For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (23 page)

“True.” Tyra gripped her hand. “We must hurry.”

In her chamber, Tyra hated leaving behind her best gowns, but it could not be helped. She needed sturdy and sensible clothing to survive the harsh reality of travel and treacherous weather. She scrounged through her trunk and chose a suitable blue gown, as well as a green flannel dress with a stitched floral print. She selected a basic change of undergarments, two white caps, a brush, a few hair combs, and rolled up the blanket from her bed. The last item she grabbed was the pistol and the ammunition.

Tyra hurried to her mother. She had been staying in Callum’s chamber since the British had taken over the master bedchamber downstairs. She laid the weaponry on the small table by the bed. “I will go downstairs and try to convince them to allow us some food and water from the kitchen.”

“Good idea, lass,” Mama grabbed the pistol. “And Tyra?” She paused in the doorway. “Do not do or say naught to provoke them further.”

“I will behave,” she promised, gripping the threshold frame.
What if they provoke me?

When she arrived downstairs, Colonel Morgan waited with his arms crossed over his chest. His lips turned into a satisfied grin and his dark eyes watched her as he strolled to the bottom step to meet her. It was clear he thoroughly enjoyed his orders to remove them from their home. Did Hugh know? Had he chosen to stay away because it would be easier? Anger and betrayal simmered inside, but she swallowed it back, determined to keep her promise to her mother.

“Would you permit us to gather some food and water from the kitchen?” Tyra’s stomach churned at the thought of having to ask this man for anything, but she set aside her pride and did it for her family. She had no idea what awaited them in the next few days and weeks. For now, they needed food to survive.

“Are you hard of hearing?” Colonel Morgan asked, twisting his head at an angle. He stared at her with a disgruntled expression. “I told you to carry whatever you could.”

Tyra ground her teeth and stepped around him, resisting the urge to plunge her fist into his stomach. Instead, she held her head high, her shoulders straight, and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

She grabbed a loaf of bread her mother had made earlier. Securing a block of cheese, she listened to the sounds of her mother and the lads descending the stairs. Tyra gathered several slices of beef jerky and raisin cakes. Next, she grabbed three empty canteens from the cabinet cupboard and poured water in each of them. A moment later, she joined the rest of her family outside in front of the house.

The redcoats stepped aside giving them a wide path to walk through. They carried their belongings on foot, she and her brother on each side of her mother with Darren on the other side of Kirk. Once they were out of the redcoat’s hearing, Tyra noticed silent tears crawling down her mother’s face, but she kept her chin at a determined angle.

“Will we go to Aunt Carleen’s?” Kirk asked.

“Nay,” Mama shook her head. “They will not sign a proclamation either. Quakers will not give their allegiance or bow to any human king. They will be forced out as well. ‘Tis why they came to the colonies in the first place.”

“Then what shall we do?” Kirk asked.

“We will go to the Tuscaroras,” Tyra said. “’Tis what Da told me to do if things got worse.”

***

Hugh was at the crossroad where Front and Church Streets intersected. It reminded him of a similar crossroad of where he stood in his own life. He had some serious decisions to make. All day he had carried out orders to evict families from their homes if they would not comply with Major Craig’s proclamation. He had watched as families refused to give up their convictions to sign a proclamation they didn’t believe in. Women and children cried in fear and grief over losing their homes.

Witnessing one family in particular would stay with him for the rest of his days. They were the Bates family, and he feared Tyra would never forgive him for what he did to her aunt and uncle. As he carried out his orders, they had looked at him with such disappointment and betrayal. Shame ate at Hugh like termites on a piece of wood.

Even though they were losing all they had worked for, Mrs. Bates had asked if the same thing was happening to the MacGregors. He could not give her the assurance she wanted, but he could tell her their names were not on the list he had seen.

Now the day was done, he could either enjoy a nice hot meal at the Burgwin House with the other officers or go to the MacGregors and confess what he had done to their cousins. As much as he dreaded the deed, Hugh did not want to shirk his responsibilities. He would tell them the truth. They deserved as much. In the meantime, he would pray they would give him understanding and forgiveness. These days he prayed more often.

“There you are!” His brother rode toward him and pulled to a stop beside him. “I was hoping you would come back and take dinner with the rest of us.”

“I was contemplating it, but I thought I would go out to the MacGregors and give them the bad news of what happened to their cousins today.” Hugh leaned forward on the pommel of his saddle.

Neil looked away, cleared his throat in discomfort, and adjusted his tricorn hat as if it didn’t fit right. He recognized the signs, the same actions Neil had always shown when he was trying to protect Hugh from something. Dread pooled in his stomach like a brewing storm.

“Neil? What are you not telling me?”

“I know how fond you are of the MacGregor family,” Neil said, scratching the side of his temple. “They were on Major Craig’s list, and I offered to handle it. I knew it would be hard for you, and I figured you would refuse. The punishment for disobeying a direct order could get you imprisoned, beaten, or court-martialed. I did not want to see it happen.”

“’Tisn’t your place to make that decision for me,” Hugh snapped, anger burrowing deep inside him. “You cannot always protect me like you did when we were young.” Hugh pointed his thumb at his own chest. “I have grown up, Neil. I no longer think and want the same things as I did when we were lads in England determined to prove our worth to the world and all the people who had turned their noses at us. I no longer care about those people. They mean naught to me.”

It was true. Everything that mattered to him was right here in the colonies. Why did he not see it before? Tyra MacGregor was worth more than a lifetime career in His Majesty’s Royal Army. A hundred times more. What a fool he had been, hesitating and waiting. Now it could be too late.

“Where did the MacGregors go?” Hugh asked, gripping the reins tight in his fist.

“How am I supposed to know?” Neil demanded, his tone scratchy and irritated. “All I know is they packed their things and took off down the road. We secured the property, and I left a few men there to keep the place from looters and habitable.”

Frustration pumped through Hugh’s veins like dynamite ready to explode. Somehow, he managed to keep his temper in check. Even after being separated and at war for the past two years, his brother knew him too well.

“Did you overhear them say where they might go?” he asked.

“No, and I do not care. I think it is best they are gone.” He jabbed a finger toward Hugh. “You were getting too attached to the girl. You may not realize it now, but I did you a favor.”

“You fool yourself, brother.” Hugh maneuvered his horse toward Neil. “’Tis I who did you a favor. I organized your escape from prison, while you have only caused a rift between us.”

“Come Hugh, what is the meaning of this?” Neil slapped his thigh in anger and threw his fist on his hip while holding the reins with his other hand. “We have never kept score for favors in the past, and I do not intend to start now. You are my brother and that is the end of it.”

“The favor I would ask of you is to let me go. I never intend to return to England. I dislike their high-handed ways, and there is naught there I wish to return to. My future is here in the colonies where a man can choose to be himself and make the most of his life through his skills, a trade in business, and where new money is every bit as good as old money.”

“You speak treason!” Neil lowered his angered tone to a whisper. “I will not hear any more of this nonsense. Say you manage to escape the British Army, once we win the war, what then? You will be an outlaw, a criminal. Do you want that?”

“I do not want
this
!” Hugh jerked on the sleeve of his redcoat. “When I gave my allegiance to the king, I had no idea it would include removing innocent women and children from their homes, and depriving thriving communities of their basic freedoms, or how the tyranny people had claimed to suffer could be so bold in the face of my existence and contribution toward it.”

“I knew you had become too enthralled with the wench!” Neil leaned forward as venom spewed from his mouth. “She has cast some spell over you. I have never heard you talk with so much confusion in all my life. You are lucky most people have gone inside and only I have heard you speak such betrayal. I wish I could say you are too deep into your cups, but alas, I cannot even give you that much credit to this absurdity of which you speak.”

“At least her words have more clarity than yours do at this moment.” Hugh shook his head with a scoffing chuckle. “I am going after her, and I will find her. You can be sure of it.”

“I will not allow it!” Neil struck Hugh with a solid punch, but the swift action spooked Hugh’s horse and he reared up. It gave him the right momentum he needed to lunge at his brother. They both flew over the animal and landed with a thump onto the hard ground. Neil’s body hit first, cushioning Hugh’s landing.

Neil’s words echoed in Hugh’s head, igniting the fury of his anger all over. Rage spurred him to his knees, and he pounded his fists into Neil’s face, determined to teach him a lesson. Neil turned his head and lifted his elbows to block the onslaught.

A wad of gritty sand flew into Hugh’s face, blinding and stinging him. He jumped up and staggered back, blinking as tears poured. Hugh hoped the sand would wash out before his brother came at him again. He had inhaled enough sand as it choked him and caused him to sneeze.

A disgruntled groan reached his ears, as movement followed. “I think you broke my nose!”

“You deserved it for what you did to Tyra and her family.”

Hugh longed to rub his eyes, but he feared he would make things worse. He kept blinking and hoping his tears would wash out the sand. “We are finished Neil. After today, I want naught to do with you.”

“You will change your mind once you realize the chit is not worth all you are giving up.” Neil sputtered through the blood pouring from his nose and lip as he sat up.

“I cannot believe you would continue to call her such names.” Hugh shook his head in disbelief. “You are not worth me wasting any more time on you.”

Hugh found his horse a few feet away and mounted up. He took the reins, turned his horse, and broke into a canter.

While Hugh knew Tyra and her family were no longer at The MacGregor Quest, it was where her unwanted journey had started. He hoped he could find some clues or tracks to trace them. Where would they have gone? Since the Bates family had been evicted from their property as well, the MacGregors could not have gone there. Mrs. MacGregor had a pregnant sister in Charles Town. Would they have tried to travel so far on foot? Panic squeezed his heart. Whatever he did, he would have to hurry since the British Army would soon be after him.

“Lord, I realize I have not turned to you for guidance often in my life, but right now I need your help. Lead me to Tyra and her family. Please help me find them. And give me wisdom in how to protect them. Amen.”

If he was going to start living a free life, he wanted to start it out right. Besides, after what he had just done, he was in jeopardy of being pursued and killed by both the British and the Continentals. The number of days he had left could be short indeed. With the increased chances of him departing this world, he wanted to be on better terms with his Maker. Everything was so clear. Why had he not seen the sorry state of his life before now? Perhaps he had, and he had chosen to ignore it, as his brother continued to do.

He approached The MacGregor Quest as darkness cascaded the landscape into a canvas of black. Where could they have gone? There was the sea on one side and nothing but swamp land behind them and on the other side. In front of them was the barrier of the Cape Fear River. They had not returned to Wilmington on the main road, the only other answer was the nasty swamp. He loathed the idea of going back to the place. Alligators and other unknown creatures lurked in the swamp—among the Tuscaroras.

Hugh’s thoughts halted. When he had met her, she had saved his life from the Tuscaroras. When she wanted answers about her father and brothers and Neil, she had gone to the Tuscaroras. Had he not confined her in solitude for three days for venturing out into the swamps to find the Indians? They had come to her aid time after time. She trusted them, and it was obvious they were loyal to her. It made sense she would go to them now. Hugh glanced up to peer into the darkness surrounding him. But how would he find her?

Chapter 23

23

T
yra woke with a start as a wagon rolled over the wooden bridge above them. Since she had not been able to follow the trails on her own property, she was not sure how to find the Tuscaroras. Her only hope was to circle back around from the other side of the woods and hope she could get close enough to the Tuscaroras to find them.

She stretched and yawned, rubbing her back from where she had been leaning against the wooden post beneath the bridge. It did not help to know her sordid sleeping arrangements would now increase the pain Colonel Morgan had inflicted upon her body yesterday. Tyra glanced over at her mother and the lads still sleeping. Their situation through the night had been no better. Like herself, Kirk and Darren were young and would recover quickly, but she was more concerned about their mother, even though she was in good health.

The wagon above them now rolled beyond the bridge and down the dirt road. Tyra wondered if they were friend or foe. Perhaps they could hitch a ride in the back of their wagon. She jumped to her feet and hurried up the embankment to the road where the wagon rolled at a slow pace. Only a few bags were in the bed of the wagon littered with a layer of hay. An elderly couple sat on the bench dressed in simple attire.

“Wait!” Tyra headed toward them, waving in the hope of getting their attention. The woman glanced over her shoulder with a curious expression, and her mouth dropped open. Gray curls crept out from her white mob cap. She turned and tapped her husband’s arm and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

He glanced over his shoulder and pulled the reins to stop the wagon. They waited as Tyra reached them. The woman folded her hands in her plump lap and leaned forward. “My dear, are you out here all alone?” Her gaze traveled from the top of Tyra’s head down to her dirty and wrinkled dress and the dust covering her black boots. “What happened to ya?”

Tyra decided they didn’t have much more to lose, so she would tell the truth and risk the chance that they could be Tories. “Our home and property were confiscated by the British due to the Proclamation. We slept under the bridge last night, because we had nowhere else to go. If you happen to be going the same way as us, I was hoping you would allow us to ride in your wagon for a little ways?”

“Ah, the Proclamation, yes we have been the victim of the beast ourselves.” The woman bobbed her head and clicked her tongue. “Those redcoats are an evil bunch, they are.”

“We are headed to Elizabethtown,” The man leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees. “How many of you are there?”

“Just myself, my brother, his friend, and my mother,” Tyra said.

Her heart raced with anticipation. The idea of being able to sit for a while on a soft bed of hay was enticing.

After a moment, the man touched his fingers to the brim of his bicorn hat. “I reckon it will be all right,” he said. “The good Lord knows we all need to help each other right now.”

“Thank you, we are very grateful.” Tyra shoved her thumb over her shoulder. “I will go get them, and we shall be right back.”

By the time she made it to where she had left them under the bridge, both her mother and Kirk were awake. Her mother gave her a suspicious look and crossed her arms. “What are ye doing, lass?”

“Hurry!” Tyra pointed to their blankets. “Pack your things. An elderly couple agreed to give us a ride on their wagon.”

“Get up!” Kirk shook Darren, who rolled over and grumbled as if he relished sleeping in a comfortable bed rather than the hard ground.

“How do we know we can trust them?” Mama asked. “How do we know they are safe?”

“Mama, our predicament is not ideal,” Tyra said, rolling up her blanket. “In order to survive, we will need to trust strangers. My goal was to save our feet and legs from as much walking as possible, because in the coming days, I fear we will be walking much more than any of us are used to.”

“Besides, did you not say they were an elderly couple?” Kirk asked. “I would think the three of us could handle an old couple.”

“Of course we can.” Darren rubbed his face as he sat up.

Tyra chuckled as she slung her bag over her back and waited for them to finish readying themselves.

Kirk helped Darren pack his things.

“True,” Mama said with a grin. She gathered her bag in her arms and straightened. “Let us go.”

The couple introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Jeter. Once they were all settled in the back of the wagon, Mr. Jeter flipped the reins, and they launched the wagon in motion.

“How did you get to keep your wagon?” Kirk asked.

Tyra elbowed Kirk for asking such personal questions, but truth be known, she had wondered the same thing.

“Actually, they took everything from us except for the few clothes we could carry and a little bit of food. They did not allow us to keep our wagon either,” Mr. Jeter said. “I waited until we reached a family outside of Wilmington and negotiated the purchase of this particular wagon.”

“They must have been Tories,” Kirk said with disgust. “Other than the British, the Tories are the only ones allowed to keep anything.”

“He was my cousin,” Mr. Jeter said. “He is not a Tory, but he gave in and signed the Proclamation.”

“Do either of you know if all the Patriots in Wilmington were put out of their homes?” Mama asked.

Tyra knew her mother was wondering about Aunt Carleen and Uncle Ollie. If they had some way of reaching them, then perhaps they could join them.

“Indeed, our neighbors were put out of their home as well, but they went to Charles Town to be with family.” Mrs. Jeter twisted around so she could see them.

“I have a sister in Charles Town as well,” Mama said. “And the thought to go there did cross my mind, but I keep hoping this is only temporary, and we will soon be able to go back home.”

“My dear, we are all hoping for it,” Mrs. Jeter said.

“May I ask why you are heading to Elizabethtown?” Tyra asked. “Is it safer for Patriots there?”

“Before the British came to our house, we learned from a friend over sixty farmers got together joining the Patriot cause near Elizabethtown.” Mr. Jeter said. “They took the bridge crossing the Cape Fear River and drove over three hundred Tories to the Tory Hole.”

“And the good part is a woman helped them do it,” Mrs. Jeter said, her brown eyes lit with excitement as thin lines formed around her eyes and mouth. “A woman by the name of Sally Salter served as a spy carrying a basket of baked goods into the enemy camp.”

“Really?” Tyra asked.

“She sure did,” Mr. Jeter said. “She was able to take information she had learned about the camp back to the Patriots. ’Twas valuable.”

Tyra exchanged a knowing look with her mother. If they were not successful at finding the Tuscarora Indians, then they could possibly go to Elizabethtown and be safe.

“I must say, you all were blessed by the good Lord. ’Tis not yet cold outside or you might have frozen last night.”

“True. August passed by so fast,” Mama said. “So far, September is going by just as quickly.”

They talked for another half hour until they came to a field Tyra recognized. She asked them to pause so they could get off the wagon. Tyra and her mother thanked them and said their good-byes. They waded through tall grass in the field as she led her mother and the lads to the woods where she knew the swamp would be.

“Tyra, I am not afraid of the swamp, but I do fear alligators,” Mama said. “Is there some way to keep those wretched creatures away from us? ’Twas my only concern when yer father decided to settle here an’ years later I still feel the same way about them.”

“Just keep your eyes open and stay away from them. For the most part, they will not bother us as long as we do not bother them.” Tyra laughed. “At least, that is what Da always told me.”

They walked for several more hours, their boots sank into thick mud and mush. Kirk complained of hunger, so they stopped to eat some raisin cake and drink water from their canteens. A few moments later, they were back on the move.

The sound of twigs snapped several feet to the right.

“Did you hear?” Darren asked.

Tyra met her mother’s worried gaze. If they all heard it, then it couldn’t be her imagination. Could it be an animal? Something moved, and she saw the color red. What animal was red? Fear pumped through her veins like a tidal wave as she realized what they had seen was not an animal, but a person.

***

Hugh’s throat was dry as he swallowed and struggled to open his eyes. The room felt warm and cozy. In fact, it was the best sleep he had experienced in a long time. Whispering voices spoke a language he didn’t understand. Who was in his room? Alarm shot through him as he summoned the courage to force his stubborn eyes open. A hazy glow greeted him, but he still couldn’t make out the shapes of what he saw.

“Who is here . . . in my chamber?” His hoarse voice squeaked past his throat.

“My name is White Cloud.” A female voice penetrated through his mind, but she didn’t sound like Tyra or her mother. White Cloud? What did she mean?

“Where is Tyra MacGregor?” he asked, hoping for some good news. The last thing he remembered was looking for her as he thrashed through the woods in the dark. He couldn’t see anything, but he kept remembering back to when he had last found her in the swamp and she had led him home through the woods behind her house. Before losing consciousness he had heard a noise, followed it, and stumbled over a root and hit his head against something—probably a tree trunk.

“Red Fox and his brothers look for her.” The same soft voice spoke closer to him.

Hugh rubbed his face and blinked several times until a woman appeared in front of him. She had long black hair braided over her shoulders and a warm smile welcoming him. Her dark eyes narrowed as if she assessed him. She had such dark skin. Realization dawned and his eyes popped wide open. He jerked up to a sitting position and realized he had been sleeping on a fur mat.

“You are Tuscarora?” The spontaneous question came out like an accusation. To keep her from thinking the worst of him, he said, “Tyra told me about you. The British Army made her family leave their home. It was wrong and unfair. I hoped she might have come here.”

“My husband a good tracker. They find her.” She nodded, trying to encourage him.

He glanced around the room. They were in a long house with wooden beams across the top and poles holding up the place. A small fire burned in the center and the smoke floated up through an opening like a unique chimney. Two children were eating porridge by the fire, or at least, it looked like porridge.

“How did I get here?” he asked.

“You hurt head.” She pointed to the side of his head. Hugh reached up and felt material wrapped around his head. At least the pain had dulled to a complete numbness. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign. His black boots had been removed and placed against the wall. He still wore his white breeches and his white shirt hung loosely around him, but his redcoat was gone.

“Where is my red coat?” He pointed both hands to each shoulder.

“My brother liked it.” She grinned as if it was perfectly acceptable for her brother to take something that did not belong to him. He decided it would be in his best interest to let the matter go. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had need of it now that he had left the British Army to join the Continental forces—if they would have him.

“How did you know I was a good redcoat?” he asked, not understanding why they would risk helping him without knowing him.

“War Woman trust you.” White Cloud shrugged as if it answered everything. “You not stay in her home, if she not trust you.”

Hugh wanted to laugh at the concept but managed to refrain. If only they knew the politics of the British Army and how the MacGregors were not given a choice. Tyra had put up with his constant presence to keep the wrath and suspicion of Major Craig from her family.

Would she blame him since it was his brother who had evicted them with so little empathy? He prayed the Lord would bring forgiveness to her heart. To prove his sincere loyalty to the Continental cause and in the hope of winning over her father and brothers, he intended to enlist as soon as possible—after seeing to her safety.

Hugh sniffed the aroma of coffee mixed with the smell of burning wood from the small fire. A blue pot simmered on a hot rock. They lacked the convenience of modern furniture, solid wood walls, paintings and candelabras used to decorate most homes here in the colonies, but a coffee pot was not something he would have expected in such a primitive place either. Bows and arrows with handmade spears were in the far corner. Furs were draped over the walls constructed of rocks and red clay mud. Wooden utensils and clay pots and bowls were stacked on one side. A pile of chopped wood was on the other side.

“You like coffee?” White Cloud asked with a gentle smile.

“Yes.” Hugh nodded, looking forward to the warm brew jolting him awake and stimulating his dormant senses. Since being with the MacGregors, he had developed a taste for the dark brew.

He spent the rest of the morning in White Cloud’s pleasant company and with her two children. Hugh fought the urge not to go out on his own and search for Tyra. The only thing keeping him around the longhouse was the fact he would get lost in the swamp.

A crowd of voices grew louder outside and came closer. White Cloud looked up with a startled expression, but at the sound of more conversation, a slow smile drifted to her face. Female voices joined the others, and Hugh recognized Tyra and Mrs. MacGregor. “Red Fox found them,” the words tumbled from his mouth as he stood and strode outside with White Cloud. Her children followed.

Shielding his eyes from the bright sun, Hugh squinted to see them. They looked tired and dirty, but well. Relief poured through him as Tyra’s green eyes settled on him. Her smile faded as she crossed her arms and glared at him. Concern ate at the frayed edges of his nerves, but he continued striding toward her, ready to face whatever was his due. He glanced at Mrs. MacGregor and then at Kirk and Darren, but they only gave him wary looks, not the cold anger he sensed from Tyra.