Page 11 of The Horseman of Sleepy Hollow
Breathless and blind, I waited, my nerves tingling.
The pads of work-worn fingers scraped along the tender flesh near my wound. My entire skin shivered at the contact and exploded into tiny bumps.
"Calm yourself," said the male voice. "I am checking the wound."
"Who are you?"
The fingers prodded my flesh, and with a pinch of pain something slid out of me—a splinter of the branch that had impaled me, perhaps.
"Take me home," I whispered. "Please."
"If I took you home now, you would die on the way. You have lost too much blood, too quickly. You need to be still and rest. Do not exert yourself, or I will have to tie you to the bed."
The image of myself on the bed face-down, helpless and exposed, should have terrified me. It did terrify me. It didnotsend a subtle thrill through my heart, because that would be foolish, and strange, and dreadfully inappropriate for the situation.
A cool, damp blob squished across the wound, mopping up blood.
"I need to sew this gash shut. Can you endure pain?"
"I can." I clenched my jaw in an agony of dread.
"Relax until I give you warning. I must heat water first, to cleanse the needle."
"Are you a physician then?" Maybe the Horseman had passed me by, and a traveling doctor had found me. Maybe the Horseman brought me to a physician—but this man did not sound like Dr. Burton, the only physician in Sleepy Hollow.
"I studied medicine a while," answered the voice. "In fact, I returned here to serve those in bondage, who have no one to care for their health."
"Those in bondage?"
"Slaves. Like those owned by so many families in this valley." His severe tone was a condemnation—of our neighbors, of my father, of me. A twinge of pain flared in my soul, coupled with heavy guilt. At the same time, my interest in the man redoubled, because here was another person who seemed to believe that this foundational practice of our society was morally wrong. I ached to know his reasoning, to see if it lined up with mine, to know whether he ever imagined a path to change, like I did.
But I could not ask such a thing, not now, when my insides were afire with pain and my muscles felt weak and watery. With my eyes forced shut under the blindfold, I began to slip into unconsciousness again.
The man's voice spoke close by. "I will begin now."
Something pierced the muscle of my back, a sharp dot of pain. I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut even tighter. Another stab of pain, and another, and another. The skin around my wound pulled dreadfully, and I brought my knuckle up to my mouth and bit it hard.
"That part is done," the voice assured me.
He smeared a cool paste across the area, and a dry cloth dropped into place over that. His hands slid along my waist, between my skin and my dress, passing a bandage around me and tying it snugly.
Sometime during the wrapping of the bandage, a tingling warmth began low in my belly, woken by the skim of calloused palms over my body. Being touched by this stranger, being exposed to him—it excited me in a way I did not expect—especially when, during his ministrations, his fingertips brushed the center of my lower back. The feeling that awakened was subtle, rendered distant by pain and weariness—but it was there nonetheless.
"Lie still," the man said, with a final pat to the bandage. From what I could hear, it sounded as though he was gathering up his supplies, putting them away.
He did not fold my dress back together over my bare skin, probably because the back of the gown was soaked with my blood.
"I cannot lie still," I fretted. "Not until you tell me who you are, and why you brought me here."
"You asked me for help."
Fear thickened in my throat, dispelling the warmth I felt a moment ago. Only one person—one Thing—had been with me on the bridge after Brom left. "So then—you are—"
"Yes, tell me who I am, farm girl." His voice dripped with an unmistakable sneer.
It sounded ridiculous to say it aloud. "The Headless Horseman," I murmured. "The Hessian soldier from ages ago—"
"That is horse-shit," he snapped. "I am twenty-four years old. I have not been alive long enough be that damned Hessian. I am not Hessian at all."
