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

“Got you by your fuzzy woolie!” I said. I knew she wouldn’t release it. Mama made it for her two years ago and Suzette had held tight to it ever since, the way I used to guard my red cloak.

She struggled to pull free. “Lemme go!

And gimme my fuzzy woolie or I’ll beat your head! Nngh!” Her tiny fingers tried to pry my arm loose. Until I turned her around and held her against my chest. Then she threw her blanket over my shoulder, flung her arms around my neck and held on tight. “Take me for a big ride.”

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“All right, hang on!” I trotted like a horse, running in small circles around the chilly meadow, while Pierre ruffled Valiant’s fur. Suzette giggled as I bounced her up and down.

Crimson snorted at us from the sheep pen, where he had been trotting. I had trained him to stay close by, even when he wasn’t hitched up, to show Papa how well we could take care of ourselves. Crimson appreciated the freedom, but now he seemed eager to join us. Winter was coming, and he wouldn’t have many days left to gallop before being cooped up in the barn until springtime.

“No, no!” Suzette said, laughing. “Take me for a big ride on Crimson!”

I whirled her around in the air and plopped her down on her feet. Crimson paced before the sheep pen like a guard dog, stealing glances at us. I bent toward Suzette and lowered my voice. “You know we can’t ride very long.”

“I know, I know,” she said with a frown.

She rolled her eyes and made a stern face like Papa’s. “‘It’s almost dark, girls. We don’t wanna be caught out after dark.’”

“That’s right,” I said, stifling a smile. “But we can gallop twice around the meadow if you want.”

She shook her head and leaned toward me with a wicked grin. “Let’s go scare all the sheeps,”

she said.

I glanced sideways at our empty front porch. “… I don’t know.”

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“Aw, come on! Papa won’t hear us.

They’ve been talking in there for days!”

“More like an hour.”

“Don’t know about what?” Pierre asked.

I curled my lip. “Suzette wants to scare the sheep.”

Pierre raised an eyebrow. “You told me what he said last time you did that.”

“They probably won’t even hear us from the house,” I suggested.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “Mama could probably keep your mother talking all night, if she wanted.”

“I like Madame Lisette,” Suzette said, curling her arms around her blanket. “She plays with me.”

“I like her, too,” I said. I cocked my head at Pierre. “You call her ‘Mama’?”

He shrugged. “Sure. She’s been my

stepmother over a year now.”

“But you still miss your mother?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding sideways at the house. “But she’s my mother now.”

“I suppose.”

“Will you guys stop talking about mothers and start scaring the sheeps?” Suzette demanded, jamming her fists on her hips.

We laughed. “Sorry, Suzette.”

“What were we thinking?” Pierre said. He glanced at the porch for any sign of movement.

“Just be careful, Red.”

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“How come you always call Helena

‘Red’?” Suzette asked. “Is it ‘cause of her scratches on her face? ‘Cause that’s not nice.”

Pierre shuddered. “Uh, no. Of course not.

It’s because, uh …”

I put up a hand. “She’s just curious.” I bent toward Suzette. “It’s because I used to wear a red cloak all the time, Suzette. When I was around your age.”

“But you don’t anymore. So how come he

calls you that still?”

I smiled. “Some things just stick with you.”

Suzette waved me off. “All right, fine. You can be ‘Red’. Let’s just scare the sheeps.”

“All right, Silly.” I whistled for Crimson.

He galloped straight at us.

I peered around his flank to eye the porch once more. Pierre looked over his shoulder from the grass as he kept Valiant still.

It always felt so peaceful when the Leónes came to visit. Monsieur Leóne seemed content with Madame Leóne, who was as good a seamstress as Mama. Their wedding two summers ago brought us a breath of fresh air, after years of gloom. Nearly as refreshing as the day Suzette was born. Signs of