Page 9 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

The fidgeting stopped before he peered up at her. “Yes… and no. If I am cursed with this affliction,” he gestured to the pumpkin, substituting for his head, “then what darkness will I find?”

Katrina frowned, her heart clenching. Leaning forward, she smiled. “You won’t be alone. You have me now, and I owe you my life. Let me repay you by helping you discover yours.”

The Horseman’s triangular eyes widened. His hands clenched around the flask before he sighed. “You may not like what you discover either. But I will take you to White Plains if we uncover my memories.”

Katrina’s heart soared. For the first time in a long while, she had hoped for true peace before being shackled to a married life with a man she did not love.

“I know it might not be easy,” she said, “but I am grateful all the same.”

The Horseman stood, his cape rippling around his legs as he extended the empty flask to her. “Thank you for the hot chocolate as well. Find me in the woods, north of the orchard off your property. Keep north until you come across a tree with a scorched lightning scar.”

“I think I may be able to meet you after nine in the evening tomorrow.”

“Very well.”

With that, he turned and strode to his steed. Before he could mount, she called out, “Wait! Do you have a name I may call you? I only know you as Horseman, and that feels impolite.”

He tilted his head, or pumpkin, and his features softened against the warm light within. “I may have had a name, but I do not know it. You may continue to call me Horseman until we discover my true name.”

With a stiff nod, he mounted his horse and disappeared into the night. Katrina held their flasks in her hands as she stared after him, wondering what she would discover on this strange, new journey.

Chapter six

Katrina yawned, mindlessly stirring sugar in her tea as she looked beyond the window. She wondered if the Headless Horseman was still waiting in the darkness.

The idea did not disturb her as it should’ve.

Instead, she felt comforted by the idea of having a dark guardian angel—perhaps one Johannes had sent to watch over her. The memories of the Horseman’s endearing pumpkin face had been less terrifying than the tales had portrayed him. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. Something about his shy, lonely soul drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

“Katrina, dear, did you sleep well, or did Brom’s ghost stories from the other evening keep you up?” her father inquired from across from her, a wisp of smoke burned from his pipe. It had a slightly sweet, citrus note in the heady, earthy scent—a smell that had been nostalgic since childhood.

“No, Father, I slept well,” she answered. “Though the tales do stir the imagination.”

Her mother sat beside her, delicately sipping her tea. She sat upright in her chair, quiet and serene as always. Katrina wished she could emulate her mother’s grace, intelligence, and strength to run the household she would one day inherit.

“Indeed, they do! It is a tale of caution to keep innocent souls inside lest they meet trouble in the middle of the night,” he said with a pleasant hum. A sudden cough racked through him, but he composed himself and took another puff of his pipe after a moment.

Katrina frowned at the concerning cough but raised her teacup to her lips. If only Father knew. She had snuck back into the manor no less than one in the morning before she wrapped her covers around herself and fell soundly asleep. She attempted to hide another long yawn behind her teacup.

“I heard Brom and Ichabod wanted a word with you the other night,” Father said casually.

“They were searching for you,” Mother added.

“Yes… They were,” Katrina started, frowning. This was not the conversation she wished to be discussing, but how long could she keep procrastinating the inevitable? “But unfortunately, we did not get to those conversations.”

“Daughter,” Father said in a firm tone. “I thought you would be an engaged woman by now.”

“The opportunity did not strike as we had hoped,” she said lightly, hoping to defuse the tension.

“Brom will be wanting a word with you soon, then,” Father said. “I believe Ichabod may no longer be an option for you, dear. They found his hat near the old bridge by the church. No one has seen him since All Hallows’ Eve. We fear he may have left town, but no one knows why.”

Katrina swallowed. She knew the truth of Ichabod’s disappearance, how the Headless Horseman frightened him away—perhaps forever. The thought sent a pang of guilt through her, but she immediately squashed it. It wasn’t as if the Horseman had harmed the man. Ichabod had abandoned her to fend for herself.

But that meant she couldn’t continue to play to the men’s vying attention and keep them distracted. There was only one suitor left with no other man to challenge him. She was running out of time.

“Brom is a fine young man,” Mother said as she cut into her breakfast. “He’s been patient and would be a wonderful match to inherit your father’s business. You are nearing twenty-five next month. You may not have much time before you are no longer of marriageable age.”

Katrina nodded, but her mind was far from the conversation about suitors and the reminder of her impending age. More pressing matters were at hand, like discovering the memories of a dead man, so the topic of marriage would have to be delayed.