CHAPTER 3

Ichabod didn't know how she did it, but Katrina seemed to know exactly the right way to lift his spirits. Perhaps there was some witch in her after all because it worked like magic.

When she had suggested at breakfast that they take a walk together, he had originally dismissed the idea. A good investigator, he preached, left detailed notes on both his successes and failures for it was only by mistakes that he learnt. And he had much work to do in documenting the events of the previous night.

Besides, it was very cold outside and snowing more frequently by the hour. Whilst his laboratory was never warm, it was a tropical paradise in comparison.

Katrina had not pleaded with him nor tried to persuade him otherwise. He was a surprisingly stubborn man by nature and changing his mind required a slightly more subtle approach.

Just an hour later he had been disturbed in his meticulous note making by a soft knock on the door. Katrina had entered, dressed in attire suitable for the weather, gloves warming her delicate hands and her hair pinned in place in defence against an erratic wind.

She announced that she still felt in need of some fresh air and so she would accompany Masbath to the library. She wouldn't be long.

Ichabod had laughed slightly at that. He knew that once the boy had gotten to the library he would not be persuaded to depart for some time. She was in for a lengthy wait.

Oh no, she had informed him, she didn't intend to wait. Only to walk there and back again.

This had caught his attention and he had put his pen down to remind her this meant she would be walking back alone.

She had nonchalantly pushed the remark aside however and said she would see him later.

She had barely gotten her boots on though before he was trotting down the stairs, dressed in his long black overcoat. Katrina smiled secretly at Masbath and the boy had to hold his hand to his mouth to disguise a smile of his own.

She supposed it was a little cruel to use Ichabod's concern for her against him but, in the circumstances, justified. He sorely needed to get away from that case for a while. Needed to escape from his own mind and his own doubts.

The journey to the library passed quickly enough, with Masbath feeling it necessary to inform them of the every nuance of the book he had been reading. It had been a pirate adventure and clearly he had greatly enjoyed it.

Having deposited him safely there, with strict instructions to be back well in time for dinner, Ichabod and Katrina had set of for home again. This time however she insisted they take a slightly more scenic route through the park. It had already began to snow again and by the time they found themselves walking among the tree-lined paths, it was falling in a thick blanket.

Ichabod felt a little uncomfortable with how cold and wet he was beginning to get, but Katrina did not seem to mind at all.

"Winter's in Sleepy Hollow were never like this," she said, looking around her in awe as she clung more tightly to his arm, "They were dead and bleak. An ugly season. It hasn't snowed there since I was a little girl."

"Then Sleepy Hollow was blessed with something," Ichabod said dryly.

Katrina shook her head with a weary fondness, "I don't understand why you dislike it so. I think it's beautiful."

"And I think it's just cold."

She stopped in front of him and smiled playfully, "And I think that you are just afraid that I may pelt you with a snowball when your back is turned."

That made Ichabod attempt a smile - the first since he had arrived home in defeat the previous night - and Katrina warmed. Tragedy as a child held more than a little sway over his life as an adult. Even if he could never recall the exact details of all the events that had scarred him so, a remnant of a feeling suffocated him like a black mist. Whilst he was a wonderful, clever, caring and thoughtful man, he needed more laughter and more smiles. It was in times like these she got rare glimpses who he was behind the mask of nightmares and sorrow.

"No," he said in a slightly shy manner, as he often did in these more carefree moments, "I'm actually just rather more concerned for you. I was always quite a remarkable shot in my youth."

Katrina laughed, "That may be, Mr Crane, but you'd have to catch me first."

And with that she ran off towards the small wooded area. By the time Ichabod and recovered from surprise and given chase, she was nowhere in sight. He smiled - it seemed that the Pickety Witch intended to lead him a merry dance. Well, he would see about that...

Bending to the ground, his sharp eyes quickly found what he was looking for and he trotted quietly off.

Sure enough, his wide circle brought him right behind the tree which Katrina was using as a hiding place. She was peering cautiously around one side of it, a snowball held in her gloved hands.

Sneaking silently up to her, she had no idea of his whereabouts before he grabbed her around the waist and hastily disarmed her. She shrieked in surprise as he caught her.

"How did you do that?" she laughed, with a mildly petulant look.

"Quite simple," he explained with a little flair, "Overlying tracks showed me exactly where you had gone."

"Cheater," she accused.

"You only said I had to catch you," he justified, playing to her game, "You did not say how."

"But you said something about pelting me with snowballs," she quickly countered, "And I don't see any. A gentleman should be as good as his word."

"Ah, but surely since I caught you," he reasoned, holding her tighter, "The reward should me of my choosing."

Without warning he kissed her softly, and when he pulled away and looked it her dark eyes he saw such love that his heart leapt. For the thousandth time he wondered how he had gotten her. And for the thousandth time he thanked his lucky stars that he had.

---

Katrina craned her neck over her shoulder, allowing her to get a good look at the rear of her new dress reflected in the mirror. Satisfied, she twirled back the other way taking one last long appraisal. The deep green was a nicer colour than she first thought and the embroidery was simply exquisite. She didn't consider herself an extravagant spender, but she had been unable to resist a wander into the new dress shop which had opened nearby. She certainly was a slave to a pretty dress. She couldn't help it.

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her admiration of her purchase. Trotting quickly down the stairs, she opened the front door to be greeted by a small boy.

"Letter for you, Miss," he said in an almost comically self-important manner.

She took the envelope that the boy thrust out at her, and dug quickly into her nearby purse, retrieving a few coins.

"Thank you, young man," she said, placing the money in his hands.

The boy grinned in delight and it warmed Katrina to see the skip in his step as he hurried off down the street, eager to find another errand.

Closing the door and heading back inside, she turned the letter over curiously in her hand. There were precious few people in this world who would be writing to her. Most of her dearest friends she had made here in New York.

Her eyes immediately fixated on the return address and her breath caught.

Sleepy Hollow.

Moving to the lounge, she quickly ripped open the envelope and pulled out the neatly folded piece of paper. She recognised the handwriting as that of Mr James Jeffries. He was a respectable man in the small town - a carpenter married to a lovely young lady and father to a daughter who could not be more than a year old. She remembered him as such a kindly figure with the most pleasant smile. When she had been a young girl, on the behest of her father, he had made her the most beautiful rocking horse and dolls house. The special attention to detail he had given them only made her love the birthday presents more. As she had grown older, she had come to know Jeffries as an intelligent, amiable fellow who always had everyone else's best interests at heart. Which was why when she had left Sleepy Hollow, she had entrusted him with the task of watching over the village for her. By her father's will she was now Lady of Van Tassel. His property and tenants were hers and hence her responsibility. While she wanted nothing more than to leave for New York with Ichabod and Masbath, she knew she had to see to it that the people living on her land were well looked after. As such, she had asked Jeffries to keep a close watch for her and report anything amiss. He had written to her only two weeks ago to give a general report on affairs. Another update so soon could only mean bad news.

She found her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the letter. With good reason too. She knew just how bad things could become in such a cursed place.

Her eyes scanned the letter as quickly as possible:

My Dear Mrs Crane,

I trust this correspondence finds you as the last did and that things continue to go well. Both my wife and I would like to thank you for the kind words of your last letter and for the gifts you sent to our sweet Emily. She clings to that doll as if it is the most precious thing in her small world.

As I am sure you have gathered, another letter so soon can only mean things are amiss here. I am loathed to bring distress to your dear heart, but since you made me promise to keep you abreast of the goings on here I feel duty bound to inform you of something both odd and terrible.

Last week I was a little disturbed when Joseph Carrigan, one of your tenants in an outlying farm, failed to collect a new table he had asked me to make for him. He seemed so desperate for the piece when he ordered it that he paid me extra to get it finished more quickly. When he still hadn't come for it two days later, I resolved to take it to him myself, thinking that perhaps he was ill and unable to come. As I was leaving town I was met by Van Ripper. I told him what had happened and he said that Carrigan had also failed to collect some goods from him at an allotted time. Concerned, we headed out to his homestead.

What we found there has left me unable to sleep comfortably for days. Or, perhaps I should say what we didn't find there.

Carrigan and his family were gone. Vanished in the most bizarre way. A pot of potatoes had burnt itself dry over the still smouldering fire. Vegetables were part way through chopping. Toys had the appearance of still being played with. Outside, crops had begun to be planted and then simply left. It was as if some great hand had come down without warning and plucked the Carrigan family from where they stood.

Van Ripper and I searched the area diligently, but found no sign of them. No sign that they had been taken or attacked in anyway, or that they had for some reason fled. Deciding to ask their neighbours if they knew what had happened, we crossed quickly to the nearest farm and found a similar scene there. As if the house had been abandoned in an instant. The same was also found at the next farm.

Even now, days later, we have no clue as to what befell these missing families. Whisperings have started amongst the townsfolk and some are already talking of leaving. They believe the whole place is simply cursed with evil.

As for myself, I will stay and anxiously await your response. I only pray that I am still here to receive it and that another tragedy should not befall our poor town.

Yours faithfully,

James Jeffries

Katrina placed the letter carefully aside not entirely sure what she felt in response to it's contents. She had expected something such as news of a fire or terrible storm that had destroyed property. Awful but somewhat commonplace. But the occurrence of something so odd? She was entirely unprepared and as such didn't know how to react.

But, she told herself firmly, bizarre or not, people who she held some responsibility for had still gone missing. She had to take action.