“See? You know my name,” I said, and his eyes sparked with amusement. “Your horse has a name. You should have a name.”
“Will you choose one for me?” the Horseman asked.
“Choose a name for you?” I echoed.
“Yes.”
That surprised me, for the Horseman was a man, not a dog or even a child. “Do you not wish to choose your own?”
He shook his head where it rested on his lap. “It has been so long since I have been out in the world. It would mean more to me if you were to select one for me.”
My mouth went dry at that, and I cleared my throat. “Really?”
“Yes. You have been so kind to me in what must be a time of great terror for you. I would be honored for you to choose what to call me.”
Every name I had ever known suddenly went out of my head, and I stared at him for a long moment. What did one call a headless specter who haunted the woods on Halloween after being cursed by a witch? A simple name would probably be best, but this man was hardly simple. And then it came to me, landing in my mind like a bird settling upon its nest. “Reiter,” I said. His head cocked curiously. “Your accent is Germanic. Reiter is German for ‘Rider.’” Perhaps that was a bit on the nose, but the Horseman scrunched up his face thoughtfully before smiling.
“Reiter. I like that.”
At least I had not displeased him. My heart gave a little flip-flop at the smile on his face, glad that I now had a name to connect to the fearsome Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.
Chapter Six
Afterthat,ReiterandI had a much easier relationship. He would go out at night, into the woods behind the church, or sometimes over the bridge, to hunt food for me, or sneak into the village to take from their storehouses. I did not like when he was gone, for I could not know if he was safe or if I might suddenly be left alone. But he was always back before the sun rose, bringing all manner of game, forest fruits and vegetables, and even cheese from the storehouses. One night he even brought an entire apple pie that he had taken off a windowsill. I rather hoped the owner of the home had not seen the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow sneaking around stealing pastries off of window ledges, of all things.
There was plenty of fresh water from the well in the back or from the stream over which the bridge flowed, and wood from the forest to keep the church warm, cook food, and heat water for me to bathe. Reiter did not need to sleep, and the temperature did not affect him; the nest of blankets he had laid me on the first night of my arrival was simply a place he liked to sit and read, and it became my private space where I might sleep or be alone. When I asked if the grand pipe organ worked, he said that it did but that he did not often play. His own skills on the keys were completely self-taught. “Would you like me to teach you?” I offered, my own fingers itching to get back to music again.
“I would like that,” he agreed. So I sat on the old, wooden bench, and he perched next to me, holding his head up so he could see my hands moving over the keys, then moving his head, but not his body, down to watch my feet move the pedals. “It seems complicated,” he said with a chuckle.
I opened my mouth to respond when a red-hot flare of pain burst in my chest, my heart pulsing like it was trying to break through my ribs. I screamed, my hands clutched to the spot as my body crumpled off the bench, and I hit the floor with a dull thump. My blood rushed in my ears, so loud I could not even hear myself. The agony twisted inside of me, as if my heart were trying to tear itself free of the sinew that attached it to me. I broke out instantly in sweat, and everything went black.
I thought it only lasted for a few seconds. When I opened my eyes, Reiter was kneeling next to me, his hands resting firmly on my arm. “Breathe,” I heard him say, and I sucked in oxygen like a man breaking the surface of a churning ocean. The tension in my chest was starting to ebb a little, and, after a moment, I tried to push myself up, but my arms were shaking too much. I suddenly felt his strong chest press against me from behind as he held me close and helped me sit up, propping me up with his own body. I forced my lungs to work as I gratefully leaned against him, glad I did not have to support my own weight, limp as a rag doll.
A moment later, he was using the hem of his coat to wipe the sweat from my forehead. I froze in surprise at the gesture, so kind and comforting, something I had not experienced in the many years since my mother had passed away.
“Enough music for today,” he said, helping me to my feet and smoothing back my auburn hair. “You look a little pale. Would you like to go for a walk in the churchyard? There is no snow on the ground currently.”
I had yet to be outside of the church walls in my time here since my return, and the thought of fresh air, even if it was cold, invigorated my soul. “Yes. If it is safe.”
Reiter nodded. “No one from Sleepy Hollow can cross the bridge or the river to this area, nor can I be seen by human eyes during the daytime. It is quite safe.”
“Then I would love to,” I said. We went down from the gallery, and he gave me a warm blanket to wrap around my shoulders before pushing open the door and leading me out into the churchyard, dotted with headstones.
The first few breaths chilled my lungs, but the coolness of the air, the nearby splash of water from the stream, and the murmur of birds overhead were a balm to my beaten soul. We walked along amongst the tombs, pausing once in a while for Reiter to point out one in particular. “I do not remember any of these people,” he said. “They would have been from before I was cursed. But I will sometimes make up stories about who they were and how they knew me.”
Sorrow flared in my chest at that. “You really can remember nothing from your life before that night at the harvest party?”
“Very little,” Reiter said.
“Is that strange, to not know who you are?”
He was silent for a moment before he said, “It is, but I think after all of this time, I have come to accept that my former self is gone. If I had lived a normal life, I would have died by now, after over a hundred years. And no one can remember me. The witch wiped me from the face of this earth.”
I frowned deeply. “No one outside of here may remember you, but for the time I have known you, you have been a true gentleman and friend. My time might be limited, but I cannot express how grateful I am to you for the comfort that has brought me.”
Reiter sniffed, and I was startled to see the barest hint of tears forming in his dark eyes. “What is it?” I asked.
Reiter smiled sadly. “You are amazing, Ichabod Crane. You have made me feel something I have not felt in a very long time.”
