_____________________________________________________________________________
This fanfiction was inspired by Dana Sherman's comment that I tortured poor
Scott too much in my "Happy Homecomings" resolutions. I took a good look at
the stories and realized that she was right. I also decided to go in for
some spoof, since my other stories were pretty heavy. Here is the result...

Disclaimer: The characters in this story don't belong to me, they belong to
WENN's own king, Rupert Holmes. No infringement is intended.

* - Denotes thoughts

Both parts are set the night after the events of "Magic/In the WENN Small
Hours"

Robin Sherwood of Pittsburgh
by Emma Redmer

"No..yes...no, well, he sure sounded like he was crazy, Mr. Medwick.
Lunar ticks! He...no, I didn't see Victor Comstock, either, unless you count
the photo in the hallway. Victor Comstock died in the London Blitz. Everyone
knows that. Well, everyone who's been in America for the last two years."
Scott Sherwood had to hold the phone as far away from his ear as possible.
He'd spent most of the day attempting to explain Cutter Dunlap's behavior on
"Agitato Alert" last night to Mr. Medwick. He'd asked Betty for help with
the situation, but she had complained of a headache late that afternoon and
went home early.
It was eleven o'clock when Medwick finally decided that he was tired
of bellyaching about his cancled show. Scott offered him a nice, safe sitcom
about a nice, normal mom-dad-sister-brother family to make up for the
incident. That calmed the sponsor down a bit. Medwick had eight children and
seventeen grandchildren. Anything involving children and/or families went
over big with him.
"A Book at Bedtime" was just going on the air when Scott recieved
another call. This one wasn't as pleasant as kindly but timid Mr. Medwick.
The smooth, snobbish voice was the last one he ever wanted to hear. "Mr.
Sherwood, have you looked at your budget recently?" it hissed.
Scott rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Oh, hello, Mr. Pruitt." Rollie
Pruitt was the bane of his existance. He was the station's own villain, a
man so menacing that the staff's "affectionate" nickname for him was "The
Satanic Santa". Pruitt was a grouch, a miser, a skinflint, and ugly to boot.
He couldn't seem to get it through his thick skull that being GLOBE's major
stockholder didn't mean he was entitled to run all of the company's
holdings. Half the time, he acted like he was WENN's station manager. Pruitt
hadn't made an appearence at the station since Christmas. *If Pruitt ever
appears at the station again, it will be too soon!* Scott thought grumpily
as Pruitt gave him an earful about how much the fashion show he had put on
last week had cost.
"Do you know how much money pretty things cost these days?" the
accountant barked.
"Not on my salary, but I have the feeling you're going to tell me."
Scott sighed.
And tell him he did. For twenty whole minutes. Scott spent most of
those twenty minuted trying to avoid snoring into the phone. He slammed the
phone down on its cradle when Pruitt was through ranting. *It's a good thing
he doesn't know about the Victor Comstock Memorial. He'd personally feather
and tar me if he was aware of the fact that I embezzled from the sponsors to
create it!* Scott could imagine the gleeful expression on the accountant's
face if he ever found out that Scott had done something so blantantly
illegal. It was a frightning thought. *Pruitt doesn't care about Victor
Comstock. I'll wager he didn't know him any more than I did. He didn't know
him the way the staff here at WENN knew him. All he cares about is the money
in his pocket.*
He turned his mind from his phone conversations to Betty. She had
been acting strange all day. The lovely scriptwriter seemed fine last night
when they caught the Nazi saboteurs, but when he came in this morning after
leaving Cutter Dunlap at the hotel with Jeff, she looked spooked. She was so
pale that he couldn't help but note that she appeared to have seen a ghost.
She gave him the cold shoulder for the rest of the morning. He just couldn't
understand that girl. *Maybe she saw the ghost of Victor Comstock.* He
smiled at the idea.
He turned up his radio and listened to the "Book at Bedtime"
broadcast. Jeff was in great voice as he read Betty's exciting adaptation of
"Robin Hood". Scott rested his head on his hands and closed his eyes,
allowing his mind to drift off into fantasy......

******

Baron Scott Hood of Pittsburgh Woods was riding home at last to his
own castle from the Crusades. *Let King Victor and his men handle the
gristly stuff,* he thought. *A guy could lose his hide trying to plunder the
African lands!* No, he'd be happier here, reunited with his people and his
beautiful and intelligent Maid Bettian, the king's ward.
It was strange being back in Pittsburgh Woods after his long
journey. There was so much that he didn't recognize...like that sign
attached to a great oak tree with an arrow.
The piece of parchment stated...

Here Ye, Here Ye
All Citizens of Wenningham and the Surrounding Towns
That Means You Too!
You Will Now Pay a Fifty Percent Tax
On Anything That Wasn't Taxed Last Week
By Order of the Sheriff of Wenningham
If Ye Don't Like It
Tough!
The Sheriff's Right Hand

Scott frowned. He knew that there had been some changes, but since
when were the taxes that high? King Victor himself couldn't afford to pay
that! He didn't recall the king hiring any Sheriffs or right hands. There
was something rotten going on in the state of Wenningham, and darned if he
wasn't going to find out what it was.

He galloped on, and nearly ran over a plump woman walking and
singing down the road. She was simply dressed and carried nothing but a
guitar. He got off his horse and helped her up.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," he quickly apologized, "but you were
walking in the middle of the road."

The woman's sunny smile never left her round face. "Oh, that's all
right, young man. It was my fault entirely. Sometimes I get so involved with
my music that I don't see where I'm going!" She shook his hand vigorously.
"My name is Eugenia-a-Dale of Altoona. I'm a wandering minstrel. I go
wherever folks listen to music. That's the kingdom of Wenningham right now."
"I'm heading to Hood Castle at the edge of Pittsburgh Woods." Scott
admitted. He gave her the charming smile he always used on females. "Why
don't we journey there together? Wenningham is just beyond Pittsburgh
Woods."

The good-natured minstrel beamed. "Wonderful! I so tire of traveling
alone! It would be nice to have someone besides myself to chat with."
Scott led his horse and Eugenia-a-Dale followed along beside him,
sometimes singing one of her pretty songs. She told him of the many changes
that had taken place while he was gone. The Sheriff of Wenningham had taken
full advantage of the king's absense and taxed the people day and night.
Scott spoke of his many adventures, of his ansestral home, and especially of
Bettian.

"You sound like you're in love with her." Eugenia-a-Dale interjected
in the middle of Scott's description of Bettian's beauty and creativity.
"Well.." Scott didn't really know how to respond. It was just as
well. They had arrived at the edge of Pittsburgh Woods to find little more
than a large clearing where Hood Castle should have been. There was nothing.
Nada. Not so much as a stone. Scott tossed the reigns to the startled
Eugenia-a-Dale and ran into the clearing. He threw up his hands in
annoyance. "Ok, this has gone waaaayyy to far! A castle doesn not just get
up and walk away! There has to be something..."

"Maybe we're in the wrong place." the puzzled minstrel suggested.
"Or the wrong country."

"Do you think I can't remember where my own home is?" growled Scott.

"It's gone for taxes, my boy." an aged voice replied. An old man
dressed all in rags shuffled out from behind a tall maple. "The Sheriff took
everything. Or maybe everything took the Sheriff?"

"Old Eldredge!" gasped Scott. "Who's the Sheriff? What happened to
Hood Castle?"

"The same thing that happened to us."added a Brooklyn accented
voice. A woman and a man joined them in the clearing. They were an extreamly
odd pair - a tall, buxom redheaded woman and a short, middle-aged, balding
man.

"Welcome to what's left of home, Baron." the woman continued. "I'm
Willahema Scarlet, but you can call me Willa for short."

"Nahh, I'm the short one." joked her companion. "They call me Little
Mack, for obvious reasons."

Another man shyly joined them. He was a small, pale creature wrapped
in a clergyman's cloak. "Oh, yeah, and this is Friar Foley, of our local
parish." The little friar bowed. "He's taken a vow of silence."

Willa went on. "The Sheriff has taken everything we own for these
stupid taxes of his. Simply put, we're broke. Everyone in Wenningham is
broke. There isn't a plugged nickel left in the whole land."

"Not everone is broke." a gentle voice added. "The Sheriff and his
assistant are making more money each day."

Scott let out a yelp of joy and swept the newest arrival in his
arms. "Bettian, thank goodness you're alive!" he exclaimed.

Bettian was dressed in the garment of a male peasant. "I borrowed
these clothes from C.J, the page at the palace, when I heard that you were
back in Wenningham. I have to warn you. The Sheriff has a price on your
head. King Victor went missing in Africa and the Sheriff took his place.
He claims that the tax money is going to help Victor, but I know that
he's lying through his teeth. He doesn't care if Victor lives or dies. All
he cares about his the size of his wallet."

Scott was about ready to explode. "I'm supposed to be in charge of
Wenningham in King Victor's absence! We made a deal! Is there any way that I
can talk to this Sheriff and tell him what I think of him?"

"Well," Bettian admitted, "There is one way..."

Scott and his five friends crashed Sheriff Pruitt's party that
night. The young page begged them not to go in, but Scott payed no heed to
the lad. There were whistles from the men for Willa and from the ladies for
him. He felt like he was the grand martial at a parade. Wenningham Palace
blazed with a thousand lights. The Sheriff himself, a large, ugly man
swarthed in fine velvets and linens, sat at the head of the dining table. To
his right was a dowdy middle-aged woman wearing a simple gray velvet dress.

To his left was lovely Maid Bettian and her gossipy lady-in-waiting
Gertrude. Scott told his companions to enjoy themselves, and they did. Willa
sat near a group of admiring earls, the friar helped himself to the dessert
cart, Eldredge chatted with Gertrude, and Little Mack tried to strike up a
conversation with some of the prettier ladies. Scott settled in front of the
Sheriff. He helped himself to a chicken leg off of the Sheriff's plate.
The Sheriff grabbed the chicken leg back. "I thought I said no gate
crashers! There are important people at this party, and I don't need common
rabble making a mockery of my social image!"

"I'll let you do that." Scott grinned. "I bring these partridges in
the name of King Victor and Wenningham. I wish you'd remember those name
more often, say, when your raising the taxes to fifty percent."

Sheriff Pruitt smiled slimily. "Well, if it isn't Scott Hood, the
former Baron who's titles, lands, and castle had to be sold for back taxes.
You're reputation as a con artist is famous, Hood. You can shoot a dear at
three hundred paces and charm the birds and the women equally with that
smile of yours."

"How about we make you a deal?" Little Mack asked when the ladies
proved unresponsive.

"Yeah, we'll leave your big whoop-de-do if you give us all the money
you stole from us."added Willa. Friar Foley nodded in agreement, his mouth
full of pastry.

"I didn't steal that money. Taxes are perfectly legal, especially
when they're going to help our dear departed leader."

"Oh, come on, Pruitt! You have no intention of using that money for
anyone's benefit besides your own. You're putting the dough in your own
pocket. It would do the king and his people more good if it were spread
around." insisted Scott.

"You're one to talk about lying." the Sheriff snarled.

"The Sheriff has bread dough in his pocket?" asked Eugenia-a-Dale
between gulps of orange juice.

"He means money. Mula. The green stuff." Willa explained.
Scott turned his Bettian. As he did, he purposefuly knocked
the gravy boat onto Pruitt's lap. The Sheriff leaped up and began to hop
around. His aide, Guyina of Cosgrave, tried to clean him off and just ended
up dancing along with him. It was quite a sight. The guests were rolling
with laughter. Only Bettian and Scott remained silent, holding hands and
dreaming about world that only lovers know.

"Oh! My outfit! My reputation!" wailed the Sheriff of Wenningham.
"GUARDS!!!! GUARDS!!!! Get these nuisances out of the castle! I declare
Scott Hood and his five friends outlaws and pests!"

"That's the signal to get outta here." Scott reluctantly let
Bettian's hand go and made a dash for the door. As Willa and Little Mack
chopped the door down, he bowed at the still fuming Sheriff Roland
Pruitt and the aplauding ensemble. "Oh, would you look at the time! It was a
barrel of laughs, but we really must be going." They made it out the door
as twenty of the Sheriff's men pursued them.

They lost the soldiers in the Pittsburgh Woods. They knew the woods,
the guards didn't. They set up a crude camp and prepared to turn in for the
night. Scott was cooking a venison steak that he had shot over the campfire
when he came up with an idea.

"I've got it!" he roared so loudly that Friar Foley jumped five
miles.

Eugenia-a-Dale stopped strumming her guitar. "Got what?"

"The Sheriff will never give up that money willingly. So, we'll take
it unwillingly." Scott explained.

The others looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Steal?
>From the Sheriff of Wenningham? Scotty, are you feeling ok?" asked Willa.

"Not just from the Sheriff." Scott went on. When he had a great plot
forming in his brain, nothing could slow him down. "From all rich nobles.
We'll rob wealthy folk who travel through Pittsburgh Woods and give the
money to the peasants in the name of King Victor. Kind of like a fund."
Scott thought of Bettian and her great admiration for her guardian and
Wenningham's true ruler. "Very exciting."

Eldredge seemed to read his mind. "What of Maid Bettian? She would
like the idea of us helping the king, but I don't think she'd like where the
money was coming from."

Scott shrugged. "I'll explain it to her tonight. Maybe I can
convince her to help us."

Little Mack seemed genuinely interested in the idea. "Yeah, I can
see this working. I mean, most of those royal folks have it coming to 'em,
right Friar Foley?" All the clergyman could do was nod.

"Count me in." Willa Scarlet agreed. "I ain't got nuttin' betta to
do. 'Sides, I'd love to see the look on ol' sourpuss Sheriff Pruitt's face
when we clear him outta everything he's got."

"Me too." said a smaller voice. C.J, the page from Wenningham
Palace, emerged from the woods. "The Sheriff fired me when he found out that
I let you in the palace. I'm an orphan. I have no money and no place else to
go." the youth explained sadly. "So, I followed you here in the hope that
you could use me."

Scott nodded. "We're gonna need help, and lots of it. Willa," he
ordered the tall woman, "I want you to round up the bravest and best
fighters you know. Little Mack and C.J, go with her. Tell them to bring all
the weapons they own. The rest of you watch the camp."

"What about you?" asked Eugenia-a-Dale.

"To Wenningham Palace. I have an audience with Maid Bettian."
replied Scott.

Maid Bettian was both surprised and amused when she saw Scott
climbing up her balcony. Or at least, attempting to. He wasn't doing very
well. "Need a little assistance, Romeo?" she asked.

"It would be nice if a certain maid could do more than wisecrack. A
guy could break his neck doing this!" he grumbled.

The girl helped him into his room. He immediately explained his
scheme in great detail. Eldrege was right. She didn't approve.
"The idea of you aiding the peasants in the king's honor is both a
heartfelt and noble gesture, but not your way of aquiring the money! You'll
be arrested or killed or both!"

"Only if we're caught." Scott reassured her. "My friends and I know
Pittsburgh Woods like the back of our hands. We'll easily be able to hide
from Sheriff Pruitt and his men."

"It's not just that." insisted Bettian. "It's the stealing. Stealing
is wrong. There must be some legal way for you to make cash for the masses."
"What's a few thousand g's to the well-to-do set? They don't need
the bucks. People like C.J and Willa and Eugenia-a-Dale do."
Bettian considered the plan, then hesitantly said "I'll do it,
Scott, but only because it's for the good of our people..and our king. I'll
help you in any way I can."

"Wonderful!" Scott exclaimed. "I need you to write me a letter each
week describing the goings-on at Wenningham Palace. It'll keep me informed
of the Sheriff's movements. C.J will deliver it to me."

"You want me to spy on Sheriff Pruitt and his aide, Guyina of
Cosgrave?" Bettian quieried increadulously. "But that would be committing a
crime, too!"

"Aren't overtaxing already poor folk and usurping power also
crimes?" Scott reminded her. "Wenningham doesn't belong to the Sheriff. It
belongs to King Victor, me, you, and the citizens! Pruitt has no right to be
doing what he's doing. He's only making more capital for himself, and I
don't find that to be a captial idea."

The two conspirators were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and
the voice of Gertrude. "Bettian, your bath is getting cold, and running
water hasn't been invented yet to fill it up again!"

Bettian gave Scott a gentle kiss on his cheek as he made for the
balcony. "Scott, I still believe that your plan is foolish, but, God bless
you!" She then went to handle Gertrude. She'd make up some silly lie about
reciting a poem out loud to amuse herself.

Scott stood dazed for a few moments before he remembered that it
would be unwise to be discovered here. He headed for the woods, silently
vowing never to wash his cheek again. When he and Bettian could get back
into close quarters, they'd continue the whole romantic gunk thing. For now,
he had bigger problems.

____________________________________________________________________________

I

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. They belong
to the real king of WENN, Rupert Holmes. No infringement intended.

* denotes thoughts

Robin Sherwood of Pittsburgh, Part Two
by Emma Redmer

The Pittsburgh Woods were crowded with the largest assortment of
shapely beauties Scott had ever seen outside of Atlantic City. *What in the
heck is this, a bimbo convention?* He wondered in annoyance. *I asked for
warriors, not beauty pageant contestants!* There had to be at least thirty.

He elbowed his way through the group of gorgeous women until he
found Willa. She was taking names a big piece of oak. Little Mack was
admiring the females. Friar Foley looked shocked as some of them gathered
around him, giggling. Eldredge was conversing with a few more, while still
more women sobbed over some sad ballad Eugenia-a-Dale was performing. Scott
dragged Willa out of the assemblage.

"Willa,", he growled, "who are these females? I wanted you to round
up men who can shoot arrows and swing swords, not the Crimson Follies'
chorus line!"

"Hey, now, don't get all upset on me!" Willa shot back. "You didn't
pacifikcaly say fellas. You said fighters. My buddies needed a job where
they weren't being rubbed, stroked, and catcalled thirty-six hours a day. If
anyone knows about fighting off soldiers, it's these girls."

"Willa, there are only twenty-four hours in a day." Scott pointed
out.

"I never was much good at telling time." the redhead shrugged.

Scott sighed."Well, I guess they'll do all right."

"They'll do anything you tell them to as long as it doesn't involve
taking their clothes off in front of hot and bothered men." she assured him.

Willa turned out to be right. The women were as adept with weapons
as any man Scott had known. They knew just where to punch, slap, and elbow a
man so that it hurt for days. Scott knew that they knew. They'd used him to
practice their skills on. It was a decision he'd later regret. He hurt in
places he'd never known existed.

Their first day of work dawned bright and sunny, a perfect day for
traveling. Scott, Willa, and several of the girls sat in the trees and
bushes, waiting for their first victim. The first people to ride by were a
bickering couple. The man was tall and handsome. A couple of the girls eyed
him with interest. His companion was a lovely but older woman. They were
dressed in faded, much-repaired silk garments. The lady wore a smattering of
tarnished gold jewelry. Their steeds were thin and underfed.

She sighed. "Tell me again why we must pawn the last of my jewels,
Jeffery darling."

"Hilary, we need the money." Jeffery explained tightly. "Those
trinkets of yours are all we have left worth selling. Bedside Manor is a
such a state of disrepair that we couldn't give it away. We've dispatched my
mother's jewels, nearly all of the furnature and good clothing, the
servants, and our own wedding rings."

Hilary narrowed her eyes. "We dispatched with the wedding rings
years ago, Jeff, around the time that you started attending to that
bubble-headed blonde maid at Wenningham Palace."

"Hilary, don't start!" Jeffery snapped. "We only have enough food for
the two of us tonight, and just barely that. Face it, we are not as wealthy
as we once were."

Pairs of sympathetic eyes glanced down from the oaks and maples.
"Aw, Scotty," Willa whispered, "we can't lift money from them! They ain't
got any more clams than we do."

Scott sighed and nodded. He let out an ear-piercing whistle. The
girls desended from their hiding places. Jeffery reached for his rusted
sword and Hilary reached for her adornments.

"Robbers!" wailed Hilary. "Pumpkin, quick, do something! They'll
steal my jewels!"

"We are robbers, but we have no intention of robbing you." Scott
admitted. "We only steal from nobles who can afford it."

Willa walked around the couple, looking them over. The girls joined
her. Willa grinned. "You obviously can't afford it."

"You're one to talk!" Hilary shouted. Her husband diverted himself
from staring thoughtfuly at Willa's ladies to place a hand on his wife's
shoulder.

"Hilary, they don't seem to mean us any harm." He turned to Scott.
"My name is Lord Jeffery Singer. This is my wife, Lady Hilary."

"Lady Hilary Booth, dear." his wife corrected him. "We were going to
Wenningham to speak to the pawnbroker there." She sighed dramatically. "My
Jeffery and I were once the richest nobles in Wenningham, untill King Victor
vanished in the Crusades and the Sheriff started to tax everything in sight.
Now we're so darn poor that we're eating last year's lima bean supply
and the estate that has been in my family for generations is falling
apart at the seams. Or have I said too much?"

Scott thought about the pair's words. "Huddle!" he called to Willa
and her girls. Hilary and Jeff watched in consternation as the group decided
what to do.

After a few moments, Scott turned back to them with a large smile on
his face. "I think we can make arrangements. We'll give you a share of the
profits we make if you promise to help us."

"Are you sure you can collect that much money?" asked Lord Jeffery
skeptically.

"Sure we're sure, right girls?" Willa said. She was answered by a
chorus of "Yeah!" and "You bet we can!"

Lady Hilary was staring distastefully at Willa and her pals.
"I refuse to associate with theives, strippers, and common barmaids." she
sniffed.

Jeffery was admiring the women. Hilary glared at him. He averted his
gaze from the ladies to Scott. "All right, it's a deal, Mr..."

"Hood." replied Scott, bowing. "Scott Hood of Pittsburgh, your lord
and ladyship. We're both in the same boat. I also lost my wealthy through
the Sheriff's taxes."

"Pumpkin!" shreiked her Ladyship in shock, "You heard what these
people do for a living!"

"They do something that can make more money in a day than we make in
a month." the young lord snapped back. "Sitting in Bedside Manor and waiting
for it to crumble to the ground is not the way to restore its glory. Earning
some kind of currancy is." He regarded Scott again. "What is it that you
wish of us, Scott Hood?"

Four months later, Scott was very happy with his operation. The Lord
Singer and Lady Booth acted as scouts, although Scott was certain that her
ladyship hated the work. She was accustomed to being petted and pampered and
she hated the outdoors. Lady Hilary guarded her husband like a hawk, glaring
at any female who so much as said "Hi." to his lordship.

Willa and her girls made great fighters and theives. All the ladies
needed to do was crowd around a male mark and use their feminine charm, and
he'd give them his soul if they asked for it. Little Mack was a great fighter
as well, despite being superstious and easily frightened by just about anything.
Cheerful and sweet Eugenia-a-Dale played her crowd-pleasing ballads. Friar
Foley offered wordless comfort. C.J acted as the liason between Scott and
Maid Bettian, delivering her letters about the goings-on in Wenningham
Palace. Scott had gone to see Bettian a few times more since the night of
Sheriff Pruitt's party. She seemed to be warming up to his plan, and to him
as well. She hadn't kissed him again, but her looks were tender and her
concern for his safety genuine.

It was a breezy but warm morning in May. Scott, Willa, and several
of the girls were up in the trees preparing for Lord Jeff and the next fancy
carriage. The impoverished nobleman came riding up in gallop, sweat pouring
down his handsome face.

"There's a carriage coming down this road. It's loaded to the gills
with gold and precious stones. I peeked in myself." Lord Jeff panted.

He road into the trees as the aforementioned carriage did, indeed,
come ambliling down the road. Scott gestured to Willa and several of the
ladies, and they rushed in front of it. They were disguised as alluring
gypsies. They shook their hips and their tambourines. Since the coach didn't
seem to be stopping in a hurry, Willa lifted her dress to show one long,
Betty Grable-esque leg. Scott never saw a coach go in reverse so fast.

A man popped his head out the door. He wore five jeweled rings a
royal blue velvet coat. "I say," he shouted, "what in heavan's name is going
on?"

Willa leaned on the side of the coach. She giggled. "Would you like
to have your fortune told, Sir?" she asked in a psudo-Slavic accent that
wouldn't have fooled Stalin.

The noble took one look at her and exclaimed "Certainly! Come right
in!" Willa turned and winked at Scott as she entered the carriage. The wink
was his signal.

Scott leaped gently onto the top of the carriage and disarmed the
driver. He started to unload the gold. Jeff unloaded the back, while the
"gypsies" handed bags of coins and fine clothes and jewels to Little Mack,
who carried them into the forest.

Lady Hilary road up to the carriage just as the "gypsies" were
climbing out. The man tried to join them, but they pushed him back in. He
attempted to reach for Willa, but she pushed him away teasingly.

"Oh, come now, my lovely. Don't act like that!" he said. Scott
slapped the horses on their flank, and the carriage went on its way. Lady
Hilary looked surprised.

"Scott," she exclaimed, "you just robbed the Earl Giles Aldrych, my
old mentor from the Wenningham court. I haven't seen him in years. The least
you could have done was ask him to come out and see me!"

Scott grinned slyly, draping a blue velvet coat over his shoulder.
"I don't think you would have wanted to see him in his present state, Lady
Hildy."

"It's Lady Hilary!" she shouted as she road off into the forest
after the coach.

Scott visited Bettian later that night, but she seemed distant.
There was ice in her brown eyes. She pushed him away when he tried to
embrace her. Her face was pale and confused. He talked about his scams and
thefts, but she did't find them as interesting as she usually did.

Bettian's anxious voice suddenly broke through his delight. "Scott,
I think you should turn yourself into the authorities."

He frowned. "Turn myself in? Whatever for? I don't particularly feel
like having a noose around my neck, and I don't think that the others would,
either. Everything is working out splendidly."

She turned away from him. "Scott, what would his Majesty do if he
knew that you were stealing from innocent people?"

Now Scott was the one who was confused. "The Sheriff is doing the
same thing I am in a different way." He sighed. "Bettian, what's wrong with
you? Why are you acting so hard all of a sudden? The last time we talked,
you seemed to appreciate the fund...and me."

"I...I've done some thinking in the past couple of days, Scott." she
said without a hint of warmth. "I just need some time alone, that's all."

"All right, I'll go. I can take a hint." Scott turned on his heel
and left down the balcony, like he always did. He thought he heard a
familiar man's voice in her room as he left, but he might have imagined it.

The girls and Little Mack were awaiting him when he returned. Little
Mack's face looked like a storm cloud.

"What's wrong with him?" Scott asked when the short fellow didn't
give so much as a hello.

"We raided the Dutchess Penelope Comminger while you were off making
passes at Maid Bettian. Mack said that he was once her honey, but he'd
jilted her 'fore she could become the first Mrs. Mack cause he didn't have
no money." Willa explained. "We gotta pretty penny offa that dame." she
added proudly.

The Lady Hilary came charging back into the camp as angry as a cat
caught in a downpour. Scott would lay three-to-one odds that she'd never
found her mentor. "Earl Aldrych is gone, but Guyina of Cosgrave is on her
way here with a whole battalion of troops and a very large trunk of silver
coins.I heard them discussing it. It's enough to feed Wenningham for an entire
year!"
Scott, Willa, Hilary, Jeff, Little Mack,and the girls settled in their
usual hiding places as the dowdy red-haired assistant and at least a dozen guards
clopped slowly through Pittsbugh Woods. They were all obviously nervous, but
none were more so than Guyina herself. She kept twitching the reigns and
attempting to make small talk with the soldiers, who remained tight-lipped.

Willa, Scott and the ladies leaped upon the guards so fast that they were
off their horses and unconsious before they could blink. Little Mack and
their lady and lordship removed the trunk and carried it into the woods. All
Guyina could do was bleat her protests.

"Sheriff Pruitt isn't going to like this at all!" she moaned.

"That's the idea. I don't want him to like it." Scott told the
quiverring assistant. He slapped her horse on its flank and sent her
bouncing off into the woods. "Have a bad night!" he called after her
pleasantly. "Tell the Sheriff I hope he has unpleasant dreams!"

There was some commotion when he returned to the campsite, but it
wasn't over their spoils. Friar Foley was wrapping a bandage around a wide
cut on C.J's leg. Eldredge was trying to calm Gertrude. She ran to Scott
when he arrived and grabbed him by his collar.

"Oh, it's horrible! The Sheriff has arrested Bettian! He knows about
the letters and the visits. She was found guilty of high treason! Sheriff
Pruitt is going to have her publicaly hung tomorrow at noon in the Wenningham
Palace Courtyard. Oh, please, Baron Hood, you must rescue her!" the distressed
lady-in-waiting babbled.

Poor C.J looked like he had tried to take on the Sheriff's entire
force by himself. He was covered with bruises. The young man winced when
Friar Foley applied pressure to the wound. "I tried to help Bettian when the
Sheriff's men came to take her away," C.J explained feebly, "but there were
about ten of them and three of us. Gertrude and I barely escaped."

Scott felt sick. "Is Bettian..."

"Alive? Yes." C.J replied. "Scott, please take care. I overheard the
Sheriff talking about a plot to trap you and all of the people who work with
you. I don't want us to end up in the dungeon with Bettian."

He patted the youth's shoulder. "I won't, C.J. You can count on
that." He then gathered his group and explained the situation.

"Now, look, this is no different than what we do every day." Scott
reassured them when they flat out refused to go anywhere near Wenningham.
"We're just stealing a person instead of cash."

"And you just happen to love this person more than anything." noted
Eldredge.

"Is it true?" asked a slender peroxide blonde. "Is this Bettian your
sweetheart?"

"It sure is." replied Gertrude, who'd gotten hold of herself and was
now leaning against a pine. "Don't look so surprised! the old woman laughed.
"No self-respecting lady-in-waiting can resist listening through keyholes.
I've heard all of your conversations, including that first one when you
convinced her to spy on the Sheriff."

C.J limped over to the crowd with Friar Foley's help. "Bettian's
arrest is part of Sheriff Pruitt's plan to arrest Scott and his merry women.
He's trying to draw us out of Pittsburgh Woods and into the open courtyard
where there are no trees to hide in. Her maidship is the bait. The castle
will be heavily guarded and the Sheriff himself will witness the hanging."

Scott looked at the snoring guards lying near the big trunk and a
scheme immediately began to form itself in his roguish mind. He grinned.
"Piece of cake."

The next day, Wenningham Palace Courtyard was filled with people of
every description. Some were bloodthirsty, some were bored, and some were
selling peanuts, popcorn, and soft drinks for a nickel. Eldredge and
Gertrude were disguised as vendors selling peanut brittle, but Gertrude
wouldn't stop eating her wares.

Scott, Little Mack, and ten of the girls were dressed in the uniform
of the Sheriff's guards. They waited behind the Sheriff's tent as Lord Jeff
and Lady Hilary distracted Pruitt and Guyina. It seemed like forever before
Hilary finally handed Scott the keys to the dungeon. He stuffed them in his
pocket and hustled his group off to find Bettian as Willa, Eugenia-a-Dale,
Friar Foley, a still limping C.J, and the other girls arrived dressed as the
day's "entertainment". They were wearing skimpy costumes left over from the
Crimson Follies' last medeval-themed skit and doing a kickline number.
They were actually back-up in case something went wrong with Scott and his
gang.

Scott and Little Mack had to knock a few guards senseless before
they could get a map of Wenningham Palace. They took two wrong turns and
first wound up first in the kitchen, then at the Great Wall of China, before
they found the maximum security prison. They flattened themselves against
the wall. The musty, damp dungeon was thicker with soldiers than it was with
rats and mice.

"Great," Little Mack muttered, "There's got to be more guards in
this hallway than there are movie stars under contract to MGM! How are we
gonna get to Bettian's cell?"

"Leave that to us." insisted a curvaceous brunette. "Ohhhh,
boooyyyss!" she trilled. The other girls follwed suit. Scott and Little Mack
remained in hiding as the girls took off their helmets and revealed their
true genders to the soldiers. Scott had never seen a pack of men move so
fast. Once the girls got the guards attention, they smacked them over the
head with their swords. "They forgot that we're armed and dangerous."
giggled the brunette.

Bettian was trying to unlock the door to her cell with a piece of
jagged metal. She was every inch a beauty, even with her dress torn and her
face streaked with dirt.

Scott tried about eight keys before he figured out a better way to
open the cell door. "Stand back!" he told her. She looked unconvinced, but
she did as she was told.

He slammed the lock with his sword. The vibration nearly jiggled him
to pieces, but it did break the lock. Bettian rushed out of the cell and
flung her arms around him.

"Thank you for saving me, Scott! You are noble, despite was some
people think." she declared.

"Not so fast, Hood! I have you right where I want you." a voice from
behind Scott proudly announced. Scott felt something pointy against his
back. Bettian screamed as they turned aroud to face the Sheriff, his right
hand, and many of his soldiers. Lord Jeff and Lady Hilary struggled in the
arms of the Sheriff's troops.

"I'm not the idiot that you believe me to be. I knew all along that
the charming Lady Booth and Lord Singer were merely decoys." The Sheriff
purred. "You fell right into my trap. It's rather ironic that I captured you
in the dungeon. This is where you'll spend the rest of your short life, but
don't get used to it. I plan to have you and your band of burlesque belles
executed on charges of tax evasion and grand larceny as soon as possible."

That was when the door of the dungeon fell down on Sheriff Pruitt's
soldiers, who released Hilary and Jeff. "Sorry we're late, Scotty." Willa
apologized. Her girls looked flustered and Eugenia-a-Dale and Friar Foley
were reading a map of the castle, their expressions puzzled. "We took a
right turn at the left tower and ended up in New Mexico. Now, can we do that
sword fighting free-for-all thingie that allways ends these movies?"

Scott looked at the Sheriff and shrugged. "Sure. Begin the fight
sequence!" Which they did. It was every man, woman, and con artist for
themselves.

Scott grabbed Bettian and the two of them ran for the courtyard with
the Sheriff in hot pursuit. He waylaid them at the ice cream vendor. The
vendor had long since abandonded his cart, so Bettian and Scott heaved his
melted wares at their pursurer. The Sheriff slipped on the ice cream and
toppled to the ground, causing a minor earthquake. The lovers were half-way
to the gate before Pruitt stopped them again. He ran in front of them and
brandished his sword at Scott.

"Careful, Sheriff." Scott joked. "You might actually hurt someone
with that thing."

"Which is what I intend to do." Sheriff Pruitt snarled. "Come on,
Hood, let's have it out here, businessman to businessman."

Bettian grabbed Scott's arm. "Scotty, don't! The Sheriff is one of
the best duelists in Wenningham! I don't want you to get yourself hurt or
killed."

"I'm no slouch myself." Scott reminded the fair maiden. The two men
dueled, slashing and jumping this way and that, insulting each other and
trading jokes like the one about the Romanian queen and the elephant.

Bettian just shook her head. This was fun to watch but was getting
nowhere quickly. The fight in the dungeon had finally spilled out into the
courtyard and the dueling area was growing crowded. She grabbed the ice
cream barrel they had emptied and prepared to throw it at the Sheriff.

Scott was suddenly pounced upon by not one, but two people. Guyina
of Cosgrave triumphantly snatched his sword from him. Bettian hurled the
barrel at the Sheriff, but she took out Guyina instead. Several of Sheriff
Pruitt's guards held her arms as she screamed bloody murder. Pruitt pinned
Scott's shirt against the wall with a knife he'd had up his sleeve. He was
about to run Scott through with his sword when an arrow soared right into
the Sheriff's back. He made a gurgiling sound, staggered for about five
minutes, and then fell down dead.

Scott looked in the direction of the arrow that had saved his life.
A tall, fairly handsome man with a smooth scalp and a serious countenance
stood on the scaffolding that held the hanging noose. He had just lowered a
beautifuly crafted bow. He threw off his ragged cloak to reveal armor
emblazoned with the royal crest of Wenningham. The soldiers were so startled
that they released Bettian. She joyfully ran to the man. Scott followed her,
dazed. The rest of the citzens of Wenningham stopped what they were doing
and stared, shocked, at the man.

Eldredge, who had been selling peanut brittle the entire fight
sequence and hadn't gotten a scratch, spoke while everyone else was gawking.
"King Victor! Where the hell have you been?"

"Victor!" Bettian gasped as she embraced the magicaly revived ruler.
"You're still all right! I've been so worried since you came to me in the
wee small hours and told me that you lived through the Crusades!" Scott
couldn't help feeling jealous. *Bettian never hugged me like that!*

"Thank you for keeping my secret these past few days, dear Bettian."
King Victor greeted her. He then adressed Scott. "And thank you, Scott
Hood, for saving my kingdom and my tresury from the greedy Sheriff of
Wenninham." He turned to his subjects. "Before any of you ask any questions,
yes, I'm alive. You're not dreaming, so don't splash me with water. I
promise you all I will not melt like the Wicked Witch of the West." He
gestured at the body of Sheriff Pruitt, which several guards were taking
away. "My first order of business is to revoke the Sheriff's ridiculously
heavy taxes. The second is to order the arrest of Guyina of Cosgrave on
charges of attempted murder and high treason. The third," he turned to Scott
and his friends, who had joined him on the scaffolding, "is to pardon the
outlaws of Pittsburgh Woods. I don't approve of how the money was collected,
but I do approve of why. Lord Jeffery and Lady Hilary will be given all the
funds they need to restore Bedside Manor to its former beauty. C.J will be
re-hired as the palace page." He turned to back to Scott. "As for you, Scott
Hood, I want you to kneel."

As Scott did, the king gently rested his gleaming sword on Scott's
shoulder. "I restore to you the lands and treasury of the Barons of
Pittsburgh Woods." Scott rose. King Victor continued. "Wenningham and I are
both in your debt, Baron Hood. If there's anything that I can give you, just
name it, and it's yours."

Scott eyed Bettian. "There is one thing, your majesty. I'd like the
hand of your ward, Maid Bettian. I love her more than anything else in the
world."

King Victor gazed at the girl standing behind him. "If she agrees to
the union."

Yes! Yes!" She ran to Scott and looked passionately into his eyes
as a chorus of "Awwwwwwws" went up behind them. "Scott, I truly love you. I
always have, and I always will."

Just as their lips met in a soulful kiss and everyone in Wenningham
cheered, Scott heard Gertrude's voice and felt someone shake his arm
violently. "Mr. Sherwood! Mr. Sherwood, wake up! Mr. Sherwood!"

******

Scott was jolted awake by Gertie's incessant shaking. He yawned and
looked up to see the redheaded receptionist standing in front of his desk.
"Mr. Sherwood! The rest of the staff left twenty minutes ago! I almost
locked you in." He stood up and stretched cramped muscles. The radio was on
but silent. He switched it off with a sigh.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Scott." Gertie told him as she went to
collect her hat and coat from the green room. Scott decided that it was time
he did the same. He took one last, longing look at the photo of Betty
hanging on the wall of his office.

"I love you, Maid Bettian." Scott whispered. "Someday, I'll be the
one who wins your heart."
____________________________________________________________________________
The End
As always, comments, suggestions, and constructive critism is welcome!
Emma Redmer

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