“Not in fine-tooth detail, but I’m familiar enough. I volunteered here in high school and undergrad years, and I help out when I’m in town.”
Abby was about to respond when Katie turned and walked away. “Be right back with the other box,” she said over her shoulder with another grin.
“Okay.” Abby stared after her, admiring the way Katie’s butt filled her jeans. She tore her gaze away and returned to the reading room, laughing at herself about her reactions. Even geeky historian grad students enjoyed a distraction now and again. But how weird, that the woman from last night was here at the historical society today.
Katie appeared at the door a few minutes later and Abby pushed it open for her.
“Here you go,” Katie said. “Box four. Mostly Baltus’s letters to businessmen, though there are some letters from family overseas.” Katie set the box on the big wooden conference table. “And in the last few files you’ll meet Katrina van Tassel—you know. Baltus’s daughter—though you’ll find out more about her in box five, which I think you’ll enjoy more.”
“What kind of letters did she write? Eleanor and Lu said she was pretty detailed.”
“She was. And fun, for the most part. She was pretty observant.”
“Who did she write to?”
“Relatives and friends, mostly. One of her cousins in New York City she was particularly close to.” Katie leaned forward and lowered her voice, dramatic. “I think this cousin was a lesbian.”
“Uh,” Abby said because she wasn’t sure what else to make of this revelation.
“I mean, insofar as the idea of a lesbian identity was understood back then.”
“What makes you think that?”
Katie gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I don’t want to bias you further. See if you come to the same conclusions. I’ll catch up with you later. I’m interested to find out what you—as a historian—think.”
“All right.” Abby watched her go, enjoying another view of Katie’s ass and wondering if Katie might have been throwing her a little clue about herself. With a sigh, Abby turned back to the box, put on her gloves, and dug into the first file. Katrina first. Then maybe she’d let herself think more about the effect Katie had on her.
Two hours later, Abby sat back, thinking. Many of the letters Katrina had written in English, though it had been difficult for Abby to get the hang of her script. Some were in Dutch, and she could figure those out from her own language background.
Katrina van Tassel had indeed written to friends and family and, as Katie had said, she’d written to a female cousin in New York City more often than to others, at least in terms of this box. Cousin Johanna hadn’t mentioned men in her life beyond friends and brothers, but she spoke often of a “dear friend” Margaret, and Katrina asked after her in every letter Abby had thus far read.
Intrigued, she packed up box four and took it down to Lu. “I’m particularly interested in Katrina van Tassel’s correspondence,” she said as she placed the box carefully on the counter.
“Ah, yes. Boxes four through eight. I’ll get five. That one has quite a lot of her letters.” Lu took the box and disappeared into the back, to the stairs that would take her down to the vault. The most fragile documents remained there, and couldn’t be examined in the reading room. Rather, they had to stay in the vault, and researchers were supervised while going through them. Abby didn’t think she’d need to see any of those, but Lu had given her a list of what was included, in case she changed her mind.
“Box five,” Lu announced, and Abby signed the sheet on the clipboard Lu had left on the counter. Eleanor had said last night that she recalled a mention of Ichabod in this box, in a letter Katrina had written to Johanna. Abby took the box back to the reading room, put her gloves on, and resumed working through the files. And soon, things got really interesting.
Katrina mentioned her displeasure about Abraham van Brunt, who was openly courting her in 1799. She considered him somewhat of a boor, according to her letters to Johanna, though she was more restrained in her opinions of him to other family members and friends. He was known around town as “Brom Bones,” and she referred to him most often as Brom, like Lu and Eleanor did. “Dear Johanna,” she wrote in English during the spring of 1799, “how I wish I could come live with you and Margaret in New York. Perhaps Brom would direct his designs elsewhere were I not present, though I know Father approves of him and his damnable attentions.”
Abby typed the letter’s date into her laptop along with the quote. So Johanna and Margaret lived together. Of course, they could be sisters. But if that were the case, why didn’t Abby write to Margaret directly, as another cousin? She took the last file out of the box. Midway through the file while reading another of Katrina’s letters, she stopped and re-read the previous paragraph.
There it was. The name Crane, on a letter dated from early summer, 1799. Katrina referenced a “Mr. I. Crane, of Connecticut.” Abby’s heart rate increased. For the first time, she was seeing her ancestor’s name outside a story. According to the letter, Crane behaved like a gentleman in all accords, dressed simply but neatly, and was able to dance. Katrina described him as “handsome, delicate of feature, not very tall, and certainly not an oaf, as Brom is.” He had come to teach at the local school, and Katrina marveled that he encouraged the girls in the village to come as well, much to the consternation of local officials.
“I’m afraid Mr. Crane has made an enemy of old Van Brunt the magistrate,” Katrina wrote two letters later. “It seems he is much perturbed at Mr. Crane’s insistence on ensuring all the girls in the village can read. He is quite odd, this Mr. Crane, but I find him an excellent and respectful conversationalist. And he truly is pleasant to look upon. I find myself drawn to him, much to my pleasure and chagrin. I anticipate seeing him each day, and long for his company when he is otherwise occupied, but I know such could never be. My father wishes to marry me into the Van Brunt family. I suppose I’m hoping that Brom’s younger brother is less oafish than he, but there are several years between us.”
The last letter in the file, dated in July, was Katrina writing to Johanna again. She started with the usual news from around the village but finished cryptically with, “I have discovered something, Johanna, and I’m certain both you and Margaret will be quite astounded at this revelation. It concerns Mr. Crane, who is not who we all thought him to be. Indeed, he is so much more. As I will be coming to New York next week, dear Johanna, I shall reveal what I know to you then. To wit, it explains quite a lot, and I am both elated but distressed.”
Abby put the letter down. “What?” she asked the file. “What did you find out?” She looked through the letters in that file again, wondering if perhaps she had missed something. No, she hadn’t. “Damn,” Abby muttered as she put the file back in the box. “Come on, Katrina. What did you find out?” She made a note of the letter, the date, and the file just as Lu appeared at the door.
“I’m ready for box six,” Abby said, needing to know what Katrina had found out.
Lu grinned. “It’s nearly five.” She pointed at the clock on the opposite wall.
Abby stared. She’d totally lost track of time. She’d even missed lunch.
“A true historian,” Lu said. “Lost in time. Go get something to eat and get some rest. Box six will be here when you come back tomorrow.” Lu checked through the files and Abby opened her laptop bag for inspection. She didn’t mind the protocol. There were people out there, after all, who liked to steal historic documents. She wasn’t one of them, but Lu didn’t know that yet. Abby took her bag back from Lu and held the door for her, since she was carrying the box of files.
“Wait for me at the counter,” Lu said. “I have something I think you’ll enjoy reading.”
A few minutes later Lu appeared from the back, carrying a white plastic binder. “Back in the nineties, one of our volunteers got interested in Ichabod. So she
went through all of the letters between Katrina and Johanna, trying to piece together what happened to him. These are her findings.” She handed the binder to Abby. “Go ahead and take it with you tonight. I’ve signed it out to you. It probably doesn’t have much to do with your project overall, but it might give you some new directions for your family history.”
“Excellent. Thanks.” Abby put it in her laptop bag. “See you tomorrow morning.”
“If you come before we open, you can have coffee and donuts with us in the break room. Robert might have some thoughts about your project.”
“That would be great. What time?”
“Seven-thirty. Just call me on my cell when you get here. I’ll come and let you in. Have a good evening.”
Abby nodded and left, deciding she’d have dinner at the pub she’d eaten at the night before with Lu and Eleanor. She picked a booth in the back, ordered a hamburger and iced tea, and took the binder out of her bag. It held about thirty typed pages double-spaced, with footnotes at the bottom of each. She started reading, taking a break for her hamburger, though she wasn’t fully convinced by the researcher’s argument, which posited that Ichabod had actually been an American spy who had come to Sleepy Hollow to assess the amount of Loyalist sentiment in the area. Though she didn’t fully buy it, Abby got caught up in the idea and she barely noticed the server take her plate.
“So? Was I right about Johanna?”
Abby looked up, startled. Katie stood next to her table, smiling. She had a great smile. The kind that made you want to find out more about her and invite her to dinner. She wore a faded gray sweatshirt that said “Vermont” across the chest and a blue baseball cap that looked like it was probably a favorite of hers. Abby tried to ignore the little current that danced down her thighs, but it didn’t work.
“I think there is definitely a case to be made with regard to Katrina’s cousin’s proclivities,” Abby said. “But what about Ichabod? What did Katrina find out about him?”
“You finished box five.”
“Yeah. Do I find out in box six?”
“Not that I could tell.”
Abby gestured for her to sit across from her and Katie slid into the booth. “So we don’t find out what this big secret was?” Abby asked. That was a major historical bummer.
“No. And I tried to track it down in the other boxes.” Katie pointed at the binder. “What do you think about that?”
“It’s as good a story as any. I hadn’t considered the Ichabod-as-war-veteran angle, but it doesn’t really explain why he disappeared. I mean, why would the family of a British loyalist still be pissed off, over a decade after the war, at a spy like Ichabod Crane?”
The server returned and Katie ordered a beer from him. “Do you want anything else?” Katie asked Abby.
“No, I’m good. ”
The server left and Katie settled herself more into the booth. Abby tried not to think about the thrill she got when Katie’s foot accidentally bumped hers.
“But it’s an interesting take, don’t you think?” Katie said. “And people carry grudges for a long time. If your family got screwed over in the Revolutionary War and the spy who did most of the screwing suddenly shows up in your neighborhood years later, you might want to do a little ass-kicking. And if the guy dies, oh, well.”
“But what’s the deal with the horseman? The legend says that the horseman might have been responsible for Ichabod’s disappearance.”
Katie shrugged. “The horseman at that time could’ve been a local guy messing with Ichabod. I’d guess Brom Bones, since he was trying to hook up with Katrina. And in the letters, it seems Katrina was leaning toward Ichabod. So Brom thought he’d scare him away. There might have been an accident that Brom didn’t count on. The horseman was already a legend, after all, before Ichabod showed up.”
Abby sat back, thinking. Katrina had said that Ichabod wasn’t who he seemed to be. The spy angle, thus, could answer that question. He was a spy and not a schoolteacher. But why would that both elate and distress Katrina?
“Were the Van Tassels British loyalists?” Abby asked.
“No. At least there’s nothing to suggest they were hardcore into that. Though it would make sense if they were because merchant types did tend to stay loyal to the crown. I think they rather enjoyed the prospects of an independent America, but for the most part, it seems they stayed neutral or leaned slightly American.” Katie looked up as the server dropped her beer off. “Thanks,” she said as he moved away and Abby stared at her profile for a little longer than was necessary.
Katie took a drink, set the glass down and said, “There’s no mention in any history in these parts that suggests that about the Van Tassels, though again, there might have been a few in the family tree. But that’s a good point, if Ichabod was an American spy who pissed off a local family.”
“What about the Van Brunts?”
“Same. From what local history tells us, most of the people in this area were either pro-American or tried to stay neutral. There were some loyalist factions in surrounding communities, and probably a few loyalists in every family, which no doubt created drama at gatherings.”
Abby closed the binder. “Are you sure you want to do political science?”
Katie laughed. “I sound like Lu, don’t I?”
“A little.”
“I’m doing history as a minor field. But I keep my options open. I might change my mind.” She took another sip of beer. “Lu says you’re working on your dissertation.”
“Yes. A community study. I’m interested in how folklore intertwines with local histories and how they influence each other. And that sounded really nerdy, didn’t it?”
Katie grinned. “Totally. But I like nerds. A lot.”
Abby didn’t give herself time to contemplate Katie’s statement further because something occurred to her. “Did Johanna leave a journal?”
“Not that I’ve seen. It’s not here, anyway. Why?”
“Because maybe she wrote down the secret that Katrina wanted to tell her about Ichabod.”
Katie leaned forward, eyes sparking with excitement. “Duh. Let me ask Lu.” She took her phone out and started texting.
“Something that both elated and distressed Katrina,” Abby said as Katie texted. “What would make you both excited and bummed at the same time?”
“Flirting with someone who flirts back but then you find out that person is married or partnered.” Katie’s gaze was still on her phone.
“So maybe Ichabod was married?” That thought hadn’t occurred to Abby. And it wasn’t in any of the family legends. “But that doesn’t make sense. Katrina wouldn’t have been elated at finding that out. Bummed, yes. But not elated.” And then it dawned on her that Katie had used the word “partnered” along with married. She glanced at Katie’s hands. On her right middle finger Katie wore a silver ring with a design carved on it. Abby couldn’t tell what it was, but the ring wasn’t on the ring finger, so she wasn’t married. But she might have a partner. Abby hoped not, and she hoped that Katie preferred women. But then, what good would that do her, since she was only in town for a few more days?
Regardless, Katie was fun to talk to and clearly enjoyed history, though it was a little weird, how easy it was to connect with her about this topic. That didn’t happen often, Abby had discovered. It took a certain type to geek out over history. But here they were, talking like they’d known each other for years, and it was a little disconcerting. But Abby liked it. More than she probably should.
“Lu says there’s no journal like that here,” Katie said, “but it might’ve ended up in a collection in New York City or with another archive. She said she’s going to see what she can find out.”
“Excellent. I’m guessing the historical society doesn’t have any journals that Katrina kept.”
“No. Not that we know of.”
&
nbsp; “Okay, so I say we rule out the married or partnered thing with regard to Ichabod. Because even if they were flirting, and Katrina found out that Ichabod was married, she wouldn’t have been elated. Distressed, maybe, but not happy about it, even if she enjoyed the flirting when it happened.”
Katie put her phone down on the table. “Here’s what we know. Ichabod was a feminist—as much as he could be back then—he was handsome, and treated Katrina with respect. Plus, she liked him.”
“Not just ‘liked.’ She seemed to be into him,” Abby clarified. “And I just don’t think finding out that he was a spy is something that would distress her or elate her. So I’m ruling that out, too.”
Katie took another sip of beer. “I’m thinking that Katrina and Ichabod had a lot going on, Brom found out, dressed up as the horseman, and basically ran him out of town.”
“But that still doesn’t explain the secret. God, history can be so damn frustrating.”
Katie grinned. “Have you been to the glen?”
“No.”
“Want to go? I’ll drive. It’s only a couple of miles.”
“It’s dark out.”
“That’s the best time to go. You’ll get a feel for it. And this time of year, lots of people go to ghost watch. So it’s not as creepy, I guess, as it could be.”
She should probably say no. But Katie’s smile and the look in her eyes convinced Abby otherwise. “Okay.”
Katie waved the server over and Abby handed him a credit card. Katie gave him cash before Abby could offer to buy the beer.
“Let me ring this up. Be right back,” he said to Abby. To Katie, he said, “Do you want change?”
“No.” Katie smiled at him then looked at Abby. “Are you staying for the Halloween festivities on Saturday?”
“You’re kidding, right? I geek out over folklore. How could I miss something like that?” It was the day after tomorrow. She hoped to get as much research in as possible before then.
Katie smiled and leaned back against the booth. She put her arm up so it lay along the top of it and Abby wondered why a motion that simple could be so enticing. But on Katie, it was. It had been a while since Abby had dated. She had been busy with research and hadn’t met anyone lately, so she had quit thinking about it. Until now. Funny how that happened.
The Secret of Sleepy Hollow Page 3
