6. Chapter 6
Aweek passed, then another. May gave way to June, bringing longer days and warmer temperatures to the Montana valley.
Claudine settled into the rhythm of ranch life with growing confidence.
Each morning began before dawn with breakfast preparations, followed by Lucy's lessons, household duties, and garden work.
The routines anchored her in this new world, providing structure and purpose.
What surprised her most was how quickly the Crawford ranch had begun to feel like home. The spacious kitchen became her domain, the garden her sanctuary, and Lucy's bright presence a joy she hadn't anticipated.
On this particular morning, Claudine woke earlier than usual. She slipped from bed and dressed in a simple skirt and shirtwaist, then made her way downstairs in the pre-dawn darkness. For days, an idea had been forming in her mind, and today she would finally act upon it.
In the pantry, she gathered flour, sugar, and the precious store of dried apples she'd discovered.
Sarah's recipe box contained instructions for apple pie, written in a flowing hand that Claudine assumed belonged to Michael's late wife.
She'd hesitated to use it, uncertain how Michael might react, but today seemed right.
By the time boots sounded on the back porch, Claudine had not only prepared breakfast but also assembled the pie. It now baked in the oven, filling the kitchen with a sweet cinnamon aroma. Michael paused in the doorway, his gaze moving from Claudine to the stove and back again.
"You made pie," he said, removing his hat.
"Apple, from Sarah's recipe." Claudine watched his face carefully. "I hope you don't mind that I used her recipe box."
Michael hung his hat on the peg. "Sarah collected those recipes to be used." He inhaled deeply. "Smells just like I remember."
Claudine relaxed slightly. "Lucy mentioned you favored apple."
"Did she?" Something softened in his expression. "She remembers more than I realized."
Tom Harris arrived for the ranch hands' breakfast, greeting Claudine with the easy respect he'd shown since her arrival. She filled containers with eggs, bacon, and biscuits, adding an extra pot of coffee.
"You're spoiling us, Mrs. Crawford," the foreman said appreciatively.
"Hardly. You all work too hard for simple food to be considered spoiling."
When Lucy appeared, sleepy-eyed but eager for breakfast, Claudine set a plate before her. "I have a surprise in the oven," she told the child.
Lucy's eyes widened. "Apple pie?"
"How did you guess?"
"I can smell it." The girl's face lit with genuine delight. "Papa, Mama Claudine made pie just like my first mama used to make!"
Michael met Claudine's gaze over the child's head, silent gratitude in his eyes.
After breakfast, Claudine supervised Lucy's lessons while completing household chores. The girl proved a quick study, especially with numbers. By mid-morning, they had moved on to reading practice.
"Can we stop now?" Lucy pleaded after struggling through a short story. "I want to show you something."
Claudine glanced at the kitchen clock. "I suppose we've done enough for today. What would you like to show me?"
Lucy led her outside to the barn, where Michael and the hands were working with a new foal. The tiny creature wobbled on spindly legs beside its mother, coat gleaming chestnut in the sunlight.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Lucy whispered. "Papa says I can help name her."
"She's lovely," Claudine agreed. "Have you thought of a name?"
Lucy nodded solemnly. "I want to call her Copper, because she shines like the pennies Papa keeps in his desk."
"That's a perfect name."
Michael approached, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Showing off our new arrival?"
"Lucy was telling me about naming her Copper," Claudine explained.
"Good name," Michael agreed. "Suits her coloring."
Lucy beamed at the approval. "Can Mama Claudine come see the chickens too? I want to show her the new chicks."
"If she wishes," Michael replied, his gaze meeting Claudine's. "Though I've noticed Mrs. Crawford has been busy with her own projects lately."
Heat rose in Claudine's cheeks. She had hoped he hadn't noticed her rearrangement of the kitchen cupboards or the new organization system she'd implemented for household supplies. "Small improvements," she said modestly.
"Effective ones," he countered. "The house runs smoother now than it has in years."
Warmth rose at his praise. "Thank you."
Their gazes held a moment longer than necessary before Lucy tugged at Claudine's hand. "The chicks, Mama Claudine. They're so fluffy!"
Claudine followed the child to the chicken coop, where a mother hen clucked protectively over six tiny yellow chicks. Lucy proudly demonstrated how to scatter feed without frightening them.
"Papa says we have to be gentle with baby animals," she explained. "Just like people are gentle with me because I'm little."
"Your papa is very wise," Claudine replied, touched by the child's earnest instruction.
They returned to the house for the midday meal. Michael praised the apple pie, taking a second piece with obvious enjoyment. Claudine watched his strong hands, the way his mouth curved slightly when pleased, and quickly looked away when he caught her gaze.
After lunch, while Lucy napped, Claudine decided to implement another plan she'd been considering. In the small room Michael had designated for her medical supplies, she took inventory of what she had brought from Chicago and what the household already contained.
The supplies proved woefully inadequate for anything beyond minor injuries.
With careful consideration, Claudine drafted a list of essentials: bandages, suture materials, common medications, and instruments a remote ranch might need in an emergency.
She would present it to Michael that evening, along with her proposal.
Claudine was in the garden harvesting peas when Lucy's scream pierced the afternoon quiet. Dropping her basket, Claudine raced toward the sound, heart pounding. She found the child near the chicken coop, clutching her arm while blood seeped between her small fingers.
"Lucy! What happened?" Claudine knelt beside her.
"I f-fell on the garden rake," Lucy sobbed. "It hurts!"
Claudine gently moved the child's hand to reveal a deep gash across her forearm. "Let's get you to the house. Can you walk, or shall I carry you?"
"Carry me," Lucy whimpered, raising her arms.
Claudine lifted her, mindful of the injured arm, and hurried toward the house. Inside, she set Lucy on the kitchen table and quickly gathered clean cloths, her medical kit, and a basin of water.
"This may sting," she warned, cleaning the wound with careful thoroughness. "You're being very brave."
Lucy's tears slowed as Claudine worked. "Are you going to sew me up like Papa's shirt?"
"In a way." Claudine smiled reassuringly. "The cut is deep, but clean. You'll have a small scar, but if we take good care of it, the scar will fade in time."
"Will Papa be angry?" Lucy worried.
"Of course not. Accidents happen to everyone." Claudine prepared a needle and silk thread from her medical kit. "This part will hurt a bit, but I'll be as quick as I can."
Lucy nodded bravely. "I won't cry."
"You may cry if you need to," Claudine assured her. "Being brave doesn't mean not feeling pain. It means facing it when necessary."
As Claudine worked, placing neat stitches to close the wound, Lucy held admirably still despite occasional tears. Claudine spoke softly throughout, explaining what she was doing and praising the child's courage.
"What's happening here?" Michael's deep voice came from the doorway, concern evident in his tone.
"Lucy had an accident with the garden rake," Claudine explained calmly, continuing her work. "The wound needs stitches, but she'll heal nicely."
Michael moved to his daughter's side, taking her uninjured hand in his. "Does it hurt badly, little one?"
"Some," Lucy admitted. "But Mama Claudine says I'm brave."
"Indeed you are." Michael watched Claudine's skilled movements with undisguised admiration. "You seem to know exactly what you're doing."
"Hospital work provides ample practice," Claudine replied, tying off the final stitch. "There, all finished. Now we'll bandage it properly."
She wrapped clean gauze around Lucy's arm, securing it with neat ties. "No chicken coop for a few days, young lady. The wound needs to stay clean while it heals."
"Yes, Mama Claudine," Lucy agreed solemnly.
"How about some of that apple pie?" Michael suggested. "Brave girls deserve treats."
While Lucy enjoyed her pie at the kitchen table, Michael drew Claudine aside. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Your skills are even more valuable than I realized."
"I was glad to help," Claudine replied. "Though this incident highlights something I wanted to discuss with you. Our medical supplies are inadequate for a ranch this size. I've made a list of essentials we should procure from Helena."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "May I see this list?"
Claudine retrieved it from her room, explaining her reasoning for each item. Michael listened attentively, asking occasional questions that revealed his own practical knowledge of ranch injuries.
"I'd like to establish a proper infirmary in the spare bedroom," Claudine continued. "Nothing elaborate, but a clean, organized space for treating injuries or illness. With your permission, of course."
"My permission?" Michael's mouth quirked in what might have been a suppressed smile. "Mrs. Crawford, you've just skillfully treated my daughter without so much as a blink. I'd be a fool to interfere with your medical decisions."
"Then you approve?"
"Wholeheartedly." He studied her with those penetrating blue eyes. "You continue to surprise me, Claudine."
"How so?"
"Most city women would find ranch life primitive and challenging. You seem to thrive on it."
Claudine hadn't considered how her adaptation might appear to him. "I find purpose here," she said simply. "Usefulness."
"Is that all?" His question held layers she couldn't quite decipher.