“Aye. I am interested in this bow and arrow, but I do not wish to purchase it until I can sample it.
Sample it?” The man’s voice rose slightly in irritation.
“Yes, he wishes to sample it,” she quickly interjected. “You see, my friend here is very skilled with the bow and he’s looking to perhaps start a tournament at the fair sometime.” She smiled at the slightly older man and laughed lightly. “Can you imagine how much money one would make by having such a tournament? Once they see my friend’s talents in action, others would surely want to compete with him to prove they are better.”
Finally, the other man’s eyes sparked with interest. “You know, that’s a very good idea. I’m quite good at bow hunting, and I think I’d like to challenge your friend.”
She glanced at Archer. With shoulders back and a lifted chin, he stood ready to accept the challenge.
“When shall this event take place?” Archer said. “I find I’m eager to prove my prowess to you.”
The other man arched an eyebrow. “If you will give me a few minutes to set up some targets, I’ll happily comply with your wishes.”
As the man turned and walked away, he called to two other men, who then grabbed targets they were selling, and headed back toward the trees that faced away from the crowd. They had picked the perfect spot for the contest since all that stood behind the glade of trees were more trees. If an arrow missed its target, it would only be stopped by another tree.
It took only ten minutes before everything was set up and Archer and the other man stood several feet away. Archer urged the man to go first. Payton loved the gleam in Archer’s eyes and the smug grin on his lips as he watched the other man shoot his arrow and hit the target—but it landed not even close to the bullseye.
The man stepped back and swept his hand in front of him, motioning for Archer to proceed. His expression grew serious as he lifted his bow and arrow and focused on the large red dot in the middle of the target.
She held her breath. Would he be able to hit it? This would make or break her illusions of him being her Robin Hood. She prayed her hopes weren’t shattered. She rather enjoyed thinking of him as her gallant Robin Hood.
He released the arrow. It whooshed through the air, hitting dead-center of the bullseyes. Cheers rose from behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see a crowd had gathered. Her heart swelled with happiness as she met Archer’s eyes—and the excitement dancing in them. His broad grin let her know of his satisfaction.
Some of the people who’d been inside the tent called, rematch! Payton wanted to laugh. Although the other man’s nose had been tweaked, he was in no way an equal to Archer.
Suddenly, someone yelled, “I’ll bet ten dollars that he won’t be able to make that hit again.”
Several people began voicing their opinions as they lay down their betting money. Payton dug through the cloth purse that matched her dress and pulled out a ten dollar bill. “And I’ll bet ten dollars he can hit the bullseye again.”
More people joined in the betting, and soon it was time for the two men to step up and shoot their arrows. The owner of the tent went first. This time, he did hit inside the large red dot, closer to the middle. Those who had bet on him to win, cheered. Deep down inside, Payton knew Archer would show them up.
Archer took his place, aimed, and shot. She didn’t find herself holding her breath this time, but when his arrow landed right in the middle, she exhaled deeply with relief. Disapprovals rose in the crowd as they had to pay up.
She quickly turned toward the newcomers and shouted, “Does anyone else want to go up against this man?” She pointed to Archer. “Come on. Don’t be afraid to show us your stuff. I’m sure there is someone in the group who can beat him.”
When she glanced back at Archer, he looked at her with hurt etched in his deep expression. She gave him a wink and smiled and then waved a twenty dollar bill above her head. “I bet he can hit the target again. Who wants to disagree?”
A knowing grin touched his mouth and he looked away. He probably figured out what she was doing and he didn’t want to laugh.
Another round of people placed their bets as a different man stepped forward. But just as she surmised, they didn’t come close to Archer’s skill with the bow and arrow.
After a half hour, Payton realized they had earned close to three hundred dollars. Excitement poured inside of her, giving her more energy than she thought was possible. A few times Archer acted like he struggled by hitting outside of the red dot, which made others want to compete, but he always finished hitting the bullseye right in the middle.
When the challengers stopped coming forward, Payton called to the crowd again. “Does anyone else want to go up against the greatest archer who ever lived?” She wanted to add how Archer was their own modern-day Robin Hood, but she didn’t want to upset him since he didn’t like the name Robin.
“I’ll make a bet.” A voice rang through the crowd, bringing a hush to the area.
Chills crawled over Payton. The man’s voice seemed very familiar, and although she couldn’t quite remember where she’d heard that voice, she knew she hadn’t liked this man, whoever it was. Why else would her stomach churn with sickness and bile rise to her mouth?
The crowd separated like Moses parting the Red Sea. When she finally laid eyes on the man, an audible groan sprang from her throat. What was Phillip doing here? But what worried her most was knowing how this man thrived on being perfect. He had to be the best at everything. It was part of his controlling nature. If he wasn’t the best at something, he took lessons—or anything he could—to make him the best. If something was holding him back, he dropped it like a hot coal, which was why he and Mary had divorced.
He sauntered up to Payton and stopped. His grin told her what she had suspected. This cocky man thought he could beat Archer. The haughty lift to the man’s eyebrows and smirk said it all.
“Phillip. What are you doing here?” Out of the corner of her eyes, Archer moved, coming toward them quickly. She remained having a staring competition with Phillip until Archer stood by her side.
“You were the one who wanted to know if there was anyone who could go up against the man—and I quote—the greatest archer that ever lived.” He shrugged. “I thought there for a moment, you were referring to me.”
Snorting, she shook her head. “Always full of yourself, aren’t you, Phillip? It’s nice to know some things never change.”
He met Archer’s curious stare. “Hello. I’m Phillip Hatchet.
Greetings. My name is Archer, Lord of Loxley.”
Chuckling, Phillip shook his head. “If you are Lord of Loxley, then I’m the Sheriff of Nottingham.”
Not cowering, Archer stepped closer to Phillip, staring him down. Payton realized Archer was not only a tall man, but had incredibly wide shoulders, and looked as though he could take on any wrestler...and win.
“Indeed, you are.” Archer nodded. “I have heard you are as greedy and ruthless as the sheriff.”
Payton sucked in a quick breath. She was certain Phillip would ask how Archer had heard of him, but then, if he was watching the house like she thought he was, Phillip would know about her newest model.
“Ah, but I don’t raise taxes.” Phillip shook his head.
Archer cocked his head. “There are other ways to take money from poor people and make them suffer besides taxes.”
She wanted to applaud him, but didn’t dare. Instead, she cleared her throat and stepped in between the two men, focusing her attention on Phillip. “You have taken archery classes, haven’t you?”
He gave her that all-knowing glare. “What haven’t I done, Payton?”
He had a point. “And you’re willing to make a bet that you can do better than Archer?
I am.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out five hundred dollar bills. “But I’ll make the pot a little more intriguing. I’m willing to bet that I can make the same shot twice, hitting the same mark each time. Can you
r friend compete with that?
I...um, well—
I shall equal your skills, Mr. Hatchet, and even go one better.
One better? How?
I shall let that be a surprise.” Archer’s smile widened and he moved toward the standing point of the tournament. “Would you like to go first?
But of course. However, there is one little change I’d like to make.
And what, sir, is that?
I would like us to share the same bow.”
Payton stilled as her heart sank in dread. Phillip was a very devious person. Would he try to ruin the bow for Archer’s turn? Lord of Loxley was too trusting as he handed over his bow. Before he’d left his world, had he realized how scheming people like Phillip were?
Phillip tested the bow a few times before he was ready. He placed the arrow in and lifted the bow, aiming toward the target. Payton clasped her hands together and held them against her middle.
As the arrow flew through the air, she held her breath...and then groaned when it struck the middle of the bullseye. Thankfully, it wasn’t in the exact middle, but close enough. She prayed Archer would come closer.
She kept her eyes on Phillip as he handed the bow to Archer. So far, it didn’t appear as if he’d tampered with it at all.
Archer prepared the bow with the arrow, lifted it, and let the arrow sail through the air. It worried her at first because he hadn’t concentrated, but when the tip of the arrow hit exactly in the middle of the target, she sighed with relief.
The crowd cheered, but Phillip motioned to one of the men in the tent. “One of you go and make a mark by our arrows. Our bet is to make the same shot twice.”
They waited patiently until the arrows were marked and taken down. Archer handed the bow back to Phillip, and he steadied the weapon in his hands and zeroed in on his goal. The crowd quieted. And then he shot. The arrow hit in the very spot where Archer’s had been. There would be no room for Archer to hit the same target as before.
Closing her eyes, she groaned and rubbed her forehead. She should have known Phillip would have done that. Why else bet so much money unless he knew he could win? If they had won the pot, the money would have paid for new plumbing at the house.
Grinning with pride, Phillip gave Archer the bow and then turned, waved, and bowed to the people cheering him on. She wanted to gag. He was sucking in all of this attention. Of course he would. It was Phillip’s psycho personality to be the best.
Archer looked at her from over his shoulder and winked. Her heart fluttered, but she willed the fluttering to stop. Now was not the time to feel this way. Besides, didn’t he realize they had lost the bet? There was no way Archer could win now.
SEVEN
Archer held back his enthusiasm as he tried to keep a straight face. Not even a fortnight ago, he had made this kind of shot. It was not difficult for him at all. In fact, he thought he was rather skilled at the sport. He’d been the best in archery when he lived in Loxley, and even during the Holy War. The king had called on Archer’s skills quite often.
Slowly, he placed the arrow in the bow and studied the target, acting apprehensive about the shot. But in reality, he wasn’t. He could do this in his sleep.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Phillip raised his arms and turned toward the crowd. “I’m willing to bet,” he said loudly, “that this man cannot make the shot. In fact, I’m so confident that he will miss, I’ll double my previous bet. Who’s with me?”
Archer bit his cheek, trying not to grin. Now there was more incentive to win. Over his shoulder, he glanced at the beautiful Payton. Sadness dominated her expression as she rubbed her forehead. He wanted to hold her and reassure her in his own way that all would be well. He would be her champion...always her champion, for as long as she wanted him.
He found it strange to think how attached he’d become to her. Not having the slightest notion about what fascinated him about her, he allowed himself to be lured to her side. He wanted to make her smile, to hear her laugh, and to see the excitement dance in her lovely hazel eyes sprinkled with specks of gold.
Many people placed their bets—siding with Phillip. Archer almost felt guilty for taking their money. Almost.
Once the money was collected, Phillip turned toward him and motioned his hand at the target. “You may now proceed oh mighty greatest archer who’d ever lived.” He repeated Payton’s words with a haughty laugh, and the crowd joined him.
Archer loathed arrogant men like Phillip. Indeed, he was too much like the Sheriff of Nottingham, and Archer couldn’t tolerate that. Whereas he had to bide his time with the sheriff, for fear the so-called man of the law would strip Archer of his title and lands, here in this new world, there was nothing stopping him. He would make this man eat crow if it was the last thing he’d do.
Without saying anything to the insipid man, Archer turned back toward the target and took aim. Once more, he studied his goal, which of course made the crowd restless.
Just as he steadied himself, a movement out of the corner of his eyes made him notice Phillip fidgeting. Archer inwardly chuckled. He was certain the foolish man did this to distract Archer. Well, he would have the last laugh.
He released the arrow. As it soared through the air, the crowd hushed. Just as Archer had suspected, his arrow sliced clean through the one Phillip had shot, cutting it in half as it settled dead center in the bullseye.
The energetic crowd cheered, but it was Payton’s squeal of happiness that softened his heart, making him smile. She jumped and clapped her hands together, and then ran to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him on the cheek. Instinctively, he circled his arms around her, pulling her closer.
Her eyes twinkled with exhilaration and she laughed. “I can’t believe you did that.
Did you not think I could accomplish such a feat?
Well, I’d hope you would, but I didn’t dare wish it would happen for fear my hopes would be squashed.
Never doubt my abilities again.” He winked. “I shall be your champion, always.”
Her face relaxed and she stroked his cheek. Warmth filled him, and he cuddled his face against her touch. Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and for a moment, he thought she would bestow a kiss on him, but just as quickly as her tender expression came, it left and she stepped out of his arms. Perhaps now was not the time for such affection since they were surrounded by people.
She dashed to the keeper of the money and collected her reward, stuffing it in the cloth satchel hanging over her shoulder. Phillip stood beside her and switched his glare between Payton and Archer. He wanted to act smug and rub the victory in the other man’s face, but decided against it. Witnessing the man’s anger was gratification enough.
Several people congratulated Archer, blocking his view of Payton. They all asked questions at the same time, and it was hard for him to concentrate on just one person. Smiling, he tried to answer their questions the best he could.
Suddenly, Payton’s scream ripped through the air. Searching for her, he darted his gaze through crowd, but too many people were in his way. He maneuvered through the throng of onlookers until he found her. She sat on the ground, struggling to stand.
“Archer! He stole my purse!” Finally, she jumped up and pointed toward the trees.
He followed the direction her finger indicated. A man darted through the mass of people, clutching Payton’s cloth satchel to his chest.
Archer pushed everyone aside as he made his way toward the thief. Once the way was clear for him, he snatched an arrow, placed it in the bow, and shot. The arrow flew through the air as fast as lightning. Immediately, he launched three more arrows one right after the other.
The crowd quieted, but he didn’t have time to see what they were doing. Instead, he ran toward the thief he’d just captured. The arrows he’d just shot had pinned the man’s arm to a tree. Struggling, the thief tried to yank his arm free, but to no avail. Finally, he ripped his long-sleeve shirt and released his arm from the material’s
hold. Archer stepped in front of the thief, holding out his hand, palm up.
“Give me the lady’s satchel,” he commanded, “or I shall demonstrate what other methods of torture I can create with these arrows.”
The man’s eyes were wide and his face white with fear. He didn’t appear to be much older than in his twentieth year. Archer hoped the lad had learned his lesson and wouldn’t try to steal again. At least not while Archer was in the vicinity.
Payton dashed toward them as another man wearing a blue uniform followed. On the man’s chest was some kind of silver shield or badge. Archer didn’t need to be told that this was a person of the law because he felt the authority just from the uniformed man’s presence.
When Payton and the man in blue stopped, they both studied the arrows in the tree. The man of the law pointed to the tree and aimed his question at Archer. “Did you do this?
Aye. I had to stop the thief. He had taken my friend’s satchel.” Archer handed the cloth bag back to Payton. She took it with shaky hands.
“Yes, I understand,” the man in blue stated, “but do you know how dangerous it is to shoot arrows at people?”
Archer shrugged. “This thief was in no danger. My intent was to stop him.” He nodded to the arrows. “Can you not see I accomplished this?
But Archer,” she pointed the one closest to the man’s face. “The arrow could have struck him in the head and killed him.”
The thief groaned and closed his eyes, appearing as if he would swoon at any moment.
“No, my dearest Payton,” Archer reasoned. “I had no intention of harming him. If I would have wanted to strike him in the face with the arrow, my aim would have been precise. But I aimed for the tree. The arrow was merely to bring the man to a halt, for which I succeeded in doing.”
For a moment, Payton’s mouth smirked but she bit her lip to try and stop the laugh.
“Uh, Officer,” she said, “Archer is right. He’s very skilled with the bow and arrow, and he’s telling the truth.”
The large man sighed heavily and folded his arms across his beefy chest. “Well, all right. Just be warned not to go shooting those arrows around in public. Somebody will get hurt.”
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