Eek! Eek! Eek!
An explosion of tiny squeaks startled Julian and echoed all around them. A flapping swarm enveloped the Marshal as the frightened bats flew out of the cave. Julian turned his head away as he covered Caleb Williams with his body until the sounds were gone.
"That's an unsettling experience that I hope to never have again," Julian said.
"Being swarmed by hundreds of bats? It's nothing. Think of them as funny-faced birds with leathery wings. They're more scared of us than anything. And there's no such thing as vampires out to get your blood."
Marshal lifted the burning, rolled-up newspaper high above his head. Julian kept trying to figure how Marshal could start a fire in all this dampness as the men inspected the cave. "Let's keep the horses near the entrance. We have to figure out a way to secure them without them being able to run off. If they do, we may never find them again."
"I'll do that."
Marshal moved quickly to find any kind of possible tinder in the cave before the newspaper burnt away. Julian walked to the mouth of the cave, and the rain continued to pour down with no less intensity. The entire sky was black except for the lightning strikes that lit it up like it was high noon. He used rope from his saddle pack to create a makeshift fence across the cave entrance and weighted their reins to the ground with as many large stones as he could find. He prayed it would keep the horses inside.
He stuck his head outside for a moment. The rain poured down with such ferocity that he had to pull himself back in. The storm settled on its spot, which was right above them. It made Julian angry, and he stepped back into the rain and forced his head to look up at it. The entire ground shook with a rumble of thunder and then three bolts of lightning shot down almost simultaneously, with the last one no more than twenty feet away. Julian gave up on his defiance. They would be prisoners of the cave until the storm decided to let them go.
The cave was illuminated with the glow of a roaring flame. Julian walked back inside and saw the Marshal kneeling down in front of it, rubbing his hands. Julian joined him. Based on the material he used to make the fire, it looked like the cave had human visitors before, and hopefully it had no non-human visitors now.
At some point in the night—or was it still daytime—the thunder cracked so loud that the cave shook. Julian jumped up to check on the horses. Marshal got up several times himself to walk to the cave entrance, out of sight, to see about the rain.
Julian got his coffee kit from his saddle pack to make coffee for both of them. That's all they cared for at moment. It was all about the waiting now.
"Know any good stories?" Julian asked as he nursed his now-cold tin of coffee. "I'd even settle for a few ghost stories."
Marshal managed to smile. "I have always found real life to be scary enough."
"Then tell me about my uncle to pass the time."
Marshal smiled. "Sure." He got comfortable and lit his cigar with the fire. "Where should I start? Oh, how about at the beginning. I met Ichabod..."
As the Marshal told the story, Julian did let his mind wander about his uncle Ichabod. Most of what he knew of the man was the experiences and memories of others. His own late father, Ichabod's brother, never spoke of him, and neither did his mother. There was no bad blood between them. They had all simply lost touch with one another.
The storm raged on, and if it had been daylight before, it was nighttime now. The lightning became less frequent and the thunder less deafening as Marshal talked about Ichabod Crane. Julian got up a few times to check on the horses, while the Marshal got up a few times to check on the storm.
Julian got up a final time to go outside to empty his bladder before turning in. The storm seemed to finally be moving on. He could visibly see the dark clouds drift off in the night sky. He walked back through the cave entrance and wanted to check on his horse and supplies. Hopefully, nothing fell off in the storm. Caleb Williams was quiet as a mouse, unlike the Marshal's horse, which was still restless despite the storm seemingly moving on. It took Julian moments to check and re-check through his saddle pack, then his weapon.
All his ammunition in his pack was gone.
Psycho
"That is what I am!"
Julian stood there in the dark. In the future, he supposed they would make guns that could shoot more than one bullet at a time, but today was not that future. He had one bullet in his gun and that was it. He had the image of him walking back in to the fire and the Marshal gut-shooting him as he did to Frenchie. He had the image of lying on the ground trying to sleep and the Marshal killing him that way, with a bullet to the head. His mind raced with all the ways his life could end in this cave at the hands of the Marshal. "Don't play with danger," his father had told him.
"Marshal Crane, do you want any more coffee before I dump out the pot?"
Julian walked back at the fire. "No, that's it for me tonight."
Marshal dumped it out in a corner of the cave. "It's probably best if we sleep in shifts. It isn't only humans who seek caves out for shelter. Any number of animals could run in here or attack the horses."
"I'll take first watch then. I can barely sleep as it is," Julian said in truth.
"Can't say I ever had that problem." Marshal situated himself on his bedroll next to the fire. "Wake me in four hours."
Julian sat down. "Four hours it is."
Julian never did wake him, but somehow Marshal woke on his own almost exactly four hours later. The rain had started again, but this time it was a light drizzle. Julian lay down and the Marshal warmed his hands by the fire again.
He was on his side with his head facing the Marshal. His head rested on his hands, and he only half-closed his eyes.
Marshal spent his four hours scratching himself, playing a card game, and, at one point in the night, added more brush from the cave into the fire. Then he stood up tall and put his hand on the belt of his holster. Julian watched carefully as the Marshal stood there with his head bowed and eyes closed.
What was he doing?
The horses suddenly went wild, and Julian could hear growls of some animal.
With no warning, the Marshal shot his gun!
Julian jumped up from his sleeping spot. All he heard were the yelps of some canine. Marshal ran to the cave entrance with Julian following. They could see the coyotes run away across the plain—a pack of them.
Neither man could sleep. Marshal played his card game on the ground and Julian wrote in his journal.
The night sky lit up with occasional lightning, and then it went pitch black again. When the lightning flashed again, they could see the shapes of the watching coyotes. There were at least a dozen of them spread out in front of the cave ten yards away or more. It was as if they purposely wanted to ensure there was no way the men could slip away.
A crack of thunder startled everyone, and the coyotes took off running. The sky lit up again and they saw the coyotes running back to their positions in the area in front of the cave. The animals took to growling at them from the distance.
Two of the coyotes to the furthest left waited, with one of them hiding behind a small boulder. To their furthest right was a large coyote, his growls were especially menacing. The other coyotes were scattered around between at different distances.
Both men watched them to see if there was any clue as to which one might be the alpha of the pack. While all the others were taking turns growling at the men, and some even crawled forward a few paces, there was one in the center that remained quiet, lying close to the ground. All they could see were its glistening eyes locked in on them. Maybe it thought it was a snake as it crawled forward a bit more as the other made more noise with their growling. The animals knew they had a gun, but rather than run away, these coyotes were unnaturally aggressive. Julian thought to himself how everything about this land was black and venal. If they stayed long enough, crazed insects would be next to attack them.
"You should shoot a couple of them," Julian said. "I'm sure that will teach them, and
they'll at least stay further away from the cave."
The Marshal loaded and fired his pistol once.
The closest animal to them jumped up and fell back to the ground dead. The other coyotes raced away as if they were on fire. There was no pause between another of their fellow coyotes collapsing dead to the ground. The others disappeared into the night. The second shot from the Marshal's rifle still seemed to echo.
"That should keep the devils away for the night," Marshal said.
The men rode out at sunrise.
"Where did this Legend of Sleepy Hollow come from?" Julian asked.
"It's something about the place, whether you believe in spirits or not. It casts a spell on people, like a witching power, makes them live in...what was the phrase I was told? 'Continual reverie,'" Marshall replied. "Whites say the place was bewitched by some German doctor at the precolonial days of the town. Indians say it was an old chief, part prophet, part wizard.
"Despite my personal dealings with them, I can honestly say the people of Sleepy Hollow are a good people."
The Marshal started to slow his horse. "That's it exactly. Good people deserving of protection."
The Marshal had a wild look in his eyes, but in a moment it was gone, and he began riding along again.
"When will we get to my uncle's place?"
"Soon. We'll be there by night fall."
"What's the name of this town he's in?"
"It's called the Junction."
"Is it on the American side or the Canadian side?"
"American side."
"My uncle was planning on moving south not north."
"Well he clearly changed his mind if that's where he resides today."
Julian stopped his horse this time and glared at Marshal.
"What's wrong with you?" Marshal asked.
"You forgot to do something, Marshal."
"What's that?"
"Reload your guns after you shot that coyote."
"No need. My second rifle is always ready, and I can reload a gun in less than five seconds."
"Let's see that in action."
Julian yelled at Caleb Williams at the top of his lungs. The horse bolted forward toward some nearby trees. The Marshal was caught off guard and at first reached for his rifle, then for his ammo. It was too late. Julian reached the trees and took position behind them.
Marshal laughed. "You caught me there. I guess I'm not as fast as my conceit had me believe."
"Did you kill my uncle?" Julian yelled at him.
Marshal didn't answer for a moment. "What a crazy thing to say! I'm taking you to him, aren't I?"
"The only crazy thing here is you! My uncle wouldn't move out here! There's nothing out here but deranged animals! A perfect place for you! It was you who killed my uncle Ichabod! You foul murderer!"
"I didn't kill—"
"Who didn't you kill, Marshal? My uncle? Frenchie? Who knows how many others? I saw you kill Frenchie in cold blood. I know you're leading me into the middle of nowhere so you can do to me what you did to them."
"Now settle down, Marshal Crane. You've gotten your mind twisted up and believing all kinds of things that ain't true. I'm taking you to your uncle right now. This is what you wanted. And then I'm going to return to my post."
"You're not returning to any post as a U.S. Marshal, you murderer!"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The wildness was back in his eyes. He kicked at his horse and raced towards Julian.
Julian didn't wait. He turned Caleb Williams and was off.
Marshal chased Julian for miles. They rode away from the mountains into deeper forest. As Julian neared a new thicker patch of trees, Marshal knew he had only one chance and grabbed his rifle to shoot.
Julian knew what he was going to do and was already looking back. He aimed and shot his only bullet. Marshal was thrown clear as his horse crashed to the ground. Julian stopped his horse and road to cover behind the largest tree he could see.
Marshal picked himself off the ground and dusted himself off.
"That was some fine shooting, Marshal Crane!"
His horse looked up at him with its broken body, dying. "Fine shooting!" He aimed his rifle and shot the horse in the head.
Marshal sat down on the ground to compose himself. He was breathing hard, abnormally fast.
"Marshal Crane, you have to understand, I did it all for the good people of Sleepy Hollow. The Headless Horseman is the commander-in-chief of all the powers of the night. Its power is beyond your imagination. You can't stop it, but I entered into a pact with it. I was able to gain influence over it. You know how? I found its head. Yes, me! It would leave the Hollow and its region alone. I moved it here, and I entered into a pact to provide it victims. It would stay here, away from the Hollow, and I'd provide it fresh victims."
Marshal stood to his feet again and leaned down to the saddle pack on his dead horse.
"For ten years, no one has seen the Horseman anywhere in the Hollow. I am the one responsible for that, responsible for them being able to live and grow as a town, soon a real city.
"Frenchie stumbled onto what I was doing, and I had to silence him. This is bigger than one man, two men. Don't you see that, Marshal Crane? The Horseman is too powerful. I brought it to this place, and it made it its base. I didn't even have to do anything. The land just transformed into its domain. The plants, animals, insects, the trees, grass, the atmosphere all around. It is becoming more powerful every day, and I have to keep the victims coming so that the pact will not be broken."
"Where does the Horseman live, Marshal?" Julian yelled out.
"Two miles that way." The Marshal pointed northwest. "I told you that I was going to take you to your uncle. The Horsemen killed him, not me. And it took him to its lair, like it does with all its victims. So many of them. It started its quest long before me. I don't think it came to being from the War. I believe it was here long before us, maybe before the Indians, too."
Marshal started to laugh hysterically. The laughter didn't stop and became more bizarre.
"Marshal Crane, you have no more bullets," he mocked.
"How many men have you killed? How many men have you done the same to as you did to Frenchie, or how you're trying to do to me now? How much blood do you have on your hands? How much Hollow blood?"
Julian had already dismounted from his horse and stood near a large tree for cover, but Marshal was marching to him.
"My intention was to take you to the Horseman too, Marshal Crane. It would have taken you too. You would have become part of its Devil's Pumpkin Patch forever." He started to cackle. "Ichabod Crane and Julian Crane together. I told you I would reunite both of you. I did not lie."
"You mad murderer!" Julian shouted back.
Marshal was only a few yards from him.
"How can I be a mad murderer, Marshal Crane? There is no such thing as the Headless Horseman. You said so yourself." He started to laugh again, but suddenly stopped. "I'm going to kill you and take you to him. You and your uncle will be together in the same dirt."
Marshal stepped forward a few paces with his rifle in hand—he had reloaded it while he had been talking and laughing. Julian came out from behind the tree to face the man. Marshal smiled as he raised his rifle to shoot.
Julian spun around in a circle, whipping his arm around.
Twenty years ago in his Connecticut town, he and his boyhood friends used to invent games to play. The things frontier boys would do to make the day go by. Once, they used an old Indian bow to shoot real arrows to knock apples off each other's heads. Another was climbing a thirty-foot tree, scurrying up with hands, feet, forearms, and using even fingernails to claw into the bark. It was more dangerous climbing down though, than climbing up. But the game with the axes—take an ax, spin around and around, and see who could throw it the furthest. The ax flew through the air as another boy, a fellow member of the gang, appeared in the field from nowhere. The ax's blade arched down to his head. The boys watched h
elplessly, and their mouths were open so wide, screaming in horror, but there were no sounds that came out, as if any amount of screaming could make reality turn into a bad dream. Nothing that could make time skip back so that they would not do what they did.
The Marshal looked like he did. He looked back at Julian like that in frozen shock, with his eyes bulging and mouth wide open. The tomahawk was buried in his face, from forehead to the end of his nose, a vertical spout of red showering forth. Marshal Damian Marshall fell backwards to the ground, dead.
Part III
THE HESSIAN
Ride! Across the Bridge From Hell!
"As the pumpkin flies!"
He was tired. So close but still very far away from his ultimate objective.
A fair-haired man sat at the table alone staring at his alcohol-filled glass. His cowboy hat was set on the table next to the glass, and despite the rowdiness of the pub, he was so deep in thought that everything going on around him was tuned out.
The life of a bounty hunter was one of danger and profit. It attracted a certain type who thrived on the chase, the long periods of loneliness and boredom on the trail, and then the rush of the capture. But there had to be a bounty. There had to be money waiting at the end of the hunt, or no matter how much the man thrived on that danger he would not be interested if there was no reward waiting. No one cared about justice, the system of law and order, innocence or guilt. They wanted a solid payday. It was the only motivation, not revenge like him.
Shaunessy had been many places along the Atlantic Seaboard, many towns, and came across many different men in his search. They said he had even been to foreign lands beyond his native Europe where the people spoke languages no one had ever heard, except the wealthy explorer who had the means to go. He had been many places, and all because of a singular event that had occurred in the New York town of Sleepy Hollow.
He had never heard of the place. He had not heard of many towns in America, why should this one be special? But it was special. It was the town that his father had been "taken." That was the queer term they had for it. His father was taken by the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. Was it a ghost? An earthbound devil? Some other creature of the night? No one could tell him with any certainty, other than to tell him it reigned above all other horrors of the night.
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