For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (7 page)

Tyra cleaned both areas and dried them. Her touch was gentle, as if taking great care to keep from causing him further pain.

“Captain Morgan, you are healing quite nicely,” Tyra said. “I am pleased with the results. I hope I did not cause you too much discomfort.”

“Not at all.” He shook his head. “In fact, I am most thankful.”

“Mama!” Kirk raced into Hugh’s chamber and rolled to a stop. “Aunt Carleen and Uncle Ollie just arrived.”

“And why would they be coming here?” Private Truitt backed toward the window and glanced out the curtains. His mouth puckered into a frown as he shook his head. “A man and woman are leaving a carriage. They are wearing plain clothes.”

“My aunt and uncle are Quakers,” Tyra said, tucking the scissors and tweezers away into a cloth pouch. She fastened the button closed and glanced over at Hugh. “They do not believe in war and pose no threat against the king’s army. Please allow us to welcome them in peace.”

“We will welcome them,” Hugh said, meeting her probing green eyes. “But I cannot guarantee they are as innocent as you claim. They will be watched and under the same scrutiny as yourselves.”

“What do you mean?” Tyra demanded, stepping forward and leaning over him. “You know the men in our family fight in this war, but the Bates family has done naught to deserve such speculation.”

“Perhaps.” Hugh nodded in agreement. “But Quakers are known to defy the king. They will not bow to him or confess their allegiance. Through their direct disobedience, they are considered enemies to the King of England as if they had signed up for the Patriot cause.” Hugh sat up straight, determined to right his clothing and prepare to meet their new arrivals. “This is why they will be searched, questioned, and detained before we allow you to talk to them.” Hugh turned to Private Truitt and pointed to the chamber door. “You know your orders.”

Chapter 7

7

W
hile Hugh and Truitt questioned Tyra’s aunt and uncle, she escaped upstairs and retrieved a letter she had written to her father. She hurried down the stairs and slipped out the kitchen back door. While most kitchens were a separate building from the main house in case of fire, her father had constructed their kitchen of all stone and brick. In his mind if such houses were fine in Scotland, they would be fine here.

Tyra gathered her cloak tight around her and fastened the button at her neck as she strode toward the woods. Increasing her pace, Tyra disappeared into the shaded path toward the swamp.

Fallen twigs snapped under her boots as the path twisted and wound around a curve. The white sky served as a background against the brown branches above. The woods smelled of thick dirt and tree bark, but the further she walked, a musty odor came from the swamp. Birds chirped and their feathers fluttered as they danced from tree to tree. The thick oak tree they had always used to leave messages for the Tuscaroras came into view.

She bent to place her letter inside the hollow hole in the tree trunk, careful to set a heavy rock on it. Tyra closed her eyes.
“Lord, please don’t let it rain or the swamp to rise before they come and get it.”

Unable to dally any longer in case her absence was missed, Tyra hurried back to the house. The cold air filled her lungs, but she didn’t dare pause to catch her breath. Tyra made her way to the well and drew some water so she would have an excuse as to why she was outside. The door creaked as she stepped inside.

“There ye are.” Her mother hung a pot over a fire in the hearth. “Glad ye had the foresight to bring in some more water. I am making some tea for everyone.”

“Is the inquisition still taking place?” Tyra asked, carrying the bucket over to the counter and setting it down.

“Aye.” Mama nodded as she took out teacups and saucers from the cupboard. “I would wager they are now regretting their trip here. I cannot imagine what would make them come here knowing the redcoats are everywhere, watching everything, and everyone.”

Footsteps came down the hall, and Hugh appeared. He stood and crossed his arms as he surveyed them. “They have answered our questions to satisfaction. Tyra, I am sorry.” Hugh stepped toward her, a look of remorse on his face as he sighed in frustration.

“’Tis Miss MacGregor to you.” Tyra straightened to her full height, angry he would betray her kindness like this and berate her family. “I imagine you have scared my aunt and uncle to death. They are innocent and cannot imagine the horrors of the kind of wars you have fought.” She touched her palm to her forehead. “I can only imagine what they must be thinking right now.”

“We are at war.” He chuckled. “Surely, they are not so naïve. They knew the moment they set out on this trip they were taking a risk.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “It is well known all traitorous households are being monitored by British soldiers.”

“We understand yer meaning, Captain Morgan,” Mama said. “Please join us in the parlor. Tyra and I will serve tea in a moment.”

“Indeed, and we would appreciate it if you could make our relatives feel a bit more welcome in the meantime.” Tyra glared at him. “I would have thought those who represent His Royal Majesty would have more hospitable qualities.”

Hugh’s eyes widened in disappointment. He glanced at the floor and rubbed his mustache. “In spite of what you might think of me, I am only following orders. As long as you do as I say, I can protect you—all of you.” He gestured to her mother before turning and disappearing down the hall.

“He has more audacity than anyone I know of.” Tyra balled her fists and slammed them on the wooden counter. “The pride brimming in him is most exasperating.”

“Tyra, ye must control yer temper, lass.” Mama set the tea in the cups. “’Twould be in our best interest if we earn his friendship and trust. He could be here for a long while.” Mama turned and cupped her cheek, giving her a tender smile. “I am not saying ye need to trust him yerself. Remember, be as wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove.”

“From the Book of Matthew.” Tyra recognized the familiar verse as she reached for a container of honey to replace the sugar the redcoats had taken. It was hard for her to be wise at times, especially when her temper taunted her. With her size, she could hardly represent a dove, more like an ostrich. The image wasn’t comforting. She hated being so much taller than most men and next to other women, she felt like one of the Amazon women in a mythical story she had read. She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I shall try to behave. I promise.”

“Good. I believe Captain Morgan is a decent man, in spite of being British.” Mama pulled the pot of boiling water from the hearth and poured it in each cup. Steam floated up between them. “It could be worse. We could be saddled with one of those other redcoats who lack manners. God is looking out for us, lass. Keep that in mind.” Mama tilted her head in a knowing nod.

“I will.” Tyra poured a bit of honey in each cup and stirred, while her mother pulled out a silver tray. They arranged the cups and saucers for equal balance. Mama pulled some biscuits warming on simmering coals and set them on a platter in the middle. “Well, this should do it.”

Tyra removed her apron, picked up the tray, and followed her mother down the hall to the parlor. As they approached, voices carried into the hallway. At least everyone appeared to be having a civil conversation. If her aunt and uncle were displeased with the questioning, they did not show it.

Aunt Carleen and Uncle Ollie were on the settee by the window, and her cousin Rebecca occupied a Chippendale chair by the hearth where Private Truitt stirred the growing fire. Captain Morgan stood from another chair across the room upon their entrance. Kirk stood leaning against the wall. His hesitant and questioning gaze met Tyra’s. Was he worried she was angry? Remembering her promise to her mother, she forced a smile before turning to greet her aunt and uncle.

“I am so glad thee is safe.” Aunt Carleen stood and pulled her into a tight embrace. She smelled of fresh air and mint. “I wanted to come and see for myself how everyone is getting along.” Leaning back, she reached up and cupped Tyra’s cheek. Her hazel eyes were warm as she assessed Tyra and frowned. “Thee looks tired, child. I pray thee has not been up to any tricks while my brother and the lads have been away?” She lifted a brown eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Mama said, as she set the tray on a table beside Captain Morgan and served him the first cup of tea. “Tyra is growing out of her childish pursuits and behaving herself like a young lady these days.”

“I always feared Malcolm encouraged thee too much to be like one of the lads.” She sighed. “I suppose there was still too much of the highlands in him.”

“True. My Malcolm was always a highlander at heart.” Mama brought her aunt a cup of tea. “I apologize, but we no longer have any sugar. We are using Tyra’s honey.”

“’Twill be fine, I am sure.” Aunt Carleen smiled and sat.

“Good to see thee again.” Uncle Ollie wrapped his arms around Tyra and stepped back, looking up at her. “My goodness, but I think thee has grown another inch.”

It was true. The last time they had seen each other, they were eye level. She looked down at the floor, knowing her face heated with shame. “I keep growing and I would like naught more than to shrink to the normal size of a woman, like Becky.” She gestured to her cousin with a smile. “Now there is a bonny lass if I ever did see one and perfect in character.”

Becky rose to greet her, wearing a simple blue gown, her sandy brown hair curled in all the right places. Her hazel eyes lit with mirth when they joined hands. “Becky is quiet, speaks only when spoken to, always has a word of wisdom upon her tongue, and never shows anger. Me?” She pointed a thumb to her chest as she turned to look at the others in the room. “I am loud, always sharing my opinions, and temperamental. Regardless, at the rate I am growing, only a tree will be taller than me by the time I am done. What man will want to wed a woman taller than himself?”

“Nonsense.” Captain Morgan said. “At age ten and seven, you will not grow much more, and you have yet to reach my height. And if I may say so, I have witnessed some first-rate qualities in you any American colonist would be a fool to ignore.”

“Such as?” Uncle Ollie asked, his tone laced with suspicion as he eyed the captain.

“Miss MacGregor can patch a man’s wounds better than any physician I have known. She is full of encouragement when his head is filled with fever. And when the British came and took their goods, she did not waste time weeping over it, she offered her special-made honey as a substitute and immediately set out to think of other viable solutions. What man would not want such a woman by his side?” He smiled and looked around the room. “She has strength of character.”

“Thank ye, Captain Morgan,” Mama said, giving Tyra a meaningful look. “I have been telling the lass these same things for months. Perhaps she will be willing to hear it from someone else for a change.”

“I do have one request,” Captain Morgan said, turning his attention back to Tyra. “I would like to see a demonstration of the War Woman.”

Still recovering from Hugh’s unexpected flattery, Tyra stared at him in utter confusion. His gray eyes absorbed through her like transparent glass. Could he see how much she wanted to be admired like other girls her age? Had he somehow discovered her vulnerability and now attempted to trap her in a web of deceit and manipulation? Well, she wouldn’t succumb to his overtures. She could not afford to trust a man who was not only their enemy, but who had been ordered to watch her every move and report her actions back to the major.

It was as if everyone else in the parlor faded into obscurity as she tried to conjure an appropriate response. She could not risk encouraging him. Tyra let go of her cousin and walked toward a wooden chair by the wall beside the green settee where her aunt and uncle sat. She folded her hands in her lap and shook her head. “I am sorry, Captain, but I could not give such a demonstration. I promised my mother I would retire my War Woman pursuits to childhood fantasy and be the young lady she is trying to make of me.”

Mama gave her a smile of approval as she settled in a chair across from Tyra. “Indeed, Captain. Please do not tempt my daughter further. It has taken me years to convince her to retire the weapons her father should have never given her.” Mrs. MacGregor’s gaze slid to the floor and she grew pensive. “Malcolm always did have a soft spot for the lass. She could convince him to concede to things none of the rest of us could. I think the lads often resented it, but then they were just as guilty.”

“I think if I were to have such a daughter, I might be the same way.” Hugh sat back and crossed his booted foot over his knee. “There was only my brother and myself, so we never had a sister to pamper or protect.”

“Believe me, sir, I was never pampered,” Tyra said. “Da made me work hard, fight hard, and earn my rewards just like my brothers.” Tyra turned to her visiting relatives. “Enough about me. What news have you brought us?”

Her uncle cleared his throat with a quick glance at Hugh before turning to Mama. “The Patriot leader, John Ashe, has been captured. He is being held in a cell at the Burgwin House.”

“At least he was not beaten, paraded around town, and left out in a blockhouse to freeze to death.” Tyra didn’t bother hiding the hard edge in her voice. “Do you know if Mr. Harnett is still outside or has he been brought into a cell as he should have been with the rest of the prisoners?”

“I am afraid he is still outside, exposed to the elements,” Uncle Ollie said. “And as for Mr. Ashe, I am quite certain he was beaten as well. ’Tis the way of things in times of war.”

“But it does not make it right.” Tyra let her tone drip with contempt.

“Tyra, my dear, I believe ye need a wee bit o’tea.” Mama poured steaming tea into a cup and brought it over. “Here ye go, lass. Drink up.” She leaned close and mouthed the word, “hush.”

“I declare, but we shall run out of firewood if we do not take an ax to some logs soon,” Private Truitt said. He stood and walked over to Kirk. “Why not help me, lad? Between the two of us, we could finish before we freeze.”

“Aye.” Kirk nodded, pushing himself from the wall. “It gets boring when they all sit around and talk.” Private Truitt grinned and slapped a hand on his shoulder, leading Kirk into the hallway like old chums.

Hugh made no effort to join them, and Tyra assumed he intended to make sure they had no privacy with their relatives. He didn’t trust them, which meant she should not trust him. The knowledge stung with reality, but she would accept it. She turned to look out the window as she sipped hot tea. The winter grass had turned brown with patches of green and the tree limbs were bare. White clouds filled the sky, hiding the sun as if it no longer existed. The cup warmed her hands as she gripped it tight.

“Captain Morgan, since some time has passed and Mr. Harnett has sufficiently suffered from the weather, may he be taken inside with the rest of the prisoners?” Tyra asked. She glanced in his direction and held her breath, hoping to appeal to his compassion. His gray eyes blinked. Tyra recognized the same sensitive expression he had shown when he had thanked her for saving his life.

“When next I go to town and report to Major Craig, I shall inquire about the matter.” He finished the rest of his tea and leaned over to set his cup on the tray. “I give you my word.”

“It will be kind of thee, Captain Morgan,” Aunt Carleen said. She turned her attention to Mama. “Lauren, I had hoped thee might have some news from my brother or from one of thy lads?”

“Nay, I have not.” Mama shook her head. “’Tis quite disappointing. I must rely on news printed in the
Cape Fear Mercury
, but of course, ’tis only general news. Never anything specific to my Malcolm and the lads.”

“Did thee have a good Christmas?” Becky asked, her smile lighting up with enthusiasm. Quakers didn’t celebrate Christmas the way they did with elaborate decorations, gift-giving, and feasts. To them, each day was a gift from God and no day was any more special than any other. Still, Tyra knew her young cousins were always curious about their Christmas celebrations.