We had supper at the Café again I called Aunt Lorain and let her know. As I
eased back in the squeaky old leather seat, I watched Tom, who was still
examining that old horn. He seemed to be totally engrossed in it. Becca
watched, too. She sat absently stirring her cup of hot chocolate.
Directly she said, "What are we supposed to do?"
I took a deep breath and leaned over the table, shaking my head as I did
so, "Don't know. How do you stop a lunatic, German soldier, who has been
dead for two hundred years?"
"You got me there." She smirked halfheartedly.
"Perhaps we don't have to stop it, just slow it down." Tom spoke up. Becca
and I looked at him.
"What do you mean 'slow it down'?" I asked, interested. Tom held out the
bugle and looked at it thoughtfully.
"This ghost thing whatever it is has its limits and sensibilities just like
anything else does. I believe that close study of it could yield valuable
information as to what its weaknesses are."
"Okay, Einstein any ideas as to how we can get up close and personal to the
headless horseman?" I asked crossing my arms.
"Certainly. You'll do it." Neither Tom's face nor voice betrayed any
emotion.
I sat there too stunned to move, "you want me to go sneaking around the
hollow, just so I can get my head chopped off? Are you crazy?!"
"No, just inspired." He smiled, "Besides, you won't be going around the
hollow. You'll go to his grave. And as for the head chopping I doubt it.
The horseman seems to have an obvious attachment to you, since he hasn't
killed you yet."
I didn't know what to say to that. Becca looked between tom and I. Her eyes
settled on me "Charlotte I think you should try it for all our sakes. We
can't let this go on someone might get hurt or worse killed, just like Mr.
Spickler said."
I clenched my jaw shut and glared at both of them. There was no way that I
was going on that fool's mission. It was suicide.
* * * * *
"Suicide. That's what I'm doing." I thought as I made my way in the dark. After that heartfelt convincing, Becca called my Aunt and told her that I was spending the night. Tom had recommended a few things to take with me, so I wore a small backpack filled with various objects. A high power flashlight, glow stick, note pad and pencil, a modern map and a rather ancient one that Tom had photocopied at city hall. The older map showed Sleepy Hollow during the late 1700's and depicted several landmarks, like burial plots. It was kind of cloudy and the moon would appear about every other minute, causing every thing to shift from a dull gray to inky blackness. I had decided to follow the train tracks that led around the edge of town and closest to the burial sites on the map. The gravel base was a plus because nothing could sneak up on me in the dark. I walked as quickly as I could trying not to make too much noise. The moon blacked out suddenly and I mistepped. I grimaced as some of the gravel went sliding along with the loud clank of brass on my backpack. The dead had ears. The same reason Tom told me to carry the redcoat bugle. He said it would be the perfect way to lure out the horseman. I had to agree with him on that. That bugle would bring the horseman on the run sure enough, no doubt bout it. I just prayed that I could pull this off without having to use the bugle. The plan was, as far as I knew, to locate the grave, write down everything of interest about it then get the heck out of dodge. It was a stretch to be sure but Tom was confident that I could do it without the Hessian finding out. Now the thing about the bugle was that if I couldn't find the grave site I would sound the bugle, bring the Hessian bearing down on me, and somehow keep him in sight till dawn when he would go back to his grave. A great plan, ingenious, the only downside was that it made me look an awful lot like bait. I walked on down the train tracks keeping sharp ears for the slightest sound. It was a little breezy and dead leaves would rustle on either side of me, every so often, making the back of my neck prickle. I checked the maps when the moon was out; I didn't dare use light. I was making progress I was pleased to see. The tracks came from the south, in New York City, then made a great curving arc around Sleepy Hollow, crossing the river about three miles up then continued north on the western side of the Hudson. Grave sites, according to the older map, were clustered here and there on both sides of the tracks. I ruled most of them out because the horseman's activities seemed more or less centered around the Cemetery; it was also local legend that he had been buried in an older section of the graveyard. It wasn't long before I was near some sites that adjoined the backside of the cemetery. I struck off through the woods towards them. I soon got to one. It was still very dark and I could barely make out the stone markers. I cautiously turned on the flashlight and looked for tracks. I didn't see any. Disappointed I went on to the next site. Halfway there I stopped and listened. In the distance I could hear the clacking of horseshoes on pavement. The horseman must have been causing more of his usual trouble. I frowned, and then continued on. At the next group of markers, I likewise found no tracks. I rechecked the maps only to find that these were the only two places close enough to the cemetery. Frustrated, I shoved the maps back into the backpack and began to hike towards the cemetery. I guess the fear made me a little angrier than what I really was. I muttered very harsh words under my breath, with every intention of repeating them to Tom. I trudged through brambles and bushes not really looking where I stepped. When something caught my foot and I was suddenly pitched forward into a big person-sized hole. I struggled up only to realize that I was standing in a grave. I looked at what had caused my fall. It was a broken marble tombstone that protruded from the ground to about mid-calf. I got out of the grave started to look it over, shaking my head as I did so. What a metaphor. The Horseman was always making my life difficult. Part of the epitaph had been preserved and I read it with some difficulty. .ger Corps, a lieutenant Col. who's life ended in the Autumn of 1779. R.I.P. Well that explained a lot. A Hessian and Lieutenant Colonel to boot, no wonder he was so arrogant. A distant yell made me jerk with surprise. I quickly got up and ran in the direction of the yell, passing into the cemetery. The first thing I saw was the flashing lights of Barry Moore's police cruiser on the highway in front of the main gate. Barry was running down the street yelling and looking over his shoulder. I looked too and what I saw was bone chilling. The Headless Horseman was bearing down on Barry with incredible speed, saber held high with obvious intent to kill. I quickly fumbled for some way to help Barry. I picked up the bugle and prayed that it would work. I raised it to my lips and took an enormous breath, then began to hesitate. I shook off the feeling with the argument that this was an emergency. I put my mouth to the bugle and blew with all of my might. The horn boomed out over the cemetery with both a baritone and shrillness. The following scene was worthy of the cinema. The Horseman skidded to a stop, sword still held high. I blew again and he wheeled around, Barry the policeman forgotten. The Hessian charged into the graveyard in a direct bee line to where I stood. As soon as I saw that Barry was safe, I turned tail and ran back into the woods. I could hear the horseman crashing after me. I ran even faster and got onto the train tracks. I followed them north, ahead of me ran a trestle bridge over the Pontaco. I went as fast as I could stepping carefully on the crossties. The Horseman was hardly slowed down. The horse gave a shriek so loud that I slipped and went over the side. I barely caught one of the trestles. My legs were dangling in mid-air as I looked up at the horseman. Down below was the Pontaco itself with several huge and very hard looking rocks. The reins jostled and I looked back at the Hessian. He sat in the saddle and looked down at me. He slowly eased back in the saddle and dismounted. I started to prepare myself for the jump hoping that I wouldn't hit a rock. As if reading my mind he swiftly knelt down and grabbed my arm, pulling me onto the trestle. Remounting with me he rode back the way we had come and stopped in a group of mausoleums. He pulled me down and shoved me against a wall, keeping a firm grip on my throat. You horrid little wench. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now! I glared at him, "What are you talking about?" You are so infuriating. You do nothing but get in my way, he raged. You should talk. You almost killed that man and nearly sent me over the edge! Not to mention that you stalk me non-stop. What's wrong with you anyway? You know what I want, little on. Yeah, Yeah, We've been over this before. Not a snowball's chance in Hades. You and your friends are running out of time. So are you. Unless you haven't noticed we switched to daylight savings. Ahhh! Again you tempt me, child! Listen, Hessian. What's this really about? I don't have much time left. How do you mean? Soon they're going to try and exorcise me. I've heard their thoughts. Whose? The Priest's and the Squire's. Squire? Oh, the Mayor. Exorcism? When? In a fortnight. At least that is what they said. Somewhere during our conversation he had let go of my neck. I was free to run but didn't. I was silent a moment and looked at the ground. Thank you. For what? The bridge. Oh. You really didn't think that I could let my little one fall, did you? Okay, I take it back. You're really creepy. Why thank you. Does that make me more endearing to your heart? Not by a long shot. I looked around. I'll see what I can do. About the exorcism. I'm pretty sure that I know someone who can help us. With that parting word, I left the cemetery. The horseman stood as a lone figure on the hill. So he wanted my help? I resolved to do all that I could because he had already helped me. As I walked down the deserted street I realized that it was time to make along distance call to Greensburg Georgia.
* * * * *
"Suicide. That's what I'm doing." I thought as I made my way in the dark. After that heartfelt convincing, Becca called my Aunt and told her that I was spending the night. Tom had recommended a few things to take with me, so I wore a small backpack filled with various objects. A high power flashlight, glow stick, note pad and pencil, a modern map and a rather ancient one that Tom had photocopied at city hall. The older map showed Sleepy Hollow during the late 1700's and depicted several landmarks, like burial plots. It was kind of cloudy and the moon would appear about every other minute, causing every thing to shift from a dull gray to inky blackness. I had decided to follow the train tracks that led around the edge of town and closest to the burial sites on the map. The gravel base was a plus because nothing could sneak up on me in the dark. I walked as quickly as I could trying not to make too much noise. The moon blacked out suddenly and I mistepped. I grimaced as some of the gravel went sliding along with the loud clank of brass on my backpack. The dead had ears. The same reason Tom told me to carry the redcoat bugle. He said it would be the perfect way to lure out the horseman. I had to agree with him on that. That bugle would bring the horseman on the run sure enough, no doubt bout it. I just prayed that I could pull this off without having to use the bugle. The plan was, as far as I knew, to locate the grave, write down everything of interest about it then get the heck out of dodge. It was a stretch to be sure but Tom was confident that I could do it without the Hessian finding out. Now the thing about the bugle was that if I couldn't find the grave site I would sound the bugle, bring the Hessian bearing down on me, and somehow keep him in sight till dawn when he would go back to his grave. A great plan, ingenious, the only downside was that it made me look an awful lot like bait. I walked on down the train tracks keeping sharp ears for the slightest sound. It was a little breezy and dead leaves would rustle on either side of me, every so often, making the back of my neck prickle. I checked the maps when the moon was out; I didn't dare use light. I was making progress I was pleased to see. The tracks came from the south, in New York City, then made a great curving arc around Sleepy Hollow, crossing the river about three miles up then continued north on the western side of the Hudson. Grave sites, according to the older map, were clustered here and there on both sides of the tracks. I ruled most of them out because the horseman's activities seemed more or less centered around the Cemetery; it was also local legend that he had been buried in an older section of the graveyard. It wasn't long before I was near some sites that adjoined the backside of the cemetery. I struck off through the woods towards them. I soon got to one. It was still very dark and I could barely make out the stone markers. I cautiously turned on the flashlight and looked for tracks. I didn't see any. Disappointed I went on to the next site. Halfway there I stopped and listened. In the distance I could hear the clacking of horseshoes on pavement. The horseman must have been causing more of his usual trouble. I frowned, and then continued on. At the next group of markers, I likewise found no tracks. I rechecked the maps only to find that these were the only two places close enough to the cemetery. Frustrated, I shoved the maps back into the backpack and began to hike towards the cemetery. I guess the fear made me a little angrier than what I really was. I muttered very harsh words under my breath, with every intention of repeating them to Tom. I trudged through brambles and bushes not really looking where I stepped. When something caught my foot and I was suddenly pitched forward into a big person-sized hole. I struggled up only to realize that I was standing in a grave. I looked at what had caused my fall. It was a broken marble tombstone that protruded from the ground to about mid-calf. I got out of the grave started to look it over, shaking my head as I did so. What a metaphor. The Horseman was always making my life difficult. Part of the epitaph had been preserved and I read it with some difficulty. .ger Corps, a lieutenant Col. who's life ended in the Autumn of 1779. R.I.P. Well that explained a lot. A Hessian and Lieutenant Colonel to boot, no wonder he was so arrogant. A distant yell made me jerk with surprise. I quickly got up and ran in the direction of the yell, passing into the cemetery. The first thing I saw was the flashing lights of Barry Moore's police cruiser on the highway in front of the main gate. Barry was running down the street yelling and looking over his shoulder. I looked too and what I saw was bone chilling. The Headless Horseman was bearing down on Barry with incredible speed, saber held high with obvious intent to kill. I quickly fumbled for some way to help Barry. I picked up the bugle and prayed that it would work. I raised it to my lips and took an enormous breath, then began to hesitate. I shook off the feeling with the argument that this was an emergency. I put my mouth to the bugle and blew with all of my might. The horn boomed out over the cemetery with both a baritone and shrillness. The following scene was worthy of the cinema. The Horseman skidded to a stop, sword still held high. I blew again and he wheeled around, Barry the policeman forgotten. The Hessian charged into the graveyard in a direct bee line to where I stood. As soon as I saw that Barry was safe, I turned tail and ran back into the woods. I could hear the horseman crashing after me. I ran even faster and got onto the train tracks. I followed them north, ahead of me ran a trestle bridge over the Pontaco. I went as fast as I could stepping carefully on the crossties. The Horseman was hardly slowed down. The horse gave a shriek so loud that I slipped and went over the side. I barely caught one of the trestles. My legs were dangling in mid-air as I looked up at the horseman. Down below was the Pontaco itself with several huge and very hard looking rocks. The reins jostled and I looked back at the Hessian. He sat in the saddle and looked down at me. He slowly eased back in the saddle and dismounted. I started to prepare myself for the jump hoping that I wouldn't hit a rock. As if reading my mind he swiftly knelt down and grabbed my arm, pulling me onto the trestle. Remounting with me he rode back the way we had come and stopped in a group of mausoleums. He pulled me down and shoved me against a wall, keeping a firm grip on my throat. You horrid little wench. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now! I glared at him, "What are you talking about?" You are so infuriating. You do nothing but get in my way, he raged. You should talk. You almost killed that man and nearly sent me over the edge! Not to mention that you stalk me non-stop. What's wrong with you anyway? You know what I want, little on. Yeah, Yeah, We've been over this before. Not a snowball's chance in Hades. You and your friends are running out of time. So are you. Unless you haven't noticed we switched to daylight savings. Ahhh! Again you tempt me, child! Listen, Hessian. What's this really about? I don't have much time left. How do you mean? Soon they're going to try and exorcise me. I've heard their thoughts. Whose? The Priest's and the Squire's. Squire? Oh, the Mayor. Exorcism? When? In a fortnight. At least that is what they said. Somewhere during our conversation he had let go of my neck. I was free to run but didn't. I was silent a moment and looked at the ground. Thank you. For what? The bridge. Oh. You really didn't think that I could let my little one fall, did you? Okay, I take it back. You're really creepy. Why thank you. Does that make me more endearing to your heart? Not by a long shot. I looked around. I'll see what I can do. About the exorcism. I'm pretty sure that I know someone who can help us. With that parting word, I left the cemetery. The horseman stood as a lone figure on the hill. So he wanted my help? I resolved to do all that I could because he had already helped me. As I walked down the deserted street I realized that it was time to make along distance call to Greensburg Georgia.