For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 (22 page)

“It feels like betrayal.” He pressed his fingers against the knotted muscles in the back of his neck as he paced to the window and back. “My commission is not over for another year.”

“In the meantime, you will be killing more innocent people. You will continue taking orders from a superior officer who is evil and supports the king of tyranny.” Tyra straightened into a rigid posture and lifted her chin in defiance. “I love you, Captain Donahue Morgan, but if you do not have the courage to do the right thing and stand with me, then you are not the right man for me.” Tyra turned and strode out the door, leaving him with a burdened heart clawing and digging deep until he bled inside.

***

Tyra bent over her garden as her knees pressed into the soft dirt where she had dug out some weeds between her red geraniums and white lilies. Even though the sun had dropped behind looming gray clouds, the heat still prevailed and perspiration dripped from her forehead. She reached up and wiped her brow on the sleeve of her blouse.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Tyra sat back with a heavy sigh. Two days had passed since she last saw Hugh, and the words she shot at him still haunted her. No matter how much it pained her, she would have to stick by what she said. How would her father and brothers feel if they returned to discover she had developed affection for a man who was part of the enemy, especially after Scott’s death?

Tears stung her eyes as she weighed all the circumstances. What did she know of Hugh? He had told her little about his family and life back in England. The only knowledge she had was of his elder brother, Colonel Neil Morgan, a man who had made it clear of his hatred for the colonials, especially the Patriot families like the MacGregors. She wished she had asked Hugh more about his life before the war. What were his future goals and dreams?

The wind swept her hair over her shoulders and brushed against her like a wave from the sea. Her flowers bent over until they hung to the ground like a sad case of drooping depression. Footsteps approached from behind, and Tyra turned to see Kirk and Darren striding toward her, a frown of concern on her brother’s young face.

“We have secured all the livestock missed by the redcoats in the far fields. You must come in, Tyra. The storm will soon be upon us.” Kirk held out his hand. “’Tisn’t safe out here. Come in with us, so Mama will not worry.”

Lightning streaked the sky in a white jagged shape flashing across the landscape, revealing crevices and shadows across the land. She stood and dusted her hands, grimacing at the dirt caked on her skin and under her nails. “I shall wash first.”

“Do not take long.” Kirk glanced behind him beyond the dirt road to the other side where the Cape Fear River flowed like rapids. Usually this part of the river was calm, but not today. “I hope it does not flood. Do you think it is another hurricane?” He asked, glancing up at the dark clouds swirling above them.

“I hope not. The rice fields barely survived the last one.” These were the moments when she missed her father the most.

“Looks like another one to me.” Darren stepped back with his fists on his hips and surveyed the sky. Concern darkened his tense expression.

Thunder exploded, lightning sparked, and massive wind swept through the air and snapped several tree limbs. A large branch broke and flew across the yard, tumbling like a weed. Fear twisted through her stirring a wave of panic. Tyra gulped, remembering how several years ago a huge hurricane came through. Their father had boarded up the windows to protect the glass. What if the branch had burst through the front window of the house?

“Kirk, run to the barn and get those flat wooden boards Da keeps in the loft.” She pointed in the direction of the red barn as her skirts danced in the wind. “We are going to board up the windows. We do not have much time. ’Twill soon be upon us.”

“You think the storm will be that bad?” Kirk asked, his dark eyebrows lifting.

“We should not take a chance. This is what Da would do if he was here.” Tyra turned and ran to the well. She cranked the handle to lower the bucket and pulled it back up. More thunder cracked the sky, causing her to jump. She found the lye soap on the side of the well and scrubbed the dirt from her hands. Fat raindrops began to pour. Within seconds, it had soaked her white cap to her head in a flat mess. She kept blinking the rain from her eyes, but it pounded harder, like tiny bullets on the top of her head and along the skin of her hands and arms.

She ran to the side door and paused inside, not wanting to leave a trail of water as it dripped on the floor. “Mama?” She called through the house. “Would you bring the hammer and nails? We need to board up the windows.”

“I will be right there.” Mama’s voice sounded strained in the distance. Thunder rumbled over the house like something scraping the roof. Footsteps carried down the hall. A thump sounded then something slammed before more footsteps came toward her. Mama appeared with two hammers and a container of nails.

“I had nearly forgotten where Malcolm kept these.” She lifted the container of nails in one hand and two hammers in the other. “Thank the good Lord, my senses finally returned to me.” Her gaze slid over Tyra to the puddle of water on the floor. “Goodness, lass, at least ye had the good sense to enter by the side door. The brick floor will handle the mess ye’ve made much better than the pine floor at the front door.”

“Come, Mama, we do not have much time. The storm is already raging.” Tyra stepped forward and took the tools from her mother.

By the time they reached the front of the house, Kirk and Darren had managed to carry several boards from the barn. They took turns holding the boards against the windows and hammering the nails into the wooden shutters.

“How will we manage the second story windows?” Kirk called over the howling wind. “None of us would be able to stay on a ladder long enough.”

“Who would be riding out to our place in this terrible storm?” Mama looked down at the drive.

“It could be Private Stoneman. He left earlier to give his report.” Tyra followed her gaze to see the shadow of a lone rider approaching them. The dark clouds and pelting rain kept the man’s identity hidden. Whoever he was, his horse galloped at great speed, fighting against the wind to progress toward them. As he drew closer, Tyra recognized a redcoat and the familiar posture of Hugh. Her heart quickened, and her throat tightened.

“I declare, I believe ’tis Captain Morgan!” Mama threw a hand on her hip and squinted, blinking against the rain falling in her face.

Tyra paused holding her end of the next board they planned to mount. She almost dropped it as she strained to see the rider.

“Come on, Tyra,” Kirk said, groaning under the pressure. “This is the last one. Let us get it over with.”

“I got it.” Darren grabbed the opposite end of the board and groaned under the pressure.

Tyra launched into action, guiding them to the next window on the side of the house. The rider came to a halt and dismounted without tethering his horse. Footsteps ran over to them.

“Mrs. MacGregor! Please, go inside before you catch your death in this ghastly weather.” He grabbed their mother’s arm and pulled her away, taking her place beside Tyra. “Go on.” He nodded toward the house.

“I shall make you all some warm tea and ’twill be waiting when you finish and come inside,” Mama said, waving Tyra toward her.

“What are you doing here?” Tyra asked, ignoring her mother’s gesture.

“Did you honestly believe I would leave you here alone in such a terrible storm?” He grabbed a hammer and banged the nail into the top left corner of the board over the window. “In spite of what you might think of me, Miss MacGregor, you and your family have come to mean much more to me than you realize.”

Tyra had no chance to reply. Her mother grabbed her elbow and pulled Tyra away. “Come. Allow the men to finish this.”

Chapter 22

22

H
ugh assisted Kirk and Darren with boarding up the last window and ushered the lads inside as the wind grew. As promised, Mrs. MacGregor boiled a pot of water for some warm tea, while Tyra waited for them in the foyer.

“Come and stand on this rug. ’Twill soak the excess water dripping from your clothes.” Tyra had hauled a thick rug from a back room. She grabbed a bundle of clothes she had draped over the stair rail and brought them to Kirk and Darren. “Here is something dry to change into.”

The lads unbuttoned their wet shirts, as they shivered in a soggy state. Hugh stepped onto the rug, grimacing at the puddle he had left on their good floor. “I am sorry, I shall clean up the mess I made, if you have a towel available?”

“Never mind,” Tyra said, handing him a set of dry clothes. “Put these on.”

“What is this?” Hugh asked, meeting her hesitant gaze. Her wet hair hung in matted strands down her back and around her shoulders, making it look darker. Today there was an uninhibited presence about her—almost a vulnerability he had not noticed before.

“These belonged to Scott.” Pain filled her green eyes as she blinked back tears and swallowed. They locked gazes.

“I cannot accept these.” Hugh shook his head and shoved them back at her as if they were on fire. If wearing her dead brother’s clothes brought her further grief, he could not in good conscience do it. The guilt of being regarded as an enemy to her family already weighed heavy upon him. The idea of adding to their burden was more than he could bear.

“Indeed, you can.” She shoved them back at him with more force than he anticipated. “Besides, he has no more need of them and you do.” She leaned forward and blinked back tears. “I am glad you came back. I missed you,” she whispered in his ear.

Tyra stepped away and glanced from Hugh to Kirk and Darren. “Mama and I will wait in the kitchen for you to finish dressing. By then, a cup of warm tea should be ready for all of you.” She turned and strode down the hall. Hugh watched her disappear in the shadows as words faded into a mass of confusion clouding his brain.

“My sister can be stubborn,” Kirk said, as he stepped into a pair of brown breeches and buttoned them. “And she is right. Scott has no need of his possessions now.”

“I know you may feel strange,” Darren said, buttoning his own new breeches. “But she is right. You need something dry and comfortable to wear.”

“What about you? Will it bother you if I wear your brother’s clothes?” Hugh glanced at Kirk as he pulled off the heavy redcoat that once represented a sense of pride to him. Of late, he was almost embarrassed to wear it in the presence of the MacGregor family, especially in front of a pair of green eyes. He waited, assessing the lad as he set his boots on a corner of the rug and stepped to the side where he sat on the floor to pull on a pair of socks to warm his feet.

“I feel the same as Tyra, and I am certain our mother does as well.” He took a deep breath and paused looking down at the floor. “I do not know if my father or my other two brothers will ever return home before this war is over. For all I know, I have seen them for the last time.”

“Do not talk like that,” Darren said, buttoning his shirt.

Hugh started to speak as well, but Kirk lifted a hand. “Things changed after Scott died. I began to see the world in a different way. His death is painful, but it has also brought a reality of death I did not understand before. Other than clinging to my faith, all I know is the moment. Even if I never get a chance to see the others again, you must know I am thankful you came into our lives, Captain Morgan. The British Army could have sent other men with questionable character, but I believe God sent you.”

Hugh blinked back sudden moisture in his eyes. The war had robbed the lad of his innocence, but it would have happened sooner or later. He was destined to become a man, and based on what he had just heard, Kirk MacGregor would be an honorable man of good character.

An image of Tyra came to mind. When the war finally ended, he would never see her again. His heart constricted at the thought. It pained him more than never returning home to England. No one other than his mother cared what he managed to achieve here. While it saddened him to part from his brother, they were already divided by principle. They no longer viewed life or this war in the same way. He longed to spend the rest of his life with Tyra. In truth, the only ones whose opinions mattered were the Almighty and Tyra.

“Thank you, Kirk. It means a great deal to me to hear you say so, lad.” Hugh hurried out of his wet clothes and donned the new ones while Kirk and Darren waited, now fully dressed. If Mrs. MacGregor and Kirk had come to accept him, would it be unreasonable to assume her father and brothers might as well?

More thunder boomed across the sky as lightning flashed through the upstairs windows and a loud crash struck the back of the house. “Kirk, see if your mother and sister are all right. Bring them to the front parlor. ’Tis safer where no trees are likely to crash through the ceiling and injure someone.”

Kirk nodded and hurried down the hallway, while Hugh finished dressing and Darren waited with him. By the time they reappeared, Hugh was wearing Scott’s clothes. The garments were a perfect fit. He was relieved to see both women were fine. Mrs. MacGregor carried a tray with a pot of tea and cups, while Tyra carried a plate of bread slices.

Once they were all settled and the storm continued to rage around them, Tyra glanced at Hugh and his pulse pounded. “What brought you here in the middle of such a catastrophe? I thought you were commanded to stay at the headquarters at Burgwin House?”

“I was, but Major Craig returned late last night, and I was free to come once I discovered the oncoming storm. I did not want to leave you here alone. Private Stoneman elected to stay in town where it is safer from flooding.”

“We thank ye, Captain.” Mrs. MacGregor poured a cup of tea and handed it to him. “Ye’ve always done more on our behalf than was ever expected.”

“Did you find out the extent of the damage Major Craig caused in his travels?” Tyra’s voice took on a hard edge as she watched him closely.

“I did.” Hugh sighed, taking a sip of the warm tea, allowing it to soothe his dry throat. “You are bound to hear about it, so I might as well tell you what I know.” He took a deep breath and set his cup on its saucer as he took a moment to meet each of their gazes. “Major Craig met up with Colonel David Fanning. They burned the plantation homes of Captain Thomas Robeson and Colonel Peter Robeson, as well as Captain James Gillespie. They captured Campbelltown.”

“’Tis no surprise to us, Captain. I was once a Campbell myself. Most of the people there are Tories,” Mrs. MacGregor said. “Many of them are distant relations to my father and would not have put up much resistance.”

“I see,” Hugh said, surprised by this news. Did this mean she and Malcolm MacGregor’s union was once opposed by their families? Hope lifted inside him as he risked a glance in Tyra’s direction. She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Kirk. “Many of the men are afraid of losing everything. Some have already enlisted with the British. It seems the Whigs are losing support.”

“Cowards,” Tyra said. “What good are such possessions if one loses them to high taxes anyway? I pray General Washington has a plan to turn this war around. Freedom must prevail.”

For once, Hugh agreed, but he refrained from saying so. He merely picked up his tea and drank it.

***

A few days later, Tyra answered the front door. Colonel Neil Morgan stood facing her with almost twenty men in redcoats waiting on horses in front of their house. Fear spiraled through her like a spring in her abdomen. The last time this many redcoats came, she ended up being carted off to prison. She searched for Hugh, but didn’t see him among them. To her relief, Major Craig was not among them either.

Summoning her courage, she looked into Colonel Morgan’s dark brown eyes and read the contempt in them. She clenched her jaw, saying nothing in greeting. Instead, she would wait for him to deliver the horrible news, for it could be nothing but bad, whatever it was. She gripped the door handle tight, but did not widen it to welcome him in.

“I assume you have seen or heard of the proclamation Major Craig has posted in Wilmington and the surrounding area?” His harsh tone was demanding, almost as if he dared her to deny it.

“I have.” Tyra offered no more information. Anything she said could be twisted against her or her family. They were looking for any excuse to harass them.

“And no one has complied with the terms from The MacGregor Quest. Are you prepared to denounce your allegiance to the Continentals and pledge your loyalty to king and country?” He lifted a dark brow and twisted his mouth. “You will, of course, be required to give your word you will never again take up arms against England and His Majesty’s Royal Army.”

“I have not taken up arms against England.”

“And in order to maintain your property, no one in this house may do so.” He pressed his palm against the door. “It is my understanding your father and brothers have done so. Do you deny it?”

Knowing he would send her back to prison or kick them out of their home, Tyra set her chin and gave him a defiant glare. “I do not.”

“Then you and anyone here must vacate the premises immediately.” He shoved the door open, scraping the corner against her arm as she lost her grip on the knob. Tyra whirled and shoved her hips against the door, trying to close it on him. Colonel Morgan used his weight to push the door against her, forcing his way inside. The blunt impact caused Tyra to lose her balance, and she stumbled backward.

In a rage of anger, Tyra ran at him. He braced his arms as if he intended to grab her by the shoulders to stop her, but Tyra ducked and kicked, bringing him down to his knees. Her plan worked, and he hit the floor in a thump, but her skirt kept her from having the momentum she wanted. Instead of dislocating his kneecap, she only managed to take him off guard for a few moments. Tyra pushed him with her other foot, hoping to nudge him away from the threshold so she could close the door. Colonel Morgan proved to be too heavy, and she only managed to slide him a couple of inches.

“I said get out of my house!” Tyra stood and used her back to try to force the door closed, but Colonel Morgan recovered himself and prevented her.

“You are going to regret this,” he said between groans, slamming his body against the other side of the door.

Two more soldiers joined him. Her strength gave out against all of them. They crashed through the entrance, and Tyra went sprawling to the floor. Colonel Morgan gripped her hair through her cap and jerked her head back. “If it were not for my brother, I would kill you for your insolence.”

“If it were not for your brother, I would have already killed you,” she gritted through her teeth.

He slammed a fist into her jaw. Her vision went black as pain vibrated through her head. She blinked as her blurry vision returned. Her jaw throbbed, and she feared he might have broken it.

“Do you know what happens to people who resist a British officer, or worse, attack a British officer?” His voice was a low dangerous pitch. When she didn’t answer, he tightened his grip, burning her scalp as if it was on fire. “Do you?”

“What is going on?” Her mother’s voice came from above where she descended the staircase. “Let go of my daughter at once!”

In her predicament, Tyra could not turn and look at her mother, but the worry and anger in her voice was evident.

“I checked out the side and back doors,” Kirk said. “And they have soldiers everywhere.” His young voice cracked from the hallway. Darren stood behind him, looking just as pale.

“You are in no position to make demands.” Colonel Morgan let go of Tyra’s head, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His booted feet stepped over her as if she were a rodent on the floor. “We are confiscating this house and property for His Majesty. You may gather what you can carry and leave at once. Your daughter made the unfortunate mistake of defying me. I suggest not doing the same thing.”

“Ye dare to hurt an innocent woman?” Mama asked.

“She is not innocent. In fact, she attacked me first.”

“She was protecting our home!”

“Which belongs to the king!”

“Ye cannot take our home from us.” Mama gripped her long brown skirts and hurried down the remaining steps. “We purchased this land with our own money, and we have built everything on it with our bare hands. This is our property. Ye do not have the right.”

“That is the trouble with you colonials, you fail to recognize the king has the right to do as he pleases. And right now his army is taking all of your property. Be thankful you still have your lives.” He rubbed his hands together as if dusting them. “In fact, I suggest you get your things quickly before I change my mind.”

“Where is Captain Morgan?” Kirk asked, as Tyra pushed to her knees and staggered to her feet. Her aching side and bruised knee rebelled in protest, but her jaw was worse, like a swollen boulder.

“I thought I would save him the trouble of having to do this. So I volunteered to take care of it myself.” Colonel Morgan pointed to the outdoors. “You will not be allowed to take a horse or wagon. You will only be allowed to take what you can carry.”

“Come on, Kirk and Darren,” Tyra said, waving her brother toward her. She was forced to talk out of one side of her mouth. Without a word, both lads came forward, giving the soldiers a hesitant glance, as if they didn’t trust them. Tyra bent to Kirk’s ear. “Two pairs of socks, breeches, shirts, and underclothes. Only one blanket for each of you.”

The four of them climbed the stairs in silence. Once they reached the landing, Kirk and Darren went to Kirk’s room. Tyra turned to her mother. “We cannot sneak a rifle by their notice,” Tyra said. “But we could possibly get away with a pistol. I will get the one father left me and some ammunition, but we will need to put it in your bundle. They would not suspect you of carrying a weapon, but they would have no doubt about me.”

Her mother reached up and wiped blood from the corner of Tyra’s mouth with her sleeve. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Yer a brave lass, but ye might be bruised and sore for a wee while.”