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

“Someone like Sharrad and his friends.”

He seemed to consider this as he resumed filling the mugs. “Likely.”

“So am I some kind of pariah now?”

“Maybe. No one’s sure what to make of it.

Someone attacking wolves late at night on a farm and killing two of them. Some think you’re a hero.

Most of them didn’t believe you existed.” He 247

surveyed the room of hushed murmurs. “Of course, they do now.”

I turned to view Sharrad and his table. The murmur of the crowd hushed as I faced them.

Some men watched my every move, perhaps fearing I might draw my crossbow again.

Sharrad’s cold eyes continued to focus on me. Beside him, Brocard raised his mug toward me with a smile. None of the other seven men at their table were smiling. They stared at me or looked over their shoulder, scowling and whispering at one another’s ear. They were all dressed differently, representing different jobs, different ages, different tastes. Yet they shared the same vicious scowl. I wouldn’t trust myself alone in a room with any of them.

“How often are those men in here?”

“Every night on the weekends,” Touraine said. “Either that crowd or some of the others.”

“There are more?”

“Plenty more. A few dozen, I’d expect. All different walks of life. Some farmers, some carpenters, merchants, woodcutters, coopers, blacksmiths. Some of them are very well off, some are barely managing. Not sure what they’ve all got in common. Except maybe a cruel sense of humor.” He shook his head again. “I’d stay away from them, if I were you.”

I studied the surly gang across the room as they eyed me with contempt. “Yes,” I said. “That would be wise.”

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27.

It was near midnight before Sharrad and his associates left the tavern. I spied on them from a dark alley, feeling the evening’s chill, as Crimson waited behind me in quiet obedience. They seemed in good spirits now, shoving playfully at one another and making threatening growls, like rough-spirited children. Like Jacque Denue and his companions.

Hairs rose on my skin. I could see what Touraine meant about avoiding these men. I didn’t 249

want to go anywhere near them. But I had to know how they were connected with the wolves.

They mounted their horses and trotted off toward the woods. Brocard, still utterly pleased with himself, led the way with a lantern held aloft.

I allowed them time to gain some distance, then climbed onto Crimson’s saddle and rode after them, following their distant light.

About ten minutes later, Brocard and the others entered a large clearing on the outskirts of a sprawling farm. I tugged gently on Crimson’s reins, keeping us shrouded and still in the forest.

The men rode ahead in full view, toward the large barn at the center of the pasture.

Whoever owned this land seemed well-off.

A wheat field spread for several acres beyond the grove of trees that hid the barn and silo. Yet there was no house connected with the barn, so the owner could afford to hire out farmers while he sat at home raking in profits.

Sharrad and the others dismounted and glanced about, looking over their shoulders.

Crimson kept perfectly still for me in the shadows.

Once they were satisfied, Brocard raised his torch higher and led the way to the barn. He tugged open the front door. More torches blazed within, where several other men had gathered. I couldn’t see any particular person, only a small crowd. As a few of the men led their horses around back, Brocard and the others went inside, casting 250

final glances over their shoulders before they shut the door.

Something felt wrong, unsettling me like a snake burrowing under my skin. I prodded Crimson forward by cautious steps into the shadowy grove, surveying the grounds to make sure no other men approached. A noise rose within the barn, like a unified cheer, or a collective moan from a herd of beasts.

Crimson slowed his pace, and I couldn’t blame him. I felt a crawling chill in the air. Like something small and devilish laughing in the wind.

We edged forward to the side of the barn. I dismounted and drew Crimson to stand close to the wall. The din inside