James Erskine, June 20 1892
I’ve long since held the belief that it takes all kinds to make the world go around, and that circumstances often shape people more than their history. Tonight, I’m not so sure.
It started as any other day, with the arrival of a customer and guests from New York sharing my home. Lord Albert Oldenburg, a member of Her Queen’s consulate in America, contacted me in hopes of starting his own track. We talked about horses, their care, his intentions, and it was the rather predictable scene of someone with too much money trying to do something he doesn’t understand.
His escort was less expected… a giant military man-servant of a Hindi. I suppose it wasn’t as out of place as one might think, given the meek Greek to match his size that came in with the city folks. Excluding my own family and friends, there were an extra 7 heads sharing my roof. Maybe it was a magical number?
After a century of sleep, the Headless Horseman has returned. I’ve never heard such a ruckus of gunfire and crunching bones, but thank God for my guests and my head. They not only stood to face the horror, but beat him into submission! My home has fared less well, ignited by a brimstone thrown by the Rider, but at least everyone is safe. We’ve manage to quiet the blaze, and the back 1/3 of the house will have to be rebuilt. I think we’ll be adding a stone shell to the outer walls this time, and I need some way to ensure that back door gets closed…