Page 7 of The Horseman of Sleepy Hollow
Ichabod recoiled. "Then time you shall have, and space as well."
He clutched his book to his chest, as if to shield his heart from me.
"Ichabod—"
"I am sorry, Katrina—I need to be alone for a while."
He walked away, his thin shoulders hunched under that ridiculously large coat of his. Something about the sag of his posture pierced straight through my soul. I clenched my fists, threw back my head, and screeched with frustration. The night was black as ink, with a sprinkling of stars and a thin moon offering little light and even less hope for my situation.
Instead of trying to follow Ichabod or returning to the fire pit, I stalked back toward the house. The party was beginning to dissolve, with neighbors collecting their dishes and bidding my parents farewell. I was drawn into the farewells, too; and though I chafed at the performative niceties, I could do nothing but smile and nod until most of the guests had gone.
I could not get Ichabod's disappointment out of my head. Even if I did not wish to marry him, he was still my friend, a man I respected and liked. His pain twisted my heart, and I yearned to soften it, if I could manage to do so without giving him false hope. And I was worried, too, about his ability to manage the wicked old horse Gunpowder while he was in such a despondent state.
When I could get away from the farewells, I ran to the stables and asked Old Peter if Gunpowder was still in the stall. He shook his head. "The schoolmaster has just left, Miss Katrina. He was a sorry sight, trembling like aspen leaves. He could barely manage to mount his horse." Peter shook his head. "And that horse knew he was not fit to ride. The poor boy will likely be thrown before he reaches the bridge."
"Get me a horse, please, Peter," I told him.
"But—Miss Katrina—"
"Please." I laid my hand over his gnarled one. "I need to make sure that Ichabod gets home safely. If my parents ask where I am, tell them I am walking in the orchard with Brom. That will please them."
Peter nodded, resigned. "As you say, Miss Katrina."
He saddled my favorite horse, Nehalennia, and I mounted as best I could, hitching my party dress up to my thighs. Peter averted his eyes, his wrinkles deepening as he frowned. "Miss Katrina—"
"It's dark, Peter. No one will see."
I urged Nehalennia out of the yard and across the field, over the fence and along the road to the forest.
The instant my horse and I passed into the wood, the faint starlight and moonlight dimmed drastically. I could barely see the road, and my horse must have been navigating by sheer instinct and memory.
Crickets whistled a shrill chorus from the bushes, and fireflies winked on and off in the clearings as we passed. The smoky scent of the bonfires from home had drifted far over the valley and sifted between the branches, mingling with the damp, sweetish scent of rotting leaves. The cool breeze raised goosebumps along my arms, and I wished I had thought to bring a shawl.
I was nearly to the Old Church Bridge when I saw Ichabod's hat lying in the road, next to a smashed pumpkin.
My heart jolted, terror sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over my body. The tales of the Headless Horseman and the flaming pumpkin were still fresh in my mind.
With my heart throbbing in my throat, I dismounted and inched toward the broken pumpkin. Slowly I reached down to touch Ichabod's battered hat.
Hoofbeats vibrated through the earth, and I snapped upright, losing my grip on Nehalennia's reins.
Around the bend raced a man on horseback—I could not tell who it was, but at least I could distinguish the shape of ahead. Thank goodness.
"Katrina?" Brom's voice. I was both relieved and disappointed. "I saw you leaving on horseback. What are you doing out here? It is not wise for a beautiful woman to be alone in the forest at night."
He swung off Daredevil and approached me. But instead of recapturing my horse's reins for me, he smacked Nehalennia's rump and sent her cantering away down the road, back toward home.
"Why did you do that?" I gasped.
He leaned in so close that his breath moved the stray curls around my face. "So you can ride back to the farm with me."
I drew back with a shaky laugh. "On Daredevil? I might fall."
"I will hold you tight." He smiled and moved closer, his nose brushing my cheek. "You are safe with me."
But I did not feel safe—not here, with no one else nearby, shrouded in shadows with Brom's enormous frame looming over me. There was something menacing and hungry about his stance and his expression, what little I could see of both in the gloom.
Again I backed away. "I need to find Ichabod. He was upset when he left, and still frightened from your terrible stories."
