Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga by D.A. Randall (ebook e reader .txt) 📕

But the same thing. Don’t tire yourself out. Look, you’re a girl.

Boys are gonna be stronger than you most of the time, right? So don’t just use your fists.” He leaned toward the corner of the stable and listened to make sure the others were still talking. Then he crouched and spoke even softer. “Grab a stick. Or a brick. Or a rock. Or anything you can use to lay him flat.”

My stomach churned at the thought of a brick smashing into Jacque Denue’s face. “I don’t want to kill him.”

“Then don’t hit him where you’ll kill him.

Just hit him hard enough in the knee or the gut that he won’t think of bothering you again. All right?”

39

I nodded, satisfied. “All right.”

“And, uh – .” He glanced back to the side again. “Don’t tell your father we had this talk.

Think it’s better that way.”

I smiled. “Me, too.”

He nodded, pressing his hands on his knees to rise. Then he bent back down. “Listen, Helena.

If you ever run into trouble – real trouble – and I’m not around, I want you to look up a friend of mine in the village. Name’s Gerard Touraine. He’ll look after you.”

I nodded. “Gerard Touraine. All right.”

He glanced back at the corner of the stable.

We heard Papa still talking with the others. “All right, let me show you how to look after yourself.”

He stood a little, his hands on his knees as he bent over me. He made a fist. “If someone comes at you like this, see, you step sideways out of the way.

That’s it. Hey, even hobbling around, it’s easier to move without a dress, ain’t it? Now while he’s swinging hard and hitting air, he’s off-balance. See that? See how I’m ready to fall forward? So you knuckle both your fists together and swing hard on his back to carry him the rest of the way. He’ll plant his face in the mud. Or he’ll double over and you can bring your knee up hard to his jaw. Got me? But you gotta know how to keep from getting hit first, so you can use his own strength against him. Then you just knock him over or punch him in his ribs, hard. That’ll take the wind out of him.

Strike hard and fast. The faster you finish it, the less likely he’ll be to mess with you again.” He glanced up as Papa returned, and straightened to 40

his full height. “– and that’s why you should never fight with boys. That’s what I say. So just stay away from those bullies.” He gave a firm nod.

Papa smiled at him. “Duke Laurent and Father Vestille have gone home, now that they know you’re safe. Don’t think they see eye-to-eye on many subjects. Helena, it’ll be dark in a few hours. Are you ready to go home?”

I smiled at Francois, feeling a new sense of confidence. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Francois Revelier had taught me how to fight.

I had new hope.

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5.

It was near dark when we pulled up to our cottage. Only a couple of the sheep lay awake bleating in their pen while the rest slept. Papa had driven Royale faster up the path when the air chilled and the sun dipped toward the horizon. The mud had dried, making the ride faster if not smoother.

Mama strode onto the front porch to greet us, her hands twisting around a cloth towel as if it needed to be wrung. She looked pale and her eyes 42

were larger than usual. “Henri. You’re so late.

What on earth happened?”

“Everything’s all right, Celeste,” he promised. “Had an incident in town. Then we went to see Francois.”

She squinted through the darkness to see me. To see my face.

Her eyes bulged. “Dear –! Come inside.

What happened? Did something –? … Come in here and let me clean you up. Henri, tell me what happened.”

I hobbled over the hard ground to Mama.

She held me against her as we moved indoors. She led me straight through the front kitchen and off to my room at the back of the house, then helped me lay down on my bed. It felt good to finally rest.

Though I dreaded sleep, especially after today.

She unlaced my shoes, caked with dry mud, and pulled them off as Papa came in.

“Some boys in the village beat her.