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

of wooden shoes. I wanted boots like his, but we could hardly afford a second pair, just to train a girl how to hunt.

The first few months, I didn’t have the strength to even arm the crossbow, let alone shoot straight. When I did shoot, I was terrified. Afraid of missing and afraid of killing.

“Shove your fear aside,” Papa had told me.

“Shove it aside and shoot.”

I followed all of his instructions, as I had promised. No matter how pointless or exhausting it seemed. No matter how many bruises and cuts and open blistering sores my mother had to clean off of me later. Until I learned to clean them myself.

Over the last eighteen months, I had grown stronger, faster and stealthier. I learned to measure the landscape before entering it, to avoid snapping twigs or slipping on a muddy patch of ground. A few months ago, I finally developed the strength to arm my crossbow from the saddle, something even a boy my age would struggle to do.

I enjoyed my new strength, to help Papa lift a deer carcass from the ground. To chase Valiant through the meadow for several minutes before I started breathing heavily. And to carry two large buckets of water from the nearby well, though Papa still watched me travel the whole distance, resting on the porch with his musket ready.

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But he allowed me more and more freedom and asked me to help with more chores. I turned eleven last month, and I had developed strength and skills to rival that of most boys. Strength to survive.

As we broke through the trees to enter our meadow, Valiant barked from his place beside the sheep pen and ran to meet us. Mama watched from the stoop as we approached. She didn’t stand like she usually did, but kept sewing.

My kill today would catch her attention. I led Crimson to trot over to her, beaming as Papa and I dismounted to untie the deer. Together, we dragged it to the carving table and hoisted it up.

The heavy buck’s antlers cracked as it struck the oak surface in a heap. Mama’s nose wrinkled as if a skunk had sprayed us. “A good hunt?” she asked.

I spread my hands toward the enormous deer and smiled, saying nothing more. Valiant barked, as if voicing his agreement.

“Come inside and wash up,” Mama said.

“Your father can clean the deer.”

“It’s a large one,” he said. “I would like some help to –.”

“I want a few moments to speak with Helena.”

Papa gaped. Mama rarely dared to interrupt him. He bent to retrieve the cleaver that the deer’s carcass had knocked to the ground, wiped it on his tunic, and set to work. They must have agreed beforehand on whatever Mama wished to discuss. I couldn’t tell if it might be good or bad news, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t afraid anymore.

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Of anything.

Then she led me inside and told me she was going to have a baby.

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12.

“Can’t catch me!” Suzette giggled, dodging this way and that through our meadow. Her wooly blanket trailed behind, clutched in her tiny fist as she ran her hardest in the waning sunlight.

“Oh, I’ll catch you!” I laughed back, stepping sideways to block her escape.

“Or I will!” Pierre said, rushing to her other side.

Suzette squealed as Valiant ran around us all, barking. We pretended my four-year old sister was too fast and agile for two fifteen-year olds to grab. We reached for her, missing each time, 107

which made her laugh harder. “Come here, you!” I demanded in a playful tone.

“No!” she called, her short legs turning awkwardly to hurry away.

Pierre was better at pretending. He kept jumping right next to Suzette, while Valiant barked around his ankles to make sure he wasn’t harming her. Then he would nearly snatch the back of her cotton dress before his fingers closed on empty air.

“Missed again! I can’t believe it!”

“Too bad for you!” Suzette called.

I leaped in front of her as she turned away from the bare trees of the forest. She shrieked and retreated as Pierre barred her escape in the other direction. Then I landed behind her and seized the trailing end of her blanket.

“My woolie!” She grinned and grunted as she tugged at her blanket, refusing to let go. I dragged her closer and scooped her into the air.

“We got her!” Pierre called. He knelt down to pet