II

A Change of Pace

The clouds I had noticed earlier had rested themselves stealthily above me, so occupied with pure liquid I was certain they were going to burst at any moment, accompanied by a violent explosion of Mother Nature's roar. I continued my small quest back to my cottage and only minutes after I had left the meadow, my prediction proved itself true, for thunder hollered and shook the ground, and immediately cool water began to fall swiftly to the ground. The rain was so thick it blinded me, and after a few seconds I was completely drenched from head to toe. My skirt seemed to weigh a hundred pounds and it was accomplishment enough progressing a few steps. I was dreading the two miles I had to walk, and hoped that this weather would seize as quickly as it neared. How I longed for the dryness and warmth of my cottage, and a hot meal to fill my vacant stomach. All I could do was press on further and bear such conditions.

Unexpectedly, I heard something interrupt the rhythmic beat of the downpour. How faint it was, but it was there. I slowly turned around and saw the blur of the steeped Ichabod Crane, mounted on his horse, glossy from the rain. Water was dripping from the manes and noses of both man and creature.

"Miss? Miss?" he shouted, but I could barely make out his words and I moved closer. "I couldn't help but wonder how you would fair in such conditions as these, and it would be most polite of me to offer you a ride back to town." He didn't speak nearly as loud, but effort was still put forth to be heard over the clamor of the precipitation.

"It is most generous of you," I shouted. "But alas, I could not accept such an offer from a man I hardly know."

"But you'll catch cold, or worse!" He swung hastily off his horse and landed in front of me. "These are no conditions for a lady to be venturing in. Pneumonia, or…or…"

"I'll go with you," I interrupted him and smiled.

"What?" he paused as if he forgot his offer during his explanation. "Oh, of course." He ginned and turned to his horse, in a position to remount. He slipped his foot in the stirrup and swung into his saddle, obviously a tad difficult considering his soaked clothing. When he was sure he had a sure seat, he turned and offered me a hand. I took it, and together we hoisted myself behind his saddle. His horse pranced nervously at the sudden weight change, but Ichabod's hand calmed him. Although awkward, I was grateful for the man's generous offer. Abruptly, Ichabod spurred his horse, and with a swift setback, he broke into a rapid gallop. Instantaneously, my arms were around the body in front of me. I didn't even bear a thought of propriety, although it would have been most modest and decent of me to do so. But how could I have thought such in the given conditions? My eyes felt as if they were enveloped by fire, and my face pierced by thousands of needles as rain and wind collided with my tender flesh.

From a distance, I could see the dim radiance of lamps and lanterns escaping from the glass windows in Sleepy Hollow as we neared closer to our destination. From this view, the tiny village appeared welcoming and warm. I could imagine the families who occupied these homes, gathered around the dining table feasting on turkey and pork. Their laughs would ring out into the streets, setting a joyful mood even in the densest of places. It was hard to believe that terror and evil could invoke such a community.

Ichabod reined his horse to a halt when we reached the tattered stable. Although sturdy, weather and other elements had taken its toll on the structure casting a haunting appearance. The downpour had lightened into slight drizzle, but we did not notice until we had both dismounted, and the grullo gelding was content with hay and grains in his stall.

Outside the stable, the full moon dangled above us, shedding a soft tint of pale light. I glanced at Ichabod as he was securing the stable doors. His clothes hung limply on his medium frame, water dripping from every fold of his clothes. His hair stuck to the sides of his windburn face in clusters. I was in no better condition as my dress was constricted against every curve of my body and my hair hung flaccid and tangled. What a sight we were to the ignorant eye! I prayed that no one would venture out and notice Ichabod Crane with a mysterious woman, out past the hour, and in such a state.

Hastily, I staggered over toward Ichabod. "Constable Crane," I began when I was certain he was in hearing range. "I appreciate your obliging services to a poor woman… you are really too kind. But, alas, I must deliver my salutations and return to my to my cabin."

"I feel it as my duty to see you to your home," Ichabod politely offered.

"Constable Crane," I objected. "I'm sure I can manage. Furthermore, you have already assisted me an immense deal, and I do not want to take advantage of your services. I am already uncertain of how I can repay you for your decent hospitality towards me today."

"Very well. Though I do not agree with a word you said, I feel it would be pointless in attempting to change your mind. However, there is a community ball at the Van Dan's tomorrow evening, and it would be most decent for you to at least make an appearance."

"What is it your place to tell me about decency, Constable Crane?" I questioned.

"My apologies, I did not mean to…" But before he could finish I indecorously cut him off. I didn't even think twice about politeness.

"I…I don't know a soul in Sleepy Hollow, and few acquaintances. I couldn't possibly show up to a gathering of strangers and…and without an invitation! That is indecent!" My voice rose as I completed my exclamation. How could such a thought even cross his mind? I couldn't envisage my presence at the festivity… not knowing anyone and arrive without being invited… immodest, improper, indecent. Those words dashed across my brain repeatedly. How could Ichabod even make such a decadent suggestion?

"I wouldn't think of it indecent at all, if I do say so," Ichabod differed. "I would just think of it as a woman, new to Sleepy Hollow, familiarizing herself to the rest of the community."

"And the invitation?" I asked impatiently.

"Don't fret over that," Ichabod grinned. "I'll invite you. Consider this your formal invitation."

I was lost for words. I attempted to think of some hopeful excuse, but nothing came to mind. I let out a defeated sigh. "What time shall I arrive?"

The smile on Ichbod's face almost seemed victorious. "Between six and seven o'clock."

"I thank you, Constable Crane. Good evening." I said my formal farewell.

"It was my pleasure, Miss. Until tomorrow." With this, we both turned around and proceeded in opposite directions.

My teeth were chattering and my fingers were on the verge of numbness when I finally opened the squeaky pine door to my cabin. I promptly shut it, closing out the howling wind. After I had lit the lamp on the foyer table, and started a fire in the brick fireplace, I changed out of my damp skirt and equally drenched garments. My skin tingled as it was released from the dress's clammy grasp, and for a moment, I stood nude by the hearth, letting the fire's breath warm my skin. Content I was, and therefore, I slipped on a cotton nightdress and my wool common-day shawl. The pit in my stomach moaned reminding me I was famished, for I had not consumed a bite since my morning meal. I placed the vessel of broth from last evening's supper on the skewer and added additional timber to the fire, eager for the burning broth to occupy my barren stomach.

While waiting for the broth to boil, I pulled out my ivory hand-mirror and comb. Brushing my fingertips over the smooth surfaces, as I had done many times prior, my heart slumped in my chest as a lone tear rolled down my cheek. These two belongings were in all likelihood the most valuable I had in my possession, yet to me they were priceless. They were my mother's, who departed this life as she birthed me, and given to me by my father when I turned sixteen, three days before he gave up his ghost. At sixteen, I was parentless, and alone in a strange and brutal world, suited to others several years more my age. Everyday proved to be an act of survival, and now, three years later, I find myself alone in an undersized cottage skirting a village filled with persons I did not know. Three years hadn't lead too much of a difference.

I sighed and began to attempt to untangle my hair, now dry and stiff. Several minutes later, my hair rest atop my head in an unadorned bun, and I sat at the old, one-person table, entranced by the ecstasy of my simple repast.

Sleep did not come without difficulty, for many hours passed with my eyes wide and alert. I could not take my mind off of the gentleman, legendary Ichabod Crane, whom I had encountered in the meadow. Was something there? Surely, there had to be; I hadn't just felt nothing when I was in his presence. I had no doubt I was attracted to him, that wasn't hard to justify, but was there something more? I'll find out at the community ball tomorrow, I presume…the ball he was so intent as to have me attend. I let out a baffled sigh. All I could do was wait.