Page 23 of The Horseman of Sleepy Hollow
"Mistakes—like the way I rode after Ichabod instead of leaving him to his own devices? If I had not ridden after him—"
"He would be dead anyway, at my hand," the Horseman intercepted.
"Where do you think he is now? Heaven?"
"Heaven is a difficult concept for someone like me." The chair creaked as he shifted his weight. "I am technically one of the Fae myself, and we have our own ideas about the world, and the gods, and dimensions beyond what can be seen. There is a theory among my people—" His words cut off abruptly, and tension sang through every muscle of his hand where it contacted mine. "Hush a moment."
I heard it then—the unmistakable rhythm of hoofbeats, and a faint whinny.
"Someone is here." He began swearing again. "Get up, quickly. You will have to hide under the bed, Katrina—I'm sorry for any pain this may cause you." He hauled me out of the bed and helped me scoot sideways under it, on my belly. "Hurry. Watch your head. A little further in, I can still see your foot. There now—stay. And for the love of all that is holy, be quiet!"
4
There was a brief scuffle as the Horseman stuffed a few telltale items under the bed with me and rearranged the blankets, letting them drape low over the side to conceal my hiding place. His footsteps vibrated through the wood floor as he went out into the hall. A door squeaked, and then I heard muttered greetings.
Lying blindfolded and wounded under the Horseman's bed was not something I had ever expected to do. I did not like it. A faint smell of rot and damp earth drifted up to my nose through a crack in the floorboards, and something leggy skittered over my hand. I bit my tongue to keep from yelping, and then my mouth tasted like copper and salt.
Two sets of feet were coming nearer—nearer—they entered the room, and I heard the second voice—a woman's voice. A familiar voice, one whose melody I had heard all my life. The sweet, clear tones of Anika Van Brunt.
"Usually you are a little more gracious when I have taken the trouble to travel all the way up here to your disgusting cabin," she said. "But this time I had to invite myself in. Your manners are failing, Eamon."
"I apologize," the Horseman muttered.
No. This could not be happening. Why would Anika Van Brunt be visiting the Horseman?
Unless—
No. Impossible.
"May I offer you some water? Bread?" The Horseman's voice sounded higher than usual, and inwardly I willed for him to be calm, to conceal his nerves and his fear from this woman—this woman I thought I knew—
"No, thank you," Anika replied. "Let us get straight to business. Clearly you disposed of the schoolmaster as I requested—well done. My neighbors are not sure whether he was a victim of the Horseman or simply took a new position in another town. There's already a rumor circulating that Ichabod found a wealthy widow to marry, somewhere beyond the valley. It was perfectly executed."
"I am glad you are pleased with the outcome."
"But I amnotpleased. My triumph over the insipid schoolmaster has been tarnished by the mysterious disappearance of the Van Tassel girl. You know I didn't want her dead. I wanted Ichabod out of the way because he has been babbling about the dullahan for weeks, to this person and that—and also because he seemed to be stealing Katrina's affections away from my darling Brom. But now Katrina is nowhere to be found, and my son is telling everyone that the Horseman killed both her and Ichabod. Men have been searching the forests and ponds for her body. What happened, Eamon? She is the perfect bride for my son. If you have killed her, I shall be very displeased."
"I did not kill her," said the Horseman. "Though I did catch a glimpse of her that night. She ran off while I was slaying Ichabod. Perhaps she got lost. Perhaps someone else attacked her. Remember the pickpocket who came through a while back, the one you had me kill after he stole your favorite brooch? And those two ruffians I dispatched a month ago, the pair you suspected of being deserters, or pirates? You told me yourself that more unsavory characters are coming into the valley of late. The girl could have encountered someone of that sort."
"I suppose so. Or she could have gotten lost, as you say," mused Anika. "Though she knows the woods and fields well. She and Brom used to roam the glades together—we permitted it, you see, because they were to be married when they grew older. They should have been married by now! Curse her foolish mother for not pressing the girl into it when she was sixteen, or eighteen! The knot should have been tied back then. When they delayed again, last year, I nearly ordered Brom to take her anyway and get her with child, so the marriage wouldhaveto happen. And now she is lost, you say, or defiled and murdered by ruffians? You swear you did not harm her?"
"I swear to you, my mistress—I did not lay a violent hand on the girl."
"Oh, very well. I can see you speak the truth." Anika blew out a frustrated breath. "Where shall I find another such wife for my Brom? Katrina was perfect. Beautiful, well-shaped, intelligent, good-humored—with plenty of lands and wealth to keep me and my son comfortable for years. Such a fine position we would have had! So many little luxuries, and such well-appointed rooms in that big house—I have always loved it."
"You might have had to wait a long time to enjoy it," said the Horseman. "I saw Baltus Van Tassel recently—he is still a hale and hearty man."
"Oh, I was going to have you knock him off, a year or so after the wedding," said Anika carelessly. "It's so wonderfully convenient, having you at my disposal, dear Eamon. I know you disapprove of some of my methods, but it is a good life for you here, is it not? Quiet and peaceful, far from noise and trouble. And you have everything you need. I make sure of that, don't I?"
"Yes, my mistress."
"Well, I want you to ride tonight—not to kill, but to look for the wayward Katrina. Perhaps she is huddled in a distant copse, or has taken refuge in some old shack. My hope is fading, because it has been two days—but we must keep up our spirits! And if she is not to be found—well—I suppose I must alter the plan I have held dear for decades, and find another wife for my Brom. A pity that the Van Tassels have no other heirs!"
"They must be heartbroken," the Horseman said.
"Oh, Eamon my dear, don't I know it! The wails and whimpers I have had to endure from Ilse Van Tassel—the floods of tears she has shed into the shoulder of my good dress—you would not believe it. I do feel sorry for her, the poor thing. She may be a stiff-necked, silly woman, but I consider her a friend."
A chair shifted, and Anika's feet tapped the floor. "I should be going. I do not like to linger here. Remember, our connection must be kept strictly secret. You are limiting your visits to town, yes? Only once a month for necessities, wearing your scarf and hat, speaking to no one?"
