Sleepy Hollow (for girls) part 7

You hurry over to the horse and the figure beside it, but slowed down in order not to scare the animal. Kneeling down you found yourself looking at the unconscious Ichabod Crane, his body surrounded by little pieces of charred and smoking pumpkin. Further down the road, around a bend, you could hear the roaring laughter of men, and you quickly realised that this was the scene where Brom had dressed up as the Headless Horseman and frightened the poor constable nearly to death.

Shaking your head and muttering something non-flattering about men, you turned back to the black-haired man beside you and sighed. What were you to do now? Were you really going to believe that all of this was true and was happening to you, or were you going to ignore it all? 'De Nile' wasnt only a river in Egypt, as they said. But if you WERE going to accept this all as something else than a dream, what would you do? Would you tell Ichabod everything, where to find the Tree of the Dead, how to vanquish the Headless Horseman, who the guilty party was? Whilst on the topic, would it all play out like it did in the movie? Your appearance could have changed everything!

'I'm getting a headache.' You thought to yourself as you pushed a couple of strands away from Ichabod's pale face. 'I suppose I will have to take one step at the time, and see what happens. And I can finally tell Katrina van Tassel exactly what I think of her. But first things first...' you focused back on the dead-to-the-world constable and started poking him. "Wake up!"

Ichabod merely groaned and turned over.

"Oi! Wake up!"

Still nothing.

"Wake up, dammit!" you growled, and slapped the poor man a bit harder than necessary. However, that did the job and Ichabod Crane woke up with a gasp. He blinked a few times, focused on you, his eyes got wide, and then he quickly sat up. This resulted in yours and his foreheads meeting. Painfully.
"OW!!!! What in heaven's name do you think you're doing?! Is this any way to thank the person who rescued you from sleeping outside on a cold autumn night?"

"Miss ____!" the young constable exclaimed in relief, and totally ignored his throbbing head. "You are alright! We were so worried when you disappeared, and we couldn't find you no matter how much we searched. The town was beginning to think that you were taken by the Headless Horseman, silly as that notion is. Where DID you disappear off to?"

Realising that you couldn't tell the truth - lets face it, even you weren't sure what the truth was! - you said the first thing that entered your mind. "I am a detective. I came here to solve this case, just like you."

Ichabod Crane sent you a weird look. "B-but y-you're a woman!"
"What of it?" you demanded, crossing your arms and sending the man a narrow glare.

"It... it is simply un-unexpected!" Ichabod stammered, trying to defuse the situation. Like all men he recognised the stance of an angry woman, and knew when to back down. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!'

"Exactly!" you nodded your head. "No one would expect me to be a detective, and I would be able to listen in on conversations without much fear of discovery. After all, I am 'only a woman'."

He nodded slowly. "I must admit that you have a point there, Miss ____, but I had no idea that they were sending anyone else. Or that there was a female officer, if you'll excuse my saying so."

"I'm... I'm from a small, private company, far, far away," you said hastily. "I had no idea either that another detective was assigned to the case. While on the topic, would you mind working together on the case? I could pretend to be your sister or wife or something, who came hurrying after you for some strange reason." You stood up and dusted your pants off, then looked down at the still-seated constable.
Is this really a good idea?
Ichabod Crane was blushing and stuttering and refusing to look at you. "W-w-w-w-wif-fe?!" he squeaked in shock.

You sighed. "Alright, a sister then."

"No! N-n-no! A wif-... a wif-..."

"A wife?"

"Yes, that," he nodded. "I... I don't m-mind, r-really, b-b-but-t h-how are w-we to explain it t-to the r-rest of the town?" Ichabod managed to stutter this out as he stood up and dusted himself off with shaky and stiff movements. He had apparently accepted your completely cock-and-bull story about being a detective - he didn't even ask for any evidence! - and was now trying to come up with a plan on how to introduce you to the community of Sleepy Hollow. "It... it isn't n-normal for a woman - m-m-married or not - t-to travel all alone. Nor to go ch-chasing after her hus-... husb-..."

"Her husband?" you were quite amused by his stuttering and shyness. It was cute.

"Her hus-husband." Ichabod nodded shakily. "A-and y-you don't s-seem to have any clothes unless you have been l-liv-living in the West-Western Woods until now."

You took a moment to think about that. "We can tell them that I got robbed on the way here, and that I had to take the clothes from an old scarecrow. That should make some of the people feel sorry for me, and will loosen their tongues around me."

"T-that might actually work." Ichabod thought for a moment. "Yes, it might." He nodded finally and took the horse's reigns.

"Alright, you need to fill me in on everything that has happened so far, and I shall share my information with you afterwards." You said as the two of you headed down the road and towards Sleepy Hollow. The woods around you thinned out until you were travelling across the fields surrounding the town. A wispy, pale mist crept along the ground, looking all the paler and ghost-like in the cold moonlight. The town of Sleepy Hollow looked even more foreboding where it lay, and the van Tassel's house on the hill looked like an old castle that kept watch. There was light in a couple of the windows of the manor, but otherwise everything was quiet and dark. The only sounds were Ichabod's and the horse's footsteps, your's were more silent due to your Tasmanian Devil-slippers.

'There are so many holes in my explanation, that it's surprising that Ichabod hasn't figured it out yet.' You thought, sending a look towards you skittish companion. 'He's probably just glad not to have to face something supernatural by himself.'

Ichabod had been debating with himself. He had never even heard of a female officer before, and he was trying to figure out a way to explain everything that had happened, but also try to shield your female mind against it. Finally deciding that there was nothing to it but to do it, he sighed. "There was a new killing last night," he began. "We found the body of Jonathan Masbeth this morning, headless like all the others. The the neck-wound had been cauterised the very instant it was made, as if the blade had been red hot. Cauterisation is-" he started explaining to you, but you cut him off.

"The skin was burnt. This stopped the blood-flow, which in turn points to there not being much blood around the body, correct?" you asked. 'Who said that watching CSI wasnt educational?'

Ichabod seemed shocked that you knew so much. "Y-yes, that is correct. We found footprints of a gigantic horse around the body, but the head was gone as in all the other cases. Mr Masbeth is to be buried come dawn."

"Any family?"

"A son if I remember correctly. I haven't been able to find out anything else, the people here do not take lightly to strangers."

"Poor child." You said, playing along. You had gone through Sleepy Hollow proper already, and were well on your way to the van Tassel mansion. "Hmm, well, I suppose I shall tell you what I know then. There is a conspiracy here," you said, feeling that it was safe to uncover that much. "And it involves the murdered victims in one way or another. There is also a suspicion of mine that there is five victims, not four."

"What?" Ichabod looked at you. "What do you mean?"
The Widow Winship, obviously!
"Well-" you started to say, but at that moment the doors of the mansion opened wide, and light from inside nearly blinded you. A young girl, approximately you age, stood in the doorway. Her blond hair falling down her shoulders, and her dress rather pale, matching the dreary atmosphere and scenery. 'Katrina van Tassel, I assume.'

"Constable Crane!" the girl exclaimed happily. "I am so very glad that you are alright! You were gone for so long that I was beginning to get worried. I couldn't sleep, so I sat up reading, intending to wait up for you. When I heard your voice through the window, I was so relived, and-" then she stopped and looked at you. "Who is this?"

You were eager to see if Ichabod Crane would manage to stutter through your hastily thrown together explanation without ruining it all, and watched the unfolding scene with anticipation.
But to your shock Ichabod didn't stutter or blush or do anything weird, he simply put a gentle hand on your shoulder, and smiled at Katrina van Tassel.

"This is my wife, ____." The constable said. "____, dear, this is Miss Katrina van Tassel. The only child of Baltus van Tassel who was gracious enough to let me stay with them."

"It is nice to meet you, Miss van Tassel." You said to the blond with a small smile, and held out your hand.

Katrina took it hesitantly. "Y-yes, it is nice to meet you too, Mrs Crane. Please, come in. I shall wake the stable-boy to take care of your horse, constable."

Both you and Ichabod nodded at this, and entered the house. Ichabod played the perfect husband, and led you over to a comfortable chair, then hovered around you with a worried mien. You didn't know if that was an act, or if he was worried how this entire farce would turn out, but you didn't say anything and accepted his attention as graciously as you could. Katrina seemed to be rather shocked at this development, but quickly shook it off, and - after waking the stable-boy and giving him his orders - she became the perfect hostess.

"But what happened to your clothes, Mrs Crane?!" was the first thing that left her mouth when she finally noticed your state of dress.

"I was unfortunately robbed along the way," you replied and gave a theatrical sigh. "All my clothes and money were stolen! I had to borrow some clothes from a scarecrow in a field! I have been walking since yesterday to reach Sleepy Hollow and my husband."

"An outrage!" Katrina really seemed to think so. "Can't the police do something about these-" she cut herself off as she remembered exactly who was in the room. "I am sorry, I didn't mean it. I will go get you something to wear, Mrs Crane. We look about the same size, so some of my old clothes should fit you. Excuse me."

You watched in amusement as she hightailed out of the room. Ichabod finally got his customary panic-attack, and sunk down on the sofa, his head in his hands.

"I cannot believe it has come to this." He groaned.

'I can't believe that either.' You thought. 'This entire thing shouldn't be happening, yet here I am! The real test isn't the Hessian, he's easy enough to deal with. The real test is whether or nor I'll be able to pull this off!'
I can do it!
Katrina returned with a couple of dresses and a nightgown, and then she went into the kitchen to get you something to eat whilst you and Ichabod made your way to his room. The young blond handed you a tray with some bread and cheese, two cups and a pitcher of water, before she excused herself and went to bed. You placed the food on the small table in the room, then sat down on the chair.
Ichabod clearly wanted to pace, but kept himself in check in order not to give anything away. Instead he sat down on the bed, sighed heavily, and rubbed his face.

"You..." he began. "You said something about five victims, Miss ____?"

"Yes," you nodded, and ignored the food. "One of the victims was a woman, right?"

"The Widow Winship."

"Indeed. I think she was with child when she was beheaded."

Ichabod nearly fell off the bed in shock. "You cannot be serious!"

"I'm afraid I am," you sighed. "However, it is just a theory of mine, so I am not completely sure. I shall have to check it out." You nearly grimaced at the thought of digging up a headless corpse in order to prove it. You clutched your bundle of clothes closer to yourself.

"Dig up the widow's grave?" he looked as queasy at the thought as you did. "I-I wouldn't recommend it unless you have some further proof."

"I suppose," you said, "but it can't be helped. Perhaps I can ask the midwife about it."

"That might work, and I can ask Doctor Lancaster. He ought to know as well." Ichabod stretched. "I think it is time to go to bed, especially if we are to attend the burial tomorrow morning."

You nodded and yawned and stood up from your perch. In a somewhat hidden corner of the room you quickly changed into the nightgown Katrina had handed you, then stepped out only to see Ichabod staring horrified at the bed.

The small bed.

The bed there was only one of.

'Well shit.' You groaned. How were you to get past this obstacle?

Oh dear!
The night had proceeded without much hassle, actually. Ichabod had insisted that you take the bed, while he settled on the floor with several blankets and his own coat. Either way, the night had passed quickly, and the two of you had been woken up early the next morning by the servant girl. You had eaten breakfast with the van Tassels, and you had been introduced to Mr and Mrs van Tassel, who had both seemingly bought your sad story, and had welcomed you gladly.

'Yeah, right!' You nearly snorted when Mrs van Tassel proclaimed how brave you were to walk all the way to Sleepy Hollow after being robbed.

"Dear girl, you must have gotten quite a shock!" Baltus van Tassel exclaimed. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, and we shall all be very quiet in order to give you your rest."

Although the elderly man's sentiments were touching, you weren't a china doll - like most women in this age seemed to be - and you simply smiled politely. "When one's husband is a police officer, one tends to get used to certain things. I thank you for your offer, but you needn't concern yourselves too much about me."

"Do not worry, sir," Ichabod spoke up. "My wife is made of stronger stuff than you might think." He said, and he knew he was right. In the short while he had known you, you had proven that you weren't the stereotypical woman, and he had to admit that he liked it.

Almost at once after breakfast the five of you headed towards the church and the graveyard for the burial. You and Ichabod hung back from the rest of the crowd. People were staring, especially at you. Rumours had already flown around that the constable's wife had arrived during the night, and everyone was eager to get a glimpse of a woman that would fight off a group of thieves single-handedly and then walk for two days straight without sleep to get to her husband.

Quite obviously the rumours had been exaggerated to the extreme by now.

"Is that Jonathan Masbeth's son?" you asked and pointed to the young lad.

Ichabod nodded, and patted your hand (which held on to his arm) to keep up the appearance of a husband comforting his wife. "Yes, that is the boy. That is Reverend Steenwyck, Doctor Lancaster and his wife, Magistrate Philips, and the notary, Hardenbrook." He pointed them out discretely as he named them. "Do you think they know something about this conspiracy you mentioned, and Widow Winship's possible pregnancy?"

"There is a very good chance that they do," you replied. "They are, after all, the town elders."
The rest is in the results
The burial went off without a hitch, though you were slightly bored with the lengthy speech Reverend Steenwyck held. It was noon by the time the casket was lowered into the ground, and people soon started to disappear. You and Ichabod stood off to the side, observing them all, when none other than the boy, Masbeth, came up to you.

"Mr Constable, sir!" he called as he hurried up to you two. "Mrs Constable, ma'am!"

"Young Masbeth, correct?" Ichabod more stated than asked.

"I was Young Masbeth, but now Im the only one." The boy replied. "Masbeth at your service! In honour bound to avenge my father!"

Ichabod smiled sadly and understandingly. "Well, one-and-only Masbeth, I thank you, but your mother will need you more than we."

"I am sorry for your loss, Mr Masbeth," you added, feeling rather foolish. You knew that the boy would become Ichabod Crane's servant, yet you had to go through all these things unnecessarily. You also hated to have to act like a demure little lady when both you and Ichabod knew that you were tougher than that.

Masbeth looked up at you. "My mother's in heaven, sir," he said. "She has my father to take care of her now. But you and the Missus have no one to serve you, and I am your man, sir!"

"A brave man too, and I'm sure-" you began, but Ichabod cut you off.

"But we cannot be the ones to take care of you." The constable said and un-perceivably tightened his hold on your hand. "As my wife said, my condolences for your loss, young Mr Masbeth." Then he nodded politely to the boy, and pulled you away.

You looked up at him. "What was that for? We could have accepted his offer to help, he'd be invaluable in giving us information about the town!"

"I do not want a child involved in this." Ichabod looked down at you. "You are practically a child your-"

"Magistrate Philips!" you cut him off and greeted the fat man that came up to you. "How do you do?"

"Mrs Crane," the elderly man greeted you, then turned to Ichabod. "Mr Crane, might I have a word with you in private?"

This time you were the one to tighten your hold on Ichabod's arm, and he had to hide a wince. "Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my wife, Mr Philips." He said.

The magistrate looked hesitant, then cast a wary look around before he leaned in closer to the two of you. "Jonathan Masbeth wasn't the fourth victim, but the fifth."

"The fifth?!" Ichabod blinked in surprise, then shot you a look, but you were acting to be equally surprised as he was.

"Aye, five victims to four graves," Philips said then hurried off.

You turned to Ichabod, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you still think we need more proof?"

The black-haired constable looked rather indecisive for a moment, before he seemed to give in and turned towards where the young Masbeth had been standing over his father's grave. "Mr Masbeth! Find a place in the van Tassels' servants quarters, and wake us before dawn. I hope you have a strong stomach."