The Seduction Of Shay Devereaux. Carolyn Davidson

up a figure, adjusted the angle of its weapon, and sent Shay another look. “Even if my mama comes, should I wake you up?”

      Shay watched him from beneath his hat brim, and chuckled, a low sound that seemed to please the boy. “Especially if your mama comes by, son. You be sure and wake me.”

      “Ess-pesh-ly,” Marshall repeated, emphasizing the sounds, enjoying the flavor of the word. “Ess-pesh-ly.”

      “Our Caleb’s got him a woman,” Isabelle said, her air nonchalant, her words prideful.

      Jenny looked up from her sewing, holding the needle in midair. “Someone from close by? Do I know her?” If Caleb had found a bride, it would mean allotting him land of his own to till and work. And one less hand to tend the fields here, she thought.

      “Remember Sarah and Eli? The pair of them got married soon as they could, after—” Isabelle halted, weighing her words. “I still don’t feel good about how some of our people left here, Jen. Like they didn’t have it pretty good with you and Mr. Carl.”

      “They weren’t free, Isabelle. I can’t blame them for leaving. I might have done the same.” She looked out the window to where the corn was almost as high as the pasture fencing. “Working your own land is different than sweating over someone else’s crop.”

      “Well, if they’d hung around, you’d have give ’em a piece to work for theirselves,” Isabelle told her. “Now they’re doing shares with Doc Gibson, over south of here. And not likin’ it much.”

      “Get back to Caleb’s woman,” Jenny said impatiently. “Is she kin to Sarah and Eli?”

      “Their daughter. More girl than woman, I guess. Almost seventeen years old. She’s been showin’ up here every few days, makin’ eyes at my boy like he’s the cock of the walk.” Isabelle’s smile was tender as she ceased the rise and fall of the dasher. Churning was tedious work and talking made it palatable, but Isabelle tended to break her regular rhythm when she got caught up in storytelling.

      “Caleb’s a handsome man,” Jenny agreed readily. “Tall and strong, and probably more than ready for a place of his own.”

      Isabelle slanted a glance across the kitchen, to where Jenny sat near the window. Taking advantage of sunlight was a double delight, she figured. It made the task of sewing more enjoyable to gaze from the window between times. Catching a glimpse of Marshall now and then as he followed Shay’s tall figure around the place gave her a feeling of contentment that rested easy on her mind.