn how to ride as a castle guard?” I asked.

“No. My grandparents have a couple of horses.” His gaze wandered in my direction and he gave me one of his elusive smiles.

“That’s the sort of thing you do in hick towns.” I gave him a pointed look. “You’re never going to forget that I called Rock Canyon a hick town, are you?”

“Well, you’re a New Yorker. You don’t know any better.”

“New York is a nice place.”



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“If you like concrete, crowds, and that claustrophobic, closed-in feeling.”

I pulled my horse next to his. “Okay, hometowns are off our conversation list. What do you want to talk about next? Oh, and I’m ban-ning anything about computer games or professional sports teams.”

“You’ve got a list of approved conversation topics?”