SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow)

by Dax Varley

  Sigh. I had won one battle but lost another.

  He then continued his lecture at Ichabod. “And you will put together traditional assignments. She won’t be filling the children’s heads with a lot of hogwash. Is that understood?”

  Ichabod shrugged as though doing it otherwise would never cross his mind. “Completely.”

  “Then it’s settled,” the Magistrate announced. “We’ll alert the parents. Katrina, you’ll start on Tuesday.”

  It took every ounce of me not to let out a cheer. The Notary reached over and patted my hand.

  “Meal is done,” Father said. “Let’s continue this conversation in the parlor.”

  I’m sure that suggestion was to guarantee no further interruptions from me.

  I only caught bits and pieces of what the men were saying as they swirled their brandies and nodded their heads. There was talk of Garritt – the mark on his window compared to that at the school. They pressed Ichabod for more information about his endeavors with the cellar. From what I could discern, no solution was brought forth.

  At the end of the evening Father called me in. “Katrina, help retrieve the overcoats.”

  I hurried to the coat closet and assisted Simon as he took them down.

  “Keep a watch on Crane,” Father told the men. “Take turns if you have to.”

  Ichabod sighed. “My horse is in the stable. Who is going to guard me as I retrieve it?”

  “No one,” Father said. “Brom, bring Ichabod’s horse around.”

  Brom opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. How could he protest? Though his expression was icy, he practically spit fire as he turned and tramped off.

  Even though Ichabod had no overcoat, I went over to him. “You have something stuck to your sleeve.” I took his right hand in my left and lifted his arm, pretending to brush away imaginary lint. He curled his fingers around my hand, giving it a loving squeeze. My heart ached to kiss him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  A few minutes later Brom brought the horse around and the men walked out. Father and I followed.

  Ichabod took the reins and looked back. “I must admit, I do miss Gunpowder.”

  “Just get on your horse, Crane,” Van Ripper complained, clambering onto his.

  Ichabod glanced at me with one last smile. For a fleeting moment, I considered leaping upon the horse with him and spurring it off, taking us away for good. How easy it would be. But I simply smiled back and, too soon, they rode away.

  Father whirled, ready to lash into me, for speaking out of place, I’m sure. But he caught sight of Brom, who stood back in the shadows of the piazza. Father glanced at me, then him, then turned and went inside.

  I intended to follow. Whatever reprimand Father would mete out was more desirable than hearing Brom’s pompous tantrum. But before I had a chance to retreat, he strode over and clutched my arm, leading me once again to the side of the house.

  He narrowed his fiery eyes at me. “Katrina, for God sakes, what have you done?”

  I pulled my arm free of his grip. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His breathing was ragged and rough. “You were gone for hours.”

  “Were you holding a vigil?”

  “Should I bring up yesterday’s event in the cellar too?”

  I had no patience for this. “Brom, where I go and what I do is my concern, not yours.”

  “I have a right to know where you were.”

  “And who granted you that right? Father? Or was this a self-appointment?”

  He pointed his finger in my face. “We are to be married. That gives me every right.”

  I knocked his finger away. “I’m not your property, Brom. Or your servant. I don’t heel at your command. And I’m most certainly not going to marry you.”

  His face reddened and he struggled to maintain patience. “I’m going to ask you one more time, where were you and what were you doing?”

  “What was I doing?” I clenched my fists, my heart racing with rage. “Are you honestly accusing me of – ”

  The blacks of his eyes shrunk to pinpoints. “Have you given me a reason?”

  I wanted so badly to slap his face raw, but that would serve as an answer. He didn’t deserve one. I put my finger to his face. “What I do, immoral or not, is none of your damn business.”

  He grabbed my hand and twisted. “But it’s your father’s. Suppose I tell him what you were up to?”

  I drew close, my face nearly touching his. “Do not attempt to control me with threats. If Father saw how you were treating me right now he’d discharge you in an instant.”

  “You really think that? Baltus loves his money more than he loves you. He’s not going to dismiss an excellent overseer because of his daughter’s stubbornness.”

  His words cut deeper than his hold on my wrist, but I refused to believe them. “Shall we test it?” I nodded toward my hand, now turning white within his grip. “Drag me inside right now. Tell him what a naughty girl I’ve been.”

  He pushed my hand away, but kept his eyes adhered to mine. “Let’s test it a different way. I’ll quit and leave you to run the farm. I’m sure you’ll enjoy waking up before dawn, mucking the stables, slopping the hogs. By day’s end you’d be praying to have me back.”

  I stepped away, shaking my head. “Enough of this nonsense. I’m going inside.”

  “You won’t think it’s nonsense when your farm starts losing profit.”

  I sighed and turned to go. “Goodnight, Brom.”

  As I reached the door he said, “Goodbye, Katrina.”

  * * *

  Brom’s goodbye was goodbye. He was absent the next morning, and his cabin was empty of his things. Father cornered me in the library where I was reading through a book that I considered using with the next day’s assignments.

  “What did you say to him?” he railed.

  I looked a question at him.

  “What did you say to Brom? You were the last to speak to him.”

  “Nothing.” I couldn’t tell him the truth without confessing that I’d been alone with Ichabod.

  His eyes narrowed. “He gave no indication he was leaving?”

  I snapped the book shut. “You saw him at dinner last night. He was clearly unhappy. And he always has been irresponsible with his romping about and frequenting the tavern. As far as we know, he could’ve run off with some hussy he’d met there.”

  “But he was never irresponsible about work.” Father paced a few seconds, thinking. “Until I find a new overseer, I’ll be needing your help.”

  Oh God, will I really be mucking the stables and slopping hogs?

  “Without Brom, I’ll need to be away from the house much of the week. We have grain shipments scheduled. That means you’ll be responsible for all the accounting.”

  I’d rather slop the hogs. “Father, there are plenty of men who would take the overseer job.”

  “Yet none that I trust.”

  “But…” Don’t sound whiny.” “I’m to start teaching tomorrow.”

  Father looked down his nose and huffed. “That’s hardly an option now.”

  “Then what’s to be done about the children? They need to be educated.”

  He waved it off. “Their parents can teach them to read and write.”

  “What of the Council?” I chanced. “How will it look to them that you’ve changed your mind?”

  He cut me with an impatient glare. A moment later, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. After two deep breaths, he said, “Fine, Katrina. Do what you will.”

  My heart dipped as I realized how selfish this was. After all, it was my fault Brom had left.

  As he walked away, I called, “Father.” He paused without turning. “I promise to give my full attention to the ledgers every evening when I get home.”

  He stood with his back to me a few seconds more, then hurried off without a response.

  * * *

  The next morning Sim
on poured my tea. “Let me know when you want to leave, Miss Katrina.”

  “Don’t worry,” I told him, adding sugar to the cup. “I’ll hitch the cabriolet myself.”

  “No ma’am, I got the carriage all ready and waiting.”

  I paused my stirring. “The carriage?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tilted his head, seeing my confusion. “Didn’t your father tell you? He don’t want you going alone, so I’m taking you to and from.”

  “Oh…” Of course, he’d have me escorted. “I’ll be ready shortly.” I gobbled down my breakfast and gathered my things. The sooner I got to the church, the sooner I could feel some independence.

  * * *

  Reverend Bushnell had made some effort to accommodate me. A table and chair had been set up facing the pews. The table held a goose quill, ink, paper…and a leather satchel. My heart trilled as I unbuckled it. I took out the instructions, all written in his hand. The top page read: Katrina, I thought we would start the morning with a lesson on measurements. I have enclosed the necessary tools. Most importantly, remember Liters, Ounces, Volume, Estimation. You understand?

  Perfectly!

  And at the end of the day, please send back a report on how the lessons progressed and what you feel could be done for improvement. I treasure your vision and contemplate a successful balance in this unique partnership. – Ichabod

  There could not have been a more beautifully concealed love letter.

  I emptied the tools he’d supplied. Cups, spoons, a measuring compass, a protractor, and ruler. This appeared to be a lesson both complicated and messy. I sorted through the instructions. He’d written every one with minute detail, including the estimated time it would take for the project, as well as how to simplify or complicate it for individual students.

  I was still going over them when the children arrived. Only nine. Half of the usual attendance. They plodded and bounced in, with no respect for their surroundings.

  Elise’s brothers, Dirk and Devlin, dropped down next to each other on a pew.

  “Oh no.” I guided Devlin by the arm and settled him one row up across the aisle. I’d known these two all my life and to call them hellions would be doing them justice.

  Dirk kicked the underside of his seat with his heel. “Not fair.”

  “Dirk, you’re forgetting that you’re in church.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m at school.”

  “But it’s still the house of the Lord.”

  He kicked the pew again. “It’s only the house of the Lord during Worship.”

  “And where do you suppose He dwells the rest of the time?”

  A tiny boy named Carver spoke up. “Amsterdam?”

  I sighed.

  “Grandmother said when she goes to live with the Lord, she wants to be buried in Amsterdam.”

  This was clearly not how I expected the morning to begin. I could imagine the playful smirk on Ichabod’s face were he here watching.

  “Whether the Lord is absent or not, it is time to begin the lessons.”

  “This is stupid,” Dirk called out. “You’re just a silly girl. You’re not a teacher.”

  I should’ve anticipated this. “I am today.”

  “Oh?” he taunted. “And what are you going to teach us?”

  I took up the ruler and whacked his knuckles. “Manners.”

  “Ow!” He shook his hand briskly. “Mr. Crane never hit us.”

  “You probably never gave him reason.” Had I really told the Council that I loved children?

  “My sister said you’re rotten. I can’t believe it took her this long to figure it out.”

  I knew that Dirk was just being Dirk. He had always been the annoying little brother, full of mischief and pluck. But those words stung as badly as the rapping I’d given his fingers. I guess we were even.

  “Though Mr. Crane is not present, your lessons still come from him. I will do my best to make them as interesting and engaging as he would. And if you refuse to take part, it will be reported back to him and he shall deal with you when he returns. Is that understood?”

  Nine blank faces gaped.

  I managed to get through the lessons with Dirk calling me a ninny just once. And I was never happier than to see the heels of their little shoes as they scampered out the door.

  I dropped down at the table to write my report.

  Lessons went well, considering. Perhaps tomorrow you can include instruction on how you managed them without harnesses. I did eventually discover that the proper ingredients for discipline are Leadership, Order, Veneration and Example. I assume you used these elements too.

  I have included detailed notes on each of the lesson pages you sent. I look forward to a time when we can discuss these matters face to face. – Katrina

  I slipped everything into the satchel and buckled it. Then left it on the table to be returned.

  I walked out, pausing on the church’s doorstep. The day had gone gray, but there was no scent of rain in the air. Only a mild chill. I stared off far across the cemetery. I could not see The Horseman’s grave, but the untended weeds towered within view.

  “How do I get rid of you, you savage fiend.”

  I stood for a full minute or more, pondering.

  “You should not dwell on it,” came a voice from behind me.

  “Aih!” I started, clutching my hand to my heart. “Reverend, do not sneak up.”

  “I was plenty loud. Your mind was on that abomination that mocks us.” I then noticed that he had collected the satchel. “So how was your first day?”

  “It would have gone more smoothly if the Lord had not been in Amsterdam.”

  His face twisted. “Pardon?”

  “Never mind,” I said with a weary smile. “Thank you so much for the use of the church. Hopefully the need will be of short duration.”

  “Indeed,” he said. “Well, I must deliver this. Do be careful on your way home.”

  “I shall.”

  Moments later, Simon arrived to escort me home.

  * * *

  By the time Friday arrived I had a new respect for Ichabod. I imagine there is little squabbling and strife in his classroom, and he managed twice as many students as I.

  What kept me motivated were those wonderful little notes we shared. It was a delightful challenge creating clever ways to express my feelings. But my heart ached for him. I wanted to whisper my endearments in his ear. To show my affection through touch. And more than anything I wanted to hold him.

  When the students arrived they were especially full of vigor. Most likely because they were only a few hours away from the weekend.

  “When is Mr. Crane coming back?” Devlin crowed, arms crossed.

  I refused to let them wear me down so early. “Mr. Crane is ill. He’ll return when he’s better.”

  “That’s not true,” Dirk argued. “My sister said he’s been marked by The Horseman.”

  “Then find a way to rid us of The Horseman and you can have him back.”

  I walked over to the table to retrieve the lessons when a girl named Rachael said, “Sage.”

  I turned back. “Excuse me?”

  She looked at me with bright eyes. “My mother sprinkles sage on the windowsills at night to keep the ghosts out. Perhaps we could sprinkle sage everywhere.”

  “Sage is a wonderful idea,” I said, “but sprinkle it throughout the Hollow? It would be in short supply.”

  Another rascal about town, Finn, spouted, “Maybe we could get it to rain sage.”

  This children blurted laughter, causing Rachael to shrink in her seat.

  Then Carver put in, “I would drop a cannonball on his grave to hold him down.”

  Dirk jerked around, facing him. “Carver, you half-wit, a cannonball on his grave won’t stop him.”

  I intervened. “While I appreciate all the suggestions, we need to begin class.”

  Vincent, the blacksmith’s son, rose, raised his fists and proclaimed, “I’m not afraid of The Horseman. I
’d wrestle him right off that giant steed and snatch his sabre away. I’d thrash it back and forth, until I frightened him back into his grave. Then I’d thrust the sword deep into the dirt, sealing him in forever.” These words were accompanied by great drama on his part.

  There was a moment of awed silence before Dirk burst into laughter. “The Horseman would lop off your head before you could even touch his boot.”

  It was time to take control. The mischief-makers were frightening many of the students, who cowered with wide eyes.

  “Enough of this now – ”

  Vincent cut me off. “You don’t know anything, Dirk. The only way to rid the town of a ghost is by sealing it into in its grave. Just ask my father. He once sealed the specter of a fur trapper by stabbing the grave with the dirty swine’s own skinning knife.”

  I held up the papers. “Enough, Vincent. If we finish our lessons on time, perhaps then you could share that tale.”

  His brow crinkled. “I just did. Weren’t you listening?”

  “Then let me put it this way. If we finish our lessons quickly you may be dismissed early. But I will keep you all here until they are done.”

  You could’ve heard a pin drop.

  When class ended, I sat at the table, writing my report. I wrote no comments about the children’s daily rebellion for attention. Nor did I include hidden messages expressing my love. I simply ended the correspondence with: Thank you so much for guiding me with these excellent lesson plans. They have been invaluable to me. I look forward to seeing you in church on Sunday. Until then I send my sincerest regards. – Katrina

  I slipped everything in and buckled the satchel. Sunday. I longed for it. For him.

  Reverend Bushnell appeared at the door. “And what are you smiling about, my fair Katrina?”

  “That the school week has ended,” I answered.

  “I would imagine this first week was an adjustment.”

  “Adjustment? More of a reformation.”

  He laughed. “Well, Simon is waiting. Time you head home and recuperate.”

  “I won’t argue with that.”

  He took up the satchel, and I walked with him out.

  “I’ll see you at Worship on Sunday,” he said.