Red Rider Rising: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga by D. A. Randall

Author:D. A. Randall [Randall, D. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Character Entertainment
Published: 2020-06-30T00:00:00+00:00

MY DISCOVERY

19.

Rain started to drizzle as I arrived at La Maison de Touraine, but it didn’t dampen the wild revelry within its walls. I could see why Mama often referred to taverns as “dens”. The crowd inside rumbled like a pack of growling beasts. I had never set foot in this place except for the banquet to honor Francois, the night he died.

But La Maison was a center for local gossip. The perfect starting place to learn what anyone knew about the wolves. Someone must have heard rumors or witnessed recent attacks.

An alcoholic stench filled the misty air. I wished for a safer way to seek information. My parents would have preferred that I forget this place altogether. But Francois had told me to seek out his friend if I ever needed help.

As we trotted toward the hitching post, two men on the front porch stopped their conversation and stared. At the red horse and its red-cloaked rider. The short man’s mouth hung open. I wondered how much I resembled the Apocalyptic horseman that brought a plague of war. Though I doubted this squat man or his liquor bottle spent much time listening to the Scriptures.

“Evening, Monsieur,” he greeted.

I said nothing as I swung off Crimson’s flank to plant both boots together on the ground. I had no business with this man and his tone seemed more demanding than friendly.

“I said, ‘Evening,’” Squat repeated. He and his slim mustached companion stepped between me and the entrance.

“Evening,” I muttered.

The mustached man squinted at me. He grabbed at my shoulder and spun me to face him. I looked up in his astonished face. “Why, she’s a girl!” he sputtered.

“What sort of game do you think you’re playing, Mademoiselle?” Squat demanded. “This ain’t no place for someone like you.”

I swallowed down fear and anger. I had no time for this. “I’ll see for myself and let you know,” I said.

I started forward. Moustache moved to block me. Behind me, Crimson grumbled and shifted uneasily, while Squat took another swig of his bottle.

“You should listen to your betters, Mademoiselle,” Moustache said. “If you want some drinks, I’ll show you where to find some. More private, away from all these gawkers.”

Crimson snorted, ready to charge him.

“Step aside, Monsieurs,” I warned.

Squat chuckled and glanced at Moustache, who laughed along. “Now, now, Mademoiselle. You didn’t say, ‘please’.”

I pulled my crossbow from beneath my cloak and aimed its bolt-end directly beneath Squat’s jowls. They stopped laughing abruptly as my other hand settled on the lever. “Please.”

Squat nodded, slow and careful, backing away to let me pass. I lowered the crossbow, measuring their reactions. Satisfied that they would not bother me further, I draped my cloak over it once more. “Would you look after my horse while I’m inside? He sometimes gets agitated around strangers.”

Squat and Moustache turned to Crimson, who glared back with eyes that seemed to spit flame.

“Yeah,” Moustache said dully. “Sure.”

“Why, thank you,” I said.

Moustache took a step toward me and Crimson stamped his hoof. Both men spread their arms as they backed up to the wall.

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