17. Chapter 17
Late September brought the first hints of autumn color to the trees surrounding Pine Creek.
Claudine sat at Doc Miller's desk, recording patient information in his ledger while the elderly physician organized supplies in the adjacent examining room.
Their Wednesday arrangement had settled into a comfortable routine over the past month—Claudine spending the full day in town assisting with patients while Lucy attended school.
"Mrs. Spencer's arthritis is responding well to the willow bark treatment," Claudine noted, completing her entry. "Though she mentioned the pain increases with the cooler weather."
"Always does," Doc Miller replied, his voice carrying from the other room. "Might suggest warm compresses before bed. Helps some with the morning stiffness."
Claudine added this recommendation to her notes, appreciating how thoroughly Doc Miller shared his decades of practical experience. Their professional partnership had evolved rapidly since the fever epidemic, the older physician increasingly treating her as a colleague rather than assistant.
The bell above the office door jingled, announcing a visitor. Claudine glanced at the appointment ledger, finding no names listed for the next hour.
"I'll see who it is," she called to Doc Miller, rising from the desk and smoothing her skirt. Likely Mrs. Peterson with more questions about her granddaughter's persistent cough, or perhaps Mr. Billings seeking the rheumatism liniment his wife had mentioned during Sunday services.
Claudine stepped into the front room, professional smile in place. "Good afternoon. How may we—" The words died on her lips as recognition slammed through her.
James Elliott stood just inside the doorway, hat in hand, as impeccably dressed as ever in a fine suit that spoke of city prosperity.
His dark hair showed touches of premature gray at the temples that hadn't been present during their engagement, but otherwise he appeared unchanged—handsome, composed, and utterly out of place in the frontier doctor's office.
"Hello, Claudine," he said quietly. "You look well."
Claudine gripped the edge of the reception desk, steadying herself against the shock of seeing him in the flesh after believing their correspondence had closed that chapter permanently.
"Dr. Elliott," she managed finally, her voice remarkably steady considering the turmoil beneath. "This is unexpected."
"James, please," he corrected gently. "After everything we've been through, surely we can dispense with formalities."
Before Claudine could respond, Doc Miller emerged from the supply room. "Thought I heard voices. Who's our visitor?" His shrewd eyes took in Claudine's rigid posture and the stranger's fine clothing with immediate assessment.
"This is Dr. James Elliott," Claudine introduced, finding refuge in professional courtesy. "From Chicago. Dr. Elliott, this is Dr. Ezra Miller, Pine Creek's physician."
Recognition flashed in Doc Miller's weathered face as he connected the name to Claudine's past. "The doctor who testified against Mrs. Crawford," he stated bluntly, characteristic frontier directness overriding politeness.
James had the grace to look discomfited.
"Yes. That unfortunate situation is partly why I'm here.
" He turned back to Claudine. "I received your letter, but I felt written words insufficient for proper amends.
I'm on my way to San Francisco to establish a new practice and realized my route would bring me near Pine Creek. "
"Near?" Doc Miller questioned skeptically. "We're hardly on the main route to California."
"A small detour seemed worthwhile," James replied smoothly. "To make peace in person with someone I wronged deeply."
Claudine found her voice again. "Your letter explained your position adequately, Dr. Elliott. This journey was unnecessary."
"Perhaps to you," James conceded. "But necessary for my conscience, Claudine. What I did to you was unforgivable."
"Yet you seek forgiveness nonetheless," Doc Miller observed shrewdly.
James acknowledged this with a slight nod. "Hope springs eternal, Doctor." He returned his attention to Claudine. "Might we speak privately? I promise not to take much of your time."
Claudine hesitated, torn between professional courtesy and personal reluctance. "I'm working with Dr. Miller today," she said finally. "Any personal conversation would need to wait until my duties are complete."
"Of course," James agreed readily. "I've taken rooms at the hotel. Perhaps dinner this evening? To discuss matters properly."
The presumption that she would dine alone with him stirred Claudine's indignation. "My husband would need to be included in any such arrangement," she replied firmly.
A shadow crossed James's expression—surprise mixed with calculation—before his pleasant mask returned. "Your husband. Of course. I'd be delighted to meet the man fortunate enough to win your hand."
"I'll consult with him and let you know our decision," Claudine said, maintaining her composure through sheer determination. "Now if you'll excuse us, Dr. Miller and I have preparations for afternoon patients."
James accepted the dismissal with grace, placing his hat back on his head. "I look forward to hearing from you, Claudine. Good day, Dr. Miller."
As the door closed behind him, Doc Miller turned to Claudine with raised eyebrows. "So that's the famous Dr. Elliott. Smoother than a snake-oil salesman and twice as slippery, I'd wager."
The blunt assessment startled a laugh from Claudine, easing some of her tension. "An accurate assessment. Though he was considered quite the catch in Chicago medical circles."
"Hmph," Doc Miller snorted. "Man travels hundreds of miles 'on his way to California' just to apologize? Suspect there's more to this visit than conscience."
Claudine sank into the waiting room chair, suddenly unsteady as the shock of James's appearance fully registered. "I can't imagine what. Our engagement ended decisively with his betrayal."
"Men like that aren't accustomed to losing what they consider theirs," Doc Miller observed, pouring her a glass of water from the waiting room pitcher. "Drink this. You've gone pale."
Claudine sipped the water gratefully, her mind racing. James's arrival threatened the peace and certainty she had established in her new life. Whatever his stated purpose, his presence complicated matters she had considered resolved.
"I should send word to Michael," she decided. "He'll be collecting Lucy from school later, but this news shouldn't wait."
"Take Tom Harris's boy," Doc Miller suggested. "He's sweeping the stables across the street. Fast rider, reliable messenger."
Claudine quickly penned a note explaining James's unexpected arrival and requesting Michael join her in town after collecting Lucy. She sealed it and handed it to young Jake Harris with a coin for his trouble before returning to the office.
The afternoon patients provided welcome distraction from her personal turmoil.
Claudine focused intensely on each case—Mrs. Wilson's persistent cough, a smallpox vaccination for one of the Peterson children, and Mr. Spencer's follow-up for his fever complications.
By the time they finished with the last patient, she had regained her equilibrium somewhat.
"You handled yourself professionally despite the shock," Doc Miller commented as they cleaned instruments together. "That young doctor's appearance would have rattled anyone in your position."
"Thank you," Claudine replied. "Though I confess I'm dreading this evening's conversation."
"Trust your husband," the old physician advised. "Crawford's a level-headed man. And he loves you fiercely, anyone with eyes can see that."
His certainty steadied her. "I do trust him. It's James's motives I question."
As she spoke, the office door opened to admit Michael, his tall frame filling the doorway. Lucy peeked around him, her face lighting at the sight of Claudine.
"Mama! Jenny Miller says her cat had kittens yesterday. Six of them!" Lucy exclaimed, rushing forward for an embrace.
"Wonderful news," Claudine replied automatically, her eyes meeting Michael's over their daughter's head. His gaze held questions and concern but no accusation, exactly as she would have expected from the man who had become her true partner.
"Lucy," Doc Miller interrupted with grandfatherly authority, "would you like to help me feed my office cat? She's just had her dinner brought in from the kitchen."
The child eagerly followed the old doctor into the back room, leaving Claudine and Michael momentarily alone. Michael crossed to her immediately, taking her hands in his.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly. "Your note was brief but clear enough."
"I'm fine," Claudine assured him. "Just shocked. I never expected James to appear in person after our exchange of letters."
Michael nodded, his expression guarded. "What does he want?"
"To apologize in person, he claims. He's staying at the hotel and has suggested dinner to discuss matters." Claudine squeezed Michael's hands. "I told him you would need to be included."
"Of course," Michael agreed. "Though I'll follow your lead in this, Claudine. He was important to you once."
Michael's lack of jealousy eased something in her. "That was another lifetime," she said firmly. "You and Lucy are my present and future."
Some tension Claudine hadn't fully registered eased from Michael's shoulders at her words. "Still, we should hear what he has to say. Perhaps then he'll continue his journey to California without further disruption."
They agreed to meet James at the hotel dining room that evening, after settling Lucy with Mrs. Billings for supper and studying.
The arrangement made, Michael escorted Claudine from the office, his hand at the small of her back providing silent support as they collected Lucy and walked toward the general store to complete errands before their unexpected dinner engagement.