SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (6 page)

“Fine then.” I
dismounted, intending to lead her the rest of the way, but she fought, pulling
back, and nearly dragging me to the ground. Her ears pricked, and her black
eyes grew wild with fear, arousing a sense of dread that rippled my flesh. But
I couldn’t turn back. Garritt was enclosed in this hellish terrain. I had to
see him.

I towed Dewdrop
back to one of the living trees – “You’re just making this more difficult!” –
and secured her to a limb. She wrestled with the branch. It felt more like a
warning than an attempt at escape.
Animals sense danger.
I quickly turned
away, refusing to heed.

It was only fifty
paces back to the de Graff property, but one step into it and –
Holy God!
– the air grew bitterly cold. I pulled my shawl tighter around my arms, wishing
I’d worn wool instead. There’d been no forewarning that The Horseman had left
his mark upon the climate here too.

I walked in haste,
drawing closer and closer. The house itself looked the same. The small saltbox
structure stood firm as always, the paint and trim unmarred. The dark smoke of
the chimney disappeared into the graying sky.

As I reached the
porch I noticed a medicinal wreath on the door. No doubt placed there to ward
off disease. But rather than green and aromatic, the sprigs appeared to have
been touched by flame. Whatever it meant to keep out had burned its way
through.

With a trembling
hand, I tapped lightly on the door. Within moments Notary de Graff appeared,
his waistcoat unbuttoned and his shirt hanging loose. He looked woefully weary,
as though all strength had abandoned him.

“Katrina. We were
not expecting you.”

“Many pardons,
Notary. I’m here to see Garritt.” How foolish of me not to bring a gift –
mutton soup or sweet cakes. Something to show my goodwill.

“You know that
Garritt isn’t well. He cannot receive guests.”

“I am aware, but
this is urgent.”

He narrowed his
gaze. “In what manner?”

“I…uh…” Since the
only urgency was my desire to talk to Garritt, I had to pull a reason out of
thin air. Then I remembered the talisman that Simon had made for me. I
uncovered it from my bodice. “I have brought him this.”

The Notary reached
out and touched the carved trinket, running a finger across the spiral. “Very
intricate. Is this some rare charm?”

“Yes, sir. It is
for health and protection.”

Other men in
Sleepy Hollow might scoff at such a thing, but the kindled wreath on the door
told me that the Notary was a man of superstition.

“That’s very
generous of you, Katrina.” He held out his hand. “I shall deliver it to him
with your good wishes.”

“I wish to deliver
it myself.” I spoke as calmly as possible, trying to hide my panic.

He briskly shook
his head. “That’s not possible.”

“Please, I’ll take
no more than a minute.”

He began to slowly
close the door. “I should be attending my son. I’ll give him your regards.”

“Wait!” I removed
the talisman from my neck. “Here.”

The Notary gave me
a disheartened smile. “This is very kind of you.”

And with those
words, he shut me out.

I stepped off the
small porch, my spirits low. It made sense that Garritt would close himself
away from The Horseman, but close out his friends as well?

The whistling wind
whipped across the property. It was like cold fingers raking my flesh. I heard
my name whispered within the gust –
Katrina
– and felt
his
pale
breath upon my neck. Or had it just been my imagination, stirred by the bleak
surroundings?
I hope.

Anyone else
would’ve ridden straight home, but it was my stubborn nature that guided me. I
quietly slipped around to the side of the house, tiptoeing toward the back.

I lingered in the
chill with the presumption that the Notary would deliver the talisman to
Garritt straight away. How long he’d remain, I could only guess. I had no sense
of time – it being void here – and let instinct guide me.

I pressed myself
to the wall and ticked off seconds in my head.
One…two…three…
With my eyes
closed, the stale air reeked stronger. It clung to my skin and I could taste it
on my tongue. But I wouldn’t lose count.
…thirty-five…thirty-six…thirty-seven…
Then something brushed past my ankle! I jerked aside, shaking my skirts.
What
in the name of…?
The ground moved! It spiraled and churned like the inner
workings of a clock. How was that possible?

My heart pounded
as I knelt for a closer look.
Oh God!
I leapt back, clapping my hands to
my mouth.
Snakes!
Masses of them – brown and speckled like the barren
soil. They moved chaotically, weaving about with no sense of direction. Their
tongues flickered. Their bodies coiled. Two fought over a field mouse, still
squirming for its life. Another had swallowed its own tail.

With my hands
still pressed to my mouth –
I will not cry out
– I treaded gingerly
through them. Then finding my footing, I crept around to Garritt’s window.

He had not
exaggerated The Horseman’s mark. It ran diagonally through the center of the
pane, raven black with eyelash thin cracks branching from it.

My need to see
Garritt pushed me forward. I rapped once, then quickly jerked my hand away. It
was like tapping the surface of a frozen pond, burning my knuckles. I wrapped
my hand in my shawl and knocked again. “Garritt,” I called through the glass.
“Come to the window.”

I waited, my heart
ticking the seconds. “Garritt.”

I saw movement
behind the curtains. Slight, but there nonetheless. I tapped again. This drew
him over. He lifted the curtain just enough to peer out. His eyes drew to The
Horseman’s mark and he pulled back. “Meet me at the other window,” he said.

I rounded the
corner to the one facing the back of the property. Garritt was already there,
his pallor practically transparent and his eyes baggy and red. The talisman
hung from his neck. He lifted the window just enough that we might speak
without strain. His gaze shifted beyond me, looking left and right.

“Go, Katrina. It’s
not safe here.”

“Why have you not
told your father of The Horseman?”

He winced, drawing
back. “This is not your concern. Please, leave. I couldn’t bear it if you came
to harm.”

Why must he be
so stubborn?

“Garritt, simply
confess your encounter. Measures will be taken to keep you safe.”

“I can’t. And
besides, I’ve already made my own plans.”

“What plans?”

He hesitated, eyes
shifting again. “I’m refusing the blood-lettings to gain strength, then I’ll
sneak out and ride away. The Horseman only keeps to this vicinity. He won’t
pursue me outside the Hollow.”

“Garritt, I’ve an
even better idea. Speak with Marten. He’s purchased a ship. He and I are going
to sail away. You can come with us.”

His weary eyes
grew wide. “Marten bought a ship?”

“Yes,” I said, now
smiling. “It will be here in a few weeks and –”

“
Weeks
?”
His shoulders sank and he ranked his fingers through his matted hair. “Katrina,
I won’t last that long.”

I feared he was
right. “Please, Garritt, there has to be something I can do to help you.”

“You can help me
by staying quiet.”

“But –”

“No one must know.
Now leave.”

After all I’d
risked, it’d been a fruitless attempt. There was no reason to continue pressing
him. “Very well. But I do hope you’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t.” He
reached for the talisman. “You should have this back. You’ll need it more than
me.”

“No,” I said,
shaking my head. “You keep it. To protect you until you’re safely away.”

He clutched it in
his hand. “Thank you.”

Our eyes held for
a moment, then he said, “Go, before you’re discovered.”

I stepped away,
tightening my shawl.

“Katrina.”

I turned.

“Be careful.” With
those words, he closed the window.

* *
*

Garritt’s deathly face haunted me
all the way home. I told myself there was nothing more I could do. And I kept
repeating it as I counted down the minutes to Ichabod’s arrival. I was weak-kneed
with anticipation, yet determined to remain level-headed. Still, I changed out
of my church dress and into a shimmering violet gown with silver trim.

What’s wrong with
a little dazzle to brighten the evening?

Stepping out onto
our piazza, I breathed in the evening air. The western sky blazed with streaks
of spun gold and deep burgundy. What a contrast to the environment of Garritt’s
surroundings. How would this sunset look through his eyes? A boy in Hell. A boy
marked by The Horseman.

A hand touched my
shoulder and I blanched.

“Jumpy, are we?”

“Brom!” I clutched
my fists to my heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” How does he always
appear out of nowhere?

He arched an
eyebrow. “I wasn’t sneaking. You were in a daze.”

I brushed his hand
away. “Still.”

Brom had dinner
with us every Sunday evening. Although I’d wished tonight he’d gone carousing
instead.

He puffed his
chest and rocked back on his heels. “So tonight we dine with the honorable Mr.
Crane.”

“Honorable being
the pertinent word,” I said. “Try to behave yourself…if you’re capable.”

“I promise not to
lick the mutton drippings off my fingers.”

“I was referring
to your sharp tongue.”

He grinned and
pulled me close, nuzzling his lips to my neck. “I shall be a proper gentleman.”

I unwound his arms
from my waist. “Then start now.”

He stepped back,
laughing like a fool. I would’ve kicked him had I not worried about losing the
bow on my slipper.

The clip-clop of
hooves echoed softly from the road. Momentarily, Ichabod approached…on what
appeared to be the most cussed of all horses. It shambled forth, flicking its
tail and flaring its nostrils. As they neared the hitching rail, the dapple
stopped, backed up, and circled clockwise…twice.

“Steady,” Ichabod
said, patting the animal’s smoky mane.

“Quite the
cavalier,” Brom whispered. I poked him with my elbow.

Ichabod
dismounted, and with a little goading, led the horse to hitch. “Meet
Gunpowder,” he said, patting the horse’s hindquarters.

Brom lifted a
brow. “Looks as though he’s lost his spark.”

In several long
strides Ichabod joined us on the piazza. “I can only assume by his name that
he’d had spirit in his day. Now it’s purely spunk. Van Ripper loaned him to me
with the assurance that, ‘An ornery horse is better than a mile on foot.’” His
raspy imitation made me giggle.

“Well, you
certainly showed that beast who’s boss,” Brom scoffed.

Ichabod, being the
only gentleman present, ignored the comment and turned his attention to me.
“Katrina, you look radiant this evening.”

Judging by his
fitted suit and teal waistcoat, I could say the same for him. But then, he
could wear sackcloth and be just as delicious.

“Why, thank you,
Ichabod.”

The front door
pushed open and Father stood, filling the entry. “Were you planning to leave
our guest out there with the frogs and insects?”

“We wouldn’t hear
of it,” Brom said with a sweeping
after you
gesture.

I boldly hooked my
arm through Ichabod’s and escorted him inside.

Though Brom looked
on gently, I knew deep down his soul rumbled. I didn’t care. It was time to
show him that our engagement was simply a product of his imagination, no matter
what blessing Father may or may not have bestowed.

Simon had laid a
lovely table with our Delft pottery and pewter candlesticks. Brom quickly took
the seat next to mine. I was fine with that. Sitting across from Ichabod
allowed me the opportunity to look into his eyes and study his face.
Expressions speak as clearly as words, and I wanted to know
everything
about him.

“So tell us,”
Father said, passing the soup tureen, “Are you adjusting to our simple ways
here at Sleepy Hollow?”

Ichabod lifted the
dish from him. “I am, sir. It’s like a breath of fresh air. Just the change I
needed.”

“Too many
pitchforks?” I teased.

Father eyebrows
bristled. “What a ridiculous question.”

Ichabod waved it
off with a smile. “I simply needed a quiet place to clear my head.”

Brom chuckled, his
eyes on his plate. “If you want your head cleared, you’ve come to the right
place.”

Father shot him a
threatening look. It was imperative that we stay mum on the subject of The
Horseman. Even at the risk of Ichabod’s neck. He turned back to Ichabod. “I
can’t imagine how a schoolroom full of boisterous children could be relaxing,
but we’re grateful that you came.”

“They’re not
boisterous at all,” Ichabod said. “We’ve only had two days of instruction, but
I’ve found the students quite eager.”

“And what form of
discipline do you impart?” Father asked. Discipline being Father’s specialty.

Brom stabbed a
slice of mutton and dropped it onto his plate. “Yes, tell us. Do you rap their
knuckles with your ruler or paddle their little bottoms with a board?”

At the moment I
wanted to rap his.

“Neither,” Ichabod
answered without a hint of annoyance. “I’ve never been a believer in
Spare
the Rod
. I find communication and bargaining works best.”

Father’s eyes grew
so wide I thought they might roll out of his head. “Bargaining with children?
That’s absurd.”

“Yet it gets
results.” Ichabod carved into his meat, not the least bit offended by Father’s
remark. “The children and I have struck an agreement. If they finish their
lessons to my satisfaction, they earn a short session of storytelling at the
end of the day.”