SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (2 page)

Henny eyed me
suspiciously. “I didn’t know you knew the schoolmaster so well.”

“I didn’t. I only
saw him at Sunday service…
which
he attended regularly.”

Henny narrowed her
eyes, giving me a slantwise look. “Hmmm… He was more than twice your age, but a
comely man to be sure. I can see why you had eyes for him.”

I choked on a
fritter making its way down. “No.
No.
I didn’t have my eyes for him.”

She lowered her
voice. “Now, now, dear. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I have nothing to
hide.” I turned to Elise, who was struggling for composure. No help there.

Henny’s gray
speckled eyes danced. “Don’t you worry, Katrina, I will not tell a single
soul.”

Only the entire
village.
“There was
nothing
between Mr. Devenpeck and me.”

Henny nodded once,
condescendingly, as though promising to keep a secret.

“Urrrgh!”
Why
didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
I rose, clutched my plate tightly, and stomped
off.

Elise sprang up
and came after me. She was trying unsuccessfully to not giggle.

“It’s not funny,”
I said, wanting badly to flick some of my fritter crumbs in her face.

She placed her
hand on my shoulder in an attempt to settle my rattled nerves. “Stop worrying,
Kat. Henny Van Wart is just a large sail of foul wind. No one listens to her.”

“Everyone listens
to her.”

“But no one
believes her.”

She was right, of
course, but it didn’t ease my frustration. Though I still had several fritters
that could. We found a quiet corner behind the altar.

I was about to
take an ample bite when my friend, Marten Piers shoved his way through a group
of standing mourners. They glared, curling their lips in distaste. And no
wonder. He was still wearing his fishing garments – gray breeches and shirt
(smeared with who knows what), and a red knit cap that he tugged off, revealing
hair as tangled as his casting net.

“Katrina,” he
blurted, panting like he’d just raced up from the docks. It had to be dire for
him to come dressed as he was.

Elise put her
handkerchief to her nose. “Dear Lord, Marten, you smell like mackerel.”

He took a step
back, but kept his eyes to mine. “Katrina, come, I must speak with you.”

I hopped up from
the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Just come,” he
said, nodding toward the door. “I haven’t much time.”

As I was setting
aside my plate, Brom stepped forward, blocking the way. “Much time for what?”

More of that
cat-like agility. If he’d been born twenty years earlier he could’ve served as
a military spy.

Marten’s face
momentarily dipped, then he stood taller, chin raised. “I didn’t expect to see
you here.”

Brom crossed his
arms, challenging. “At least I dressed for the occasion.”

Except for the
hat.

“Marten,” I said,
“let’s go.” I hitched my skirt, ready to rush out.

But Marten stood
firm, still facing Brom.

“Marten,” I
repeated.

He made no effort to
move.

I glanced from one
to the other, my impatience roiling. It was rare to see these two at odds.
Growing up, we had all been the closest of friends – Elise, Marten, Brom, me,
and the Notary’s son, Garritt de Graff. Had Garritt been here, our circle would’ve
been complete.

My heart raced
from not knowing. “Marten, what is it?”

“Yes,” Brom said,
“Do tell.”

I waited, still
gripping my skirt. There was a bridge of silence before Marten spoke. “Never
mind, Katrina. We’ll speak later.”

“No. Let’s speak
now.”

He shook his head,
shushing me with his look. “Don’t worry. I’ll stop by soon.”

Brom still held a
glare. “And when will that be? Perhaps Elise and Garritt can come too. We’ll
have an outdoor party. Just like old times.”

Elise dropped the
handkerchief from her nose. “Leave me out of this.”

I was very near
ready to rip out my hair. Or even better…Brom’s. The three of us lingered as
though challenging the next one to speak. I couldn’t hold back my anxiety.
“Marten, if you have something important to tell me, I think –”

Elise hopped up,
thrusting my plate back into my hands. “Speaking of Garritt, has anyone seen
him?”

My heart thumped
from impatience, but I took a few easing breaths. I couldn’t cause a scene in
church. And those fritters wouldn’t settle well on a clenched stomach.

Brom finally took
his eyes off Marten’s. “Garritt didn’t attend.”

“That’s odd,”
Elise said. “He always accompanies his father to these things.”

True. But today,
his father sat with the Council. Garritt was nowhere around.

Brom shrugged. “I
guess he’d rather score marks with the devil than pay his final respects.”

Marten raised an
eyebrow. “You’d know plenty about scoring marks with the devil.” “As you,” Brom
sniggered. “We’ve raised a tankard or two in his honor.”

I swatted his arm.
Hard. “Don’t make such remarks in church.”

“At least I’m here
to make them. Garritt isn’t.” Brom sneered as though Garritt’s absence was a
burr in his bottom. “I’ll check on him later.”

Marten drifted
back, suddenly aware of his unsuitable presence. Several eyes were on him,
including Henny’s as she whispered to one of the goodwives seated next her. “I
should go,” he said, “before the Reverend asks me to leave.”

Brom clapped a
hand to Marten’s shoulder. “Come, I’ll walk you out.”

Marten shoved the
hand away, cast a quick glance at me, then turned and strode away.

Blast!
He
took his secret with him, leaving me with wonder, and two fritters still on my
plate. I bit into one like it was Brom’s hide.

Brom leaned close.
“Katrina, you really shouldn’t eat so much. You’ll wind up looking like Henny.”

I cut my eyes to
him. “Good. Then you’ll stop pestering me about marriage.”

He placed a sticky
kiss on my forehead. “Don’t be silly. I’ll simply ration your pastry supply.”

I wiped it off
with the back of my hand. “You’re impossible.”

“So you’ve told
me.” With that he pulled his cap over his head. “Good day, ladies.” To my
relief, he hastened out the door.

I sank back onto
my chair.

Elise eased down
next to me. “I’ve never seen Marten so anxious. What could’ve possibly been
that urgent?”

“I wish I knew.”

I was about to
take another bite when my gaze drifted to the window and the cemetery beyond.
From this angle the row of crypts and headstones framed a path straight to The
Horseman’s grave.
He only rises at night.

I dropped the
fritter back onto the plate. “Just pray he’s back on the boat by dusk.”

* *
*

Another restless night. Every creak
of a tree limb jolted me. Every call of an owl set me on edge. Sounds that
usually lured me to sleep had me gripping my pillow. All reminders that it was
his
time.
His
territory. And he could be just outside my window…
right
now.

The lack of sleep
caught up with me, and by midmorning my jaws ached from all the yawning. I was
in desperate need of fresh air. Just as I stepped outside, Brom rode up on his
horse, Daredevil – so named because of the animal’s speed and temperament. He
was leading my horse, Dewdrop – so named because I simply liked the sound of
it.

The freedom of
riding seemed all too wonderful – the very thing to wake me up. But with Brom?
I’d rather yawn until my jaws cracked.

He tossed me
Dewdrop’s reins. “Come along, I have something important to show you.”

“Brom, I’m not one
of your charges. You can’t order me about.”

“Don’t be
difficult,” he said, his face tight. “As I said, it’s important.”

I learned a long
time ago that Brom’s definition of important was far different from mine.

“Does it concern
the farm?”

“Of course it
concerns the farm,” he bit.

“Then show
Father.” Until I inherited, farm matters weren’t my responsibility. I merely
helped with the books.

His knuckles grew
white on the reins. “Baltus is busy with Council business.”

True. Several
members of the Council had arrived earlier. Father had been shut in his study
with them all morning. Business regarding The Horseman, I’m sure.

“Fine,” I said,
trudging to the saddle. “But if Father finds out, it’s your noose. He’s
insisted that I stay close to the house. Demanded, even.”

Brom gave me a
half smile. “When has that ever stopped you?”

I’d been known to
ignore a rule or two.

“I’m not sure what
good it’ll do.” I mounted Dewdrop. “But if it’s that important…”

Brom spurred his
horse, leading the way.

We crossed our
vast acres of ripened fields, fruit-laden orchards, and open pastures. The air
in my face livened me, and I didn’t yawn once. We finally came to a halt at my
favorite part of our property – a lush knoll that overlooked the Hudson.

The autumn leaves
had scattered like pirate’s gold. Ships and scows drowsed along the river.
Gulls circled the winking whitecaps. The smell of pine nuts and sighs of the
lapping water were an elixir for the soul. Because of its serenity, I had
secretly named it
Bliss
.

When we
dismounted, Brom took my hand and walked me into a clearing.

“What was it you
wanted to show – ” My words were buried when he pressed his lips to mine.

How dare he!

I shoved him hard,
spitting away the taste of his kiss. “Were you kicked in the head?” I stomped
back toward my horse. I swear, in all the years I’d known Brom, he’d never once
tried to take advantage of me. Why would he break that trust now?

He rushed forward,
blocking my path, his chestnut eyes glimmering. “What’s wrong? Too soon after
your lover’s demise?”

And now he was
speaking in riddles. “What on earth are you talking about?”

He cocked a brow.
“Still mourning the loss of old Nikolass? Missing your midnight trysts?”

He could only have
heard that from one person. “Henny?”

His laughter shook
some birds from a tree. “Who else? According to her, you’re the reason he came
to Sleepy Hollow in the first place.”

I clenched my
fists. “That woman.” Again I tried to leave. Again he blocked the way.

“Calm down,” he
said, still chuckling. “No one believes the prattles of that old witch.”

Nevertheless.
“Brom,
step out of the way now or I’ll tell Father how you lied to lure me here.”

“I didn’t lie.
This
is
farm business.”

“How?” If I had a
shred of patience left, it was thinning fast.

He stood taller as
a gleam lit his eyes. “I spoke with Baltus. He’s giving me this acreage to
build a house.”

Maybe it was me
who’d been kicked in the head. My mouth lopped open and I was momentarily
speechless. What he’d said made no sense. The only man-made structure here was
an old granary. Father would never allow this place to be ruined. “You’re a
bigger liar than Henny. Why on earth would he offer it to you?”

He held up his
hands like it was crystal clear. “So we’ll have a place to live once we’re
married.” He reached for another kiss, but I shoved him off. Then I searched
his eyes for the truth. “Brom, did you go behind my back and ask Father for my
hand?”

“It was going to
happen eventually, and you’re already eighteen.”

“It was never
going to happen, and it never will. Would you get that through your thick
head?”

He huffed a huge
sigh as he gazed across the landscape, then he brought his eyes back to mine.
“Be logical, Katrina.”

“Logical?”

“It’s a good
business match.”

Yes, Father’s
guarantee that he’ll stay on as overseer. What Brom lacks in civility, he makes
up for in productivity. Our farm has earned far more under his supervision.

“Oh, so now I’m
just an asset for bargaining?”

His mouth twitched
until he finally admitted, “There’s also the fact that I love you. You know
that.”

And something I’ve
always tried to ignore. “Brom, I don’t have those feelings for you.” Even if I
did, I could never put up with his endless brawling and half-witted stunts. He,
along with Marten and Garritt, were always up to some foolishness – especially
after an evening at the River Song tavern. Where there was mischief, Brom was
involved – be it cockfights, racing, or ridiculous pranks like upending an
outhouse or stringing wire to knock a rider from his horse. I would be marrying
a child.

“I won’t marry
you, Brom.
Or
allow you to spoil this beautiful property by building a
house on it.” I stormed by him, but he caught me by the waist.

“Now, now,” he
whispered. “Settle down.”

I pried his hands
off. “That’s my point. I won’t settle down. I’ll never settle down. Especially
with someone who spends most evenings reveling and gambling and – ”

He drew a quick
breath. “Katrina, I assure you, I am done with carousing and foolish games.”

“And that is
supposed to sway me?”

He rose a little
taller, piercing me with his eyes. “This marriage makes good sense.”

“To you,” I said,
stomping around him. “You can bully everyone else, Brom, but you won’t bully
me. And given a choice,” – I threw myself upon my horse – “I’d rather marry The
Horseman.”

* *
*

That night I dreamt of Nikolass in
his coffin. His body sinking into the wooden flooring, his folded hands
hardening like stone. The gaping wound where his head once sat served as a
doorway for all manner of parasites. They crept like sap oozing from pine bark
– millipedes, woodlice, ticks, scorpions, maggots and mites. Wiggling and
squirming and eating their way through him.