Katie laughed. “She got all sexy-time back in the day. And Mistress Van Tassel does have a nice ring to it.” She finished her drink and put the empty cup in the bag. “Historic love triangle. Or threesome.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“What? Sex back in the day?”
“No, not that. It’s just that—would Katrina have risked that kind of situation, given the size of the community and the standing of her family? People paid attention to reputation and saving face. She might have been having affairs with two different people, but I think it would’ve been hard to pull off a love triangle of any kind in Sleepy Hollow.” She put her empty cup in the bag, too.
“Good points. So maybe Ichabod left so that the three of them could pull off a polyamorous relationship. And I cannot believe I just used that term in a conversation about the legends of Sleepy Hollow.”
Abby giggled. “Geek looks good on you.”
“I’m glad. Because I actually am one.”
“I like geeks.” Especially ones that affected her like Katie.
“Lucky for me. And you’re about to get even more geek, because it’s time to go stake out a spot in the glen.” She stood and held out her hand, and Abby took it automatically. Katie pulled her to her feet and grabbed the bag of trash with her free hand.
Abby’s heartbeat sped up when she realized she was actually still holding Katie’s hand, and it was warm in hers and made all kinds of sparks race up and down her arm.
Katie slowly pulled her hand away, and the expression in her eyes was unreadable.
Abby cleared her throat. “Um, there’s a trash can right over there.”
Katie disposed of the bag. “Ready?” she asked when she returned.
“Yeah. Let’s go see some Sleepy Hollow lore in action.” She walked next to Katie, both of them weaving through the crowds.
“How many people come to this?” Abby asked.
“Hundreds. Maybe more. And there’s a bad-ass haunted house, so lots of people go to that. And they go run around the cemetery.”
“Glad I have a local to show me around, then.”
They arrived at Katie’s SUV, parked in front of the bed and breakfast. Abby got in and buckled up.
“Did you bring a hat and gloves?” Katie asked as she started the engine. “It gets cold out there this time of year. I have extras if you didn’t.” She gestured at the back seat.
“Yep.” Abby patted the zipper pockets of her fleece, but thought it would be nice, to wear something of Katie’s. Oh, well.
She contented herself with stealing glances at Katie as she drove.
The sides of the road were lined with cars, and Katie had to go slow to avoid the groups of people walking toward the glen, some of whom were hard to see in the dark.
“How does the horseman even have room to ride around?” Abby asked as Katie slowed to a stop.
“Cars aren’t allowed in the glen tonight, which helps keep the pathways and main road through it clear. Most people give him lots of room.”
“Right. Wouldn’t want to piss off a Hessian soldier, after all.”
“Exactly.” Katie pulled off the road, maneuvering between two other parked cars. “The township opens these fields for parking. There are donation buckets to help with any damages.”
“Wow. People in Sleepy Hollow are so civilized during their festivals.”
“Seemed the best solution as word spread.” She stopped and turned off the engine. “And the city will actually close some of the roads into town tonight until about eleven, which means people who don’t make it before six have to park outside city limits and walk or shuttle in. Helps keep things a little more organized.” She got out and Abby did, too.
Katie continued, “It’s about a quarter-mile into the glen, but we’ll go around onto a different path.” She slung a small backpack across one of her shoulders.
“Sounds good.” Prickles of excitement shot down Abby’s spine, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she would be out here in the dark with Katie or because she was about to see the living embodiment of a legend that had played such a huge role in her family history.
Katie waited for her, and they walked on the main road for about ten minutes, passing several small groups of people, some with small children. A smaller road split to the left, and Katie took that, moving between still more groups of people. She stopped after another ten minutes at a barely discernible path to the right. It was nearly fully dark, and if Katie hadn’t been with her, Abby would’ve kept walking.
“Here we go,” Katie said. She took a small Maglite out of her backpack and turned it on. It joined bunches of others on the dirt road behind them, lights bouncing in the darkness like fireflies. “Stay close,” she instructed as the path entered the glowering forests of the glen.
Abby did, since they couldn’t walk side-by-side.
They passed a few people, but for the most part, they had the path to themselves as it twisted and turned deeper into the glen. Abby heard voices and laughter echoing through the darkness, and the beams from myriad flashlights glanced off trees, but most of the thrill-seekers were dozens of yards away. A child cried from somewhere ahead—or was it behind?—and somebody else yelled “Boo!”, but it wasn’t anywhere near them. The forest did strange things with sound.
They emerged into a clearing and Katie crossed it, picking up the path on the other side. “Careful,” she said. “Big branch down.” She went first then held the flashlight so Abby could step over it. “Almost there,” she assured, and moments later, Abby glimpsed a line of flashlights ahead.
“They’re standing along one of the main routes through the glen,” Katie said. “We’re going left a little bit because there’s kind of a bypass over there that the horseman takes practically every year. People don’t like to wait in here, especially if they have kids, because it’s hard to see and move around. Hard to set up lawn chairs, too.”
“Seriously? Lawn chairs?” Sacrilege. That seemed disrespectful, like watching it on TV. It defeated the purpose of being out here in the glen on a spooky night.
“I know, right? I prefer experiencing it without stuff like that. Okay, here’s the bypass.” She shone her flashlight on another hard-packed path, about twice as wide as the one they were on. “Do you mind hanging out right over there? We can sit on that tree.”
Abby followed the beam of Katie’s flashlight. A large tree had fallen just off the path, creating a nice bench. The main road was about a hundred feet away, separated from their position by trees and underbrush. “Sure.” She headed over and sat down. The trunk was probably a good foot-and-a-half in diameter.
Katie took her backpack off and sat beside Abby.
“What time is it?” she asked as she unzipped her pack.
Abby checked her phone. “A little after eight.”
“Perfect. He usually starts riding between eight-thirty and nine. Want some coffee?” She pulled a thermos and two plastic mugs out of her pack.
“Aren’t you the Girl Scout? Yes.”
Katie set the pack on the ground and unscrewed the top of the thermos. She poured some coffee into a mug, and handed it to Abby. “Hope you don’t mind. It’s already got cream and sugar.”
“That’ll work.” Abby sipped. It was just shy of hot, but it was rich and strong. Great. She even had a crush on Katie’s coffee.
Katie poured herself a cup and put the thermos away. “Okay if I turn the flashlight off?”
“Yes.” There were plenty of others around the glen. She heard people moving through the forest, and picked up snatches of conversation from the people gathered on the road, about fifty feet away.
Katie turned the light off and Abby was even more aware of her proximity, as if the flashlight beam had been a boundary between them.
“It’s pretty out here, even at night,�
� Abby said, because the silence between them felt a little suggestive.
“I’ve always thought so. Maybe a little creepy, but I guess in a weird way I’ve always thought of the horseman as family. Kinda sick, maybe.”
“No, that makes sense. He’s been here as long as your family has.” She sipped. “He’s like that one not-quite-right uncle everybody has.”
“Oh, yeah. The one without the head. All family trees have one.”
Abby laughed. “That one or the one that disappeared.”
“Definitely. One of those, too.”
A kid screamed then laughed in delight from the main road. Night enveloped the forest, though flashlight beams pierced it as people moved around and prepared for the spectacle.
“So how easy would it be for me to talk to someone who’s ridden as the horseman?” Abby asked.
“Not very. But go ahead and try.”
“And you don’t know any of the horsemen?”
“Nope. Or the horsewomen, either. I’ve had an idea or two about them over the years, but that’s one secret I think I’d like to stay hidden. It adds another layer of mystique to the glen.”
“Do you think that people have been dressing up as the horseman this whole time?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if Katrina did in fact ride as the horseman that night when Ichabod disappeared, it stands to reason that other people have done it over the years, too. As a way to keep the legend alive, you know?” Abby wrapped her hands around the cup, enjoying the lingering warmth from the coffee within.
“It’s possible. But what about Gary’s story? That doesn’t sound like a fake horseman.”
Abby considered his description of the horseman, which was a lot like in her dream.
“And why would you want to do it?” Katie shifted on the tree trunk, and her thigh pressed against Abby’s.
“Who knows? People are strange.” Abby gripped her cup harder. Katie hadn’t moved her leg away and Abby was only too aware of the warmth she felt against her own. “I mean, maybe this whole dressing up as the horseman has a much longer history than the 1980s.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that. So if Katrina pretended to be the horseman that night, then maybe other people did, too. Including women.”
“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t they? And what a cool idea, to feel invincible for a minute, riding around knowing that nobody is going to mess with you.” Abby took another sip of coffee, gripping the cup hard in both hands. Katie still hadn’t moved her leg away and Abby was pretty sure people might mistake her heartbeat for the horseman.
“I love that idea,” Katie said. “A kind of feminist rebellion by dressing up as a headless male ghost—are you cold?”
“Uh, not really.” Abby was trembling a little, but not from the chill. She made a show of moving like she needed to shift her position and she put a little space between her leg and Katie’s. Not that she wanted to. But right now, it was probably for the best.
“Let me know if you are. I have one of those space blanket things.”
“Total Girl Scout.”
“I actually preferred the Boy Scouts. They got to do a lot of cool stuff. I used to think it would be fun to dress like a boy and participate.”
“Exactly my point. Women have been dressing like guys for centuries. Katrina may have done it to play the horseman, but so many other women did it to live independent lives. Like those women who dressed as men and served in the Civil War—” She stopped. “Oh, my God. What if the Hessian was actually a woman?” She turned to Katie automatically and her thigh again touched Katie’s. She kept it there, hoping that the conversation would keep her from thinking too much about the effect Katie had on her.
“Stop. Just stop,” Katie said, half-laughing. “Because that would be amazing.”
“It’s possible. Women served as men in the Revolutionary War, too. Like Deborah Sampson. Who actually served in battle in this area.”
“Okay, mind blown.”
“Women masqueraded as men all the time historically,” Abby continued. “Sometimes just so they could live sort of openly with other women. Not as themselves, obviously, but—”
“Oh, my God.”
“What?” Abby stopped and listened. Was it time for the horseman? But all she heard were laughter and voices and the sounds of lots of spectators.
“What you just said. Why the hell didn’t we think about that before?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you see?” Katie put her hand on Abby’s forearm. “Women dressing as men historically. We know of a few instances, but think of all the instances we don’t know. Lots, probably.”
“And?” Abby asked, puzzled.
“Ichabod.”
“Ichabod what?”
“Maybe Ichabod wasn’t a man.”
“Oh, my God.” A woman. Abby had to remind herself to breathe. Ichabod might have been a woman.
“What if that was the secret Katrina mentioned?”
Abby stared into the dark, barely aware that Katie’s hand was still on her arm. “Both elated and distressed.” She quoted from Katrina’s letter to Johanna.
“So if Ichabod was a woman, Katrina was not disgusted by that,” Katie said. “She was elated—could be she preferred women. Hell, she liked Elizabeth, after all.”
“And maybe she was distressed because she knew what would happen to Ichabod if anybody else found out.” Abby turned toward her, and could just make out her features in the dark. Her vision had adjusted.
“That makes a good reason to help someone disappear.”
“I think my mind is blown, too.” Abby sipped her coffee, using one hand to lift it, so she wouldn’t have to move her arm out of Katie’s grasp, which felt really good. The coffee was nearly cold. She finished it.
Katie’s grip tightened. “Listen,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s the point. Everybody’s quieted down. It’s starting.” She released Abby’s arm and stood. Abby handed over her mug and Katie quickly packed.
As Katie shrugged into the pack’s straps, Abby got up and glanced toward the main road, where flashlight beams continued to slice through the darkness. The crowd had hushed, the eerie quiet only broken by sporadic nervous laughter and a restless child speaking too loudly.
“Listen,” Katie said again.
Abby did, and she thought she heard a faint pounding, like someone beating in a regular pattern on a drum. From farther away, she heard cheers and screams.
“He’s coming,” Katie said, and Abby felt Katie’s fingers intertwine with hers.
Abby didn’t pull away. In fact, she moved a little closer.
“I think he’s on the opposite side from where we came in,” Katie said, and her lips were very close to Abby’s ear.
Chills shot down Abby’s spine, and not because of the approaching horseman.
The sound of pounding increased and Abby thought about the first dream she’d had since she’d been here. She concentrated on her feet and the ground beneath, but the thick forest loam must’ve muted the approaching horse because she didn’t feel the vibrations like she did in her dream.
People started cheering from the nearby main road, and Abby stared as a dark shape hurtled past the crowds that lined either side. She caught only glimpses of it between the trees, but Katie was pulling her.
“Come on. There’s a little more open space over here.”
Abby let Katie guide her a few feet along the path until they were almost to the main road. Seconds later, probably because they were standing on the hard-packed path, she felt vibrations in her feet.
A horse’s hooves, pounding.
The crowd cheered again, a low roar that drowned out the sound of the horseman’s approach, but not the fee
l. And then there he was, at the point where the bypass met the main road, the big black horse pawing at the earth, puffs of its breath showing in the beams of flashlights that skidded across its hide and the form of the horseman, which did not have a visible head. And then the horse shot forward onto the bypass to the cheers and shouts of the crowd.
Abby heard the creak of leather, the click of the bit in the horse’s mouth and the horse’s deep breathing as they passed, but no sound from the headless rider. As it should be, she thought, and she caught the smell of horse. Nothing dank or musty. Just the odor of animal and maybe hay. Like a barn.
“Wow,” she said as the horseman disappeared down the bypass. She could tell when he left it, because of the cheers from the crowd.
“He is pretty cool,” Katie said. “He’ll do another few passes on the main road. Do you want to watch?”
“Yeah,” she said, distracted by the warmth of Katie’s hand and the feel of their connection as Katie pulled her along the path.
Katie managed to position them along the main road in front of a group of taller guys who were giving each other high-fives. They had an unobstructed view of the road, and for that she was glad because the horseman made another pass, right down the middle of the road. The roar from the crowd drowned out the sound of the horse’s hooves but the horseman stopped a few feet away from Abby and made the horse turn in a few jittery circles.
Several people had their flashlight beams trained on him, and flashes from cameras and phones added a strange effect, like a light show at a concert. The rider urged his horse into a near-gallop, much to the delight of the crowd, and took off, going in the direction of the parking area Katie had used the first time she’d brought Abby to the glen.
“What do you think?” Katie asked. “Was it worth the trip?”
“Definitely.” It dawned on her that she was still holding hands with Katie, but it felt so nice that she didn’t pull away.
Shouts and screams erupted from the other side of the road and a few dozen feet away.
“He’s in the forest,” someone yelled.
“Oh, cool,” Katie said. “It’s one of the better riders.”
The Secret of Sleepy Hollow Page 8