Author's Ledger: Good day to you all! How wonderful it is to write a chapter. I'm going to thank my reviewers. Captain_Flying_Sparrow and LinaLove, as always, you have inspired me to write yet another chapter for this story and I thank you greatly. This chapter covers plenty of important information and only in 1,181 words (Or so Fanfiction tells me). I do hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Your ever faithful and obediant Author,

Danbamina

Helen swept the front porch slowly. Gunpowder was grazing nearby and it seemed he was taunting her. All day he'd eluded capture and she had grown tired of chasing him around and around the yard, so she gave up. She stared moodily at the ornery old horse for a moment before continuing to sweep the porch. Helen looked up as the sound of hooves on gravel reached her ears. Who would be coming over at this time of day? Her unasked question was soon answered as Doctor Roberts rode up and pulled his white horse to a stop. Helen looked up at Michael and smiled warmly at him as he dismounted and walked directly up to her. Michael gripped her around the waist and pressed his lips roughly to hers. Helen blinked at this very forward approach. Michael withdrew and Helen could taste whiskey on his lips and smell it on his breath.

Michael looked shamelessly down at her, "I'm not sorry for that Helen." He told her, his voice husky.

Helen opened her mouth to respond but found her throat incapable of making noise so she closed her mouth and nodded instead.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Michael asked her sternly.

Helen shook her head to clear it, "Um…that was….well, Michael, dear, I don't believe I enjoyed that."

"What do you mean?"

"Michael, you're very desirable, and you can have any girl you want. But see, I'm not just any girl. And frankly, I'm not sure I'm all that attracted to you in the sense that you are to me." Helen tried to explain kindly.

Michael looked away and back at her, he took a step towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist, "Perhaps a more gentle approach would help?" He whispered leaning down to brush his lips across her forehead. Helen's cheeks turned bright red.

Helen remained quiet as he kissed her tenderly on the lips; she had to admit this was a bit more pleasurable than his last attempt. He pulled away and lifted her effortlessly in his arms. Helen gave a small startled cry as he hoisted her onto his horse's back and got up behind her.

Leaning forward he whispered into her ear, "I want to show you something. Care to come with me?"

Helen nodded and gripped the coarse white mane in front of the saddle, something wasn't right with the good doctor but she wasn't about to point it out to him. Instead she concentrated on the horse's glassy white neck and not falling from between Michael's arms as the horse cantered easily away from Icabod's home.

***

Icabod burst into the local tavern and stood for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at Masbeth who gave an encouraging smile. Icabod took a breath and entered the dim one room tavern. The smoke in the room filled his nostrils with its acrid and slightly repulsive smell. He coughed as the smoke stuck in his throat and heard Masbeth cough behind him. At least he wasn't the only one who wasn't accustomed to such large quantities of smoke. He made his way over to the bar where the bartender was wiping down the counter moodily.

"What'll it be for you fellows?" The bartender asked gruffly as Icabod and Masbeth seated themselves on the frayed cushions of the barstools.

Icabod tapped his fingers on the countertop and looked the bartender square in the eye, "I'm looking for the doctor. Has he been in here recently?"

The bartender leaned down to get on eye level with Icabod; he ran a skeptical eye over Icabod, "Why?"

"We need to speak with him. It's urgent." Masbeth piped up quickly upon seeing Icabod fumbling for words.

The bartender stood up and smiled warmly at them, "If that's the case you just missed him. He left about a half-hour ago."

Icabod groaned inwardly, "Did he say where he was going?"

"He told me he was going to call on some lady friend of his." The bartender shrugged and scratched his chin for a moment, "I believe he said her name was Helen. But I could be wrong. He'd had some whiskey and his words were all jumbled together." Icabod's eyes widened in horror and he looked over at Masbeth to see the same look of despair written all over the young man's face.

"Well, sir, I suppose we'd better head on out." Masbeth told Icabod shakily, "Thank you very much Mister." Masbeth got up and pulled Icabod from the smoke filled tavern. Icabod followed in a daze, as he came into the cool, crisp air outside of the tavern his senses came back to him.

"Get on your horse Masbeth. We're going home." Icabod swung up onto Admiral and leaned close to the horse's ear and whispered nervously, "Helen is in trouble, Admiral, she needs you. Go home fast as you can."

"Why aren't we going to Doctor Roberts's house?" Masbeth asked as he mounted Ghost and gathered his reins up.

Icabod didn't answer just dug his heels into Admiral's sides and hung on as the horse leaped forward and into a spectacular gallop. Icabod could hear Ghost's hooves pounding along behind him but all that mattered was getting back to the house. He hoped that Helen had managed to catch Gunpowder and had gone somewhere and Doctor Roberts had simply gone home. But deep in his gut he knew that it was highly unlikely Helen had even attempted to go anywhere without her own horse to ride. Traveling as fast they were they reached the house quickly. Icabod jumped from Admiral and rushed inside the big house.

"Helen!" He called rushing around the bottom floor quickly, "Helen!"

"Mr. Crane!" Liz came barreling from the kitchen crying.

"Liz! Where's Helen?" Icabod caught Liz by the shoulders and looked into her glistening eyes sternly.

"Doctor Roberts came to the house. He took her. I thought it would only be for a short while but they haven't come back! It's not like her to be gone this long." Liz lamented, slumping against Icabod's chest, "You have to find her, sir. You just have too. I don't know what I'd do without her. She's like my daughter, she is!" Liz sobbed into Icabod's shoulder.

Icabod stood in a state of shock, unable to think or do anything. He let Liz continue to rant on and on about him finding Helen. The horrible truth of the matter was that Helen was gone and he had no idea of where Michael might have taken her. It seemed that Helen was doomed to be stuck with a possible mad-man. The very thought of her being stuck in some high-cold tower of solitude with no one but Michael Roberts for company was enough to make him want to cry. One though pervaded his mind. This has to end. Tonight.

***

Author's Ledger: OH MY GOODNESS! Michael had better thought of some wonderful hiding place for his little "prize", so to speak, because Icabod is out to get him now. I can't wait until you all get to see my carefully formulated--though still in progress--ending. That'll be coming soon. Most definitely not next chapter but perhaps the one after that. Please review this chapter. Grazie.

Your Grateful Author,

Danbamina