Author's Ledger: Hello my fair readers. I would like to thank LinaLove for her wonderful support. I tip my hat to you, my faithful reader. Last installment we left Icabod with a possible love in his life and a promise to thwart the Hessian yet again. I do hope my readers enjoy this next chapter. Good day to you all.

Your Obedient Author

Danbamina

Icabod bent over his ledger, carefully taking notes as old Mrs. Crowley prattled on and on about the Thomas's and their affairs. Being the most knowledgeable person in the neighborhood when it came to others he had sought her out for information on the Thomas's. Yes, he had gotten a lot of useful information and a lot of unnecessary insights into the lives of the other occupants of the Hollow as well. He was actually regretting asking her to tell him 'everything there is to tell'.

"And you know that young Robert down the street? Well he's got himself a girlfriend. That's right, and without either of their parents consent! I saw them kissing out by the Eastern Woods just yesterday! Quite the scandal. And then there's that Miss Williams! Well I won't say a word about her, for that's gossiping." Mrs. Crowley seemed to have at last run out of breath or things to tell that may interest Icabod.

"What is it about Ms. Williams that you have found out, Mrs. Crowley?" Icabod asked finding himself engrossed within the seemingly pointless chatter now.

Mrs. Crowley bent over the table and motioned for Icabod to lean in closer before whispering, "Word around town is she's the controller of the Horseman! I'd be watching my neck if I was you. A woman like that, single, prefers to spend time on a horse than on the ground doing practical things. Well. Who knows what would happen." Mrs. Crowley sat back in her chair, obviously satisfied with herself.

"Practical things?"

"Sewing, cooking, gardening, taking care of her children. That kind of stuff." Mrs. Crowley's nasally voice was laced with frustration.

"She doesn't enjoy those things….and she doesn't have children. Her child is her horse, Madame." Icabod's grip tightened on his pen slightly, to think this woman was accusing someone of murder when she didn't even know anything about said person.

"And that horse! That horse is the very basis of all these suspicions! Have you seen the horse? Oh it is the spitting image of that Daredevil horse that the Hessian rides! She's the guilty one she is." Mrs. Crowley stood up abruptly and grabbed at Icabod's shirt collar, "You listen to me and you listen close, boy. She's the Hessian's maiden and she'll do anything to protect her secret or her lover she will. Even if it means killing you and the entire Hollow."

Icabod reached up and grabbed the elderly woman's surprisingly strong hands and pried them off of his white collar, "Madame. You may want to rethink that last sentence." He said coolly.

"Why should I? It's the truth!" Mrs. Crowley wrenched her hands from Icabod's light grasp and back stepped away from him, her eyes wide with fright.

"Because, Mrs. Crowley the Hessian's Maiden is right behind you and I have a present for you." Helen said calmly and drew a cupcake from her bag; it was iced in bright red with black piping spelling out CROWLEY on it, "its white cake."

"No! No! You're cursing me you are!" Mrs. Crowley flung her arms up in protection of her face and darted through the open door.

Helen laughed at the old woman's antics, "Crazy Crowley. Really she knows a lot but you have to get it from her crazed ramblings. Half the stuff she says is false anyway." Helen turned to Icabod and offered him the cup cake, "Care for it?"

"She's crazy?"

"Sure as I'm standing here before you."

"Did you make me that cupcake?

"Yes I did actually. I just knew you'd be talking to her and she's been saying that since I came up with my favorite joke. Though I stopped playing it that day you came here." Helen shrugged and handed Icabod the cupcake, "You sit down and eat that now, I'll pack up your things." She busied herself with picking up Icabod's various instruments and such and stowing them neatly away inside of his black leather bag. Icabod chewed thoughtfully on his cupcake, enjoying the sweet immensely; sometimes it was nice to indulge oneself just a little bit.

"Be careful of that!" Icabod called out suddenly, reaching over and taking a small rectangle of metal from Helen's hands quickly, "It's special." He explained rubbing a smudge from its gleaming silver.

"What is it?" Helen reached out a tentative hand and brushed her fingers gently along the hinged sides; her light gaze held his own dark one momentarily the question lingering adorably in the frown of her brow and deep within the sparkling starlight of her eyes for the fraction of a second that their eyes met, then she looked away and withdrew her hand.

"Just a picture." Icabod opened the silver case and showed it to her. One side had a painted portrait of him when he was around six years old and the other was a picture of his mother.

"I see where you got your looks." Helen breathed tracing the curves of his mother's profile gently.

"Y-yes, I suppose so." Icabod snapped the case closed and stowed it inside of his jacket carefully before standing up and gathering his belongings and leaving without a word. He mounted his borrowed horse, which by some trick of Fate, was Gunpowder yet again. The old draft horse seemed happy to have Icabod on his back again, but that didn't alleviate his growing fear that everything was beginning to feel like Déjà Vu to him. He trotted on towards the center of town, encountering almost no one; the people he did encounter were quick to get out of his way.

Icabod was used to this by now; most people told him HELLO and then ran away from him. He nodded to a man standing in the middle of the road as he swerved around him and continued on his way to the town square.

"Excuse me, Constable Crane." The man called out he was barely audible to Icabod's sensitive ears.

"Yes?" Icabod pulled Gunpowder around and stopped before the man, "What is it my good fellow?"

"Can you spare me one minute inside my house? It's just over there and this isn't the kind of conversation that should be held outdoors, Constable."

Icabod thought for minute, weighing the pros and cons inside of his mind carefully before deciding anything, "Alright. I'll come inside with you." Icabod dismounted and walked Gunpowder to a nearby hitching post where he tied the old horse securely before following the nervous man into the house small cottage.

"I have some information for you regarding the people who have died, Constable." The man whispered a bit louder than before as he closed the door securely. Icabod seated himself at the small kitchen table and prepared to take some more notes.

***

Icabod left the house, deeply troubled by the information that had been imparted to him, everything seemed to be pointing to Helen but it couldn't be her. She was far too kind and much too intelligent to believe in witchcraft. Though, so had Katrina. Icabod patted Gunpowder's broad shoulder and rested his face against the short, thick neck of the horse, breathing in the acrid but strangely comforting scent of the animal. Quite suddenly Icabod found himself crying into the warm furry expanse of neck, his arms wrapped securely around it, the horse tolerated the contact and something about the reassuring smell and the total aliveness of old Gunpowder made Icabod cry all the harder. He felt as if he let go of the solemn animal he'd fall away into nothing. Eventually he did let go of the horse, feeling utterly spent he made to mount and go home. But as he lifted his foot to slip it into the stirrup he became dizzy and promptly fainted.

The next thing Icabod knew he was waking up on the cold ground, something warm and squishy was pushing against his face. Icabod turned his head to be greeted by a large gray thing that snuffled about his hair and face. Icabod made a small sound of terror, sitting up and scrabbling backwards on his palms quickly to get away from the gray thing. It followed him, but with a few inches separating them. Icabod looked up a little bit to see the rest of a horse's muzzle. Gunpowder had been trying to wake him up. He sighed, relieved, and gently pushed the persistent muzzle away from his face.

"Good horsy." Icabod said standing up and taking Gunpowder's reins in one hand he mounted, "Let's head home." Icabod lightly kicked Gunpowder's sides, the horse remained immoveable, "Don't do this to me, not now. Let's go." Icabod kicked a bit harder, the horse grunted and took one step forward before stopping, "Go forward, Gunpowder!" Icabod dug his heels into the furry sides; Gunpowder flicked his ears back and bucked him off.

Icabod went flying, his arms and legs flailing about spectacularly before landing in a conveniently placed pile of hay. He stood up and brushed himself off. This was no time for a horse to get the better of him; it was far too late to be out, what with the Horseman on the loose. He walked over and remounted his stubborn steed.

"Now, Gunpowder, you listen here. We're going to move and we're going to move NOW!" Icabod kicked at Gunpowder's sides again and the horse moved forward at a slow walk, "Better than nothing I suppose." Icabod sighed, not wanting to risk kicking the horse and getting bucked again.

As they walked sedately onwards Icabod became aware of another set of hoof beats, much quicker than Gunpowder's growing closer and closer. He glanced behind him to see a great black horse come galloping at a reckless pace up the road towards him. In the darkness it was hard to make out the rider. He kicked Gunpowder and as if sensing Icabod's distress the horse picked up a quick canter.

It could just be Helen out looking for me but best to go as fast as possible straight home. He reasoned with himself as the hoof beats faded a little. He had never really realized how far away they were from the main body of the village though it had always seemed so short with someone else. But those hoof beats nagging his ear and attention made it seem so much further. He barely noticed when they got louder, and louder, and louder, at last he looked over his shoulder.

"Helen! Stop this now!" He called at the rider, but as the horse got closer he realized it wasn't Helen, it was the Hessian, with drawn sword and a head in his bag, "HELP!" He called out, spurring his Gunpowder ferociously in the sides, the horse reacted instantly, leaping into his bouncy gallop but the Horseman kept pace easily, it was like a race almost except at any moment the Horseman could turn and remove Icabod's head. And now that he was really presented with the problem he found he was quite fond of his head, "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" He shouted out, his eyes fixed on the Horseman's drawn blade.

Another pair of hoof beats presented itself to Icabod's ears at that precise moment, riding even faster than the Horseman and Icabod. Admiral came flying around the bend that obscured Icabod's home from view with Helen upon his back in armor that greatly resembled the Horseman's she had a sword on her also and was charging them down. Icabod's eyes widened in terror as he grasped what she meant to do.

"No! Helen! Don't!" He cried out but his voice failed him in his terror and all he could do was watch and wait for the clash.

Helen reached them in a matter of seconds and as she passed she swung her sword against the Horseman's, with a twirl of her wrist the sword came flying from the hand easily. She pulled Admiral up just as soon as the Horseman turned his steed to go and retrieve his blade.

"Go back to the house Icabod! NOW!" Helen ordered harshly, Admiral reared and struck out at Gunpowder's hind quarters, "Go!"

Gunpowder skittered away from the stallion with a frightened whinny. Icabod looked back to see Helen galloping behind him. The Horseman was no where to be seen. Yet. Icabod thought darkly.

They reached the safety of the front porch in good time and tied their horses to the railing, afraid to go into the darkness without the animals. Helen rubbed Admiral's wide forehead lovingly, all the while cooing to the horse about how brave he had been.

"What about old Gunpowder here?" Icabod asked watching Helen place yet another kiss on Admiral's forehead.

"It's your job to praise him." Helen waved her hand at the old horse and smiled charmingly.

"Don't you think we ought to go inside?" Icabod looked nervously around, the darkness was stifling.

"Of course. Go on inside. I know an old horse that would love some attention." Helen moved over to rub Gunpowder's wizened face and coo at him too. Icabod was astounded at how much love this girl had for the animals; they were only animals after all.

"Well, let's go inside shall…Did you hear that?" Helen went absolutely quiet and rigid.

"Hear what?"

"Shhhh!" Helen hissed crouching down a little bit, "Listen."

Icabod strained his ears and heard nothing. He was about to say so when the wind blew and he caught the sound of hoof beats yet again, "Oh….my….God. He's coming for you!" Icabod felt as if he was about to faint.

"I thought so." Helen nodded her head and went to Admiral's side; she drew the long double edged sword from its sheath on her saddle and weighed it in her hands tenderly, "Icabod. Whatever happens….do me a favor all right?"

"What is it?"

"Don't faint."

"What're you talking about?"

"You seem the kind to faint at bloodshed. I'll need you if he doesn't….well you know." Helen grimaced and looked meaningfully at Icabod.

"Of course." Icabod met her shimmering starlight gaze, feeling rather sad.

Helen stepped forward and placed a cool hand on his cheek, "Goodbye Icabod. Be sure not to faint." She smiled sadly at him and walked away, the sword's pale shine marking her progress in the gloom of the moonless night.

Icabod untied Admiral and mounted the great stallion, the horse made a funny whickering noise as Icabod settled himself in the saddle, "Come on Admiral." He whispered, Admiral stepped away from the porch obediently, "Stay here Gunpowder." Icabod instructed the old gray gently.

The sound of metal clashing against metal came floating serenely across the dark lawn. Icabod let Admiral walk at his own pace, following the sound as closely as he could. A shriek of pain reverberated in the eerily still air for a split second before silence fell. Complete and utter silence. The silence was more oppressive than the overwhelming, almost solid blackness of the night. Icabod waited for a few minutes before daring to open his mouth.

"Helen?" He called hesitantly out, Admiral's ears pricked forward and the horse shook his head from side to side, "Helen?" Icabod ventured again, a little louder this time. He strained his ears for anything besides the jingling of Admiral's tack. Icabod called out for her several more times but still the silence dominated all thought, as if reluctant to give up its control over Icabod's rational mind. Icabod gave up all hope and turned Admiral's head for the brightly glowing windows of the house. The moon broke through the cloud cover just then, full and bright, flooding the land with a silver-blue glow, the light, though watery hurt Icabod's eyes after such a long time in the dark, but it was enough for him to see the shape lying, prone on the ground a few feet to his left. Helen! He thought, afraid to speak the word lest she disappeared. The best part though, was that the body still possessed its head.

Icabod dismounted and ran to the body. Bending over it he discovered that it was indeed Helen, her ebony black hair splayed delicately over her delicately carved features, her eyes were closed but she still breathed. Icabod picked up her light form and laid it across the front of Admiral's saddle before mounting himself and trotting off to the house. How had she gotten so far away so quickly? He didn't really care but it troubled him, had the Horseman carried her in the dreadful silence?

Admiral slid to a stop and Icabod jumped off, pulling Helen with him, he burst inside the warm house, "Help! Elizabeth!" He called for the servant girl that Helen had been so kind as to hire.

"What is it, Mr. Crane?" Elizabeth bustled into the room her round face alight with curiosity, "Oh my goodness gracious! We must get her into bed at once! Hurry up now, you know where it is. In the mean time I'll go fetch the Doctor. May I borrow your horse sir?"

"Of course. Go on now. Hurry." Icabod went up the stairs and into Helen's room, it was simply decorated with books piled on what surfaces were available and several oil lamps all were almost empty. Pictures of horses dotted the walls and a large Persian rug covered the area around her large bed. It was to this that Icabod made his way through the collection of leather armchairs and side tables. This blue and cream covered four poster bed with bright white hangings; here Helen could rest and recover. He laid her down tenderly on top over the covers. He took an extra blanket from the top of the trunk at the foot of the bed and placed it on top of her.

"Hi." Helen's soft voice made Icabod jump.

"Oh! You're awake! Thank God!" Icabod placed a hand on her forehead gently.

"You didn't faint." Helen whispered a smile playing with the corners of her mouth.

"No." Icabod knelt down by her head and he lowered his voice, looking into her half lidded eyes, "I didn't."

"Good." Helen reached up, grasped his hand and pulled it from her forehead before letting go and closing her eyes again. How frail she seemed, lying there with the an uncharacteristic pallor on her features.

"I promise I'll catch him, him and whoever is controlling him." Icabod stood up and left the room, unable to think about Helen's demise any longer. He headed up the stairs to his own room. It didn't feel as cozy as Helen's hodgepodge of a room had felt but it was his own and that was all that mattered. He was safe in his own room, in his own house. He collapsed onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow, thinking deeply about the events of the day and all he had found out. Before he knew it he was sound asleep and lost within his tangled subconscious.

***

Author's Ledger: Ah well, maybe dear Icabod is letting go of his grief, I do believe that what Winston Churchill said about horses is quite true, as it has held that way for me everytime I have ever gone to them for solace. Oh. I am forgetting myself, Winston said that 'There's something abou the outside of a horse that's good for the inside of a man.' My inspiration for the second part.

As I was saying before. Icabod may be letting go of some of his grief and anger, softening to the whims of a woman. Ah love. Is it not the cure for most everything in our lives? (Besides horses and time? *snickers* Had to slip that one in.) Anyway, it is still to be decided what will happen. Who is the controler of the Horseman? Why didn't he attack Icabod? Who did he kill? Stay tuned to find out.

Your Faithful Author

Danbamina

PS: I'm trying to set up a regular update day. Perhaps once a week (if I have time), this one day a week where I will update is yet to be decided, when I settle into a good writing time I will alert you via a chapter. And one more thing, my dear readers, please do tell your friends and review. It will make this so much easier to continue writing. Thank you.