Page 10 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

Dust motes speckled the air, dancing in the light as Katrina pored over the records Reverend Visser had given her. The elderly man, with kind eyes and a weathered face etched with years of compassionate service, hovered behind her, curious about her requests.

“Is that all you need, my dear?” he asked, his voice soft as candlelight.

“Yes, Reverend, that’s all,” she said, “thank you.”

“If you need anything else, let me know, child.”

With a wave, he left her to her devices, and she proceeded to scan through the list of fallen soldiers who had volunteered to serve in the Continental Army. Ten of the twenty-five men who served had fallen in action.

Katrina copied those names in her journal, and her heart skipped a beat when she reached her brother’s name. Her quill hovered over the page, and sadness prickled in her heart before she moved on to the rest.

With her research finished, she bustled out of the church and thanked the Reverend.

On her way out, Greta, one of her maids who stood outside the church to wait for her, followed close behind.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Greta asked. The young woman was twenty-seven years old, two years Katrina’s senior, with a curious glint in her chocolate brown eyes.

“I’m not quite sure,” Katrina admitted, not wanting to give too much away. Greta might report to her mother if she wasn’t too careful.

Her maid glanced at the journal she brought. “You said you were looking for names. What do you need them for, anyhow?”

Katrina had prepared the lie ahead of time, and she adopted a sincere, grim tone. “I wanted to pay my respects to all who passed in the war. Visiting my brother’s grave inspired me.”

“I see. That is quite admirable of you, miss,” Greta said approvingly. Katrina exhaled a quiet breath of relief that her maid bought her lie.

It wasn’t uncommon for those to leave garlands of flowers for the fallen soldiers. However, she would have to find time to make the garlands to keep up her charade.

On her way out, the barber, Cornelis, who went by Cees, tipped his hat to her as he trimmed the butcher’s beard. Lijsbeth, the seamstress, waved from her window as she patched a jacket. The townsfolk bustled around her, greeting her by name as she passed, and she offered them a smile of her own. As a Van Tassel, her family accumulated wealth over the generations, and she couldn’t go anywhere in town without recognition. However, she enjoyed the kindness of the small community.

Her pleasant morning was interrupted when she spotted Brom across the road speaking with some of his acquaintances, known as the Sleepy Hollow Riders, by the Ye Olde Sleepy Shoppe. Shielding her face, she pivoted on her heel.

Footsteps hurried behind her. “Katrina!”

Katrina stiffened at the sound of her name. Greta raised her brows suggestively, tilting her head toward the man striding in their direction. Katrina held in a groan, composed herself, and turned to greet him.

“Mister Van Brunt,” she said.

Brom raised his hat and bowed his head in greeting. “There is no need for formalities; you may call me Brom,” he said with a brilliant smile.

“Yes, of course,” she said, still not wanting to use his given name to encourage him.

His large frame blocked the rare sunlight that peeked through the autumn sky. Dark, tousled curls escaped the tie at the nape of his neck, hovering over his mischievous chestnut eyes. His brown coat sat snug on his muscled arms, the buttons at his chest pulling with strain by his large pectorals. By all accounts, Brom was quite attractive. As her mother mentioned, he was a strapping young man she should want as a husband, but she couldn’t see past his pride and arrogance. Maybe he would make a fine husband for someone else, but not for her.

Unfortunately, since Brom had scared off all the other suitors in town, she had no choice but to consider him for marriage.

“You’ve been scarce since All Hallows’ Eve,” he stated casually, but suspicion glinted in his eyes. “I’ve been wanting a word with you.”

“I apologize,” she said gently, “My mind has been occupied. Reflecting on the past at this time of year is difficult for me.”

“Yes, your brother,” he acknowledged with a frown. “You are truly a devoted sister to honor him each year. However, I would also think you should consider the future. You’re not getting any younger.”

Katrina held back a scowl as she forced a smile. “In due time. I believe I am owed my moment of grief during this difficult season.”

“I see. I was starting to believe you were avoiding me,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I’ve been needing time to pay my respects,” she said, hoping her emphasis on her grief would provide her some distance. “I’m also honoring those who have fallen in the war here in town.”

“And how long will you be needing this period of grief?” he asked, inching closer to her despite Greta being on the other side. The man seemed to care little about chaperones watching—why would he if his engagement to her was nearly secure?