The feud between the sheriff and Father was legendary. They had been trying to outwit one another for decades, even beforeI was even born. Now that the sheriff’s son was sitting among us, it was no wonder tension simmered like a pot on the edge of boiling.
“It still complicates things,” insisted Little John. “If you left with Laurel, we can be sure he’ll come sniffing around, trying to drag you both back.”
Baron let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “That’s assuming my father would want me back. He never cared. He’s probably celebrating my disappearance.”
A few men chuckled awkwardly, but it didn’t quite hide the discomfort. They’d all been double-crossed before—some more than once—and no one was eager to welcome someone with Blackwell blood in their veins.
Only I noticed the flash of pain in Baron’s eyes and the way he forced that cold tone, as if he could freeze out whatever was left of the boy who craved approval from his father.
“Nevertheless,” Little John said doggedly, “We will have to expect searches. If you are who you say, and even if your father doesn’t care about you, as you claim, he still wouldn’t want you to be in the hands ofhisenemy. You would’ve had access to valuable information that he won’t want you to divulge.
“I could give you any information you need if it helps you feel more confident.”
Without so much as a pause, Lincoln started in on the questions they all must have been anxious to know. “How many men does the sheriff have?”
“One hundred twelve,” Baron answered promptly. “It was one hundred thirty-seven last fall, but several quit on the way to our winter accommodations because they didn’t care for the living conditions and low pay for entry-level recruits.”
“And patrol routes?” Alan asked.
Baron listed them out with crisp efficiency. Will Scarlet muttered, “Well, he certainly sounds like a Blackwell,” while James frantically drew routes and took notes.
Little John scratched his beard. “And what about the armory? Supplies? Weak points? If we’re about to trust a Blackwell, we’re going to be thorough about it.”
So Baron told them everything. He described the guard rotations and training schedules. He explained about the low rations and even lower morale under the sheriff’s leadership.
“All right,” Little John said after several minutes, exchanging a glance with Father. “Now tell us exactly how you covered our tracks after bringing us here.”
Baron went through it step by step. Then Little John had me recount my northbound trail, and James had to shake out his hand from all the note-taking.
By the time they finished sorting through plans for food, bedding, watches, and the dozen other crises facing a cramped cottage full of half-starved outlaws, night had nearly fallen.
“Baron, would you be willing to take the first watch?”
Baron straightened, eager for the chance to prove himself. “I can take it.” He shot me a brief, hopeful smile then went outside, following Sam and Tildy who had gone out to do their evening chores.
The door shut behind him.
Little John folded his arms. “I don’t trust him.”
A couple of men murmured agreement.
My instinct was to defend Baron immediately but I held my tongue. If I even hinted that I had feelings for Baron, I was sure they would claim I was too blinded to see the situation clearly.
“He says he’s on our side,” Little John continued. “But why now? Why not months ago? Jerome and Much might still be alive. What made him suddenly change loyalty?” He shook his head. “It seems too sudden. I smell foul play.”
“I do, too,” added Will Stutely. “He could have set it up with the sheriff. Just imagine—he takes us from jail to win our loyalty, learns out secrets, and then betrays us. It’s too easy.”
“Easy?” harrumphed Lincoln. “That wasn’t easy. And he just gave us information on their movements, didn’t he?”
“Blackwell never would have agreed to let us out of prison,” Father added, and my heart swelled with hope. Did Father trust Baron? “And he did give us information…but he’s still Blackwell’s son.”
“He could’ve made up all the information he gave us,” Little John pointed out. “Words are just that—words. What a mandoessays far more about his character than what he says. Hesaysthat he decided to turn on his own father and leave a very comfortable position high up in Prince John’s military just so he can release a prisoner and plan a jailbreak for some men he’s never met. I wouldn’t do that. And anyone who turns on his allies that quickly cannot be trusted.”
“It could be a trap,” Alan pointed out, and several men nodded in agreement.
“My thoughts exactly,” Will Stutely said. “It would be a perfect plan—get the prisoners to think you’re on their side so they spill the beans about everything, then turn in all the prisoners and earn a nice commission for a neat job well done.”
“We could just ditch him,” Will Scarlet suggested. There were murmurs of agreement.
