For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (21 page)

Hugh dismounted from his horse and guided the animal into the back stall where he unsaddled and fed him, and poured a bucket of water in the trough. He pulled the brush from a nail on the wall and brushed him down before heading to the main house. Voices reached his ears as he walked through the front door and closed it behind him.

“You are just in time for dinner,” Private Stoneman walked toward him from the parlor, a welcoming grin crossed his features and his dark eyes brightened. “Kirk and Darren brought home some trout and crab meat earlier. I must say, I am quite looking forward to a good morsel myself.”

“Mama and I picked a basket full of vegetables, and we have prepared them. We even had enough from the herb garden to create some new spices.” Tyra smiled as she strolled toward them and placed her hands against the side of her face, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Mama received a letter from Aunt Blair. There are some complications with her delicate condition, and she is no longer allowed to leave her chamber. Mama is worried and would like to go to her, but Private Stoneman advised against it.”

“Although I am sorry for your aunt’s situation, I approve of his advice.” Hugh gave Private Stoneman a nod of appreciation. “I would have told her the same thing.” Hugh extended his arm in a gesture indicating they head down the hallway. “I have some news myself, but let us eat, and I shall tell it to all of you at once.”

Tyra stepped to his side and surprised him by taking his arm and leading him forward. Private Stoneman followed, their heels clicking against the wood floor. As they approached the kitchen, animated chatter between Darren and Kirk grew more distinct. Mrs. MacGregor chuckled at something one of them said. It was good to hear her lively voice again. They entered the kitchen, and all eyes turned toward them at the entrance. Smiles of welcoming recognition landed on Hugh first, then shifted to the others. Relief washed over him, thankful his presence would not cause them further pain.

When they were seated around the table with plates piled high, Mrs. MacGregor held out her hands on each side of her and met their gazes around the table. Her blue eyes were still bloodshot and framed by dark circles, but they were not as swollen as before. A smile curled her lips, and he knew it was in an effort for Tyra and Kirk.

“Let us pray,” Mrs. MacGregor said, bowing her head. Hugh exchanged a quick glance with Tyra before they bowed their heads and closed their eyes. “Lord, thank you for your blessings. I pray you will keep Malcolm, Callum, and Alec safe during the rest of this war. Please bring an end to all the killing as soon as possible.” Mrs. MacGregor’s voice broke into a whisper and tears lingered in her tone. She cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. “I thank you Scott is now in a better place. I will do my best to trust you. Thank you for your provision and please bless the food we have prepared. Amen.”

Mrs. MacGregor sighed and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. She picked up her fork and waved her other hand in the air. “Let us eat.”

Hugh stared at the long crab legs lying across his plate over green leafy vegetables of spinach, buttered potatoes, and yellow corn on the cob. Hugh never had corn before coming to the colonies. While he didn’t mind the taste of it, he disliked the way it lodged in his teeth. He hoped he would not offend them if he chose not to eat it.

“I have never had crab legs before,” Hugh said, picking up the hard shell between his finger and thumb. “How does one eat it?”

“’Tis easy,” Kirk gripped a crab leg in both hands and cracked it into pieces. He pulled out the soft meat, plunged it into his mouth, and chewed with a satisfied grin.

“It can be quite messy.” Tyra held up a silver nutcracker. “Mama and I like to use nutcrackers to snap our crab legs.”

“Well, I dare say, it is quite clever,” Private Stoneman said with a nod.

Kirk and Darren launched into a snapping contest to see who could eat the most crab legs. While they bantered back and forth, Tyra turned to Hugh.

“I believe you have some news for us?” Tyra lifted red eyebrows.

“Well, in a few days the deadline of August first will be upon us.” Blank stares blinked at him from around the table. “If you recall, Major Craig had posted a proclamation all over Wilmington demanding allegiance to the king. Tomorrow he will be leaving for New Bern where he will begin to implement the proclamation. Those who will not give their allegiance to the king and promise they will no longer help the Continental Army will forfeit their lands and all their property. They will be seized and taken to prison. If they resist, they will be shot.”

Momentary silence carried new tension in the room. Tyra straightened her shoulders and set her chin at an angle. “Why not start here in Wilmington?”

“We have heard certain reports indicating there may be a possible uprising there,” Hugh said.

“Will you be going with them?” Kirk asked.

“No, my brother and the other officers will be leaving with Major Craig. I have been left in charge. Private Stoneman will continue to stay here while I am at the Burgwin House.” He shoved a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. They were seasoned with something he could not name, but the heightened flavor was pleasing on his tongue. “Mmm, this is very good.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. MacGregor said.

“Will you let the prisoners go?” Tyra asked.

He braced himself for the onslaught of her anger and swallowed half his water. Setting his cup down, he met her gaze, giving her his full attention. “You know well I cannot. ’Twould be disobedient to a direct order from my superior officer.” He sat back in his chair with a sigh. “But what I can do is give them better treatment than they have been receiving.” He reached over his plate for another biscuit in the bread basket. “I give you my word.”

“So if I was rotting in prison as I was before, you would do naught to help?” Disbelief threaded her voice.

“That was a different situation,” he said, wishing the conversation had never gone in this direction.

“How is it any different?” Her liquid eyes sparkled like emeralds, and her lips tightened into a thin line.

“Because it is.” Hugh risked a quick glance across the table. “You are an innocent woman.”

“They are innocent.” The words tumbled from her tongue as if she forced them. She pressed her lips together and threw down her napkin. Tyra scooted her chair back.

Did she expect him to admit his love in front of Private Stoneman? While he was willing to risk the consequences of a beating for her sake, he was not yet willing to do so for her imprisoned friends.

She stood to her feet.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his heart raced in concern, but he swallowed back the fear lurking at his throat.

She did not answer as she turned and strode from the room. Hugh looked around at the surprised expressions on the lads’ faces and the disapproving expressions from Mrs. MacGregor and Private Stoneman.

“What does she want from me?” He lifted his palms in confusion, exasperated that matters between him and Tyra always turned into a cloudy mess.

“Something you cannot give her,” Mrs. MacGregor said. “A miracle.”

Chapter 21

21

I
t had been a week since Tyra last saw Hugh. He had departed the next morning after she left the dinner table in anger without her having a chance to say good-bye. Her anger cooled a little more with each passing day until she began to wonder how he was doing. Private Stoneman gave her no information when she inquired about Hugh. The man was most disappointing. She decided she would have to devise a reason to go into town and take matters into her own hands. Since Major Craig had left town with half his army, the roads should be safe to travel for an afternoon visit with their cousins. Her mother agreed, and Kirk and Darren were more than eager for a venture into town.

Tyra rode in back of the wagon with Darren, while her mother sat in front on the bench with Kirk as he drove. Over the past hour, Tyra suspected her brother hit every rock and crevice in the road on purpose. He enjoyed swinging them from one way to the other like it was a game. The wagon wheel dipped into another hole, snapping Tyra’s neck back against her shoulders.

“Kirk, if you keep doing that, I promise you will walk home.” Tyra gripped the side and hoped she would not suffer any blisters on her palms. She groaned in frustration as the wagon jostled her again, shaking her insides.

Darren chuckled as he rested his arms over his knees and linked his hands in the middle. He shook his head with a twisted grin. “You make it too easy for him to enjoy aggravating you. If you ignore him and stop complaining, he will grow bored of his antics. I promise.”

“He would only find something else to annoy me with.” Tyra said.

“I declare this day to be peaceful among my children,” Mama said, glancing over her shoulder.

While there was no reproach in her tone, an image of Scott came to mind. Remorse filled her with a deep ache, and suddenly Kirk’s behavior no longer seemed so frustrating. She glanced up at the back of his head and smiled at the brown hair hanging down his neck from under his hat. He straightened his shoulders and braced his posture as if proud to be escorting them into town. Her youngest brother had grown up witnessing the war. It wasn’t fair his childhood should be cut so short. It would not hurt to allow him to enjoy a little fun, no matter how silly.

“Indeed, we shall be on our best behavior for the day,” Tyra said. “’Twill be our gift to you, Mama.”

As they arrived in Wilmington and traveled down Front Street, they witnessed few redcoats walking along the streets. Tyra caught sight of a little wooden building on the other side of the street. The white paint now peeled with a splintered sign reading,
Cape Fear Mercury
. Her heart quickened at the thought of learning updated news on the war. They spent so much time in seclusion at The MacGregor Quest they knew little about the world and what was going on around them.

“Mama, could we stop and get a newspaper?” Tyra asked, leaning up on her knees and gripping the back of the bench between where her mother and Kirk sat.

“Yes, could we?” Kirk glanced in their mother’s direction. The wagon jolted them and Tyra stumbled, but she gritted her teeth and kept silent. At least this time, Kirk did not cause it on purpose.

“I suppose so,” Mama said, glancing up at the building ahead of them. “Truth be told, I am curious as to the latest news myself. Perhaps we shall have some news to share with your cousins when we arrive.”

Kirk pulled over to the side of the road in front of the newspaper shop.

“Wait here, and I shall go purchase the latest paper,” Tyra said. She crawled to the back gate. As her knees caught in the fabric of her skirts, she made an awkward mess of things and lost her balance.

“Allow me to help you,” Darren said, as he knelt toward her and held out his hand.

“Thank you, but I am fine.” Tyra jerked away and continued in her impatient flight. She fidgeted with the lock. Once it released, she pushed the gate down where it rocked in the hinges. Tyra scooted to the edge and leaped to the ground. She brushed the dust from her dark blue linen skirts.

“Tyra, please remember to behave like a lady. Never hasten when it is not necessary or reject a gallant offer of assistance when it is appropriate.” Mama shifted her gaze toward Darren’s crestfallen expression and shook her head in disappointment, as if she had told Tyra these things time and again.

“I am sorry, Darren.” Tyra met his gaze. He watched her with curious confusion as his face darkened. Feeling chastised, she looked away in discomfort and pretended to adjust her straw hat at an angle to keep her eyes shaded. The blue ribbon attached to the flat brim shifted in the breeze as a passing horse cantered by. No matter how hard she tried, Tyra often forgot herself and her manners.

“’Tis all right. I did not want you to ruin your dress.” Darren waved a hand in the air to dismiss the subject. “Off with you, now.”

With a deep breath, Tyra squared her shoulders and marched forward. She stomped up the wooden steps and swung the front door wide open. As she stepped inside, the door slammed behind her, rattling. Three surprised faces turned in her direction, but she only recognized one. Mr. Hawkins, the editor, frowned at the interruption but quickly forced a rigid smile.

“Miss MacGregor, I have not seen you in a while,” Mr. Hawkins said, his gray mustache curled up with his smiling lips framed by a full beard. The gray hair on his head curled in every direction. “What can we do for you?”

“’Tis good to see you as well,” Tyra gave him a polite nod and acknowledged the other two men with a slight incline of her head. “I apologize for barging in like this, but I came to buy the latest addition of your paper.”

“Ah, so glad you decided to drop by. Do not worry about the door. It often causes people problems.” He pointed in the direction of a shelf on the far gray wall, containing a stack full of folded papers. “Johnny, please assist Miss MacGregor.”

A lad about Kirk’s age rushed over, lifted the top paper, and carried it to her. “’Twill be two pence, Miss.” His voice cracked between low and high pitches as his wide brown eyes stared up at her. Tyra knew he was probably shocked by her height.

“Two pence?” Tyra glanced over at Mr. Hawkins, lifting an eyebrow. “Last time I bought a paper from you, ’twas only one pence.”

“Indeed, the war has increased the demand for news an’ I can hardly keep up with all the expenses.” He nodded so hard his round cheeks jiggled. He linked his fingers across his bowl belly. “Ink an’ paper does have its cost, ya know. An’ I have to pay these fine lads, I do.”

Tyra dug into her change purse and pulled out the required coins. It did not seem fair Mr. Hawkins would up his prices knowing the fine folks of Wilmington had most all of their belongings and supplies stolen by the British. Too many families no longer had men at home to farm the land or servants to keep the plantations going. All of them had suffered financial loss, why did Mr. Hawkins feel the need to take further advantage of them?

Tyra paid for the newspaper, gave a brief curtsy, and stepped outside into the sunshine. She climbed up onto the wagon and closed the gate. The latch clicked in place. With as much diplomacy as possible, she crawled back into her spot and fanned her skirts around her legs to cover herself. Unfolding the newspaper, she spread it wide and skimmed the headlines, one stood out in bold letters, “Patriots Defeated at Rockfish Creek.” Tyra pulled the paper closer and read the rest of the passage aloud. “Brave militiamen under Colonel Kenan tried to hold Rockfish Creek in Duplin County. They had no ammunition against British Major Craig who had a force of over four hundred men and light artillery. They drove the Patriots from the area and took twenty to thirty men as prisoners. Major Craig then marched from Duplin to New Bern being cruel and causing the inhabitants more distress than General Cornwallis. He plundered the town, destroyed the public stores, and is now heading back to Wilmington.”

How could Hugh align his loyalties to such a man? Anger roared inside her like a lion on the prowl. She closed the paper and shoved it aside. “Kirk, take me to the Burgwin House!”

“Now?” He glanced over his shoulder in confusion. “But I thought we were going to Aunt Carleen’s.”

“First, I want to see Captain Morgan. I intend to confront him before Major Craig returns to town.”

***

As soon as Hugh learned Tyra had come to visit, the nerves in his stomach knotted and burned. He set the quill down, closed the ledger book, and stood at his desk. He linked his hands behind his back and walked to the window where he stared out at the street and watched a carriage and horseman pass by. Two ladies were taking a leisurely stroll in the other direction with their parasols covering their heads in the shade.

Although he could not release the Patriot prisoners, Hugh had kept his word to Tyra and managed to treat the prisoners better than Major Craig. Knowing he could not give her what she wanted, he had felt it would be best to leave without risking another face-to-face argument they would both regret. Over the past week, she had been constant in his thoughts, and Private Stoneman had kept him informed of her well-being. It pleased Hugh she had asked about him. It gave him hope she had not forgotten him, and perhaps a reconciliation was still in their future.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, one set a steady gate, the other a stampede he could only assume belonged to Tyra. The pace of his heart increased at the thought of seeing her again, but he took a deep breath and forced his mind to stay coherent. He had no way of knowing if this visit was a friendly or negative attempt to berate him into taking advantage of the fact Craig was gone.

One of his soldiers led her into the study. Tyra wore a flat straw hat with a blue ribbon and white blouse over a royal blue skirt. Her fiery red hair brought color into the room. With the side strands pinned up, the rest fell in a mixture of waves and curls around her shoulders and down her back. The scent of honey lingered in her presence and brought parts of him back to life he had not realized lay dormant since his departure of The MacGregor Quest.

In spite of his enthusiasm to see her, the passionate anger burning in her green eyes and the twisted frown on her lips no longer left him in doubt as to the nature of her visit. Was she still angry about the same thing or had something else upset her? Either way, Hugh intended to see if he could somehow bridge the distance between them.

“I would like to see you . . . alone.” Tyra said.

Hugh glanced at the soldier still standing behind her and gave him a brief nod. “Please close the door and see that no one disturbs us.”

After the man departed, Tyra strode over and slammed the newspaper on the desk. She jabbed her finger at a bold headline. “How could you serve a man like this?” Tears welled in her eyes like pools of painted green glass. His heart ached in reaction, and he longed to go to her and wrap her in his arms. She didn’t wait for his response. Instead, she drew a deep breath and continued on. “Major Craig is deplorable, and he has no regard for human life whatsoever. He is marching through the country plundering people’s homes and whole towns, and depriving them of all they need to survive. These are innocent civilians, farmers, women, children, poor servants and none of them are soldiers in the Continental Army nor have they signed up with the Patriot militia.”

Hugh closed his eyes and rubbed the headache beginning around his temples and across his forehead. How could he make her understand without angering her further? He had to try and calm her before she did something to jeopardize her life.

“Tyra, I do not always agree with the methods Major Craig chooses to carry out his mission, but it does not mean I should break my loyalty to king and country.” She started to interrupt, but he lifted his palm to stop her. “Allow me to finish speaking. Even if the Continentals succeeded in creating a new country, even among your own people there will be the contrast of good and evil. I cannot abandon my integrity and break my word to the king.”

“What about the right of freedom?” she demanded. “The king believes nobility is born to rule over other men, women, and children. By birthright, he intends to enforce these thoughts and ideas. Here in the American colonies, we believe leaders should earn the right to lead others in action, deeds, and integrity. As you have already pointed out, some are born good and others are born evil, including kings and the precious nobility.”

The woman ought to write speeches. The passionate way she said her words with such conviction spoke to a man’s heart. How could he argue against her logic? He knew her words to be true. Had he not lived the downtrodden past the king and society had stamped upon him? Fighting for the British made a mockery of him. Yet, he had given his allegiance, if he was to go back on his word, it would make a liar of him. He had always taken pride that he was a man of principle, trustworthy, and truthful.

Hugh clutched his hands behind him and paced across the room. “It seems I can never win an argument with you.”

“Why must there be an argument between us? Once you learned of this treachery, I had hoped we could come to an agreement.” Tyra walked toward him and laid her hand on his arm. Her close presence brought a welcoming warmth he had missed all week. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment as he placed his hand over hers, unable to resist touching her hand. “Something must be done.”

“And what would you have me do?” He glanced down at her upturned face, so close to his he longed to taste the smooth warmth of her lips once again.

He traced the smooth skin from her temple down the side of her cheek. “Would you have me, a lone man, go up against the whole British Army?”

“Of course not!” Tyra’s eyes widened as she stepped back. “It would be suicide. And I could not bear it if something were to happen to you.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Tyra, you will have to accept that I am a soldier in His Majesty’s army. I am sorry this fact causes you so much pain. I wish I could change things, but I cannot.”

“Can you not?” Clear liquid tears spilled over her lashes and crawled down her white cheeks. “Men leave the service and sell their commission for all sorts of reasons. ’Twould not be any different for you, except your reason would be more noble. You have had a change of heart.”