My fingers felt something thick and clumpy in my hair, and I frowned and scrubbed at the matted blood with the cloth.

He sighed. “Would you give me that? You’re making it worse. I know how to tend a cut, Scar.”

I glared at him but handed the cloth over. He began dabbing again, but this time at the cut on my cheek, which were fair awful. Even the dabs made my teeth grind.

“Going to tell me what happened?”

“The sheriff’s men went after Amy Cooper. She and her mam came back to their house. One hit Amy.”

Rob looked up, his eyebrow raised. “Is the sheriff’s man still alive?”

“They both are. I cut one behind the knee and the other’s hand. He broke my knife,” I said, bitter.

“So, you punched him?”

I nodded.

“You’re no good for punching, Scar. You could have broken your hand.”

“That’s what John said.”

“I take it he’s at the house, or you wouldn’t have left them.”

I nodded.

He pressed my cheek with the cloth again, and then his hand touched my cheek, hot after the cold water. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

The air whooshed from my chest but I rolled my eyes ’stead of letting on. “No one gets all bent up over John being bruised.”

He stepped back, looking into my eyes. I felt like my eyes were unprotected without my hat.

“Scar, you walked in here covered in blood. You don’t see how that would upset us?”

“No.”

He caught my chin in his fingers. “Like it or not, Scar, we’re your friends. We care about you. I care about you.”

I pulled away from his hand, pushing my knuckles forward.

He tore up strips of old, worn linen and wrapped my knuckles with them, tying them off in my palm.

“We should get back to Little John. If the soldiers come back, he’ll need help.”

Rob nodded. His head were low and he weren’t looking at me. He wiped the stones and put them back in the cold water. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Scar.”

All my rage bubbled up, mixing with the little bit of fear I didn’t want to cop to. I pushed him back, shoving my hat on my head though it stung fierce. “Stop it. You ain’t sorry you got John and Much mixed up in this. You ain’t sorry I’m outta London. It ain’t no tragedy that I bleed, so just let it lie.”

He looked at me with his funny, lopsided grin, like he knew how tough I were and it weren’t half what I wanted it to be. “I’m saying I’m sorry you got hurt, Scar.”

“And I’m telling you I make my own decisions. Including who to fight for and when to get hurt. So let’s go.”

His mouth twitched into a smile. He nodded. We went to the top of the stairs and he gave me a hard look, but without any yap, we went out into the night. It were cold, but we moved pretty fast to the Coopers’. Part of me thought we’d find the house on fire, but John were where I left him, looking out from the side of the house. He were kind of like a big, shadowy gargoyle on a cathedral, keeping the place from demons. It made a shiver run up my spine, but I shook it off. I pretty much think I ended up on the wrong side of God, even if I spent most of my time trying to make up for it.

Much were around the side, and he came over as John came from the shadows and Rob went to the back door. I heard Rob knock and softly speak to the Coopers, and I leaned against the wall.

“Find anything out today, then?” Much asked.

I nodded. “Gisbourne is here but his belongings ain’t. They were going to ship them up the Trent and then bring them down to avoid Sherwood, but they decided to disguise the goods instead. They’re coming up tomorrow, as early as dawn.”

John smiled. “Rob will like that.”

My fingers brushed the empty space where my knife usually sat. I wondered if John would actually fix it. He used to be a blacksmith, so I knew he could. Couldn’t much trust people to do favors for you, no matter if they were strangers or bandmates. I guess I could steal it back if he didn’t fix it.

“Do you know what the disguise is?” Much asked.

“No. I’ll spot it, though.”

John elbowed me. “’Bout the only thing you can trust a thief to do is spot treasure.”

I scowled. “It won’t be any great treasure. Some money, but his belongings foremost.”

“Well, why do we want it?” John said.

“Because it will make him very angry,” Much said. “Which probably isn’t such a good idea.”

John smiled and gave a dark, throaty chuckle that put gooseflesh on my arms. “Angry is always a good idea.”

Much scoffed. “Why do we always start the trouble?” he mumbled to himself.

“We don’t,” I said, probably a lick harsher than were right. “We finish the trouble they start.” Much looked down, and I sighed. I didn’t like making Much feel small but I weren’t the sort to apologize. “Did you get good loot today?”

John scowled. “No. Pains me to admit, but we need you on the roads with us.”

Rob came out from around the building, sliding in the darkness and nodding to us. “The family is safe and calm.” He nodded to me. “And grateful, Scar.”

I nodded back. It were dark, so they couldn’t prove I were blushing.

“Much, why don’t you and I take them back over to Worksop? Scar, John—go back to the Oak. We need to be on the roads early tomorrow, and I want your eyes sharp.”