Page 4 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

The cool night air stung her warm skin. It was a welcome contrast to the suffocating heat in her home. She inhaled deeply, indulging in how the cold soothed the tautness in her throat. Despite the fresh air, her mind rattled with thoughts of her unwanted suitors and the curious tale of the Headless Horseman. She had no destination in mind as she walked along the property, but soon she found herself on the road.

The wind blew through her petticoats, making her shiver again. Although the dress was made for special occasions, not impromptu strolls in the middle of an autumn night, the chill was a welcome distraction for her nerves. She trained her eyes on the path, her mind distant as she walked.

Katrina suddenly stopped when she realized she had reached the bridge to the church. Usually, it was a twenty-minute walk, and she blinked. Had twenty minutes really gone by? It was hard to believe, but here she was without a chaperone. Most young women in the village did not have chaperones to accompany them, but Father insisted that she take Greta, her maid, with her wherever she went. He said she should take precautions because of their status and wealth in the town.

Regardless, most young women did not stray alone in the dark without improper intentions. What would everyone think of her if they spotted her alone in the dark? Perhaps even Brom and Ichabod would be horrified, and despite whether she wished to be rid of them, she could not risk tarnishing her family name or ruining her chances of ever marrying.

Hopefully, most townsfolk were too occupied celebrating the holiday or asleep in their beds to notice the Van Tassel girl wandering around Sleepy Hollow. Turning on her heel, she started back, pulling up the hood of her cloak and keeping her head low. She attempted to formulate an excuse in case anyone recognized her until an odd sound diverted her attention.

Crows cawed from the trees, and crickets trilled in the silence, but she strained to hear the faint, rhythmic thrum. Goosebumps crawled over her arms. Branches rattled above her head, and crimson leaves swirled around her feet as a gust of wind howled through the night. Yet, the unmistakable sound of clomping drew nearer.

Katrina rationalized it could be a lone traveler or someone retiring from her father’s party, and she had nothing to fear, but Brom’s haunted tale slithered in her thoughts.

“Take care out on the roads tonight, for you might encounter the Headless Horseman at midnight.”

All the moisture fled from her mouth. What time was it? It had been late when she left the estate, but had it neared midnight already?

No, Katrina shook away the silly thoughts. She would not be frightened by ghost stories meant to frighten children. Clenching her jaw, she pressed forward, eager to prove to herself how irrational her thoughts were, but the steady drum of clomping hooves froze her to the spot.

The sound grew louder until it echoed in her ears. Her pulse raced as her eyes darted around the darkness. Heaving, snorting breaths carried on the wind. The rattle of reins grated against her thundering heart.

Katrina begged herself to move and run, but her legs refused. Fear rooted her to the ground, forcing her to stare into the darkness. A scream rose in her throat as a horse stepped into the moonlight, its shadowed rider looming above her.

Chapter three

“Miss Van Tassel?” a familiar voice asked.

The roar of Katrina’s pulse in her ears slowed as moonlight revealed a lanky man sitting atop a large horse. Never had she been as relieved to see Ichabod Crane as she was at this moment.

Katrina placed a hand over her sputtering heart. “Oh, Mister Crane, it’s just you.” Chuckling under her breath, she chided herself for allowing her fears to get the best of her.

Gunpowder, Farmer Van Ripper’s horse, snorted, his breath visible in the cold. The old, gray gelding had an exhausted droop in his eyes, the strain of a lifetime filled with labor etched in his frame. Gunpowder took a weary step, chewing at his bit. Ichabod must have traded something with the farmer in exchange for using the horse tonight.

Ichabod peered down over his nose, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” she started, flustered by the new shift of nerves settling over her. Now that the threat of ghosts was gone, she had a new predicament. If she didn’t offer a justifiable excuse, she would be unable to maintain her upstanding appearance in society.

Katrina smiled, hoping it would distract the schoolmaster. “I could ask you the same. What is a schoolmaster like yourself wandering around in the middle of the night? Isn’t your home the opposite way?”

Ichabod’s nose twitched at her inquisition. “I was returning home, but Gunpowder was spooked by something and took a wrong turn. Why are you here? I thought you were going to the privy?”

“You didn’t wait very long for me, did you?” she teased.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. It was then that she noticed the water dripping from his coat. Perhaps Brom had spilled something on him on purpose to force him home.

“I had a mishap with a pint of beer,” he said sourly, confirming her suspicions. “Though that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Her eyes darted to the dark silhouette of the church and the shadowy graves beyond the bridge behind her. “I had lost one of my mother’s brooches near here. I forgot about it until she asked for it this evening. I couldn’t bear to tell her I had misplaced it, so I snuck out, hoping to retrieve it before the party ended,” she said, the lie slipping behind her teeth. “I hardly expected your charming company here.”

Ichabod’s face lit up as he awkwardly dismounted. One of his feet caught on the stirrups, and his arms pinwheeled before he fell flat on his rear on the road. Katrina raised a hand to her lips to hide the muffled chuckles bouncing in her chest. Quickly, he composed himself, all gangly limbs straightening before her.

“I see. Well, this is most serendipitous,” he announced all too eagerly.

Before she could react, he approached. His long, bony fingers ensnared her hands, and his cold touch rendered her speechless.

“I’ve been patiently seeking an opportunity like this,” he said, his lips curling into a grin. “To finally catch you alone so I might profess my feelings in private.”

Katrina forced a pleasant expression and gently released herself from his grip. She retreated, clasping her hands behind her back lest he be tempted to grab them again.