5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
Katrina Van Tassel was having hot chocolate with the Headless Horseman.
She had never imagined such a scenario could happen, yet there she was, sitting on a fallen log in the forest with a headless ghost. His intimidating steed munched on some foliage that had survived the frost, and the Horseman sat a comfortable distance beside her.
Katrina sipped from the canteen and eyed him as he lifted the metal to his pumpkin mouth.
The liquid went through the opening, and a satisfied sigh followed.
She couldn’t help but wonder where the liquid would travel.
Would it trickle through him and splash on the log, or did ghosts have the need to eat and drink like any living mortal?
After a moment, the hot chocolate didn’t seep through his legs, so she concluded he must have a physical form to contain it. His grip on her wrist had proven as much the evening prior—but she had no expertise in ghosts or their biological makeup.
“I’m glad I did not presume wrong about the beverage,” she said.
His gloved hands wrapped tighter around the flask. “This… is most unexpected. But not unwelcome.”
Katrina hid her smile as she sipped her drink, enjoying the comfort it gave her in this surreal situation. She did not expect his awkward reply. His deep voice sounded stilted, as though he was unused to speaking with anyone, which she supposed he wouldn’t have much company, if any.
The thought gave her pause, wondering if ghosts could become lonely.
“Do you like it?” she asked, attempting conversation.
He nodded.
Branches gently creaked above, and a faint hoot of an owl filled the silence between them.
Katrina cleared her throat and settled the drink in her lap.
The hot chocolate became cold, and she tapped her fingers against the flask.
Perhaps she needed to get to the heart of her questions, since he didn’t seem well-versed in small talk.
“I was wondering,” she began lightly, shifting her body toward him. “Why did you save me last night?”
The flask near his pumpkin mouth froze. Slowly, he lowered the drink, and the jack-o-lantern smile wavered. His shoulders hunched as if to make himself smaller, and she blinked in surprise. This image of him did not reflect the terrifying ghost she had seen last night.
“Because I could not ignore when you were in peril. I had to act.”
She stared at him wide-eyed.
His slip of nervous energy and guileless honesty rendered her speechless. Her thoughts raced, and she speculated why he felt the impulse to save someone he didn’t know. And why did a spark of thrill pulse through her veins at the thought?
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I do not know. I have no memory of who I am or where I came from. I live alone with this steed,” he gestured to the black horse, “I have been here for fourteen years.”
Fourteen years. That was also when her brother passed away. Some of the rumors must be true, but she couldn’t imagine life alone with no memory in these woods. Nor could she imagine having no identity to call her own.
“Do you think you were perhaps a soldier? Most villagers believe you were a Hessian soldier who fought for the British,” she said.
The soft glow within the pumpkin—the only light in these dark woods—flared momentarily. Something in his expression shifted before he shook his head.
“I do not remember,” he whispered.
“Nothing at all? You wear a soldier’s uniform.
Though upon further inspection.” She paused and leaned in to look at the faded navy color of his coat.
The Horseman stiffened as she neared him.
The fabric was made of wool, thinned and mottled with curious dark stains—loose threads dangled from the edges of his sleeves and collar.
Katrina hummed in thought. It did not look like a Hessian uniform or a red British one.
“It looks like a Continental Army uniform,” she said slowly, the revelation filling her with surprise. Deep inside, she knew this ghost was not her brother—it was an unexplainable yet undeniable feeling she couldn’t shake—but could the Horseman have fought beside Johannes?
He perked, the light glowing brighter again. “Perhaps,” he said.
“Then…” She paused, hope flickering within her. “Do you have any memory of White Plains?”
Another strange emotion flashed on his pumpkin head. “I—” he started before screwing his eyes shut.
“My apologies,” she said. “I did not mean to trouble you.”
“No,” he reassured her. “You did not. Sometimes, I experience… flashes of emotion. Lights. I cannot discern them. But why do you wish to visit White Plains?”
Katrina took a steady breath. The Horseman had proven he was not as dangerous as she had once believed, and she felt strangely safe in his presence for reasons she could not explain. Perhaps he would hear her out.
“I wish to go to White Plains. My brother died on the battlefield there, and I must lay my brother to rest once and for all. We never received his body, and…” she paused, hesitating over the bold request. They had just properly met, and it would be impolite to ask for something when he had saved her.
It was also a mad idea, but she was running out of time.
She must seize this chance before it slipped away.
With new resolve, she said, “I would like you to take me there.”
The pumpkin’s eyes widened. “You want me to take you?” he asked slowly.
“Yes.”
“Why not your family?” he asked.
“They do not wish to unbury the past. We’ve already held a funeral in his name, and they do not wish to travel to a battleground.”
“I see,” he said grimly.
“Could you take me?” she asked again. Usually, she would bat her lashes and lie on her charm, but she didn’t feel she needed to. His presence and candid answers made her feel like she could be more herself around him.
“I cannot,” he said, and her face fell.
“Why?”
“Because I cannot remember the way if I have been there.”
“Then,” she began as an idea formulated in her mind, “perhaps I can help you regain your memories.”
The glow in the pumpkin flickered as if uncertain. “Help me?” he asked with his carved eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” she answered with a firm nod, resolve settling in her chest. “Perhaps it was fate you saved me on the bridge, because now we can assist one another. I can help restore your memories, and you can take me to White Plains before I am forced to marry. If that happens, I’ll never have the chance to make peace with my brother. ”
Whoever she married would expect her to be in bed with him. It would be nearly impossible to sneak out without alerting him. This would be her only chance.
The Horseman sat silently, considering her with a faint, jagged frown. Then, his gaze lowered to the flask in his lap as he sighed. “What if… the past was meant to be forgotten? Or what if I regain my memories and have no connection to this White Plains?”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take if you have no connection to the place,” she said. Then, her eyes softened at his fidgeting fingers. “But perhaps you can confront the past with me. Don’t you want to know who you are?”
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.