For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (24 page)

“What are you doing here?” Tyra asked, pausing in front of him.

“I quit the British Army. I could no longer abide by the decisions being made,” Hugh said. “I am sorry, Tyra. Sorry for what happened to The MacGregor Quest, and sorry for not leaving sooner. But most of all, I am thankful all of you are safe now.”

“You quit?” she asked, eyeing him with hesitant suspicion as she tilted her head.

“Indeed, as I intend to join the Continentals as soon as I am able.”

***

The news Hugh just delivered was not what Tyra expected. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes, and she brushed it behind her ear. It was rare for Hugh not to wear his red coat, instead he wore a white buttoned shirt with blooming sleeves down to his wrists.

“Is it why you gave Howling Wolf your red coat?” Tyra asked, glancing over at Red Fox’s brother in the offending garment. It was the first thing she had seen flashing through the woods when the Tuscaroras had found them yesterday evening. Nightfall hit before they could return, and they ended up camping in a dry space. It was too dangerous to travel through the swamp in the dark.

Hugh cleared his throat in discomfort as he gave a quick glance in Howling Wolf’s direction. “I did not exactly give it to him, but he is welcome to it. I have no further need of it.”

“Will the British not come for you?” she asked, trying to imagine if he would have to spend the rest of his days hiding in the swamp until the end of the war.

“They are probably looking for me right now,” he said. “Tyra, I had to do this. I left the British Army because I no longer agree with their policies or with the king.”

“Fine, I believe you, and I agree with you. In fact, I am proud of the decision you have made.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and looked away shaking her head. “I fear for your life. I understand why you left the army, but I do not understand why you feel the need to join the Patriots. Why can you not take a break from the war?”

“Right now I am a wanted man by both the British and the Continentals. I need to make peace with one side or the other, and I have made my decision.”

“What decision?” she asked, tears springing into her eyes. “I do not want you to go back to war. Every day I live in fear I will receive more dreadful news about my father or one of my brothers. I do not want to feel the same way about you, as well.”

“Tyra, you need to listen to me.” Hugh grabbed her shoulders in a firm, but gentle grip. “The decision I have made is I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I never want to return to England. I want to stay here in the colonies with you and your family. I want us to wed, have children, and build our home here. But I cannot expect to do so if I do not earn the trust and approval of your father and brothers.”

He leaned forward and kissed the top of her forehead. She smelled the scent of leather and coffee and savored the moment. Tyra closed her eyes as the tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “I am going back to war and will sign up with the Patriots, so our family will be at peace in the future. I do not want to give your father and brothers more reason to resent me.” He cupped her cheeks, tilted her face up, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I have to do this.”

Her throat ached and her heart trembled with fear. Now that he had finally made the decision to leave the British as she had hoped, once again she could lose him to this blasted war. As much as she wanted to beg and plead with him, she also recognized the determination in his eyes and knew her efforts would be fruitless. Right now, they needed to make the most of the time they had left before his departure.

She took a deep breath and almost choked.

“Was this your way of proposing to me?” she asked, placing her hand against her heart as if to calm the rapid beating against her ribcage. Conversations started around them, most of what she heard was in the Tuscarora language, but Hugh remained silent. Just as she feared she had been mistaken in what she heard, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was as soft as a whisper of breath. When he pulled back, the Tuscarora men yelled their approval. Heat flooded her neck and face until she looked away and stared at her toes.

“It is.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips for another brief kiss. “But I have no ring to present to you, and I wish to have your father’s consent. ’Twill wait until I return after the war.” Hugh sighed. “This way you shall not be burdened with a particular understanding if I do not return whole or not at all.”

“I would never turn my back on you if injured, but ’tis why I wish you would not enlist again,” she said.

“And I would want the approval of your mother as well.” Hugh gestured to Mama with an elegant bow and a handsome grin charming her straight through to the heart.

“Captain Morgan, my husband has not had the benefit of knowing ye as I have. If he had, I have no doubt he would be as pleased as I am.” She wagged a finger at him with a sincere smile. “Although, I must say shedding the red coat will give ye favor with my Malcolm, it will.”

“Then I am glad I did it.” Hugh offered his right arm to Mrs. MacGregor and his left arm to Tyra. They both accepted him and headed toward the longhouse with everyone else following.

“When and where shall you enlist?” Tyra asked.

“In a few days, I shall travel to Elizabethtown, but for now, let us enjoy the refuge your Tuscarora friends have given us.”

Chapter 24

24

T
he next week passed by in a blur, and Tyra could not remember being happier. They spent their days living with the Tuscarora Indians and learning from them. While she and Hugh had an understanding, they set no wedding date and decided not to write her father and brothers of their engagement. She enjoyed their long walks and the freedom to hold hands without societal rules languishing between them.

Red Fox gave Tyra a bow and arrow so she and the lads could hunt their own food. Tyra gave Kirk and Hugh shooting lessons with the bow. To her amusement, Kirk turned out to be a fast learner. Hugh was too awkward with the bow and kept popping the string, sending the arrow into the ground instead of the intended target.

Now that the day had come for Hugh to leave for Elizabethtown, Tyra and her mother insisted on going with him. While her mother was grateful for the Tuscaroras’ assistance, she longed to be among civilized society where she had a real roof over her head, a fireplace with a rock chimney to lessen the risk of fire, wood floors instead of dirt, and a bed not part of the hard ground. She had not learned the Tuscarora language and could not communicate with them. Tyra longed to make things easier on her and agreed to convince Hugh to take them along.

Since Hugh only had one horse, Tyra and her mother took turns riding, while he, Kirk, and Darren walked. Red Fox escorted them through the swamp to the main road heading west. As they traveled down the dirt road, Tyra prayed they would not come across any redcoats or Tories.

Too much of the war-torn world seemed to be in total chaos. The futility of societal rules seemed absurd compared to the need for survival. While on the road to Elizabethtown, they had come across entire families who were now homeless, many had split up among relatives and friends. Food was scarce. Horses, wagons, and carriages were a luxury. Ammunition for hunting rifles was nonexistent.

After traveling two days, they arrived in Elizabethtown on a bleak afternoon with the sky shrouded in white clouds. The temperature had dropped. Tyra guessed it was sometime near the end of September. Tree leaves had started changing to yellow, orange, and red, while some stubborn leaves remained summer green.

The town was much smaller than Wilmington. A mixture of homes and merchants lined the streets. The steeple of a church rose above all the other roofs, but it was the soldiers who caught her attention. They wore dirty and torn clothes. None of them had any consistent uniforms.

“Excuse me, sir!” Hugh called to a man coming toward them on foot. He carried a rifle over his shoulder and wore a black tricorn hat. A scruffy brown beard and mustache covered half his face. The man paused and gave Hugh a brief nod in greeting. He took his hat off as he turned to Tyra and her mother and bowed in greeting. Hugh realized the fellow was much younger than he originally thought, no more than a score of years.

“You look new to town,” the lad said, tilting his head to the side and assessing them.

“I was wondering where I could enlist with the Patriots?” Hugh asked.

“Our militia took over the courthouse down the street on the right in the brick building.” The lad pointed in the direction where they were already heading.

“Would there happen to be an inn or a boarding house for the ladies?” Hugh nodded toward Tyra and her mother. “They need a decent place to spend the night until I can make permanent arrangements for them on the morrow.”

“We do not have an inn here, but Mrs. Wakefield lets out a couple of her bedchambers. ’Tis a respectable place.” He settled his hat back on his head and adjusted it. “’Tis a small house, and she does not put out a sign to indicate it is a boarding house. You already passed it. ’Tis the gray house with the large porch and the fancy flowers out front.”

“I saw it,” Tyra said, remembering the geraniums and white lilies.

“We are much obliged, Sir,” Hugh said, sticking out his hand. The man gripped him in a bold handshake.

“My name is Larson Gray if you need anything else,” he said.

“Do you have any news on the war?” Kirk asked.

“Indeed, it is what I want to know,” Darren said.

“As a matter of fact, I might,” he rubbed his bearded chin as he gave the lads a teasing grin. “Have you heard the British took Hillsborough?” At the shake of their heads, he continued. “Patriot Governor Thomas Burke was captured.”

“How terrible,” Mama said, shaking her head in disbelief and disappointment. “I had hoped this war would soon come to an end.”

Tyra stepped closer to the horse where her mother sat and reached up to take her hand in a show of support. “’Twill not be long, Mama. Let us keep praying. We cannot give up hope.”

“’Tis nice to meet you.” His gaze slid to Mama. “I have heard your sentiments expressed by several others of late. Unfortunately, there is no sign either side is winning the war. Your daughter is right and wise. We must not lose heart.”

“Thank ye.” Mama offered a smile that Tyra knew was forced. “I do not mean to sound downtrodden, but most recently, I have lost a son to the Patriot cause. I cannot help fearing I could lose my husband and two more sons.”

“I understand your dilemma.” He tipped his fingers to his hat in a farewell. “I must be on my way, but if any of you need anything, I am stationed at the courthouse with most of the other men in the militia.”

As Mr. Gray walked away, Hugh looked over at Tyra and her mother and shrugged. “Shall we continue to the courthouse since we have already passed the boarding house?”

“Nay, I believe we should split up.” Mama dismounted Hugh’s horse and handed the reins to him. “You head over to the courthouse, while we go find lodgings at the boarding house.”

“Nonsense, the courthouse can wait,” Hugh said. “As long as I am here, ’tis my duty to see you, Tyra, and the lads settled and cared for. Besides, I intended to pay your rent. I know the British stripped you of everything. ’Tis the least I can do.”

“Lad, ye forget I am a Scotswoman,” Mrs. MacGregor said, reaching up and patting him on the cheek as if he was Kirk.

***

It took some convincing, but Hugh finally convinced Mrs. MacGregor to allow him to pay the rent for the first two months. He argued there was no telling how long he would be away, as well as her husband and sons. In the meantime, she would need what savings she had in order to provide food and necessary items for herself and her children.

He left them to get settled and headed down Main Street toward the courthouse. The slight breeze brushed against his face, as a man passed by on horseback. When Hugh drew closer to the courthouse, he realized the building was not made of brick, but merely painted the color of brick. The front entrance was level with the street, and the wooden door was propped open with a rock. Hugh stepped inside and walked over to a soldier writing at his desk.

“Pardon me, sir,” he said. “We have recently arrived from Wilmington, and I would like to enlist.”

The soldier looked up and trained his dark blue eyes on Hugh, assessing him. Unlike the other soldiers he had seen on the street, this man wore a blue uniform coat and a white wig tied by a blue ribbon at the nape. With a lift of his brown eyebrows, he set his quill in the holder and placed his elbows on the desk before his fingers.

“My name is Captain Longstreet. I take it the Tories have forced you out of your home? Yours is not the first family to arrive here in the last fortnight, although I must say, few of them have the distinct English accent that you have.”

“True, I was born in East London. In the short time I have been here in the colonies, I have enjoyed my freedom, and I have come to respect the Patriot cause. I wish to marry and make my life here.”

Captain Longstreet pulled out a book, opened it to an empty page, and pointed to the first line. “Please sign your name here.” He sat back in his chair and surveyed Hugh for another moment. “Just how long have you been here in the colonies?”

“Three years,” he said, signing his name in bold strokes in oblong curves and loops.

“And we have been at war with England much longer. How have you managed to avoid enlisting before now?” Captain Longstreet tilted his head in question.

“I did not.” Hugh stepped back and dropped his hands at his side as he met Captain Longstreet’s gaze. “I served under Major James Craig in Wilmington, and before him General Lord Cornwallis in the British Army.”

The captain sat in silence, while Hugh waited to see if he would be carted off to prison or laughed at and rejected. Captain Longstreet took a deep breath. “I have lost count of the number of men who have defected from British forces or to the British forces. In the last month alone, we have lost hundreds of men on the East Coast due to Major Craig’s Proclamation. I must say, you are the first to defect to our side during this time.”

“I have witnessed enough treachery against the innocent civilians of Wilmington and the surrounding areas. I will not serve under a leadership who mistreat women and children and makes them homeless.”

“You say you want to wed here, I take it the woman is a colonial?” He linked his hands behind his head and waited for an answer. His lips twisted in a mischievous grin. “There is naught better than a pretty face to change a man’s heart.”

Hugh did not deny it. Instead, he straightened and met the man’s gaze. “What are my orders?”

“You have no orders as yet,” Captain Longstreet said. “First, you must meet with Colonel Robeson. He will determine your fate.” He scooted his chair back and stood to his feet. Captain Longstreet strode out to the hallway and disappeared, leaving Hugh to wonder what would happen next.

A few moments later, Hugh was taken back to a small office where he met another man wearing a blue coat uniform and a white wig. Captain Longstreet introduced him to Colonel Robeson. The man looked to be in his early forties and had a deep voice ringing with authority. On first impression, Hugh liked him much better than Major Craig.

Over the next hour, Hugh was drilled on his knowledge about the British forces. They asked numerous questions about the headquarters in Wilmington, those who were prisoners, and if the community still supported the Tories. On that score, Hugh had to give them the unfortunate truth—most all were Tories.

Hugh sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair creaking with every move he made. He tried to remain still, but his muscles and joints ached sitting in one position for so long. The other two men sat in similar chairs across the oak table, facing him.

“Mr. Morgan, how do we know you are trustworthy?” Colonel Robeson asked. “We intend to lead a charge to free Governor Thomas Burke, and for all we know, you could lead us into an ambush.”

“Colonel, you have a valid concern.” Hugh crossed his booted foot over his knee and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “I cannot give you evidence of my new loyalty to the Patriot cause. You will have to decide if you want to step out in faith and trust me.”

“Unfortunately, you speak the truth,” Colonel Robeson said with a sigh. “The day after the governor was captured, a force of three hundred left Hillsborough to try and take him back. Over two hundred men were wounded or killed. The attempt was not successful. Yet, the attack left the British vulnerable. I have heard a report Colonel David Fanning was shot in the arm and shoulder. If ever there was a chance to rescue Governor Burke, now would be the time.”

“I did not know about the rescue attempt,” Hugh said, as he scratched his bearded chin weighing all the possibilities. “From what you have told me, I would agree. I have met Colonel Fanning, and he is a ruthless man, much like Major James Craig himself.”

“We leave in two hours, and you may go with us, but you will be under Captain Longstreet’s command.” Colonel Robeson nodded in the direction of the captain. “Your skills and experience as an officer will have to suffice at the rank of a private until we know you can be trusted.”

“Meet us in front of the courthouse in two hours. Then I will give you a rifle and ammunition, and you shall receive your marching orders,” Captain Longstreet said. “In the meantime, I suggest you eat a hearty meal and bring what food you can. Dismissed.”

***

Tyra surveyed their rented chamber in somber silence. It was not what they had hoped for, but it would have to do. The bed was pressed against the wall with a narrow table holding a wash basin beside it. There was not enough space to afford an extra chair for a visitor or a looking glass. She feared the tiny fireplace could not hold a fire brave enough to warm the chamber. No mantle graced the bare wall. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a simple pine carved wardrobe standing against the far wall.

Mama sat down on the bed with a huge sigh and brushed her blonde hair from her forehead. She glanced around the chamber, shaking her head in disbelief. “Do ye believe the two of us can manage in this wee chamber?”

“We must,” Tyra said. “Do you not believe this is better than sleeping on a dirt floor with the Tuscarora Indians?”

“I do.” Mama nodded. “But I do not like being separated from the lads with so many strangers in the house.”

“I know, but they are together and will be fine.” Tyra wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulder and squeezed her in a tight hug. “Da will be so proud of Kirk when he returns. He has stopped complaining of not being in the war and has greatly matured since we learned of Scott’s passing. If it were not for Kirk, we would not have had so many fine meals this past year. The lad has taken excellent care of us.”

“Indeed, he has. I intend to go inspect his and Darren’s makeshift chamber to be sure ’tis suitable.” Mama chuckled as she stood to her feet. “I must admit, they are most pleased to be sharing the basement quarters with Mr. Morgan.” She lifted her finger for emphasis. “Now there is a man of contrast, if I ever did know one. Even when he was on the wrong side, one could not help liking him.”

“I keep finding it difficult to call him Mr. instead of Captain.” Tyra gripped her knees as she met her mother’s deep blue-eyed gaze. “Do you think he will come to regret his decision? He has lost his rank, the respect of his friends and family, and his country. I do not wish him to come to resent me.”