Page 3 of Midnight Companion
The feeling of eyes upon me intensified, and I scanned the shadowed limbs. I was so unsure what to look for, I might have passed right over a creature without seeing it, but still I found nothing of note. The tingling extended up my neck and into my scalp, my reddish hair nearly standing up on its own. I gave Gunpowder a kick to the ribs, which he ignored. I clicked my tongue at him, and one of his ragged ears flicked irritably, but he continued to drink.
My mind had started to recall the number of stories of spooks and spirits I had read so much about as a child and continued to enjoy in my later years. While I knew it was not likely that anything in these woods would be an unearthly beast bent on malicious intent, it still did not assuage the prickling of my skin that now spread down my arms under my black coat. A nearby rustle in the bushes drew my attention, my heartbeat intensifying in my chest. I half-expected to see a hungry wolf come bursting out of it.
Imagine my relief when what emerged from the bushes was a man and a woman with a small girl between them; it was the Von Brussetts with their little girl, Annabelle. They seemed a little surprised to see me in such a melancholy place on my melancholic ride. Annabelle gave me a hesitant smile, showing the gap where her two front milk teeth had fallen out. “Come along,” Master Von Brussett said, giving her a pull and me a tight smile. “On your way to the Van Tassels’, Master Crane?”
“Indeed,” I replied, giving Gunpowder another kick. “Shall I accompany you?”
“Oh no, take your time,” Von Brussett said as they passed me. “We’ll all be there.” And then they disappeared into the trees, leaving me once more alone in the woods.
The feeling of being watched had not gone with the departure of the Von Brussetts, and I shivered as a cool wind whipped through the air, snapping branches and spinning leaves. The cold months would be settling in with quite a kick, I was sure.
Gunpowder finally seemed to have drunk his fill, and he ambled up the bank and onto the forest path again. We reached a fork in the road, the left of which would take me to the Van Tassel farm. I had never taken the path to the right. When I had asked the townsfolk what lay in that direction, there had been uneasy glances, followed by Brom telling me, “The wooden bridge, and the old, abandoned church and graveyard.”
I had not heard about a church in the vicinity. As I was not interested in continuing to pursue my father’s zealotry, I had had no need to search for a congregation to join upon my arrival in Sleepy Hollow, and no one had seemed to begrudge me spending my Sundays in literature rather than the word of God. There was not a church in the village, and I assumed that if there was a Sunday gathering, it was in one of the homes, as was often the case in smaller towns. I also realized after having been told about the abandoned location that there was not a visible cemetery in the village either, which struck me as slightly odd. Regardless of how small the population of a few dozen people might be, there was sure to be death in some manner visited upon them and a need for some place to ensconce the departed. Perhaps there was a place in the forest designated as such, and, as an outsider, I was not privy to that information. There had been no deaths in the village in the time I had been there either, so it was possible the townsfolk had not given it much thought on my behalf.
Gunpowder stopped at the intersection of the road forks, leaning down to chew some clover he found there, and I felt a bead of sweat form at the back of my neck and roll down my spine. I could not see the bridge or the church from where we stood, and indeed, I did not feel the urge to do so either. My skin was already starting to crawl, as if invisible spiders were moving over my flesh. I gave Gunpowder a nudge that he ignored. The feeling of being watched intensified so much that I literally cracked my back swiveling around in the saddle to see if someone were right behind me. Of course, there was nothing, besides a gust of wind that blew some orange and brown leaves across the path. I gave Gunpowder a much sharper kick, and something in that intensity must have gotten through to him, because he began to trot on again and did not stop again until we reached the Van Tassel farmstead.
The lights burned within the stately manor home from dozens of candles and lamps. It cast a cheery glow over what was otherwise a chilly autumn night. Raucous laughter and singing came from within, and I dismounted and tied up Gunpowder with the relief of a man returning from war. I stepped inside the main room of the merry house to a spectacle of bounty as such that I had never seen, even in my hometown during the Christmas season.
Lamps, candles, and carved gourds were on every available surface and in every corner, casting cheerful flickers across the floor and walls, ascending up into darkness in the eves above our heads. A long table had been laid with the most sumptuous feast I had ever laid eyes on, the smell of smoked and roasted meats, buttered vegetables, steaming fish, and fresh pastries creating a mouth-watering ambrosia of scent. Barrels of ale and cider stood tapped around the room. A band played music in the corner, a fiddle and a drum and a fife, and couples caroused nearby in a wanton whirl of gingham fabrics and shined shoes. Several small children and dogs chased each other, weaving through the dancers like through a field of corn, the children shrieking with laughter, the dogs barking and wagging their tails as they waited for tasty morsels to be dropped by tipsy guests.
Baltus Van Tassel, in an embroidered waistcoat, stood by the fireplace, smoking a pipe and laughing with several other members of the town, and he lifted his hand in greeting when he saw me. And then Katrina appeared at my side, a vision of loveliness in a pink frock with a wide, white petticoat under it. “Master Crane,” she cooed, latching onto my arm like a newlywed. “I am so pleased you were able to join us!”
I gave her a smile and lifted her hand to kiss it. “I thank you again for the invitation, Miss Van Tassel.”
She giggled and batted her lashes. “Please, eat your fill, and then you shall dance with me. We must make merry.”
I did not need to be told twice to eat, for while I was tall and lanky, I could hold the food of a man twice my size, and I could already see a platter of cheeses and deviled eggs that were calling to me. I wasted no time in packing my plate, only stopping when it felt like it would no longer be a polite amount for a single helping. I sat down on a nearby bench to eat and watched the dancers whirl around me.
Brom dropped onto the seat next to me, a tankard of ale in his hand. He slapped me jovially on the back, and I watched in dismay as a piece of smoked ham flew off my plate and onto the floor, where it was snapped up by one of the sheepherding border collies. “Glad you could make it, Crane,” he said in his booming voice.
My shoulder stung from his friendly greeting, but I simply smiled. “Thank you. This is quite the gathering.”
He grabbed one of my hands and pressed the mug into it. “Drink up.”
I took it politely before he stood and sauntered away, going over to give Katrina a peck on the cheek. She playfully smacked his arm, and he gave me a knowing grin. I set aside the glass of ale and continued to eat the plate of food, all of which was quite magnificent. When my plate was clean, I returned for seconds, and, admittedly, thirds. I took one small glass of cider, but that was all the spirits that I consumed. It felt best to keep my wits about me, seeing as the entire village was here, and I was supposed to be a model of good character and sound reasoning for the children.
I watched Katrina throughout the evening. She looked a little more pallid than she had been throughout the summer, but I was sure preparing for such a lavish gathering was quite taxing. She was still a vision of loveliness, the perfect hostess, and she danced with nearly every man in the room, married or not. By the time I had worked my way through the myriad of pies and cakes and was feeling slightly sticky and in a bit of a stupor, she appeared in front of me, holding out her hands. “You owe me a dance, Master Crane.”
I got to my feet, grateful now for only the single glass of cider in my full stomach as I led her to the dance floor. Heads turned to look at us, whistles breaking out from a few of the assembled watchers. The dances they had done were not unfamiliar, though a bit more old-fashioned than the more modern dances I was used to in the city, but I dutifully slid my hands into Katrina’s and began to move with her across the floor. Despite my large feet and her petite stature, we cavorted together splendidly, the crowd clapping and cheering us on. I twirled her, her dress spinning and catching the firelight, and she was mesmerizing.
As she pressed in close to me again, her body warm against my own, I wondered if I perhaps felt something for her. She was certainly beautiful, even if she looked a little drawn in the firelight. There was no doubt that we got along just fine together. I had not given much thought yet to marriage or starting a family, only having been away from my father for a few short years, and while the idea of having my own little ones running around did not cause me apprehension, I could not picture what my wife would look like. Katrina would make a fine wife, if both she and I agreed to such a match, but I was not about to fool myself with silly daydreams. I was the outsider, and even if I decided to remain in Sleepy Hollow for a long time to come, I still would never fully be one of them. Not like the Van Tassels, or Brom, who was obviously sweet on Katrina. Nor did I wish to cause any upset between myself and the repugnant young buck. If Katrina felt anything for me beyond a kindredship for music and literature, she had not made it obvious to me.
The song wound to a conclusion, and Katrina curtsied to me in such a demure manner that I felt obliged to offer a flamboyant bow, lest anyone think my intentions to her were unbecoming. She giggled, and then another man had stepped forward and offered his elbow to her.
I found myself shunted to the side of the dancers, and then the meaty arm of Brom went around my shoulders, pulling me in for what seemed like friendly camaraderie, but a few inches more, and he would have choked the breath from me. “Sweetest country rose you ever did see, eh, Ichabod?” he chuckled, reeking of ale and woodsmoke.
I laughed uneasily. “Yes, I suppose she is.”
His finger suddenly jabbed into my ribs with a ferocity that I felt was unwarranted, enough that it made me wince. “You suppose? Come now, man, art thou blind?”
I clicked my tongue, trying to pull away from Brom’s ruthless grip. It felt like he was perhaps trying to trap me, to get me to say something about Katrina that would allow him to call me out to defend her honor. I was unsure how to redirect his concerns, so I ventured, “I doubt very much that she would have me over a strapping man such as yourself.”
“Oh-ho, is that your game?” Brom asked. He took several steps back, and I was forced to follow with him or be dragged. We melted back into the shadows at the edge of the crowd. I tried to dislodge his arm from about my shoulders, but he held me fast. “Tell me, Ichabod Crane. What is it that draws your fancies at night, alone, in the dark?” His other hand suddenly pressed to my chest, his fingertips digging into my breastbone in a way that nearly folded me over like a paper version of my namesake. “Do you lust for Katrina? To feel those plump lips seal around your cock, those legs around your waist?”
His words made my face burn in humiliation and anger. I knew some men to be scoundrels, but I prided myself with being a man above such offensive mannerisms. “You would be wise to hold your tongue, sir,” I said to Brom, stiffening in his grip.
He leaned so close that I could see the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Would I? Or have I read you wrong,sir, and you wish to feel a different sort of mouth around your cock?” His fingers skimmed down my chest and stomach. I felt like the floor had dropped from beneath me as I realized what he was implying.
