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Disclaimer: The only thing in this story that I don’t own is Ichabod Crane and his Sleepy Hollow experiences. Those are owned by Washington Irving and Disney. There are references to real historical events and people, but they belong to themselves and history. Everything else was my idea.

He was born a pauper to a pawn
On a Christmas Day
When the New York Times said
"God is dead and the war has begun"
Alvin Tostig had a son today.
             ~ From "Levon" by Elton John

November 12, 1790, Tarrytown, New York- Matthew Crane waited as the stout matronly woman fished in her plain black dress for a thick iron ring of keys. She talked as she led him up the stairs of the simple boarding house.

"We found him slumped over on his horse, at first he was just babbling incoherently about the Headless Horseman."

"Headless Horseman?" Matthew asked quizzically.

"It’s a legend from one of the other towns about the ghost of a former soldier who was beheaded who haunts the forest looking for a new head," Upon Matthew’s confused stare, she was quick to add. "If you believe in that sort of thing. Anyway, that’s mostly what he did. He was never violent, so we didn’t have him put in an asylum. Eventually, he gained some lucidity and was able to tell the names of his family, so that’s how come we were able to contact you."

"How is he now?" Matthew asked.

"Take a look for yourself," the matron said as she opened the thick wood door. Matthew looked in the room and felt a shock go through him: there slumped on the bed over the covers was his 19- year -old brother, Ichabod Crane! His brown hair had grown almost white and he had a fevered look in his eyes, as well as was very pale. He was covered up by the sheets and rocked back and forth singing a hymn.

Matthew recovered from his initial shock and walked up to Ichabod. He gently held him by the shoulders. "Ichabod, it’s Matthew your brother. Don’t you recognize me?"

Ichabod looked at his brother as if meeting him for the first time. "Matthew you’re here too? You can’t go outside the Headless Horseman will get you, you make for the bridge and his power is through but he’s out there."

Matthew turned to the woman. "More of this legend?" And then turned back to Ichabod .He frantically tried to think of anything that would make him see logic through his insanity. "Ichabod, if the ghost can’t cross the bridge then by your own admission, he can’t get you."

Ichabod listened and seemed to think of that issue for a long time. His eyes slowly returned to reason. "Matthew, I’m ready to go home now. Can I go home now?" he asked

Matthew nodded. "Of course we will leave in the morning."

November 13, 1790, Kingsport, Connecticut- Matthew’s wife Catherine, a pretty girlish woman, held the door open as Matthew and his eldest brother Thomas supported the young man who slumped off the carriage. "What is that odd horse?" Thomas asked incredulously.

Matthew glanced over at Gunpowder who looked over at his master a seemingly worried expression on his face. "Oh, the matron at the boarding house wouldn’t keep it, so I offered to keep it here." Thomas grimaced as the two led him inside.

Catherine moved some throw pillows from the couch to support Ichabod’s head as the two let him relax on the sofa. Ichabod mumbled a few incoherent words, but then fell right back to sleep.

Through the corner of her eye, Catherine saw the image of a ten- year -old boy leaning over the railing to get a peek at the events. A small black cat reclined next to the boy "Daniel, shoo," she told him. "You should be in bed."

"Aww, but Mama," the boy piped. "I want to see my crazy uncle!"

"You will have plenty of chances to see him in the morning," Matthew called. "Go right to bed." Daniel groaned, but then they could hear his footsteps head for his attic bedroom until they were silent.

"Well, what is to be done with him?" Thomas asked, indicating Ichabod though the question was rhetorical. He knew what he wanted to do with Ichabod.

Matthew and Catherine looked at each other. They knew Thomas wasn’t going to like it, but he was the head of the Crane family and nothing went through without his permission. Matthew volunteered to speak. "Well, we talked it over and we decided if it’s all right with you, he will stay here."

Thomas’ face reddened. "Are you seriously considering this?"

Matthew looked at his older brother defiantly. Both men had the classic Crane blue eyes and they were both turned in defiance and anger. "Not considering," Matthew replied shortly. "Decided. He will stay in the room in the east gable."

Thomas sputtered angrily. The stout middle-aged man glared at his muscular younger brother. As the head of the family as well as one of the community leaders, Thomas felt a need to watch over the family and make sure that is was free of any danger and scandal. "I won’t hear of this! He should be in an asylum, and that is where he will go!"

Matthew faced Thomas squarely. Matthew could control certain aspects of their lives, but want went on in Matthew’s house was his decision. "You know what those places are like as well as I do! If he isn’t killed by their treatment, then they will fix him so that he never recovers and possibly have him wander the streets as a beggar! I won’t allow that! You are only concerned about our reputation if he stays here."

Thomas glared at Matthew. "Do you think I care just about our name? I’m concerned also about the welfare of your wife and son, WHO OUGHT TO BE ASLEEP!!!!" That announcement was followed by the hurried scurrying of two human feet followed by four cat’s paws running to a bedroom and the door slamming behind them.

Matthew wandered into the parlor and looked at the portrait of the stern weathered gray haired man staring back at him. "Papa would never allow him to be sent away."

"He would never have wanted him to stay here either," Thomas replied.

"Yes, I know that," Matthew answered. "But he would never have turned his back on his family." Both brothers knew that both stories were true about their father, Silas. After their mother, Rebecca died giving birth to her youngest son, Silas withdrew from the boy even naming him, Ichabod meaning "No Glory in Israel." For his older more muscular, more grounded sons he had a lot of affection for, but not his youngest skinny, often sickly son who seemed to have his head permanently in the clouds. He found it very difficult to relate to the boy, only barley tolerating his obsession with ghosts, though considering it some sort of madness. Despite his differences with Ichabod he allowed him to remain in his house until he was sixteen and he paid for his schooling, until his death a year ago.

"Papa would never have abandoned him so neither will I," Matthew declared.

Thomas sighed. "Very well I wash my hands of this, but if he does become violent, you know where to find me," he said.

Matthew nodded. "Of course I do," he said as he saw his brother out. He shut the door and walked in the room as Catherine looked at the slumbering body. "Are you sure we are doing the right thing?" she asked. "What if he does become violent and tries to harm Daniel?"

"If he does we will deal with that when it comes," Matthew replied. "But, I don’t believe he will, he was the same person when he left and was very fond of Daniel, I don’t think he will bring the boy any harm. Besides taking him in is the right thing to do, the Christian thing to do."

Catherine smiled at her husband’s ironic comment, but then leaned over to Ichabod. "Poor thing, I wonder how he will turn out."

October 2, 1797 Kingsport Connecticut- Ichabod walked through the woods leading to the house as darkness approached, he should have left long before it was dark but after he was finished cleaning the schoolhouse he was so caught up in the book he was supposed to finish by tonight that he lost track of time. He tried to whistle to keep his spirits up, but he gulped with the familiar feeling that he was being followed. He looked around as the trees became the shapes that frightened him seven years ago. He gulped and his throat tightened and his heart stopped as he thought he heard horses hooves behind him! Without looking behind him, Ichabod gathered his things and ran down the hill to the friendly white house and locked the door. He then ran to a chair and covered up under a blanket. After a few minutes, a knock could be heard through the door. "Uncle Ichabod," a voice asked. "Are you all right?" Ichabod sighed and nodded and the voice repeated again. "I said, are you all right?"

"I said yes," Ichabod answered. "I nodded."

"I can’t hear a nod," the voice wryly answered. "And I can’t open a door if it’s locked from the inside." Ichabod slowly caught his breath and then walked up to the door kicking the black cat that was asleep. "Sorry Cornwallis," Ichabod apologized but the cat yowled and hissed at one of his masters for interrupting his sleep. Ichabod unlocked the door and let his nephew Daniel enter the room.

A townsperson once referred to the Crane family as "the motto must be variety," and they weren’t too far off. Ichabod was tall thin, with angular scarecrow-like features, Thomas was also tall, but stout and beginning to show signs of extra weight being put on and graying hair, and Daniel was shorter than most young men his age and had very thin features. Though he had the blue eyes, that Ichabod, Thomas, and Daniel’s late father Matthew all had. His almost black hair was more inherited from his mother, Catherine while the others had a more light brown hair. But he also had the same mouth that was often turned in amusement, rage, or like now concerned.

"Are you all right," Daniel asked. "I tried to catch up with you on Gunpowder and well, I didn’t know a human could outrun a horse like that."

Ichabod took a few deep breaths. "I’m sorry I thought you were the-"

"-Headless Horseman," Daniel finished for him.

"But, I guess there isn’t a Headless Horseman is there?" Ichabod asked.

"Probably not," Daniel replied.

"And there never will be a Headless Horseman will there?" Ichabod asked.

"Probably yes," Daniel answered dryly.

Ichabod collapsed into the chair. "Then if you don’t mind I’ll stay here and hide. Because if word gets around to your Uncle Thomas that I’m seeing things again, I’ll be shoved to the asylum quicker than you can say ‘The British are coming.’"

"That’s his problem, it shouldn’t be yours," Daniel answered dryly. Ever since Ichabod stayed in Matthew’s home, Thomas had vocally raised objections to it. Ichabod had traveled from madness to sanity and back and forth again during his long year of recovery, but recover he did (except for the occasional nightmares and frightening walks like tonight) and was even able to resume teaching at the Kingsport school. During that time he bonded with Daniel and the two became more like brothers, since the uncle and nephew were only separated by nine years. So it was no surprise that after Catherine and then Matthew died of a fever when Daniel was twelve, Matthew’s will left Ichabod custody of Daniel. Thomas hadn’t approved and often made objections to the way he was bringing up the boy. So, he was always present a barely tolerated visitor.

"Don’t forget Thomas has invited us over for dinner tomorrow," Ichabod said.

Daniel made a face. "Is it required?"

"You know it is," Ichabod replied.

"Then, I’m busy," Daniel answered.

Ichabod put his arm around his nephew’s shoulder. "It’s just dinner, it isn’t a firing squad."

Daniel groaned. "It might as well, you know that Uncle Thomas and I don’t get along. We disagree about everything."

"I know, but we’ll make it quick and besides Elizabeth and the girls will be there plus the new judge that he’s so excited about introducing us to. Thomas can’t do anything to you with witnesses and a judge at that." Daniel sarcastically laughed at his uncle’s humor. Ichabod diplomatically decided to change the subject. "What were you going to do this evening?" Ichabod asked.

"Well, I was going to go to Ephriam’s," Daniel answered. "I am going to work tonight."

"I guess I will see you there," Ichabod said. "I promised Meg that when I finished the book we would eat somewhere."

"Oh so you are going to court her," Daniel teased.

Ichabod blushed. "No, I’m not. She is just a friend. I’m taking a female friend out to dinner."

"Yes, to meet and talk with other friends who are definitely not courting!," Daniel joked.

"How old are you anyway," Ichabod asked gently hitting his nephew with a pillow. "Now I’ll go up and get dressed." He rose from his chair, but before he did he looked around the room to make sure the mirrors weren’t broken and that the horseshoe was in the right position.

"Ichabod everything is bad luck free," Daniel quipped.

"I know," Ichabod said. "You just can’t be too careful.

The little bell gave its slight tinkle as Ichabod opened the door to Applegate’s General Store. The pretty brunette woman stood behind the counter as Ichabod waved gaily at her. "Hi Meg, I finished it!" he handed her the red book. "I loved the part where he came home and found his sister engaged to the vampire."

Meg nodded. "And what about when he killed the Greek girl, really creepy stuff," she said.

A plump gray haired woman stood next to Meg with a thin silver haired woman in tow. They were Meg’s mother, Emily Applegate and Emily’s best friend, Jane Spencer. The two were part of the local sewing circle with Thomas’ wife, Elizabeth so whatever got to them eventually got to him. "Hmm," Emily sniffed. "I can’t understand why you read such trash, it drains the mind with all of its sensationalism." She sniffed at Ichabod as though he were the living embodiment of such things.

Meg bristled at her mother’s comment. "Oh Mother it’s just fun."

Jane looked slowly at the book and thumbed through the pages. "It does seem a rather interesting read, much better than some of the preachy things that pass as literature these days."

"A woman shouldn’t be reading these things at all," Emily retorted. "A woman should be preparing for a man. You have many suitors knocking down our door,-" this last comment was directed at Jane "- she is a rather attractive young vibrant woman who is slowly approaching spinsterhood!"

"Mother," Meg corrected her mother embarrassed her pale face flushed.

"We better hurry if we want to catch our table," Ichabod said saving his friend from her embarrassment. "Ephraim may give our table to someone else."

"He wouldn’t dare," Meg said in mock indignation.

Ichabod leaped down from the buggy and helped Meg down by his hand. He held the door open for her as she walked in. "Mother is right about one thing, though, you aren’t the same person you were before you returned from Sleepy Hollow."

"That’s not true," Ichabod said. "I feel like the same person, I think, well I’m not really sure. I might be."

Meg laughed. "I’m serious. You used to be something of a flirt, had a lot of women on a string and were a lot more outgoing. But, since then you’re a lot more serious more reluctant to be with people."

"Now that is definitely not true, I have Daniel and that’s about it," Ichabod answered.

"That’s all, isn’t it true Ephraim?" She rallied to the tall powerful looking black man behind the counter. Ephraim looked up from wiping the counter a big grin on his face.

" I would agree if I cared about what you two were sayin’", he said in his distinct Creole accent.

Ichabod and Meg waved at Daniel as they sat in their usual table across from the door. "What can I get you this evening?" Daniel asked gladly.

"I’ll have roast beef, ale, and potatoes on the side," Ichabod asked.

"Sounds good, I’ll have the same," Meg said.

Daniel nodded and wrote their orders down on paper. "Hey, Annelise wait up!" He called to Ephraim’s mulatto daughter who had her arms full of plates. The young man held the kitchen door for her and grabbed a few plates from the top, as she smiled a large smile back.

"See, if you don’t be quick about it, your nephew, your brother’s son, will beat you to the altar," Meg replied pointing at the two young people.

"I was not aware this was a race," Ichabod said.

"Ichabod what is it?" Meg asked her husky voice even lower as she spoke seriously. "Is it what happened to you in Sleepy Hollow? You let that Van Castle woman scare you from the rest of the female race."

Ichabod bristled at the mention of Katrina’s name. He recalled how he had stayed behind her father’s party, so sure so confident that she and the farm were his. Then before he could get the phrase "Kartina, will you marry me?" out, she said no. Well, first she laughed, then she said no she would never marry such a ridiculous scarecrow looking man, and to please leave before Brom arrived.

Ichabod looked at the young woman sitting across from him. Meg Applegate was his oldest childhood friend and so unlike Katrina in many ways, intelligent, tough, had a sardonic wit and a sharp tongue, loved to read the same books that Ichabod did, and even though she didn’t always believe Ichabod, she never laughed at him and always defended him.

Ichabod smiled. "First, her name was Van Tassell! Second, it wasn’t like I was doing nothing, I was looking after a nephew during that time. Besides, I don’t see you making any wedding plans. Remember you’re ‘slowly approaching spinsterhood’"

Meg gasped. "Well, I’m not oblivious to the idea of marriage, okay. I will welcome the right man when he comes along and if he doesn’t well there are worse things to be than a spinster."

Ichabod was about to make another comment when the door opened to a strange couple dressed in black. The man had long white hair trailed in a ponytail and icy blue eyes. He and seemed to have a cold haughty expression on his face. He wore a long black overcoat that covered his white shirt and black trousers, and carried a silver cane with a strange object on the hilt. The woman had long straight red hair that trailed to her ankles with a small braid in the front and sharp green eyes. She wore a long black dress and wrap that covered her short sleeves, and pointy boots. She glanced around the room very secretly before speaking quietly to the man. Their appeared very nervous and unsure about the area, looked around a few more times, but then sat down. Ichabod knew exactly who they were.

"Meg," he whispered. "You will never believe who just walked in."

"President Adams," Meg asked in mock surprise.

"No, Stephen and Clarissa Darling," he said.

Meg slightly turned her neck. "Oh goodness, you’re right! To what do we owe this honor?" In the year that they had moved to Kingsport, Stephen and Clarissa Darling had been the subject of much gossip, rumors, stories, sermons, and dinner conversations. All anyone knew was that they were a British husband and wife and were very reclusive and didn’t have many friends around town, and were never seen much except at night. There were all kinds of rumors that Stephen Darling was a Tory soldier during the War for Independence, the opposite that he was a spy for the Americans and was now unable to return to his home country, that he and Clarissa fled from a romantic scandal, that they might be devil worshippers and many others.

Ichabod turned to his companion. "Don’t you think it’s odd how they never go out at night and never socialize with anyone."

"But vampires Mr. Aubrey?" Meg teased.

"I didn’t say they were vampires," Ichabod interjected but there is something about them."

"Well whoever they are, they seem to be staying away from that guy in the corner." Meg pointed at a powerful looking gray haired man who was simply dressed. He looked the events over with disdain, but was glaring at the newcomers.

"Who is that man?" Ichabod asked.

"I don’t know, but I love his smile," Meg replied.

Suddenly, the room shook and began to rumble. The inn rumbled so badly that people were forced out of their seats onto the floor. The sound of breaking glass could be heard and then just as quickly it was over. Ichabod and Meg looked up from their seats, they noticed Ephraim rising from behind the bar a confused expression on his face and Daniel and Annelise peer out from behind the kitchen tousled and a little rumpled (though privately Ichabod thought it had less to do with the tremor) and other people rise from their positions to sit warily down. From the corner of his eye, Ichabod saw Stephen and Clarissa Darling dart out the door.

He held up a finger to Meg as if to say a minute, then followed the retreating couple out into the night. He opened the door. "Mr. and Mrs. Darling, wait!" he yelled, but all he could hear was an echo. They had completely disappeared.

Continued