For Love or Country: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 2 by Jennifer Hudson Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

time they strayed in Miss MacGregor’s direction, but she seemed oblivious as she watched Hugh. “Major James H. Craig ordered us to come here and see the extent of your wounds. We are to give him an estimate of when you will be able to report for duty, as well as about the family and supplies here. Our army is in need of all possible livestock and food. One of us will remain behind to attend you, Captain.”
    “Very well.” Hugh turned to Mrs. MacGregor and her daughter. “Would you mind providing a little refreshment for these soldiers, while I show them my wounds?”
    “Is it necessary?” Miss MacGregor stepped forward. She reached out to touch his arm, but paused, as if realizing how inappropriate the action would be. “He has only recently recovered from an infection. At one point, I feared we would be forced to burn the infection out of the wound, but he began to improve.”
    “I am sorry, miss.” Private Truitt set his hat on top of Hugh’s red coat. “We must follow orders.”
    “Fine, but for the record, I am the one who cared for him and stitched him up. If something is not satisfactory, I am to blame, not my mother.” Anger poured from Miss MacGregor’s tone as she stormed from the chamber.
    “I shall put on a pot of tea,” Mrs. MacGregor said with a quick bow. Her cheeks darkened, and she ushered Kirk out of the chamber.
    Hugh was quite amused by Miss MacGregor’s boldness. Why did it vex her to leave? Was she hoping to learn something of value for the Continentals? Or did she merely dislike the idea of leaving the enemy in her home without proper supervision?
    Private Truitt turned to Hugh. “What kind of wounds have you suffered, sir?”
    “Indians shot me with arrows, here,” he pointed to his side. “And here.” he pulled back the covers and gestured to this thigh. Miss MacGregor had cut through his breeches in an effort to tend his leg. It left a gaping hole, but he was thankful to have something to wear.
    “I shall send for clean breeches before you are required to leave the premises.” Private Truitt wrinkled his nose. Hugh glanced down at the dried blood on the once white material and knew a moment of humility. “Looks deep.” Private Truitt cleared his throat in discomfort. “But clean and the stitches are tight and sturdy.”
    “Yes, Miss MacGregor did a fine job. The cut goes through the muscle to the bone,” Hugh said. “When she pulled the arrow out, the wide part of the stone ripped through my flesh. It made stitching it even more difficult.”
    “When does she anticipate taking out the stitches?” Private Truitt asked.
    “I believe Miss MacGregor intends to remove the stitches in a few days,” Hugh said. “They have given me every possible comfort.”
    “Every comfort but a decent bath.” Private Truitt flipped the cover back over Hugh and straightened. “What sort of people are they? Where is Mr. MacGregor?”
    “I was sick with an infectious fever and slept most of the first week I was here. Since they leave me to myself in this chamber most of the time, we have had few discussions.” Hugh met his gaze, determined Private Truitt wouldn’t have a reason to suspect him of hiding anything to protect the MacGregors. “I assume he may be away at war. I cannot imagine the MacGregors saving the life of a British soldier if they hold aught against the crown.”
    “Perhaps it is precisely what they wish us to think.” Private Truitt turned to the two soldiers who remained. “According to Major Craig’s orders, check the barns, stables, and fields and keep a log of every animal. Do not forget the storage of wheat, grain, flour, sugar, and salt, anything our troops could use.” He gave Hugh a devious grin. “If they are truly loyal to the crown, they will not complain of contributing their share. I am appalled they would allow a wounded British officer to go so long without a decent bath.” He motioned for the soldiers to go.
    “I was too ill to even think of