Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga by D.A. Randall (best books to read for beginners .TXT) 📗

“Nothing,” I said in a feeble voice, feeling myself tremble. “He didn’t do anything. When the wolf attacked, Francois came and killed it. Father Vestille came and helped get me to Doctor Renoire. After that – he stopped coming around.”

Pierre wrinkled his brow. “He’s at your house all the time.”

I shook my head. “He used to visit us every Sunday for lunch and stay until dark. Some weeks he visited us a couple more times. Then the wolf killed Grand’Mere Marie and left me like this, and he started to disappear, making long trips to other provinces. Refusing to tell us where he was or what he was doing or why he had to go. He won’t admit that he’s looking for a better church to lead, in some province that’s not plagued by wolves.”

Pierre dug his hands in his pockets and resumed our aimless stroll through the meadow.

The sun dipped low, and I expected Papa’s voice to thunder from the front stoop at any moment.

Don’t be caught out after dark, Helena.

“Doesn’t fit,” Pierre said. “The way he preaches, the way he helps people. He’s been close to your parents since he moved here. Can’t see him moving on to another group of people.”

I bit my lip. “Shows how wrong you can be about someone. You think he’ll be there when you 121

really need him. Then when there’s trouble, he’s nowhere around.”

“Hmm,” Pierre said. “Well. Glad you’re not mad.”

“Look, I just don’t –.”

“Easy, Red. I’m teasing you. Will I still see you at Mass Sunday? I can find you a good spot at the back to throw rocks.”

“I’ll be there. I can’t tell Mama and Papa I refuse to go. But don’t expect me to listen to anything he says.”

Pierre fell silent. “You still pray?”

“Of course,” I said. “Every morning and every night. But I haven’t gotten any answers yet.”

“You’ve got Suzette, right? I never thought you’d love anything more than that crazy horse of yours. That’s an answer to prayer, isn’t it, having a sister?”

I smiled. “Yes. It is.” My heart sank again as I turned toward the dismal forest. “But those things are still out there.”

“You mean the wolves?”

“They’re not wolves. I heard another lady was attacked a few months ago.”

“Yeah, Madame Benoit, the miller’s wife.

We went to the funeral.”

“Was Father Vestille there?”

“Uh, no. He was away. Another priest, Monsieur Benoit’s cousin, came from Dijon to lead the service.”

“Hm. Surprising. The one thing Father Vestille rarely misses is a funeral.”

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“You are really angry at him. Don’t you think you should give him another chance?”

I considered that for all of two seconds.

“He used to be there for our family. Now he’s not.

And I’ve moved on. I needed him back then. I don’t need him now.”

Pierre sighed deeply, dropping the subject.

“All right. What’re you doing tomorrow?”

“Helena!” We turned toward the sound of Papa’s voice, about fifty yards away. I barely noticed how far we had strayed. “Come on back.

Pierre’s parents are about to head home and you don’t want to be caught out after dark. And you and I need to talk to your mother about Suzette joining us early tomorrow.”

My pulse raced. “Yes, Papa!” I called back.

So. He didn’t say that they needed to talk to Suzette, but that the two of us to talk to Mama.

“Sounds like I’m going hunting,” I told Pierre.

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13.

The forest was cold and quiet the next morning, hardly a bird left to whistle among the naked branches. But we still hoped to find a few animals roaming about, if we could spot any through the clinging fog. We slowed to a trot and listened for movements. Papa rode ahead on Royale while Suzette sat in front of me on Crimson, clutching her blanket – her “fuzzy woolie”. Still as she was, I kept imagining that her racing heartbeat would frighten off every creature we approached. She had practically bounced up 124

and down when we left the cottage. But Papa instructed her – as he had instructed me on my first hunt – to obey his every command and keep silent in the forest.

He put up a