5. Chapter 5 #2
Claudine hadn't realized her own thoughts until he spoke them aloud. "Perhaps I do harbor such concerns. Trust comes difficult after betrayal."
Michael nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I can't prove my character with words. Time will reveal the truth of who I am." He met her gaze directly. "But know this—I don't make promises lightly. What's mine, I protect. You're now a Crawford. That means something in this territory."
His words steadied her. Michael Crawford did not make promises lightly, and she believed she could rely on him.
"Thank you for your honesty," she said.
"One more thing," he added. "People will talk about our arrangement.
Some will call you a mail-order bride, not always kindly.
Others will compare you to Sarah. Ignore them.
You've earned your place here by agreeing to take on a motherless child and a widowed rancher.
Never let anyone make you feel less for that choice. "
Claudine hadn't expected such fierce defense of her position. "I appreciate that, Michael."
He rose from the table. "Church on Sunday. Service starts at ten. Lucy will be excited to show off her new mother."
Sunday morning brought clear skies and mild temperatures perfect for the trip to town. Claudine chose her blue silk dress, the same one she'd worn for the wedding, and helped Lucy into a pretty yellow frock with white pinafore. The child submitted to having her curls arranged with unusual patience.
"You look very pretty, Mama Claudine," Lucy declared when Claudine finished dressing.
"Thank you, sweetheart. So do you."
Michael waited for them by the wagon, dressed in a dark suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and neat white shirt with string tie. He looked handsome and prosperous, every inch the successful rancher. His eyes widened slightly at Claudine's appearance.
"The blue suits you," he said simply.
The ride to town passed pleasantly, with Lucy chattering about the people they would see at church. Claudine listened attentively, trying to memorize names and relationships to navigate the social waters ahead.
Pine Creek's white church was filled nearly to capacity when they arrived. Conversations hushed momentarily as Michael escorted Claudine and Lucy inside, then resumed with increased intensity.
"The Crawfords are here."
"That's the new Mrs. Crawford."
"Mail-order bride from Chicago, I heard."
"Pretty enough, I suppose."
"Wonder what Michael told her about Sarah."
Claudine held her head high, grateful for Michael's steady presence beside her as they moved to a pew near the front. Lucy settled between them, proudly smoothing her yellow skirt.
Mrs. Billings stopped by their pew before the service began. "So lovely to see you all together." She beamed. "The whole town's been curious about our newest resident."
"We appreciate the welcome," Claudine replied diplomatically.
Throughout the service, Claudine remained acutely aware of curious glances and whispered observations. Michael maintained his dignified reserve, occasionally placing a protective hand over hers when the scrutiny grew particularly obvious.
Reverend Walsh acknowledged them during the announcements. "We're pleased to welcome Mrs. Claudine Crawford to our community, and to congratulate Michael and Lucy on this blessed addition to their family."
Polite applause followed, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Claudine smiled graciously, though she noted several older women watching her with open skepticism.
The true assessment came after the service, when congregants gathered outside for socializing. Women clustered around Claudine, offering welcomes tinged with evaluation.
"How are you finding ranch life, Mrs. Crawford?" asked an elegant woman introduced as Mrs. Spencer, wife of the bank president. "Quite different from city living, I imagine."
"Refreshingly so," Claudine replied. "The Crawford ranch is beautiful and well-managed."
"Sarah had such a gift for homemaking," offered another woman with false sympathy. "Those are difficult shoes to fill."
Before Claudine could respond, Mrs. Peterson intervened. "Claudine has already shown remarkable aptitude. Lucy looks happier than I've seen in months."
The implied endorsement from Sarah's friend silenced the critics temporarily. Claudine caught Michael watching the exchange from across the churchyard, his expression unreadable.
Later, as they prepared to leave, an elderly woman approached Claudine. Her face, deeply lined by sun and years, held none of the false sweetness of the younger women.
"I'm Widow Harmon," she announced without preamble. "Known Michael since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. Sarah was like a daughter to me."
Claudine braced herself for criticism but the old woman surprised her.
"Sarah would approve of you," Widow Harmon declared. "She worried about Michael and Lucy if anything happened to her. Told me once all she wanted was someone practical with a kind heart to look after them if she couldn't." The old woman nodded firmly. "You'll do."
The simple pronouncement, delivered without sentiment or platitude, meant more to Claudine than elaborate compliments might have. "Thank you," she said sincerely.
On the ride home, Michael was unusually quiet. When Lucy fell asleep against Claudine's side, he finally spoke.
"You handled them well."
"The town gossips, you mean?"
A brief smile touched his lips. "Precisely those. Pine Creek might seem small, but its capacity for speculation rivals any city."
"I expected scrutiny," Claudine admitted. "Any new bride would face it, especially in your circumstances."
Michael's hands tightened on the reins. "They have no right to compare you to Sarah. Different women, different circumstances."
"It's natural they would. People fear change." Claudine adjusted Lucy's bonnet to shield her sleeping face from the sun. "I don't take offense."
"Perhaps you should. Some of those women would happily see you fail just to prove their predictions right."
"Then I shall disappoint them by succeeding," Claudine replied with quiet determination.
Michael glanced at her, admiration in his gaze. "I believe you will."
The remainder of the drive passed in companionable silence. As the ranch came into view, Claudine realized she already thought of it as home—this place she had known less than three days.
After months of whispers and rejection in Chicago, the ranch already offered something she had not expected: a place beside Michael and Lucy.
As they passed beneath the gate bearing the Crawford brand, contentment settled quietly in her chest. For now, it was enough.