SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (21 page)

Ichabod clapped
him on the back. “Sound advice, Baltus. I’ll advise President Washington.”
Knowing we were leaving had made him beyond brave.

Now it was Father’s
jaw that tightened. Ichabod quickly stepped forward and took my hand. “Katrina,
you are absolutely radiant this evening.”

Thank you,
Ichabod,” I said, a thousand tingles feathering through me. “That was most kind
of you to say.”

He discreetly
winked before walking away.

Over the next
several minutes we welcomed more guests. The displaying of wigs, plumes,
blossoms, and jewels were a colorful parade. But my eyes kept straying,
catching glimpses of Ichabod. It was during one of those musing moments when I heard,
“Katrina.” Marten stood before me. He looked charming in a crimson tailcoat and
black breeches – a contrast to his usual sweaty clothes. Every sun-kissed
strand of hair was combed, and he smelled of toilet water.

“Marten, I’m so
glad you’ve come.” Then in a near whisper, I said, “We must speak.”

His eyebrows
dipped and his eyes lit, warning me to stay quiet. “You know I wouldn’t miss
it.” Then with a smile, he added, “I’ll see you inside.”

A few more
villagers followed, then I went about my hostess duties. My eye was continually
on the spread of luscious pastries across the room. When I finally made it to
the table, I was weighed with a major decision.
Cranberry or lemon tart?
An arm reached around, offering me a glass of brandy punch. “It appears our
ship’s captain is in attendance,” Ichabod said softly in my ear.

“Shhh.” I took the
glass. “I’ll speak with him later, when everyone’s too tipsy to notice.” I took
a sip of the tangy drink.

“Good.” Then
Ichabod quirked a brow. “What happens if
you
become too tipsy?”

“Believe me, you
do not want to witness that.”

He snorted a
laugh.

I nudged him with
my elbow. “What?”

“Nothing.” His
crooked smile was both devilish and adorable. “I was just wondering if you
become a stumbling drunk or a besotted braggart.”

“Neither.” I took
another small sip. “I recite naughty limericks and talk to the curtains.”

He sputtered the
drink in his mouth. “Now there’s the Katrina I
really
want to see.”

I held up my
glass. “Just promise you’ll stop me when I start slurring my words.”

We were
interrupted when Clive Van Helt, Vincent’s father, staggered over. He appeared
to have started celebrating before arrival. He reached out and poked my arm
with his calloused finger. “I thought you’d like to know that Vincent enjoyed
having you as his teacher. He spoke about you a lot.”

That caught me by
surprise. I was truly flattered. “Thank you. That’s very kind. He is an
industrious student.”
And one I’m extremely grateful to.

Clive then cut his
eyes to Ichabod. “Well, Crane, seems we’ve had similar undertakings.”

“Oh yes,” Ichabod
said. “I’d heard about that. The ghost of the old trapper.”

 Clive poked
Ichabod’s arm too. “You should’ve come to me for some advice. You could’ve
bungled the whole thing.”

Ichabod remained
calm. “I apologize. The next time I need to seal a ghost, I’ll certainly
consult with you first.”

Clive took a swig
from a whiskey bottle that didn’t come from our store. “You young folk think
you’re so smart. Think you know everything about everything.”

Now I know where
Vincent gets his gall.

Ichabod whispered
to me from the corner of his mouth, “Please tell me you don’t become like
this.”

“What’cha saying
there?” Van Helt wheezed.

“Nothing. I’m just
thankful that it all worked out in the end.”

He poked Ichabod’s
arm again. “I should probably go out to that grave for an inspection.”

“And while you’re
there,” – Ichabod poked him back – “feel free to redo it.” He then drew my hand
to his lips and kissed it. “Katrina, it’s so lovely to see you. Now if you’ll
excuse me, I’m sure there are other parents waiting to reprimand me.”

I motioned to the
table. “Please, Mr. Van Helt, help yourself.” I dodged around him and wandered
away.

I spotted Elise
across the room, standing with her mother.
This may be a mistake, but…
I
weaved my way through to them. I first addressed Mrs. Jansen – an older, more
worn version of Elise. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

She gave me a
broad smile. “Katrina, these parties are always so lovely.”

At least her
mother hadn’t turned on me.

Then to Elise,
“And you?”

She shifted,
causing her dress to glimmer like a spring pool. “It’s nice. Though I’ve
noticed that you’re short a guest.”

“Oh?” I skimmed
the room.

“Brom. I haven’t
seen Brom tonight.” She dallied with her feather pendant. “He never misses your
parties.”

“I’m sure you’ve
heard that Brom is no longer our overseer.”

“And no longer
seen,” she snipped. “I wonder what’s driven him away?”

I gently gripped
her arm and took her aside. “Let’s not play these ridiculous games.”

She glared at me,
her eyes blue fire. “I’m playing games? You snake. You knew how I felt about
Ichabod and you tromped right over me.”

“I did nothing of
the sort.”

Her nostrils
flared. “He was sweet and good to me. But then, there you were, all over him –
kissing out in the open where anyone could see.”

How dare she?
“I’ve never kissed Ichabod in public.”

“I didn’t say in
public, you ass. I said in the open. By the brook.” Her teeth ground deep. “Did
you not think for a second that someone might see you?”

I stepped back,
aghast, as it all became clear. “It was you. You’re the one who destroyed the
schoolhouse that day.”

“Can you blame me?
I went there with word from my father. He was going to lend Ichabod equipment
for the cellar floor. Your horse was there – ” She poked her finger to my shoulder
–“but you were not. It enraged me when I saw the two of you together.”

I shoved her hand
away. “Then you should have confronted me instead of turning into a spoilt
child. You ruined pottery and schoolbooks and furniture. What on earth were you
thinking?”

“That it was your
hair I was ripping instead of pages.”

In turn, I poked a
finger into her shoulder. “And I suppose it was you who clogged the chimney
with dead birds.”

She stepped back,
her mouth open. “You know about the birds?”

“Only after a fire
was lit. Was burning down the schoolhouse part of your revenge as well?”

She raised a
little taller, finding composer. “Hardly. I did that after the school was
marked.”

After?
“Elise,
that’s madness.”

She threw up her
hands. “No, Kat, not madness…love. If you’d paid attention, you would’ve seen
bird feathers lining the doorway and windowsills too.”

I did remember
seeing them as I’d entered. “I still don’t understand. Why?”

“To remove The
Horseman’s mark. I love Ichabod. I only meant to keep him safe.”

I couldn’t fault
her for that. “And you risked going to the schoolhouse alone?”

“Oh forget it,”
she spat. “You probably think it’s superstition.”

“No, I think it’s
witchcraft.”

“At least I took
measures. What have you done to insure his safety?”

Broke into the courthouse.
Stole from the weapons store. And risked a trip to The Horseman’s grave to seal
him with his own sword.

I burned with
anger. “You have deluded yourself into thinking that there’s something romantic
between Ichabod and yourself. That has never been the case.”

“But it might’ve
been had you not interfered, you spiteful minx.”

“And now you
resort to name-calling.” I wanted to fling my brandy right into her face. “I am
truly at a loss, Elise. I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Spin your treasured
globe, point to a destination, and
leave
.”

Before I could
counter, she turned and stormed away.

Tears filled my
eyes, and I was helpless to control them. I hurried to the staircase, meaning
to hide in my room to regain composure. But I had the misfortune of passing
Henny, who was captivating a small crowd with one of her tales.

“Oh, Katrina!” she
called as I tried to slip through. “Come, come.”

I sniffled back
tears. “Henny, I – ”

“We were just
discussing our wonderful schoolmaster. That young man is the embodiment of
bravery.”

“Yes, he’s quite
noble. Now if you’ll excuse – ”

“Noble?” She
slapped her meaty hand to her chest. “Positively fearless!”

There was a great
nodding of heads following that statement.

Henny pursed her
lips. “Did he tell you of his encounter with The Horseman?”

Oh dear.
“No,”
I said, blinking away the tears in my eyes. “I don’t recall him relaying that
story.”

“What?” Her face
opened in astonishment. “Why, I would not be surprised if he wrote about it for
publication. A tale far more enthralling than any fiction.”

And yet I knew
what I was about to hear would be fiction indeed.

“You see,” she
began, “he came to know of the Hessian’s sword by way of a dream.”

“A dream, you
say?” I found that a bit of a compliment considering I was that dream.

“Yes, it was
relayed to me that he dreamt of the sword as a glowing hot blade, shining
brighter than the sun.”

I mocked surprise.
“It’s a wonder he didn’t have to shield his eyes.”

She clucked.
“Remember, Katrina, it was a dream.”

“Of course.”

“Knowing that
Smedt had pilfered that sword, Ichabod devised a plan to save us all from that
abominable spirit.”

“Well, he is quite
cunning.”

“Oh, more than
that!” Henny praised. “He not only managed to recover the sword, but chose the
witching hour to carry out his task.”

I twitched my
mouth as though curious. “Interesting that he didn’t wait till the safety of
dawn.”

“Not our
courageous Ichabod! He set out to finish that demon once and for all.” Henny
took a deep breath, most likely to spew the rest of the story in one
uninterrupted exhale. “He stood by that grave and waited. In a matter of
minutes the Hessian was there. It was a vicious battle. But in the end, our
fearless Ichabod prevailed, slicing through The Horseman with the fiend’s own
sword, then driving the blade into the grave, he seal him in forever. Bless him
and his immeasurable courage.”

“Yes, we are
blessed to have him.”

It was then that
Ichabod sauntered over, no doubt to rescue me. “Ladies.”

“Oh, Mr. Crane!”
Henny said, crossing her hands to her heart. “We are indebted to you for your
daring deed.”

“Well…” He
shrugged. “It was a deed that needed doing.”

“Indeed!”

“Katrina,” he
said, taking my hand. “Would you honor me with a dance?”

“Of course.” At
last,
I was freed.

He nodded toward
Henny’s assembly. “If you’ll excuse us.” We took to the middle of the floor.

We’d barely danced
two steps when he said, “Something’s upset you.”

I shook my head.
“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s
something.” He peered into my eyes.

“Really, forget
it.”

“Forgotten.” He
spun me around and brought me back. “So what will it take to make you smile?”

I chewed at my lip
as though contemplating. “It’s hard to say. Especially since I’m not ticklish.”

His warm breath
brushed me when he let out a sigh. “You’ll always hold that over me, won’t
you?”

“You can count on
it.” I broke into the smile he was longing to see.

“That’s better.”
He leaned closer. “This is a party, Katrina.” He spun me again. “Have fun.”

I didn’t hesitate
to heed his advice.

As the night
progressed, the spirits flowed. The more drink consumed, the more everyone
enjoyed themselves. There were all manner of circle and folk dances. We partook
in several parlor games, and I played a couple of songs on the pianoforte,
accompanied by the quartet of musicians.

Near midnight –
the witching hour as Henny would call it – the festivities had not ceased. The
fiddlers sawed the strings, and the music stayed wonderfully fast and
uplifting.

Twice I’d looked
for Marten, but he was always within a crowd or drinking with Peter. But I
could not let the night end without speaking to him. I brazenly grabbed his
hand and pulled him onto the floor. “Dance with me.”

He’d never cared
for dancing, but he was inebriated enough not to object.

“Marten,” I asked,
once we were amid the stumbling mass. “How much longer?”

His kept his voice
low. “So you haven’t changed your mind?”

“No, I haven’t,
but there is a new…hitch.”

“No Katrina.
Everything must go as originally planned.” He glanced at Peter, who’d cornered
a young woman against the wall.

“Forget about
Peter,” I said. “We won’t need him.”

Marten’s face
darkened as he clutched my arm. “Katrina, listen to me. Terms are set. We
cannot change them.”

“But Marten, you
don’t understand.”

His grip
tightened. “No, you don’t underst –“

That’s when the
window exploded with a thunderous crash. Shards of glass showered as a flaming
log burst through, landing at our feet.

“Marten!”

He wrapped his
arms around me and jerked me away.

There were yelps
and gasps from the crowd. People scattered. The musicians leapt from their
chairs.

Three men pitched
forward to stomp it out, but it was still kindling when another log shattered
the next window and hit the floor.

“What the Devil?”
Father roared.

As more men rushed
over to beat out the flames, a shovelful of hot cinders flew in, skittering
next to them.