SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (26 page)

He kept a blank
face as he picked it up, opened it briefly, and closed it again. “Thank you. I
tend to write down inspiring prayers and passages. It always uplifts me.”

Smiling inside, I
said, “Then I’m happy it wasn’t lost.”

He placed it
within his Bible, nodded politely, and went to take his seat.

Father and I took
ours. I kept my eyes forward, not once looking Ichabod’s way. I prayed that he
could interpret the message I’d slipped to him – a single Bible passage:
Corinthians 15:37.
And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body
that shall be, but bare
grain
. Underneath, in a much smaller hand,
I’d written:
Tu. 1
.

* *
*

Just before one o’clock on Tuesday,
I sneaked away to Bliss. A November wind had blustered through, but I was
warmed by the anticipation of Ichabod’s arrival.

Please come.
Please.

I exhaled my
relief –
how long had I been holding my breath?
– when I heard him
enter.

He hurried up the
steps and swept me into an embrace.

“How I’ve missed
you,” he whispered as he drew my mouth to his.

I melted into him,
feeling…tasting…touching. He held me tightly, like I might flitter away. He
only let go long enough to say, “Katrina, we must leave.”

“How? When?”

“Right now,” he
urged, his hands cupping my face. “This second. We’ll simply get on our horses
and go.”

Nothing is simple.
“And how far do you think we’d get before Father sent a search party? I know my
Father. He would find us.”

Ichabod sat back,
his elbow resting on his knee. “Then we must come up with a plan.”

“We can use a
byway.” I told him about Marten’s arrangements for Greenburgh to Sawpit.

He considered it,
nodding. “There’s no reason we can’t do something similar.”

“Can we?”

He pulled me back
into his arms. “I’ll leave in the morning for one of the ports in Connecticut.
I should be able to buy us passage on a merchant ship.”

My thoughts rushed
like the waters of the Hudson. “To where?”

He shrugged. “To
wherever it’s sailing. Does it matter?”

I breathed in his
wonderful scent. “Not as long as you’re there.”

I closed my eyes,
reveling in these moments, but he stayed tense, his mind on the details of our
arrangements. After a bit, he pulled away and held my face close to his. “We’ll
meet at the school on Friday morning. Since no one ventures there, we won’t be
detected.”

“What time?” I
asked.

“Six. Before the
village comes to life. Pack only what you need.” He drew me in and kissed me
deeply, invigorated by our new endeavor. Then he whispered in my ear, “Just two
more days, then nothing will keep us apart.”

* *
*

Two days
. Only two days to
prepare.

I had more gowns
and trimmings than I ever needed, but now I must choose two – one to pack and
one to wear. The portmanteau I hid under the bed held so little. Any shoes,
shift, stay and hairpins I brought would be the ones I wore. This was a task
that required common sense. I rustled through my wardrobe to see what I could
fit. Then my hand touched upon the blue gown.
The beads.
Should I take
them with me? No. They were only valuable to Peter. And after what he’d done to
Ichabod, I’d never hand them over. I dug them out of the hem and placed them
into my pocket. I had a better idea. Making sure no one was watching, I crept
out to the stables, then rode on to the church.

I roamed through
the cemetery, searching out Marten’s grave. There was no headstone yet, but it
wasn’t hard to find. I knew it would be somewhere near Garritt’s with freshly
turned sod. The second I spotted it, tears loosened and fell. And those final
moments poured into my mind. I trudged forward and knelt.

The day was bitter
cold, and my breath appeared before me. “Marten, I’m so sorry.” I sat back on
my heels and sobbed. “You wanted to keep me safe, and look what I’ve done to
you. I hope you can find it in your soul to forgive me.”

How different
life should’ve been.

It took several
moments before I could compose myself, then I wiped my eyes and nose. “You keep
these,” I whispered, removing my glove. “Better you, than Peter.” I burrowed a
small hole in the soil, then one by one, placed the roses inside. “I’m sorry they’re
not all here.”

Though it was
risky to linger, I stayed with him a few minutes more. Then rising, I rubbed
the dirt from my fingers and wrapped my shawl tight. My heart couldn’t plunge
any deeper. “Goodbye, my sweet Marten. You will always be with me.” Quickly
turning, I hurried away.

Reverend Bushnell
was standing at the church doors as I approached my horse.

“Katrina, my
dear,” he called. “I couldn’t tell if that was your nose or a ripe strawberry.
Come in and get warm.”

“Thank you,
Reverend, but I must be getting back. Father will be worried.”

He motioned me
forward. “Just tell him you were with me.”

I hope to avoid
encountering him completely.
“I couldn’t.”

“Girl, you’re
shivering. Come in. Just for a minute or two.”

Sigh. A
minute
or two.

Stepping into the
church was like nestling into a warm quilt. It would be difficult to walk back
out.

He hastened to the
kettle resting on the iron heater. “Hot tea will get your blood moving.”

“No, thank you,
Reverend. Really, I don’t have time.”

He looked at me
for a moment, then gestured to a pew. “Sit.”

I did…reluctantly.
He approached with that “sermon” look about him. I’d rather go home and face
Father.

He dropped down
next to me, a smile beaming on his face. “You must be relieved now that Ichabod
is free.”

“Yes, but for his
sake.”

“Katrina, you must
understand. We did what we had to do.”

“I find that a
poor excuse, Reverend. Locking Ichabod away proved nothing.”

He chewed the
inside of his cheek, contemplating. “That’s the curious part. Don’t you find it
strange that the Horseman suddenly transferred his objective?”

“We don’t know
that it was sudden,” I said.

“But you have to
admit, it certainly puts a new standpoint on his predictability. We were
certain that he had it in for Crane, then suddenly, he murders the Piers boy.”

I see. Instead of
warming my nose, I was brought in for questioning. “Reverend, are you asking me
if I have some theory on all this?”

“Do you?” he
asked, as he continued chewing inside his lip.

Why had I
agreed to come inside?

“My theory, for
what it’s worth, is that you kept Ichabod secluded well out of The Horseman’s
reach. And since the Hessian thrives on carnage, Marten’s murder was a form of
retaliation.”
Not bad for a “pulled from thin air” reply
.

His mouth twitched
as he chewed the other side. He’d not met my gaze since we sat down. “That
makes the most sense, but if he was retaliating out of anger – and I know this
is a harsh assumption – it seems that you
would have been a more likely
victim.”

“That is a harsh
assumption,” I snapped, “but then, I would expect no less during an interrogation.”
I popped up from the pew. “I must go.”

“Oh, dear,” he
said, fumbling upward. “That was not my intent. I just thought your insight
could help the Council solve this, that’s all.”

I clenched my
gloved fists. “Then how’s this for a theory? The cannonball that took The
Horseman’s head took his brain as well. He was simply confused.”

His eyes finally
crossed to mine. “You do not believe that.”

“And I also don’t
believe you invited me in out of sheer courtesy.” I pushed by him and went to
the door.

“Katrina,” he
called. I turned. “As your pastor, I feel I should inform you that there is
much speculation about your presence at the pier that morning.”

“Didn’t my father
inform the Council that I was merely there to say goodbye?”

He came over,
hands clasped behind his back. “Indeed, he did.”

“If you don’t
believe that excuse then maybe you should ask Henny. I’m sure she’s contrived a
wonderful story of my secret tryst with Marten, and how we were going to sail
off together.”

His regarded me
with hooded eyes. “But that story makes no sense either. Were you planning to
run away with the boy, you would have at least packed some clothes.” He then
dared to lean close, whispering, “Or wore something suitable.”

The church hadn’t
warmed me nearly as much as my rising blood. My teeth ground together. “Good
day, Reverend.”

He stepped back,
allowing me space. “Trust me, dear, you would do well to speak with the
Council.”

I took a calming
breath and sighed. “All right. If it’s that important, I’ll find time next
week.”
If they can find me.

“And whose life
might be struck down before then?” he asked.

A cold air blast
stung us as I opened the door. “Please do not try persuading me with guilt. I
do not control The Horseman. For all I know, his next victim could be me.”

* *
*

On Thursday the sun made a welcome
appearance. It warmed the air a little and my heart even more. I hadn’t heard
from Ichabod, which surely meant he’d secured our means of escape. He’d have sent
word, otherwise.

Just one more
day.

I checked the
portmanteau three times that morning, worried I’d overlooked something. My
addled nerves would not let me alone. I checked it again. The clock had never
ticked so slowly. But the excitement of being with Ichabod filled me.

I sat at the
breakfast table, my gaze fixed on my teacup. I don’t know where my mind was at
the moment. Simon came forward and poured some tea.

“You’ve mended
real good, Miss Katrina. It makes me happy to see you so cheerful.”

It’s that
obvious? Was I smiling?
“It was the smell of your delicious honey cakes
that cheered me.”

He placed some
dishes in the washing tub. “Don’t try to fool old Simon. I’ve known you since
you were no bigger than a lamb. Something’s got you lit up. And whatever it is,
I’m glad for it.” He turned, his eyes glowing with fatherly love. “No matter
what, I always want you to be this happy.”

God, I’ll miss
him so much
. I crossed over and gave him a big hug. “It’s a promise.”

A promise I could
not keep.

About four that
afternoon, Henny rode up in her carriage. I could tell right away she was
bringing more than gossip. She hitched her skirts and waddled quickly to our
door, wheezing out of breath when I opened it to let in her in.

“Katrina,” she
gasped. “Oh my dear.”

Father came out of
his study. “What’s going on?”

Henny fanned
herself with her hand. “I was just in town and overheard. The Council is on
their way here.”

Coming here?

“What the devil
for?” Father demanded. “And this better not be one of your lies.”

“It’s no lie,
Baltus. They should be here very soon. That’s why I must hurry.” She placed her
palm to her heart, heaving. “Katrina, they’re on their way for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes,” she said,
her eyes wide. “They are naming you a witch.”

My breath left me
and my knees buckled. I grasped the sofa for support. Was this punishment for
defying the Councilmen?

“That’s
preposterous,” Father bellowed.

“It’s the truth,”
Henny said. “I swear it. And now I must go before they find me here.”

Father’s fists
clenched into hard balls. “Henny, if this is one of your lies, I’ll see to it
that you’re the one tried as a witch.”

“Baltus, I do not
play you false. And Katrina, my dear, you may do well to hide.” She spun and
scurried out the door. “God be with you,” she called back before shambling
away.

My mind reeled and
my heart thundered. “Father?”

He peered out the
window. “If it’s true, they won’t step one foot into this house.”

“They’ll hang me,”
I murmured, quaking to the bone.

“Nonsense. They
will not take
my
daughter.”

I rubbed my hands
along my arms, trying to piece together thoughts. “What will we do?’

“Stand our
ground,” he said.

Stand our
ground? Against the Council?

“Henny’s right. I
should hide.”
Just till morning.

Father took my
chin in his hand and lifted my face to his. “I will straighten this out. They
have no grounds to arrest you.”

He meant every
word, but…could he? Before I could make a decision, I heard their horses
tramping into our yard. Then came a fierce rapping at the door – hard and quick
like the knocking of a cane.

It is too late
to flee.

The rapping turned
into pounding.

Father, keeping a
slow pace, opened the door, wearing an air of superiority. “Magistrate, I
assume you’re here on some legal business?”

What I’d thought
was a cane was actually a staff.

“Step back,
Baltus. I have an arrest warrant.” He held a document up to Father’s nose.

Father’s jaw
tightened as he guarded the door. “You’re making a mistake, Harding.” He had no
choice but to step away as Caspar Jansen and Peter Bottoms pushed their way in.

How had Caspar
found his way back onto the Council?

Peter’s eyes
narrowed to slits when he saw me. His lips curled over his knobby teeth.

The Magistrate
made a royal entrance, followed by Notary de Graff and Reverend Bushnell. He
held the warrant up again so that I may see it closely. “Katrina Van Tassel,
you are under arrest for the murders of Garritt de Graff and Marten Piers.”

Murder?
I
still gripped the sofa, but kept my chin high. My time for hiding had passed.