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Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga Page 2


  They smiled. They seemed to be waiting for me to respond in kind, so I smiled back.

  “You know, Helena,” Doctor Renoire

  continued. “I’ve never seen a girl recover so quickly. You survived six months ago and again today. You’re fortunate to be alive, both times.

  You’re a true miracle.”

  My smile faded. “I don’t feel like a miracle.”

  21

  I clutched at my sore ribs as we trudged through the leaves littering the cobblestone street. I was eager to barter for a new dress at the village clothier and return the trousers that felt so strange, clinging to my legs and exposing them in public.

  We rarely visited the brick shops and stone houses of La Rue Sauvage. It seemed aptly named now: “Wild Street”. I had begged Papa to take me with him today, but he would never allow it again.

  Perhaps my parents were right to keep me close to home, never venturing too far outside. Where the wolf might be waiting. “I want to see Francois,” I said.

  Papa said nothing at first. “You need to rest. We came to the village. That should be enough excitement for one day, don’t you think?”

  I heard laughter and flinched. A few men strolled by in front of us, chuckling. Not Jacque Denue or his friends. “I want to see Francois.

  Please, Papa.”

  He sighed. “I’ll think on it. Let’s focus on finding a new dress.”

  We arrived at the clothier and stepped up onto its stoop. The store sign suddenly flipped over to show it now closed as the front door slammed.

  Papa held my hand and stood in the empty street, staring at the shop door.

  The sign above the door read: Clothier de Denue. I never knew Jacque’s father sold clothes.

  He must have heard about what happened. Now he wouldn’t speak to us, out of shame. Or fear.

  Papa’s hand tightened on mine. His

  moustache twitched as he clenched his jaw, before 22

  he turned me away from the closed door. “Come on, Helena.”

  I glanced back at the shop. An eye peered out from a crack in the window shutter. Then it disappeared. “We’re not getting a dress?”

  “Your mother can make you a quick one, perhaps by tomorrow. We’ll ask Doctor Renoire to let us keep these clothes another week. We’re going to see Francois.”

  My heart soared. “Oh, thank you, Papa!” I nearly threw my arms around him. Then I slowed myself to hug him without upsetting the pain in my ribs. He knew I needed to visit Francois, especially today. Sometimes Francois was the only person who could make me feel safe. Especially when I remembered the wolf.

  Papa marched to the wagon without a word. He studied the noonday sun. He never let me travel all the way from La Rue Sauvage to Francois’ cabin this late in the day, for fear of being out after dark. He never felt anything was worth that risk. We had to hurry.

  I tightened my burlap cloak against a draft, scraping my bruises. I glanced back at the shop to see the eye staring at me again before it vanished.

  Jacque Denue’s father was smart to stay hidden.

  Papa was no coward.

  But why didn’t he even knock on the door when we both knew Monsieur Denue was there?

  Why didn’t he kick the door open and make him give me a new dress for the way his son treated me?

  Why wouldn’t anyone help me?

  23

  3.

  As our wagon rolled up the muddy path to his cabin, I spotted Francois chopping wood outside and smiled. I loved watching his strong arms hammer down on a log with his silver ax. He was a burly man with a round belly and a scraggly beard that crinkled up in a grin whenever he saw me. A wave of warm sunshine bathed me from inside. For the first time since I saw him last month, I felt as though nothing could harm me.

  Papa tugged Royale to a stop. I wanted to scramble down from the wagon without waiting 24

  for permission. But the pain in my side and my legs nearly slowed me to a halt. “Easy, Helena,”

  Papa said.

  I hobbled over to Francois as fast as I could, ready for him to scoop me up into his broad arms like always. He thumped his ax into the wood and hurried to me with a fat smile. “Well, well, Helena! What brings you all the way out here?” he boomed. He frowned upon seeing me limp and the pants I now wore. “What happened?”

  I started to tell him, but I couldn’t. I fell against him and wept, letting my itchy cloak fall to the mud.

  He hoisted me into the air, but didn’t swing me around in a big circle. Instead, he cradled me like a bear holding a tiny cub. I nuzzled against his warm chest, covered with wooden chips and dust.

  He patted my back and hugged me. With his heavy arms, who needed a cloak? “It’s all right, Mademoiselle. It’s all right.”

  “Some boys in the village,” I blubbered.

  “They chased me and hit me and wouldn’t stop.”

  “Andre Denue’s son and some of his friends,” Papa said, striding up from behind. “He wouldn’t even open his door to let us buy a new dress. These are from Doctor Renoire’s son.”

  I sniffed and swiped a tear from my cheek, brushing one of my triple scars. “They called me a monster.”

  Francois’ hands clenched against my back, then relaxed. “You’re no monster. You just had some bad luck, that’s all. Don’t pay no attention to 25

  those morons. Sounds to me like a bunch of no-good bullies.”

  “I wish you’d been there. Papa let them get away.”

  Francois held me a moment longer. Then he gently set me down and knelt before me. His eyes looked worried. “Now listen, Helena. If I’d been there, I couldn’t have done anything more than what your father did.”

  I glanced back to see Papa staring at the ground. I started to tremble. I never meant to dishonor him. I just wanted someone to protect me.

  Francois’ large finger turned my chin back toward him. “I’m betting your father took you straight to the doctor, didn’t he? And you’re here in one piece. Aren’t you? I expect he was more concerned about treating your wounds than getting revenge.”

  My face screwed up with tears again.

  I fell against Francois and sobbed.

  Ashamed of the way I had spoken about Papa.

  Angry at Jacque Denue and his friends for nearly beating me to death. And terrified of facing them –

  or anyone – again. Afraid of showing my horrid face.

  “Helena. Your cloak,” Papa said.

  I turned. He held the burlap cloak out to me. I took it with a faint smile, then draped it back in place, careful to keep it from scraping my shoulders too much.

  Francois patted my back. “Dry your tears now. I’m glad you came today. Been wanting to 26

  show you something, next time I saw you. Come on back.”

  He wiped my eyes with the tail of his thick tunic. I smeared away the rest with the back of my fist. He led me like a lamb, his large hand around my shoulder, toward the rear of his stable. I smiled, eager to see Francois’ ebony horse, Lightning, named for the jagged stripe that covered her nose. I always felt better after petting her.

  As we came around the corner, Lightning lifted her head lazily.

  A colt jerked its head from beneath her. It rose to face us, stamping its hooves in protest. Its flanks were red like flame.

  I gaped. “What’s that?”

  “That,” he said, “is our new colt.”

  Its blazing eyes locked on mine.

  “She’s red!” I squealed. My cloak fell off my shoulders again as I hobbled forward.

  “Whoa! Stop!” Francois shouted as Papa also yelled behind him.

  I limped to the gate as fast as I could. The fiery colt reared back, then ran at me.

  “Helena!” Papa cried.

  Francois tugged me back as the colt stamped and kicked at the gate. “Easy now, that colt’s a wild one. Understand? Don’t move too quick around it, you’ll pay for it.”

  I stared into the colt’s eyes. It did look da
ngerous, but that seemed all right somehow. It didn’t seem mean, just frightened and ready to fight. The same way I felt, except I didn’t have 27

  hooves to kick against a gate. “Let me give her some oats.”

  “Helena …” Papa started.

  “I don’t know, Helena,” Francois said. “It’s still a little fired up.”

  “I can do it. I’ll be careful.”

  After a silent moment, Papa nodded to Francois. “All right, if you walk up with her.”

  Francois led me to the feed bag hanging outside the stable. He dug out a handful of oats and emptied some into my hand. “Now you let me go first,” he said. We stepped toward the colt, slow and steady. It watched our every move, looking curious, as I hobbled forward with a smile.

  Francois opened his hand and extended it beneath the colt’s mouth. The colt snorted and tossed its head. Then it bent, sniffed, and nibbled like one of Papa’s sheep.

  “See, she’s sweet,” I said. I lifted my open palm with my oats, careful not to startle the colt. It stared at me for several seconds.

  Then it nibbled from my hand. It tickled.

  When all the oats were gone, it buried his nose in my hand and nuzzled. I took a step closer, moving slow and gentle. It gave a low snort from somewhere in its belly, as a warning. I smiled and took another small step. It let me edge closer. Then I gently curved my hand around to stroke its jaw, and it relaxed. It took a half-step closer and bent its head to let me pet it. I laid my head against the colt and hugged it with both arms. “She likes me.”

  “Would you look at that?” Francois said, sounding surprised. “But ‘she’ is a ‘he’.”

  28

  “How do you know?”

  “Just trust me, all right? So. Now you’ve got him settled, what do you think we should name him?”

  My eyes lit up. “Crimson. His whole flank is crimson like fire.” It was my favorite word for red.

  Papa’s face wrinkled at that as he held my burlap cloak. Though he looked more pained than offended.

  “Then ‘Crimson’ it is,” Francois said, petting the colt as he grew calmer. “And you can help me take care of him.”

  I looked up at him. “I can? You mean it?”

  “You come out as often as you like, Helena. When you’re older, I’ll teach you to ride him.”

  My heart raced. Women rode in carriages, not on horses, and I had never heard of a girl learning how to ride. I leaned against him and threw my arms around his belly, squeezing him tight. “Thank you. Thank you, Francois.”

  He turned toward Papa, licking his lips. “If it’s all right with your father, that is.”

  I looked back. “Can I, Papa?”

  Papa looked pale. He wrung the burlap cloak in his hands. “We’ll see. When you’re a little older.”

  I hobbled to Papa and fell onto him in a tight hug. I limped back to Crimson, who continued to study my awkward movements, and petted him again. He leaned his head down and 29

  stared at me as though we could see into one another’s souls.

  30

  4.

  Crimson lifted his head and snorted. I released him as another horse whinnied in the distance. I hobbled toward Papa to peer around the corner of Francois’ stable. A beautiful black coach was rolling across the muddy path to the cabin.

  Papa’s voice rose. “Were you expecting Duke Laurent?”

  Francois arrived behind us. “Last person I’d be expecting out here. ‘Course, I didn’t expect to see you today, either.”

  31

  Duke Laurent ruled the province, but he and Papa had become good friends. He always gave me the most delicious apples and pears whenever he visited Papa. He made me feel almost as safe as Francois.

  As the adorned coach drew closer, I spotted a gray Palomino trotting behind it amidst the falling leaves. I smiled, recognizing the black cloak and hat of its rider.

  “Or Father Vestille?” Papa asked.

  Francois craned his neck forward and gaped. “Next to last person I’d expect. Unless he’s short on confessions. I’m sure I could fill his plate, if he’s feeling lonely.”

  Papa lowered his chin. “Show respect, Francois.”

  Francois raised his hands. “Sorry.”

  Father Vestille didn’t always make me feel safe, but he always smiled and bent down to listen to me after the Sunday Mass. When I was little, he let me sit on his lap whenever he came to visit us.

  Every time I talked with him, I completely forgot about my scars.

  The royal coach arrived first. I watched closely as the driver stepped down from his perch to open the rear door. I always felt proud knowing Papa was friends with the Duke of La Rue Sauvage himself. Duke Laurent jumped down and nodded his thanks to the driver, then gaped at us with wide eyes.

  He ran to Papa, ignoring the mud that splattered on the fine wool-lined coat Mama had made for him. “Henri, are you both all right? I 32

  heard there was some trouble in the village. Doctor Renoire said you went home, but we saw the tracks leading here.”

  Papa shook his hand. “She’s all right.

  Doctor Renoire said she just needs to rest.”

  Duke Laurent regarded me with pitiful golden-brown eyes, which made him look even more handsome. He knelt before me, kissing both my hands as if I was a princess. “Helena. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “I am. It still hurts, though.”

  “I’m sure it does. But you’ll get well. Just rest, like your father says, and you’ll be up and about in no time.”

  “Monsieur,” Papa said. “May I introduce Francois Revelier?”

  The Duke stood as Papa and Francois bowed their heads. “The man who saved Helena last year?” He took a step back to view Francois’

  full height and size. “Such bravery should not go unnoticed. If I were back at the court in Versailles, you would receive a medal for protecting one of our precious citizens. I can’t provide that, but I believe a banquet in your honor is long overdue.”

  My heart leaped as Francois gaped at him.

  “Well, uh – thank you. Your Majesty. Er, Your Grace.”

  The Duke smiled. “You may call me

  ‘Monsieur’. Or ‘Leopold’, if you prefer.”

  Francois shook his hand. “Think it’ll have to be ‘Monsieur’. Wouldn’t feel right using the first name of royalty.”

  33

  “I’m not all that royal anymore,” Duke Laurent joked.

  “Any news from the King?” Papa asked.

  The Duke’s face fell. He glanced down at me, then back at Papa, spreading his hands. “He still refuses to answer my letters. I’ve tried, Henri.

  I can implore him to send some men, but – .”

  “I know,” Papa said. “You have no

  authority with Versailles.”

  Duke Laurent shrugged and shook his head.

  “The perils of losing favor with the royal court.

  I’m fortunate to be given oversight here. I only wish I could provide better security for --.” He glanced down at me and stopped himself. “… for our province.”

  Papa heaved a sigh. “We need soldiers, Monsieur Laurent. There must be someone we can appeal to. Someone to make the King see reason.”

  “I’m afraid the only one who can change the mind of the King toward me and our province is the King. I’ve asked. I’ve pleaded. I’ve begged.”

  His eyes burrowed into the ground. “I don’t even know whether they open my appeals or if they immediately discard them upon seeing my name.”

  Papa whirled away with clenched fists. He unclenched them quickly as Father Vestille strode toward us, the sun glinting off of his bald head.

  “Abier, how are you?” Papa said, shaking hands.

  “You know Francois, of course.”

  Father Vestille nodded to Francois. “Of course.”

  Francois smiled, with less than his usual warmth. “Well, we’re not on a first name basis.”

  34
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  “Perhaps we should be,” Father Vestille said. “I haven’t even spoken to you since --. Well, since Spring.” He glanced at me the same way Duke Laurent had. As if I didn’t remember what Francois did for me this past spring. He knelt before me with open arms.

  I hugged him tight. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard there was a commotion in the village. I came to see you.” He lowered his chin, his forehead creasing with worry. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, feeling better. Safer, even.

  “I saw you weren’t at home, so I followed the tracks here. I told Celeste I would find you both. I, ah –.” He raised his eyebrows at Papa. “I didn’t tell her anything else. Figured you’d want to share that.”

  Papa nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Did you hear what happened?” I asked.

  “Doctor Renoire found me and told me about it. I’ll have a talk with Andre Denue tomorrow, see if I can find out who the other boys were,” he said, more to Papa than to me.

  “Are you going to excommunicate

  Monsieur Denue?” I asked, hopeful. “Or Jacque?”

  Father Vestille blinked. “I don’t think I’ll need to do that, Helena. I would rather give them both a chance to make amends.”

  “But they beat me. And they wouldn’t stop.

  You have to do something.”

  35

  “I will. I plan to talk to every one of them about what they’ve done. And help them understand the wrong of it.”

  I shook my head. “That won’t help. You need to punish them, to make sure they can’t do it again. You have to hurt them the way they hurt me. You should –!”

  “Helena,” Papa interrupted with a scowl.

  “That’s enough.”

  “Yes, leave the punishments to me,

  Helena,” Duke Laurent broke in. “After all, maintaining order is the role of government. Not the church.”