SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (16 page)

The Magistrate
lifted his brow. “What about them?”

“Their lessons
have already been interrupted once.”

Casper jolted and
turned. “Now hold up there, young man. If you think I’m going to send my sons
back to you for instruction, you’re completely out of your mind. I’m not going
to risk their lives.”

“I wasn’t implying
that I should teach them directly. But I could prepare the lessons and someone
else could teach them.”

“We’re all
concerned for the children,” Father said, “but there’s no one –”

“I’ll do it,” I
interrupted.

Brom’s fork
screeched across his plate.

Father’s lip
quivered. “Katrina –”

He was interrupted
again when the Magistrate bellowed a laugh. “Dear girl, what qualifies you?”

My grip on my
napkin tightened, but I pledged to remain calm. “What qualifies me? I can read
and write. I have a keen aptitude for mathematics. I love children. And if
Ichabod is volunteering to put together the lessons, then I volunteer to
administer them.”

“Preposterous,” he
scoffed. “Even if it was a good idea, there is no meeting place. The
schoolhouse is out of the question.”

“What about the
church?”

The Reverend
popped his head up. “I don’t know, Katrina.”

“Why?” I asked.
“Do you think the good Lord would object?”

Ichabod sputtered
a chuckle that he quickly covered with a cough.

The men again
gazed one to the other, then the Magistrate said, “It’s entirely up to you,
Baltus. If you think your daughter is qualified.”

Now Father found
himself in a quandary. I could see it all over his face. On the one hand,
allowing me to teach would be granting me permission to leave the house. On the
other hand, not allowing me would be admitting that his offspring was inferior
and not up to the task. He wouldn’t want to again look weak before the Council.
“She’s
more
than qualified. If anyone could make a success of it, it
would be her. And she’d be safe in the church.” He directed a scornful glare
toward me. “But someone other than Crane will deliver the lessons.”

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 Simon 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
L
iters,
O
unces,
V
olume,
E
stimation.
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
L
eadership,
O
rder,
V
eneration
and
E
xample. 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.