Page 16 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

“But that’s not all he could be,” Farmer Van Ripper added. “Some say he was a lad from this here, Sleepy Hollow.”

Katrina’s head snapped in surprise. “Truly?” she asked, sounding as frightened as she could muster. “Who do you suppose it could be?”

Van Ripper shrugged. “That’s the thing. No one really knows. It could be any folk that served in the war, the few from here who passed, that is, God rest their souls.” Van Ripper took his cap off and put it to his chest in solemn respect.

Mrs. Jansen’s lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be any of those innocent souls,” she scolded. She gave Katrina a meaningful look, and Katrina shifted uncomfortably. “Your brother was a wonderful man, Miss.”

Van Ripper stuttered, “N-no, of course not! I didn’t mean to imply the ghost could be him. I meant no disrespect.”

“Do not fret; no offense was taken,” Katrina said lightly, despite her heart clenching at the reminder.

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself, child,” Mrs. Jansen said. “Just be sure to open your Bible every night and light a candle by the window, and the ghost will surely leave you be.”

“Thank you,” Katrina said gravely, and to sound more convincing, she added, “though I cannot help but fear traveling near the forest now.”

Mrs. Jansen’s wrinkled hand squeezed hers again. “Now, now, dear. There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Like I said, the Lord’s words will protect you. Keep to the road and don’t go too deep into the woods. There are more than just spirits that live there.”

Katrina’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Fear gleamed in Van Ripper’s eyes before he tipped his hat. “I apologize. I ought to be going now, ladies,” he said, tipping his hat before leaving.

“And I have some knitting to finish,” Mrs. Jansen said, releasing her hand. “Stay safe now, dear.”

Katrina nodded but couldn’t help but wonder what else Mrs. Jansen was referring to regarding the other strange things lurking in the forest. What else could be as frightening as the Headless Horseman?

Chapter nine

Katrina came back with a slice of apple pie the following evening. At first, the Horseman didn’t dare to hope, but she came again and again until a week and a half had slipped by like a dream. The nights became shorter, and the anticipation kept him awake when he needed to sleep, his legs shifting restlessly until the sun lowered in the sky.

He had something to look forward to in his lonely existence—some light within the darkness. The spectacle of waiting became addictive, but her presence and friendly conversation were even more so.

Some nights, she visited for only a few minutes to review names she found in church records. Others, she stayed for an hour to talk about her day and the following mishaps. The Horseman had little to contribute to the conversation, but he enjoyed sitting and listening to her chat, her hands gesturing animatedly as she spoke.

“Mother bought me a new bonnet the other day,” Katrina had told him the third night. “It’s a beautiful thing with silk ribbons, but it blew right off my head in the wind. I chased it around like a madwoman at the market until it plopped on Gunpowder’s head!” she said, giggling.

On the eighth night, she came to him looking cross as a pleased Smudge trotted behind her.

“This ball of mischief slept on the sack of flour. The next thing I knew, little ghostly white paw prints were tracked all over my bed! He left a trail of flour from the kitchens to the second floor,” she said, shaking her head in disapproval.

Tonight, the Horseman couldn’t stop staring at Katrina’s lips. The way they formed words and lifted into an enchanting, mesmerizing smile, her eyes sparkled when she spoke of Marta’s hot chocolate. Then, the smile vanished.

“Brom attempted to visit me today,” she informed him, twisting a leaf between her delicate fingers that she found by her skirts. Katrina had a penchant for sitting on the ground, but he didn’t mind. A frown painted her perfectly shaped mouth, and the Horseman found that he also disliked the mention of Brom. An uncomfortable sourness sat in his stomach when he thought of the man vying for her attention.

“I saw him coming up the property with a bouquet.” She sighed, but a smirk replaced her grimace. “However, Bart, our goose, had escaped his pen. He charged Brom, his wings spread out for battle.”

The Horseman’s grin widened at the image of the goose challenging the large man. “Then what happened?” he asked.

“Brom stood his ground, thinking he could assert his dominance over Bart, but let’s just say…” She paused, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle her snickers. “Brom won’t be wearing that coat anytime soon.”

He chuckled, finding her laughter contagious.

When her giggles subsided, she said, “Oh, if only Bart could chase him away forever.”

The Horseman frowned. “Why must you marry him if you don’t wish to?” he asked.

Katrina had briefly explained to him that she had an unwanted suitor, but she hadn’t discussed why she tolerated the man. When her face fell, he regretted asking the question.

“I will be twenty-five in December and expected to marry soon. I’m reaching the limit of marriageable status. My parents wish to ensure our ancestral estate passes on to my husband,” she said.