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

brow. “What for? If you need slippers or sandals –.”

“No. I’m going hunting and I need boots to get through the mud.”

He remained confused. “I know you can hunt, but … boots? I mean –.” He shook his head, as if unable to speak.

“What?”

“Well – You’re a girl.”

We stared at one another in silence.

“I am aware of that. I need the boots, nevertheless.”

“We don’t even sell boots.”

“I know.” I bit my lip. “I was hoping you might have an extra pair I can borrow.”

“Yeah. I guess. I have some old boots I meant to pass on to someone. They might fit you, if you really need them.”

“Thank you.”

He remained confused. “Still seems

awfully odd for a girl.”

I took another deep breath. “I also need a pair of trousers.”

168

He stared blankly at me.

“I realize I’m still a girl,” I said.

He studied the cold stone floor. “You’re going after those wolves, aren’t you?”

I said nothing. The wind outside gave a shrill whistle.

“Red, those things could kill you. We can get some men together and –.”

“No, we can’t. Because none of them will go.”

Pierre swallowed. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” I struggled for an answer. I would welcome anyone’s help to hunt those beasts.

Anyone but Pierre. “Because if anything happens to me, I need you to tell the others what I’ve done.

Apart from that, I’m binding you to secrecy.”

“What? But, Red –!”

“Promise me. Promise you won’t tell anyone. If they know, they’ll try to stop me, the same way you are. If they stop me, no one else will hunt them. Then more people will be killed and it will never stop. Promise me.”

All the color drained from his face, leaving him a helpless phantom. “… all right. I promise.”

“Thank you, Pierre.”

He looked about the shop. “If you won’t change your mind, at least let me supply you with some good weapons.”

“I’ve already started.”

He studied my pile of knives and

ammunition. “That’s a good start, but you’ll need 169

more. If you’re right, these are no ordinary wolves.

You’ll need extraordinary weapons. Too bad you can’t have your own set of claws, to even it up.”

I lifted my father’s crossbow. “This should help, at least.”

“Yeah,” Pierre said, studying the crossbow with a curious look. He continued to eye it carefully as he spoke. “I’ve actually been working on something for you. I meant to surprise you with it, but – guess I’d better give it to you now. I also designed some tools people could use to guard their homes, with all these attacks.” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d be giving them all to you, but – Let me find those boots, and, uh – a pair of extra trousers.”

“Where are you getting those?”

“… from my wardrobe.”

I swallowed, sharing his discomfort. “…

thank you.”

He nodded and stepped away. “Let me get

you some gloves, too. Should come in handy out there. I’ll be right back.”

He dimmed the candles, lit a lantern and headed toward his room at the rear of the shop. For a moment, I felt warmer inside, knowing Pierre would give me all the protection he could.

In the upper room a few minutes later, I untied my red hood and let it fall to the bed, then removed my cream dress. I donned Pierre’s ivory tunic and deerskin trousers, feeling perverse. I had 170

not worn pants since I was seven, when I had to borrow clothes from Doctor Renoire’s son.

I wondered what my parents would think if they could see me tonight. Mama would grieve and abandon all hope that I would ever become a sophisticated woman. Papa might share her concern, but feel a sense of pride that I was doing what I had to do. What someone had to do.

As I thought of them, I stifled a half-choking sob. But I had vowed to stop crying.

It felt strange, preparing to go out in public with folds of cloth surrounding my legs. At the same time, I felt freedom to move, back and forth, twisting and turning, with no skirt getting in the way. I tied the cloak about my neck and stood, moving my toes about in the boots, getting used to the feel of them. I stepped back a few quick paces, then forth again, then spun about. My cloak twirled after me, threatening to catch against me the way my skirt used to. But there was little comparison. I had to be careful how