Chapter seven
The wind stirred beneath his horse’s feet.
Each step muffled under the sweet, damp earth and withered leaves.
The Horseman tugged on Inferno’s reins as he neared the property: the Van Tassel Estate.
Beyond the trees, orchards, and fields of wheat filled his vision—the crisp scent of apples and pine carried on the breeze.
He’d familiarized himself with this place like the shadows knew the night.
Some invisible thread tied him to the estate—to the mystifying young woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.
She’d drawn him in like flies to honey with her enchanting spirit for as long as he could remember.
Without fail, there was a relentless urge that refused to go away unless he confirmed her safety every day.
As the years passed, he never once believed he’d reveal himself to her. How could he? Not when he was the monster in the shadows—an enigmatic ghost plaguing the villagers’ nightmares.
Yet, in a twist of fate, all of that changed.
He had spoken to Katrina, touched her hand, and sat beside her, drinking her sweet hot chocolate.
She had promised to help him rediscover his memories.
It must have been a lovely but impossible dream, but the pounding beneath his chest confirmed it had all been real.
However, a voice whispered he’d gone mad.
Katrina would not come to see him tonight or any night to come—a tightness formed in his chest. Inferno shifted beneath his saddle, sensing his unease.
The breeze blew against his solid chest, but he did not feel its cold.
Perhaps Katrina had changed her mind. What sensible person would want to meet a specter in the dead of night?
Besides the leaves swirling in the air, the forest was eerily still. How long had he been waiting? Minutes? Hours? How much longer would he continue to wait until she sought him out?
A twig snapped in the distance, and he stirred at the sound, his hope igniting and then extinguishing when silence followed.
Leaves crunched beneath footsteps. The outline of a slender, feminine figure formed, and a jolt of thrill ran through him. Once she was in sight of the scarred tree, he dismounted his steed, and anticipation buzzed as he led the horse by the reins to greet her.
She had come. She had sought him out of her own volition for the second time. His hand clenched the reins, unable to contain these new, surging emotions. The horse snorted, his red eyes flashing, but Inferno tolerated her presence otherwise.
“Good evening,” she said, fanning her deep blue cloak into a curtsey. Beneath, she wore a striking red wrapper with golden florals, but he wondered if she was warm enough without her typical daywear.
The Horsman lifted his pumpkin head in return. He’d seen the gesture the village men performed countless times to memorize the formalities.
Katrina’s eyes grew wide. Biting her lip, she raised her hand to her mouth, unable to contain her giggles.
The Horseman’s smile grew. Whatever he’d done, he wished to do it again. He enjoyed the sound of her soft laughter.
“Good evening,” he said in return. It came out like a deep thrum—foreign and strange. Words still grated against his invisible throat since he was still unused to speaking. However, he’d push past the strain and awkwardness if it meant conversing with Katrina like a typical man.
“It was kind of you to meet closer to me,” she said, gesturing to the estate behind her.
He nodded gravely. “I will go wherever you wish me to go.”
Even in the shadows, he didn’t miss the way her cheeks darkened. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was an appealing reaction.
“I-I found a list of names of those who died during the war,” she said suddenly. She tucked a curl behind her ear, and her gaze averted to the ground. The Horseman studied these reactions, memorizing each to hopefully understand their meaning.
“I also found the ones who had fallen at White Plains by looking up their month and year of death,” she continued. “I narrowed it down to three, but including my brother makes it two,” she said, a hint of pride lacing her voice.
Opening her journal, she extended it to show him her work. The Horseman shuffled hesitantly closer, not wishing to spook her lest she run like a frightened deer.
“See?” she asked. “Perhaps some of these names are familiar to you.”
Before he could peer at the pages, she jerked away suddenly.
A gasp flew from her lips. Every nerve fired within him as he jumped back, ripping his sword from his belt.
The weapon whistled in the air, his gaze flashing to find the perpetrator.
A movement stirred by her legs, and he lowered his weapon in the creature’s direction.
His jagged smile transformed into a scowl, his brows drawn and eyes sharpening.
The tiny creature near her legs peered up with large, orange eyes. The Horseman’s muscles grew taut, ready to lunge at the animal until Katrina’s voice snapped him out of his haze.
“Oh, it’s just Smudge,” she said, “it’s all right, Horseman. This is my cat. He must have followed me.”
Inferno stamped his feet, and fire continued to rage through the Horseman’s veins, but he reluctantly sheathed his sword.
Katrina chuckled, the sound soothing his racing heart. “Do not fret. He won’t bite.”
She knelt to pick up the cat, cradling him in her arms as he purred.
The Horseman eyed the cat warily. No wonder he’d missed the animal’s presence—he blended seamlessly into the night. He’d seen the cat by Katrina’s side over the years and knew the creature had a penchant for following her.
Smudge raised a paw toward him, and he instinctively stepped back.
“Are you not fond of cats?” she asked, stroking Smudge’s chin.
“I do not dislike cats,” he said, regarding the animal’s curious, tangerine eyes. “However, most animals besides Inferno do not tolerate me. I frighten them.”
Her brows furrowed. “Inferno?”
“My horse,” he said in explanation.
She glanced at Inferno and nodded. “I see. Well—” She turned her gaze back on him with a twinkle in her eye. “I believe Smudge might like you if you give him a chance.”
Experience had told him otherwise. Too many critters and birds had made it known he was not their friend. However, the cat leaped from her arms and sashayed toward him, his tail perking into a slight curl. The Horseman froze, careful not to make any sudden movements.
Smudge sniffed around his boots before his paws came up against his shins.
“Aw, see? He likes you,” she cooed.
The Horseman stared at the cat meowing at him.
Perhaps Katrina had misunderstood Smudge’s body language, and the cat aimed to claw at him when he got the chance.
However, the bright orange eyes took on a round, pleading quality that the Horseman could not resist. Slowly, he bent down, and Smudge rubbed his head against his outstretched hand.
A grin curled on the Horseman’s pumpkin face. Although it wasn’t his true face, he felt the carvings stretch as though the mouth were his own. Smudge purred, brushing his body against his legs.
The Horseman could see why Katrina would be fond of the cat. It was difficult to dislike the affectionate creature.
“It seems like you’re not as frightening as the legends say,” Katrina said softly, crouching beside him to pet Smudge.
The Horseman’s eyes flicked to her face. A strange tingling flooded his chest at her proximity, at how she also didn’t seem to fear him. She smoothed her fingers over the cat’s soft fur, and he was entranced by how her mouth lifted into a pretty smile.
She lifted her gaze, and their eyes met—the curious shade of pink dusted her cheeks again before she cleared her throat.
“About those names,” she started, reaching for the journal behind her. Once the book was in her hands, she sat on the forest floor, her white skirts and dark cloak fanning around her. Smudge curled up next to her, purring contentedly.
“You don’t need to sit there—” he said, but she patted the ground for him to join her.
“It’s all right. The ground isn’t wet, and this is a particularly comfortable patch of leaves.”
The Horseman stiffly followed her lead. His hands settled over his knees, fidgeting before his gaze trailed to where she sat, comfortable and at ease in his presence.
She didn’t flinch when she placed the book in his lap or scream when her fingers accidentally brushed against his.
Instead, she gestured to the pages, her eyes gleaming with eagerness, and he wanted nothing more than to indulge her.
“This is the list of men who passed in the war,” she said, tapping one page. “And these two are the names I found linked to the Battle of White Plains. Do you recognize any of them?”
The Horseman blinked at the names.
“Oh, I suppose I should ask if you read,” she said, her voice lowering. “If you cannot, that is perfectly fine—”
“I can,” he answered, though he couldn’t explain to her how, even if he wanted to.
She stared at him owlishly as he discerned her handwriting.
Her penmanship flowed like butterflies fluttering in the sky, ebbing and flowing against the delicate breeze.
The lowercase letters curled daintily, reminding him of Smudge’s crook in his tail.
Unfortunately, no spark of emotion or flashing images flared in the Horseman’s memory.
“I do not recognize any of these names,” he said with a frown.
“That’s all right,” she said, keeping her tone light. However, her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and he feared his failure disappointed her. Would she return if his memory continued to elude him?
“I’ll keep searching then. Perhaps you’re not from Sleepy Hollow after all,” she continued.
“Perhaps,” he murmured.
“Or maybe you’re much older than I thought,” she said with a finger tapping her lips. “It would make more sense if you were born here since you feel the need to protect it. I’ll search the records, and we can go through the names together.”
He frowned, his chest tightening. “If I’m not a soldier from the war, how could I help you if I don’t know the way to White Plains?”
And perhaps he would never see her again if he could not provide what she needed.
Katrina retrieved her journal and gently closed it. “We won’t know if you will know the way once you regain your memories. Besides, I could always find a map.”
“I could take you there tonight if you wished,” he said.
Her blonde curls swayed from side to side as she shook her head. “I made a promise and intend to keep it,” she said. “I want to help you regain your memories, not because I owe you, but… I wish to help you.”
Heat sparked within him like a hearth, growing steadier in the night. All the years of shadows, isolation, and desolation paled compared to this glimmer of light shining on his soul.
He never understood why he’d been drawn to Katrina, but now he knew how precious the light and kindness in her spirit were. However, he selfishly wished for more. Years without speaking to another soul left an aching void in his heart—a desire to feel whole again.
Katrina stood, brushing a leaf from her cloak, and he followed suit, rising to his feet.
“I suppose I should return, then,” she said. “I’ll need to rise early to do more research. I will return to this same place when I find answers. In the meantime, good evening, Horseman.”
Katrina dipped into a slight curtsey, and Smudge chattered a farewell. As she turned, nagging pressure built inside him until he could no longer contain it.
“Wait,” he called out.
Katrina’s skirts whirled as she faced him. “Yes?” she asked, her blue eyes blinking against the moonlight.
“May I see you again tomorrow? And…” He swallowed, his stomach flipping with nerves. “Every night?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Every night?” she echoed back. The uncertainty in the dip of her voice sent a ripple of panic through him.
“I only meant to say that I find your company most… agreeable,” he said timidly, dimming the light in his pumpkin. The glow flickered against her shocked expression. “I have spent many years in solitude and can meet you at any hour.”
Her rosy lips parted. “I had the impression you only wander at night?”
“It is the safest time to roam, yes. I sleep during the day.”
“Do you find my company enjoyable enough to sacrifice your sleep for me?” She laughed.
“Yes,” he said, his pulse racing in his ears. “I do.”
A hush fell between them, punctuated by the wind whispering through the branches. The silence grew heavier the longer she stared at him with rounded eyes. His heart drummed faster with every passing second.
Then, a soft grin graced her lips. “I would be more than delighted to visit my new friend. Perhaps our meetings may also rouse your memories?”
His jagged smile widened, stretching impossibly longer. “So, you will meet me again? Tomorrow?” he asked, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.
“Yes,” she said. “I can meet you after dinner.”
“I shall be here,” he promised.
“And I will return,” she said. “Good evening, Horseman.”
“Good evening,” he whispered back.
The Horseman watched her retreating form long after she melted into the shadows. After several minutes, he followed to ensure she made it home safely. When the back door shut, a gentle heat pooled around his heart.
She called him her friend.