For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (26 page)

“Kirk, help me get this wet coat off him.” It was Tyra. Relief swept through him, and he knew he would be warmed and cared for.

People kept moving him around. He didn’t mind. It meant he was still alive and had survived the ordeal.

“Private Morgan, I know you are having trouble concentrating, but was there anyone else out there?” a man’s voice asked.

Hugh tried to open his eyes, but they refused to cooperate. Instead, he shook his head and the world spun out of control. He coughed and took a moment to recover. “Voices screamed, but they faded.”

Something dry wrapped around him as soft hands cradled his head.

“Let us get him back to town. He needs dry clothes and a warm fire,” a female voice said.

“Tyra?”

“Yes, my love.” Warm lips kissed his forehead. “’Tis me. I am here.”

Hugh continued to fade in and out of consciousness. Each time he woke, Tyra was there to comfort him. At times, he recognized her mother and brother. At other moments, it sounded as if a doctor was poking and prodding him, or talking over him as if he wasn’t present.

At one point, he woke to see a chamber with four walls and a fire blazing in the hearth. The heat felt so wonderful. Hugh did not recognize the chamber, but he only wanted to hear Tyra’s voice. He kept calling for her. Finally, she appeared over him with a relieved smile.

“You are awake,” she said.

“I am.” He tried to sit up, but his head pounded with a heaviness he could not endure. “Where am I?”

“You are in a chamber at Mrs. Wakefield’s. She gave up her own chamber for you.” Tyra lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it.

“Who survived?” he asked.

“So you remember what happened?”

“Unfortunately, most of it.” Hugh lifted his free hand to his forehead, wishing the aching pain would go away. “It feels good to finally be warm again.”

“Oh, thank God.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “The doctor said you suffered hypothermia and could have brain damage. The fact you remember everything means you will be fine.”

“I should hope so.” He took a deep breath and swallowed, realizing how thirsty he felt. “I need water.”

“I will get it for him,” Mrs. MacGregor said, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Colonel Robeson survived, but Captain Longstreet did not.” Tyra reached for his hand and leaned close.

“What about the others?” he asked.

“’Tis my understanding that sixty went out on the campaign and only fifteen have survived.” Tyra bent forward and kissed his forehead as her red hair spilled over her shoulders and around his face. The scent of honey breathed new life into him. His stomach rumbled.

“I am hungry.”

“Oh, Hugh.” She pressed her warm lips against his and leaned back all too soon. “I have so much to tell you.”

Chapter 26

26

A
week passed before Hugh was back to himself again. For once, Elizabethtown had the exclusive story that Wilmington wanted. Hugh’s survival story was one many wanted to hear, but he would only grant Tyra the opportunity to write it. By mid-October, she finally had her name in print. The story ran in the Elizabethtown newspaper, as well as in the
Cape Fear Mercury
of Wilmington. The other great breaking news in the headlines was General Lord Cornwallis had surrendered to General George Washington. The colonists had created history in beating the greatest army in Europe. They had actually won their freedom from England and folks celebrated the news all over town.

Tyra prayed her father and brothers would soon return home. Most everyone was in great spirits these days, even her mother and Kirk. Darren had discovered an aunt who had fled to Elizabethtown and decided to stay with her. Hugh continued to mend, and his full recovery looked optimistic. October flew in and out of their lives like a whirlwind.

One November afternoon, Tyra read in the newspaper John Ashe had contracted smallpox and had been released from the Wilmington prison. He had died on his way home to Sampson County. Knowing Cornwallis had surrendered and Major Craig would soon be forced to give up Wilmington, Tyra and her mother wanted to return home. Hugh refused to let them go. He wanted to give the smallpox epidemic more time to leave Wilmington. They ended up spending Thanksgiving at Mrs. Wakefield’s house. A week later news reached them that Major James Craig had abandoned Wilmington and his destination was Nova Scotia. It was time to return home.

Hugh rented a wagon for them and hitched his horse. Colonel Robeson granted him a few days leave to escort them. Tyra rode in back of the wagon bed with Kirk, while her mother rode up front on the bench with Hugh driving. They huddled under a quilt with a warm brick as their only heat.

“I do not want to sound ungrateful,” Tyra said through chattering teeth. “But I am glad we will not have to spend another holiday away from home. Christmas would not feel the same if we were not at The MacGregor Quest.”

“’Tis still three weeks away,” Kirk said. “Do you think Da, Callum, and Alec will have enough time to return home?”

“I am certain they will do their best,” Mama said, with a quick glance over her shoulder. “Still, I think we should not get our hopes up.” Sadness lingered in her tone, and Tyra knew she was thinking of Scott. It would be their first Christmas without him, and even if the others made it home safely, nothing would change the fact that he would never again be with them.

Her mother had carried on for her and Kirk’s sake, but Tyra had heard the weeping at night when her mother thought she was asleep. It carried on for several months, and Tyra would lay still as silent tears crawled down her face. For herself, she had come to terms with Scott’s passing, but she grieved for her mother’s pain. It was hard enough losing a brother, but even though she was not yet a mother herself, she sensed there was no comparison. In truth, she never wanted to know the feeling of losing a child.

They traveled for most of the day and arrived home late in the afternoon. Daylight still lingered, and they would have a chance to see in what condition the British had left their beloved home. As they drove down the dirt road, the Cape Fear River sparkled in the sun’s remaining rays. Excitement built inside her as the white two-story house came in view up on the hill. At least from this distance, it looked as beautiful as she remembered. The British had burned so many homes throughout the colonies. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks that The MacGregor Quest still stood as tall as the day her father had built it. At least, their father and brothers would have a home to come back to after years of marching on foot and living in makeshift tents and temporary shelters.

“Mama and Kirk, we are home!” Tyra’s heart pounded as they pulled up the circular drive, and she rose up on her knees. She never wanted to leave this blessed place again. Once they slowed to a stop, Tyra scrambled to the edge and leaped down.

Hugh hurried around to help her mother descend, while Kirk jumped out behind Tyra. She gripped her mother’s arm, and Kirk took their mother’s other arm. They climbed the porch steps as one. The oak wood on the front door looked weathered and scarred from where Neil had kicked it during their struggle. Inside, the foyer and hall was littered with broken pieces of furniture and a combination of empty liquor bottles and jugs of rum. Paintings had been slashed and the walls were scarred and scratched, but the overall structure looked intact.

Mama clutched a hand to her stomach and covered her mouth with the other. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Tyra. “’Twill be all right. God has preserved our home!”

Tyra embraced her as Kirk wrapped strong arms around them both. Over the last year he had grown into a tall tree of a man. He now equaled Tyra’s height, and his shoulders and back were almost as broad as her Da and Callum. She wondered if Alec had grown as well.

“We should probably inspect the rest of the house,” Hugh said as he walked into the parlor.

It looked much the same. The keys on the piano were destroyed. Someone had taken an object and hammered them to pieces. The kitchen had been raided of all its contents. In each room, soot from the fireplaces had been dumped into the floor. Someone had taken a sword and slashed the beds to shreds.

“Unfortunately, I was most definitely looking forward to sleeping in the comfort of my bed again.” Tyra dropped her hands to her waist as she stared at what was once her bed. “I suppose a good night’s rest will still have to wait.”

“I am so sorry, my love.” Hugh walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “What they did was useless and cruel, but your mother is right. At least they did not burn the place.”

“I know.” She nodded, trying not to let the despondency seep into her heart. “Did you see my wardrobe? All my clothes were slashed as well.”

“’Twill be replaced. I promise,” he said, lifting her hand and sealing his promise with a kiss on top of her knuckles.

“Now, I will not need to feel guilty for buying new material for the latest fashion.” She sighed and folded her arms. “When next I can afford it.”

“Tyra!” Mama called. She could tell something had distressed her. Tyra rushed to the door and down the hall to Scott’s chamber. Her mother stood in the middle of the chamber, slowly turning in a circle.

“They touched naught in this chamber.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. “Why everything else except this room?”

“I do not know,” Tyra said, shaking her head. It was true. Everything was just as Scott had left it. A quilt lay stretched across the bed with his pillow lying in place. The desk and chair were against the far wall with his ink and quill, as well as blank parchment paper. His wardrobe still held his clothes, and the chest at the foot of his bed contained his personal items.

Mama sank to her knees and burst into tears. She shook her head. “I do not understand it.”

“Perhaps they were called away before they could get to this chamber,” Hugh said, shrugging his shoulders in the same bewilderment.

“Still, I find it strange as well,” Tyra said, meeting his gaze. “We shall never know why.”

***

The next few weeks they worked hard to clean up The MacGregor Quest. The project became much easier when Colonel Robeson promoted Hugh to the rank of captain and stationed him over troops of men in Wilmington. He no longer had to travel to and from Elizabethtown. His orders were to establish Patriot control over the city and make sure the Tories were subdued since there had been so many loyalists in the area.

He had Tyra make a list of all the known Whigs in town and called on them for support. Many were more than eager to help. The rest of his time was spent assessing homes destroyed or wrecked by the British before they left. People who had fled slowly returned as news spread the Continentals had won.

As Christmas drew near, soldiers made their way home. Many passed through Wilmington on their way to Charles Town. They brought news and stories of what they witnessed and what it was like in the war. The fighting had been brutal, and the accounts of Yorktown were beyond belief. When Hugh learned Cornwallis had been too proud to meet General Washington on the field and sent his second-in-command to surrender for him, Hugh’s decision to fight for the Continentals was once again validated. The British had marched off the field with their musicians playing the tune
The World Turned Upside Down
.

Once Mrs. Wakefield learned of what had happened to the MacGregor home, she donated two chairs and a sofa. Hugh and Tyra sat on the sofa in the parlor. He had asked her to join him this morning so he could share his plans with her. Taking Tyra’s hand in his, he looked into her wide green eyes.

“Tyra, I have taken a room at Mr. and Mrs. Saunders’s boarding house.”

“But why?” She gestured around them. “I realize we do not have much to offer, but you are welcome to stay here. Mama said so.”

“Yes, I know, and I am grateful to her.” He tightened his grip on her hands. Over the last couple of weeks, she had developed calluses from working so hard to restore their home. “Now that so many soldiers are starting to return, I anticipate the arrival of your father and brothers. ’Twould not be appropriate for me to be staying here. The last thing I need is to evoke your father’s wrath before I have a chance to win his approval.”

“My noble Hugh,” she said, cupping his cheek and peering into his eyes. “Always determined to do the right thing no matter the consequence or how hard it might be.” She shook her head, but her eyes were lit with fondness. “’Twill seem strange to have you staying elsewhere.”

“It may seem like it at first, but when your father and brothers return, I doubt it will seem so strange.” He chuckled. “I cannot ever remember being so nervous to meet someone or so eager to gain a person’s approval.” He covered her hand with his and circled his thumb over her wrist.

“He will love you once he comes to know you.” She linked her fingers through his in an attempt to encourage him. “You worry too much, Captain Donahue Morgan.”

“With good reason.” Hugh took a deep breath and tried not to think of all the stories Kirk had told Hugh about his father’s prowess and feats. “I want to marry Malcolm MacGregor’s only daughter.”

“True.” She nodded as a slow smile curled her pink lips. “He will probably draw his broadsword on you rather than his revolver.”

Hugh gulped.

“’Tis a joke.” Tyra laughed, shoving her knuckles into his arm. “You should relax. My da is a fair and honorable man.”

“Well, if he does not draw a weapon on me for wanting to wed his only daughter, he might once he learns I was a British officer who fought against them for several years, the same army who took his son’s life.”

This time, Tyra didn’t respond. Instead, she looked away. Hugh’s gut clenched in reaction. Now he knew what he ought to be worried about.

The sound of horses rode up the lane. Tyra jumped up and rushed to the window. She paused as she squinted and tilted her head. Her breath caught as she covered her mouth. “’Tis them.” Tears filled her eyes and her voice. “Mama! They are here! Da and the lads have come home!”

***

Hugh stayed inside and watched the MacGregor family rejoin each other. Now he knew where Tyra had gotten her height. The MacGregor men were huge. He imagined they would have been a formidable force in battle. In spite of the cold weather, his hands began to sweat and he wiped them on his breeches. If it would not hurt Tyra’s feelings, he would have slipped out the back door unnoticed to give them time to enjoy each other’s company and get reacquainted without the immediate need to explain his identity and connection to the family.

Instead, he waited. They walked toward the house. His heart raced. The initial reunion was over, and now they would learn of all the changes which took place in their absence. It was the opening he needed to tell Tyra goodbye and make his escape. He stepped outside onto the porch. Malcolm and his sons paused to stare at him in curious surprise.

“Who are you?” Malcolm asked, lifting a suspicious eyebrow. He had long russet-colored hair with gray at the temples and a full beard and mustache of the same color. He matched Hugh’s height, but was much broader. He wore a blue coat as part of his uniform, but it was worn at the elbows and over the right shoulder. The stripes on his arm showed the rank of captain. Hugh stood at attention and saluted him.

“I am Captain Donahue Morgan,” Hugh said. “Colonel Robeson of Elizabethtown set me in charge of Wilmington after the British retreated. ’Tis an honor to meet you, sir.”

“Aye, but what are ye doing at my house?” Malcolm asked, crossing his muscled arms. His deep voice held the same Scottish brogue as his wife.

“Da, he is my fiancé.” Tyra stepped forward and gripped Hugh’s arm. “We have much to tell you since you have been away.”

“Fiancé?” He balled his fists and planted them on his hips. “What is the meaning o’this?”

“Tyra, they have only just returned.” Hugh patted her hand on his arm. “There will be plenty of time for discussion later. Right now, enjoy getting reacquainted with them. I will return in a few days.” Hugh saluted her father and brothers. He hurried down the porch steps and strode toward his horse tethered to a nearby tree. “
Lord, please convince her father to give us his blessing.
”

The whispered prayer wasn’t loud enough for the others to hear, but he intended to repeat the prayer until he knew the Almighty at least heard him.

***

For a week Tyra waited on Hugh to call again. She kept busy listening to her brothers tell stories of the war and tease her with tales, but even they could not lift her spirits after what she suspected her father had done. He had drilled her and Mama with questions about Hugh and demanded to know how they met. When he discovered Hugh had been a British soldier, he ranted about how a double-minded man could not be trusted. Not even Mama could calm his temper.