For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (8 page)

“Indeed, we did.” Tyra nodded, unsure if she should mention her father and brothers had visited them in front of the captain. Even though it was well into February, Tyra had no idea how far away they had traveled. What if the captain took it into his head to search for them and they were still nearby? She could not forgive herself for such a misjudgment.

“Thee can tell me about it on the way to the outhouse.” Becky stood and glanced around the room. “Please, excuse us.”

Tyra stood and followed her into the hallway, and she described their Christmas feast. Once they were outside, Tyra told Becky about the surprise visit of her father and brothers, and the tearful goodbye to Alec. The sound of Private Truitt and Kirk chopping wood on the other side of the house let her know it was safe to continue their discussion. Once they reached the outhouse, Tyra touched her cousin’s elbow.

“Please, I need you to get a message to Mr. Saunders in town.” Tyra whispered. “Could you do this for me?”

“Yes, what is it?” Becky asked.

“Tell him I will try and make it to the next Whig meeting, but he should not be alarmed if I cannot. Let him know I am being watched carefully by Captain Morgan, and I cannot take unnecessary risks.”

“Is that all?” Becky nodded in agreement.

“There is more. Tell him I believe I found the tunnel door leading into the prison cells in the basement of the Burgwin House. ’Twill be difficult, but an escape may be possible using the tunnels.”

***

Two days later, Hugh rode into town to report to Major Craig as ordered. Private Truitt was allowed to remain behind to keep an eye on the traitorous Americans, as the MacGregors were called in the letter he had received. The impolite reference to the MacGregors annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. It could only mean one thing. He had come to form an attachment to the MacGregors, specifically Tyra.

A pair of wide green eyes framed in a smooth pale face with a tangled mass of fiery red hair came to mind. She occupied his thoughts as soon as he arose each morning and was the last thought before he closed his eyes each night, providing he could actually sleep. How would he be able to stay objective under the circumstances? Or worse, how would he be able to protect her from the British Army?

Hugh was led through the Burgwin House and outside to the back. Major Craig stood wearing a black overcoat and pulled on a pair of black gloves. Another man stood beside him, a couple of inches shorter than Hugh. Soldiers were mounted on horses outside the stables.

“Sir, Captain Donahue Morgan is here to see you.” The soldier who had led him out here saluted his superior.

“Thank you, Private.” Major Craig waved him toward the stables. “Prepare to mount up. We shall be leaving shortly.” He shoved his other hand into his glove and stepped back as he nodded toward the man beside him. “Captain Morgan, I would like for you to meet Captain Gordon.”

Hugh shook hands with the brown-headed fellow near his own age. Captain Gordon grinned, displaying a thin mustache catching Hugh’s attention. His sparkling brown eyes gave Hugh an aura of mistrust and suspicion. Two horses were brought forward.

“Captain Morgan, you may join us for our evening ride,” Major Craig said. “We shall ride out those gates onto Third Street toward New Bern Road. We will be crossing the bridge over the swamp. Go collect your horse and meet us on Third. By the time my fifteen other men are mounted and ready, I am sure you will be waiting on us.”

“Yes, sir.” Hugh turned on his heel and headed back through the house and out the front door. He found his horse tethered to the tree where he had left him. Mounting up, Hugh took the reins in his hands and guided his horse around the corner to Third Street. As he approached, Major Craig and Captain Gordon led a parade of men onto the dirt street.

“Captain Morgan!” Major Craig grinned and tipped his fingers to his bicorn hat. “What news have you for me? How are the MacGregors?”

Hugh maneuvered his horse beside the major and sighed, wishing he knew what the man wanted to know. “Thank you for inviting me, sir. To answer your question, the MacGregor family is fine. Miss MacGregor removed my stitches a few days ago. I am healing quite nicely and will soon be ready to carry out my mission from General Lord Cornwallis to free the prisoners in Hillsborough.”

“Yes, well, has Mrs. MacGregor or her daughter had any contact with Mr. MacGregor or the other lads?” Major Craig asked.

“No, sir. Not so much as a letter,” Hugh said. “Nor have I seen any further evidence of the Tuscarora Indians.”

“Is that a fact?” Major Craig asked, glancing at him sideways. “I really want to know what Miss MacGregor is capable of and if she could potentially be a problem. Only then will I consider the possibility of allowing you the opportunity to travel to Hillsborough to free your brother. You have your orders, Captain, and I have mine.”

“But sir, I have no reason to suspect Miss MacGregor of anything that could be considered treason, other than the fact she happens to be the daughter of a Patriot.”

“Captain, I understand she saved your life when she did not have to, but try not to allow it to cloud your judgment.” Major Craig’s tone lowered to a warning. “It could prove to be costly for you—possibly fatal. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Hugh clenched his teeth to keep from protesting further. Who could have aroused Major Craig’s suspicions against Tyra? He thought back to the dinner the other night and recalled at how Miss Gordon and Mrs. Gordon seemed to enjoy patronizing her as the enemy until Major Craig set them straight. Hugh leaned forward and glanced at the man on the other side of the major.

“Captain Gordon, are you any relation to Mrs. Isobel Gordon or Miss Kelly Gordon?” Hugh asked.

“We are cousins.” Captain Gordon grinned at him. “They came here to the colonies about ten years ago, but my side of the family still lives in Staffordshire.”

“I see.” Hugh nodded, taking in this new piece of information.

“Captain Gordon arrived yesterday from General Lord Cornwallis,” Major Craig said. “He brought me an update. The general is on the other side of Hillsborough tracking General Greene. He plans to attack sometime soon.”

“What are our orders?” Hugh asked, keeping his horse even with the major as they reached the bridge over the swamp. Captain Gordon dropped back to allow them enough room to cross two men abreast. Their horses clip-clopped across the wooden bridge, and his horse snorted. The murky smell of the swamp reached his senses, and he wrinkled his nose.

“We are to wait in Wilmington for further orders. In the meantime, we will take our daily ride as we always do each evening. And when we return, we shall have a glass of port.”

“But sir, if you take to riding out at the same time each day and go the same route, could it not be a temptation for the enemy to try and ambush you?” Hugh asked.

Chapter 8

8

A
scream ripped through the air as Hugh arrived back at The MacGregor Quest. It sounded like Tyra near the stables. He rounded the corner where three horses were tied to a nearby post. A man wearing a redcoat stumbled and fell at the entrance.

“The wench stole my bloody sword!” he yelled, scrambling back to his feet.

“Did you expect me to lie still while you all attack me and have your way?” Tyra’s hysterical voice echoed. Swords clashed as Hugh slowed his horse to a stop. He dismounted and unsheathed his sword from his side. Tyra chased the men out of the stables, wielding a sword with as much talent as any trained man. She fought two men and kicked the other one from whom she stole the sword back into the dirt. “Stay down or I shall run you through with your own blade.”

Anger shot up Hugh’s spine and boiled in his temples at the sight of Tyra’s ripped blouse. One man swung his sword high in an arc, while the other came at Tyra from the side. She kicked him in the knee, ducked, and swung her sword in time to meet the other coming down on her neck. They clanged in unison as the third one reached his feet and ran at her. Hugh rushed at him and slung the man down to the ground. Tyra lunged at the second man with her sword and outmaneuvered him until his sword flew into the air. She pressed the blade against his throat.

“Tyra, no!” Hugh shouted. She paused, drawing a slight nick at the soldier’s neck producing a line of red. “What is going on here?” Hugh demanded, looking around at his fellow soldiers. “Am I to assume the three of you were attacking this lady?”

“She is no lady, only a tyrant American,” said the only man still holding a sword in his hand. One paused and stepped back, while the other crawled to his knees. Tyra gasped and lowered the sword. Her lips were tight and thin with a grim expression. Her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she met his gaze. She trembled with uncontrolled anger. He feared she might be out of her mind with fright and determined to take revenge, but if she hurt one of the soldiers, Major Craig would see her pay for it. Hugh couldn’t allow her to take the chance.

“Tyra, drop the sword. I shall deal with these men.” Hugh walked toward her, approaching at a cautious pace. “If you do them harm, I cannot protect you from Major Craig.”

“Is it all right for them to try and violate me?” She swung at the man nearest her. He jumped out of her path.

“No, of course not, and I will see they are punished, but I do not wish you to suffer for trying to defend yourself.”

“Punished?” The man with the sword stepped forward. Tyra tensed and braced herself. “This wild wench went crazy when we started asking questions. We were only doing what Major Craig ordered.”

“I doubt he ordered the three of you to rape an innocent woman.” Hugh strode to the man and held out his hand. “Give me your weapon. I am the commanding officer in charge here. If you disobey, I shall have you court-martialed.” He motioned toward the house. “Wait for me inside the house. I have taken over the study as my office.”

To his relief, the men did as he requested. They wore frowns of disapproval and glared at him, but it was worth it to ensure Tyra’s safety. With the way his heart pounded against his chest, he feared he would have done anything to protect her, even defend her against his fellow countrymen. He waited as they stomped away and disappeared inside.

“Come here.” Hugh turned to Tyra and motioned her toward him.

“No.” She shook her head as tears spilled over her lashes. The sword fell from her hand and thumped to the ground. “My mother cannot know,” she whispered. “Please do not tell her.” She sniffled and her trembling fingers worked unsuccessfully to button her blouse. It was no use; half the buttons were torn from the fabric. He doubted she could see the damage since the tears gathering in her eyes were so thick.

Hugh strode to her and gathered her in his arms, hoping she would allow him the opportunity to comfort her. Instead of pushing him away as he feared, she collapsed in his arms and sobbed against his chest. He pulled her tight against him and stroked her long hair down her back. No doubt, it had come untangled from her usual coil in the skirmish she had with the men. After a few minutes, her sobs subsided and she sniffed.

“You must think me weak,” she said through watery tears.

“Never.”

“I tried to fight them off, but they took me by surprise while I was grooming the animals.”

“And you did an excellent job.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now I know why they call you the War Woman. You have earned the name.” She continued to tremble. He realized her cloak had been ripped from her. Hugh stepped back to unbutton his coat, shrugged out of it, and placed it on her shoulders.

“I cannot wear a despicable redcoat!” She slapped it away.

“You are freezing.” He looked around. “Where is your cloak?”

“They ripped it with their swords.” She looked down at herself and gathered her blouse closed in her fist. “You do not imagine I ended up like this any other way, do you?”

“Tyra, I realize my coat is an abomination to you, and rightly so.” He cupped her face between his hands. “But you are freezing and you need to properly cover yourself. ’Tis all I have to offer you. Please . . . accept it.” He hoped she could see the pleading in his eyes. She stared at him for a moment and, with a sigh, jerked it from his hands. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and gathered her close. “And remember, they did not get away with what they intended.”

“Why did they come?” she asked. Wounded green eyes peered up at him, and his chest tightened as if a stack of bricks lay upon him. “Major Craig has ordered you and Truitt to spy on us. Why would he send more men in your place knowing you were gone?”

“I do not know.” He pulled her close to his side in a protective manner. “But I intend to find out.”

***

Knowing her mother would be busy entertaining the British soldiers until Hugh arrived, Tyra entered the house from the back door through the kitchen. She didn’t want to be humiliated all over again by running into them in her present condition, nor did she want to be caught by her family wearing a redcoat. It would raise suspicion and require an explanation. The other day she had overheard her mother praying for her father and brothers. Mama had enough on her mind to worry her.

She wrapped her arms round her chest and hurried up the back staircase, keeping as quiet as possible. Inside her chamber, Tyra closed the door and shrugged out of the redcoat dropping it on the trunk at the foot of her bed. She shivered and rubbed her hands over her upper arms. Glancing at the dark fireplace, Tyra crossed the room and grabbed a log and set it in the grate. Her cold fingers trembled as she fumbled to build a fire. A few moments later, blue-orange flames flickered and sparked, catching hold of the bark.

Tyra crouched low and held her hands out, seeking what warmth she could. Once her fingers were thawed enough to feel again, she worked on unbuttoning the remaining buttons of her blouse. She rummaged through a trunk under the window and found another white blouse. Tyra moved back to the warmth of the growing fire as she slipped it on and buttoned it.

For several moments, she sat staring into the fire. The warm glow now comforted her face and body as she leaned forward. The whole thing didn’t make sense. The men came into the stables demanding to know why she was the War Woman. They fired a number of questions at her. Where were the Indians? How was she spying for the Patriots? How had she cuckolded Captain Morgan?

She refused to be taunted by them, but they kept coming, crowding around her. One of them grabbed her by the cloak and jerked her around. She hit him in the jaw. Angered, he shoved her back against the stall door and pressed his body against her as the others drew their swords and ripped her cloak from her. Tyra screamed, but he covered her mouth. She bit him while the other two laughed. Feeling the hilt of his sword jab into her side, Tyra bit his nasty hand and took advantage of the moment to draw his sword against him.

If Captain Morgan hadn’t come when he did, someone would have gotten hurt. Most likely, she would have hanged from a noose because she had determined in her heart, she would not let them have her. The whole ordeal brought back memories of when she had been forced to defend herself against the outlaw Indians. She glanced at her Bible lying on top of her desk against the cream-colored wall. Like before, she needed comfort.

She went over to retrieve the book and brought it back to where she curled by the fire on the floor. Flipping to Ecclesiastes, chapter three, she read,
“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to pluck that which is planted. A time to heal and a time to kill.”
Her voice faded as tears of gratitude filled her eyes. The page grew blurry as warm liquid crawled down her face and dropped, staining the page with a dark wet spot. She swallowed and took a deep breath to ease the back of her aching throat.

“Lord, thank you for bringing Captain Morgan in time. I do not ever want to be in the position of taking another person’s life in order to save my own.” Thoughts of the compromising position her father and brothers now faced on a daily basis filled her with remorse and fear. So many lives were being lost and wasted on the battlefields across this great land—and all because a king wanted to oppress and dominate his subjects—to bring tyranny against the people.

Was freedom worth fighting for? Worth dying for? When she had been forced to defend herself—to kill or be killed—she had chosen to kill. It had earned her the name of War Woman like a badge of honor, but she didn’t feel honorable. The name only stood to remind her of what she had done—something she wished she had never been put into the position of doing. Today she had fought with the same tenacity, knowing she would have killed again to save herself.

Did it make her a bad person? Even though she had prayed for forgiveness, Tyra often prayed her decision two years ago had fallen into the time frame described in Ecclesiastes. Her father had taught them the commandment to not kill referred to outright murder the way Cain had killed his brother Abel in the Book of Genesis. War and self-defense fell under the reference in Ecclesiastes.

Sounds of footsteps and men’s voices carried from below. Tyra closed the Bible and set it back on her desk. She wondered how Hugh would handle the three men, especially since Major Craig, his superior, had sent them. At least, she knew Hugh wasn’t part of the conspiracy, but now she had a concern for his welfare. What game was Major Craig playing?

She left her chamber and descended the hall staircase as the three soldiers walked out the front door. It slammed, shaking the framed timbers.

“Goodness, it sounds like someone is displeased,” Tyra said, as she descended the stairs, noticing no one else was about.

“They should be.” Hugh turned around and walked toward her, concern in his gray eyes. He cupped her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but what did you say to them?”

“I told them that Major Craig sent them here to ask questions and get answers. He is too much of a gentleman and honorable for anyone to believe he would stoop to the level of having them rape an innocent girl.”

“Do you really believe he is a gentleman and honorable?” she asked, lowering her voice with doubt. “And why would Major Craig not trust what you report back to him.”

“No, in all honesty, I do not believe he is honorable.” He shook his head, his palm growing warm on her cheek. “But they cannot know my opinion. My hope is Major Craig will at least want to appear to be honorable.” His thumb circled her jaw making her tingle. “I suppose he may suspect I have developed a fondness for you. I am most relieved those blokes did not hurt you.” He grinned. “But now, I know why you are called the War Woman.” He touched the tip of her nose.

***

Then next morning Hugh called Private Truitt into the study. The man arrived and stood at the threshold as if waiting for permission to enter. Hugh waved him in. He strode to the front of the desk and saluted him. While he had carried out Hugh’s orders as requested and seemed to have a soft spot for Kirk, Hugh wasn’t convinced of his loyalty. He stood with his hands linked behind him.

“We went hunting since Mrs. MacGregor offered to make rabbit stew,” he said.

“There was an incident,” Hugh said. “Major Craig sent three soldiers to question Miss MacGregor, but they attacked her in the stables and would have had their way with her if I had not arrived in time. Today, I have to ride into town and see Major Craig. I want you to stay here at the house and make sure naught untoward happens.” Hugh looked him in the eye. “Do you understand?”

“I thought our orders are to watch the MacGregors and report traitorous activity, not protect them.” His dark eyes burned with rebellion.

“Are you refusing this order?” Hugh asked. “If you are, I promise, there will be consequences.”

“No, sir.” He dropped his gaze.

“I shall endeavor to forget it as long as no harm comes to Miss MacGregor or her family while they are in your care.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good.” Hugh nodded toward the door. “You may go.”

After he walked out, Hugh shrugged into his black overcoat and placed his hat on his head. He strode into the hallway and out the front door to the stables. As he saddled his horse, footsteps approached with the sound of a swishing skirt. He turned to see Tyra approaching. She wore a blue cloak and a purple skirt with a lavender blouse.

“Captain Morgan, I would like to go to town with you,” Tyra said.

“Absolutely not.” Hugh fastened the saddle in place and pulled down the stirrup. “We still do not know why Major Craig ordered me to town and sent those men out here to question you in my absence. He wanted me out of the way for some reason, and I need to discover why. Without this knowledge we have no idea how much danger you could be in.”

“Staying here did me no good. I cannot hide away forever. We need supplies.”

“But leaving will put you at even more risk than staying here. Make a list, and I will pick up the supplies you need.” Hugh turned to face her, leaning an elbow on the saddle. “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but please trust me.”