Chapter Thirty

Timothy focused on the fly buzzing around his mare's mane instead of on the awkward tension that filled the silence between himself and Zachary. From the corner of his eye, he saw Zach rummage in his pocket before pulling out a pack of matches and a rolled cigarette.

Those dark eyes that never missed much, turned in his direction. "Never known you to be so quiet."

Timothy shrugged and managed a grin. "Guess I just ran out of things to say." He knew what Zachary wanted. He wanted to talk about Eleanor and Timothy and the mood Tim had found himself in lately. What the hell could he say? That something about Eleanor had gotten to him? That he wanted to have what Zachary and Samantha had? That he wanted to have some kind of life other than just doing whatever the hell he wanted all the time?

"Well, you might as well be finding things to say," Zachary encouraged, striking a match and lighting the cigarette hanging off his lip. "Samantha will be expecting you to be a cured of your melancholy by the time she sees you again this evening."

Timothy thought of Samantha and sighed. He knew she was concerned about him and he didn't want to be the cause of her worry. She was a good woman and had been good for Zach—hell, good for him too really. "So, Samantha is the real reason you seem eager to hear my thoughts?"

Zachary blew out a stream of smoke, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I have never once in my life been eager to hear your thoughts, Tim. And I don't reckon even that woman, amazing as she is, could accomplish that."

Timothy chuckled lightly and patted his horse's brown neck. "I'm just fine, Zach. You can tell her I'm okay."

"No, I've never lied to her and I won't start now. You're not okay. Talk to me."

Frustration bubbled in Timothy's gut. "What the hell do you want me to say?"

Zachary seemed surprised by his sudden display of temper, but he recovered quickly and shrugged. "The truth. Now, I know I ain't been a good friend of brother the last five years. I disappeared when I shouldn't have and wasn't there for you. I'm here now." Zachary took a long draw off his cigarette, his eyes focused on the horizon. "You've always been obnoxiously upbeat and here lately you're damn depressing to be around. Talk."

Timothy had three options. Option one, he opened up and talked to his best friend. Option two, he told him to shove his questions up his ass and possibly get his own teeth knocked out in the process. Option three, he simply turned and high-tailed it back to town and away from the conversation.

A sigh left Tim's lips. He'd always been a talker.

"I don't know how to explain things," he admitted.

Zachary rolled his shoulder, rubbing at the joint and reminding Timothy of the bullet still lodged within it. "Just start somewhere. I'm a quick study, I'll catch on."

"I came home one day five years ago, expecting to find everything the way I left it, only to find that everything was gone. My family was dead. You were nowhere to be found. My things had been boxed up and taken to the hotel making it clear I didn't have a home to go to any longer...."

"I'm sorry for that," Zachary muttered, interrupting him. "I wasn't thinking real clearly....."

Timothy waved his hand. "I never blamed you and I've never been angry at you over any of that," he assured him honestly. "But it doesn't change the fact that everything I knew and loved was gone. I got stuck. It was like I froze in time. I never moved forward after that. I still live in the hotel. I spend all my free time playing poker, drinking, raising hell... I don't have any real job. I just do enough odd jobs to make money to support my hobbies. I haven't done a damn thing with myself."

That awkward silence fell again, and it stretched on for several long moments. Timothy rubbed at his thigh, swatted at that fly buzzing his horse, and over analyzed every damn word that had just left his mouth.

Finally, Zachary spoke. "Why are you so hard on yourself? You're stronger than me in a lot of ways, Tim, and you weren't the only one who got stuck after that. I wasted five years of my life chasing devils—at least that's what Samantha called them. I killed a lot of men, I rode up on a lot of bad scenes, and I never really got anywhere. I thought if I could just kill him then I could move on with life. I was wrong. It took me nearly dying and ending up back here to realize that life didn't stop the day they died—it was me that stopped living. I had to choose to start living again—and now you do to."

Timothy simply took a moment to ponder what his friend had said. Zachary had always been a man with deep thoughts—though his tight jaw often had him keeping those thoughts to himself. "You found Sam," Timothy reminded him. "What do I have?"

Zachary snorted. "You have Samantha too and don't let her hear you say any different. And you have me, for what good that does anyone." Timothy opened his mouth to speak but Zachary's next words had him falling silent. "And uh.. I mean you seem to..Well.. What about Eleanor?"

His gut twisted. "What about her?"

"Sam seems to think she might have something to do with your recent change in mood and I think Sam might be right. It seems that Eleanor is just as depressed as you are."

Timothy thought about lying and saying Eleanor didn't mean a thing and didn't have anything to do with his recent mood change. But he knew that Zachary wouldn't believe that—and he didn't want to lie to his best friend. Zach wasn't a man who opened up often. For him to be attempting to do so now in an effort to help him meant Timothy couldn't shut the man out.

"Whatever is wrong with Eleanor has nothing to do with me, I can promise you that. I haven't done a thing to hurt the woman. As a matter of fact, I've tried to help her." He thought of the way she had refused his aide, judged him, questioned him, and eventually forced him away. Those memories stung and caused an unpleasant bubbling in his gut.

"I didn't think you hurt her," Zachary replied quickly. "I've known you for twenty years and I've never known of you to hurt anyone on purpose. Samantha is going to try to talk to Eleanor today, maybe she'll have better luck getting the woman to open up. Now I know that Eleanor's sour mood isn't your doing but I reckon I still think that your sour mood is her doing—at least partially."

"And I reckon you're right. The woman won't let me in at all. I've done all I can to try to help her and she just shuts me out at every turn."

"She has a right to turn you down, Tim. You can't force a woman to want you."

Timothy glared at his best friend. "Well, I damn well know that, Zach. Thanks for those words of wisdom and comfort in my time of suffering."

Zachary's laughter rang out in the mid-morning air and as much as Timothy was hurting, the sound of that laughter warmed his heart. "Women are complicated creatures, Tim. How long have you had feelings for Eleanor?"

Timothy sighed. How long had he had feelings for Eleanor? "I don't know exactly," he answered honestly. "I reckon I've always been attracted to her. She was confident, and beautiful, and full of life and I liked seeing her."

Zachary scratched at his jaw. "And have you... uh.. that is to say, have you hired her?"

It was Timothy's turn to laugh. Zachary was squirming so damn much on Blaze's back, Tim wasn't sure if it was the conversation alone making him uncomfortable or if perhaps he'd gotten a burr in his saddle. "Yeah, I have."

"Oh." Zachary cleared his throat. "Well, I reckon that makes a man fall for a woman..."

"No, actually..." Timothy was ashamed of himself but he knew he could be honest with Zachary. "I barely remember laying with her. It was only a few times and I was always real drunk. I told you I stopped moving forward. I wasn't looking for a relationship with anyone. She was a whore in the saloon and that's all I ever saw her as."

"And now?"

"Now, I..." Timothy threw his hands up. "I don't know, dammit! Now, I see you and Samantha and I want that! I want love and a partner and a friend and a lover. I want to be someone's and have someone be mine. And the only damn face I see when I think about that future is hers!" Timothy snorted. "You got me out here sounding like some lovesick damn fool."

Zachary was quiet a moment. "You don't sound like a fool, Tim. Eleanor seems like a nice enough woman. I don't know her, but Samantha likes her and she's a pretty good judge of character. But, I recognize demons when I see them and there's something Eleanor doesn't want folks to know. Something that's eating at her."

"I know. I want to help her, Zach...."

"You can only help her if she'll let you. As nice a woman as she seems, she is, or was, a working woman. There had to be something that led to her taking that job and having a job like that has to change something inside a woman... She might not be able to be the woman you want her to be."

Timothy rubbed at his face and thought of Eleanor. She was beautiful but those blue eyes were scared and haunted. Tim wanted to help her. He wanted to be a hero for her—never in his entire life had he been anything more than a jester and a fun-chaser. Eleanor made him want to be more.

"I just want her to be the woman that she is," Timothy finally replied after riding along for a while in silence. "I don't want her to be anything more than that."

Zachary took the last draw off his cigarette, killed the end against his boot, and nodded. "You're a good man. You are brave, loyal, strong, kind, entertaining, and a born charmer with that mouth of yours. Give Eleanor time to deal with whatever it is she's working through and she'll come around eventually. Just keep showing up and someday she'll appreciate the effort."

Emotion clogged Timothy's throat. He cleared it roughly and scratched his horses' mane. "Thanks Zach."

"And there's something else I want to talk to you about. Sam and I discussed it last night in the hotel and I told her I'd bring it up to you today."

"What?" Timothy couldn't take bad news. Not today.

"I'm not about to tell you that you're dying, Tim, so relax." Zachary shook his head. "The ranch, farm, and property is a lot. It was always meant to be a family place. Clinton Matthews stole that for a while but we're building it back and we'll make it better than it was before."

"Damn straight you will," Timothy agreed.

"No. We will. I want my brother with me every step of the way as more than just a hired hand . That property is yours just as much as it is mine. Tomorrow morning we'll go to the land office and have half the assets put in your name. You can have a house of your own put on the land and have a place that is yours to start your life and eventually raise your family. Mama and pa would have wanted that."

Well so much for not crying like a fool. Emotion welled up in Timothy's chest with so much intensity that some of it escaped and rolled down his cheeks. He quickly swiped at them, desperate to keep Zachary from seeing the weakness—but he knew Zach saw it. That man didn't ever seem to miss much. In true Zachary Marston form, the man simply averted his gaze to the horizon and didn't say a word.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do, Zach?" Timothy asked, his voice thick.

"Of course I'm sure. Like I said that ranch is a family ranch—and you are my family."

Timothy couldn't think of words to say. After five years of running in place and going nowhere his life was suddenly moving forward once again. Zachary was back, Tim had a family again, he was going to be living on the ranch he'd called home for so long once again, and there was a woman in town he was going to do his level best to earn the trust of... It was all a bit overwhelming—but in a damned good way.

He glanced over at Zachary to find the man was watching him closely. Timothy simply nodded in a gesture that Zachary returned and then another silence, this one without the uncomfortable tension, fell over the men as they continued down the road toward their ranch.

***

Eleanor wanted fresh air. She had been alone in this room for hours. Samantha had come up, brought her some breakfast, attempted to initiate conversation, and then given up and left for work. Eleanor rubbed at her tired face. She wasn't being difficult on purpose. Life had taught her well that people always had ulterior motives for being kind to her. Not only that, but how different would her newfound friend treat her if she knew her situation? Would Samantha truly want to be seen on the streets with not only a whore, but a pregnant unwed whore would be seen as even more of a pariah?

She rose from the bed and made her way downstairs. Lewis was placing bottles on the shelf in the storefront when she entered, and Eleanor cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Hello, Miss Eleanor."

"Hi Lewis. Is Doctor Reynolds around?"

"Yeah, he's back in his office." Eleanor was about to go that way when Lewis stopped her. "I owe you an apology, ma'am.... "

Managing the ghost of a smile, she shook her head. "You don't owe me anything, Lewis. You gave me what I asked for."

"But I shouldn't have." Lewis let out a shaky breath and ran a hand over his slicked back red hair. "My uncle was right. I should have asked more questions. I was too worried about being uncomfortable and making you uncomfortable. I have a lot to learn about being a doctor..."

Eleanor shook her head. "I shouldn't have placed you in that position," she assured him. "And for that, I apologize."

Lewis' gaze turned quite earnest. "I'm leaving town Monday. I'm traveling east to continue my studies. I know you're in a tough position in this town now given your profession and your.... Condition. I would take you with me if you wish to leave. You could start over somewhere new."

Eleanor took a step back. Leave? Did she want to leave? And with Lewis? Hackney had been her home for years. The only friendly faces she knew lived here in Hackney. But would she be better off somewhere else? Somewhere where she wouldn't have a reputation? How would she? She would still have no way to provide for herself, her child, and she would be completely alone.

"You don't have to make any decisions now," Lewis assured her, appearing a bit uncomfortable as he grabbed a medicine bottle from a crate. "It's only Thursday and I'm leaving Monday so just think about it? I would make sure you were tended to and provided for."

"I'll go speak with the doctor now." Eleanor quickly walked down the short hallway and stopped at Doc Reynolds office door. Taking a deep breath to steady herself she knocked twice.

"Come on in."

Eleanor swung the door open and stepped inside. "Hello doctor."

He pulled off his reading glasses, sat down the pen in his hand and leaned back in his chair. "Hello Eleanor. How are you feeling?"

"I ate a good breakfast and took a nap," she replied honestly. "I feel quite a bit better."

"That's good. You'll be surprised by how much proper food, water, and rest will help you." He motioned toward the chair on the other side of his desk. "Have a seat, please."

Eleanor did. She sat down and folded her hands over her black wool skirt. "I want to thank you for giving me a room here."

"You're welcome."

She dropped her gaze to her fingers. "We never discussed payment or what I would owe you for allowing me to stay here. I don't have much but I have a small amount of money..."

He grunted. "That won't be necessary. The room is free of charge. I wasn't using it and it's been simply sitting empty for as long as I've lived here."

"I don't want pity, Doctor Reynolds."

"And you won't find any in this office. You are a grown woman who knew how babes were made when she spread her legs for coin." She bristled but he continued. "You also won't find judgment here either. Humans are not perfect and we do what we must to survive the circumstances life hands us."

Eleanor had no idea what to say. She glanced up and saw that Doctor Reynolds was watching her closely as he scratched at his mustache. She let out a sigh. "I've always earned my keep in life, Doctor Reynolds. No matter what your opinion is on the methods I used to pay my way, my way was always paid. I don't want to live here for free."

He chuckled. "You are a hard one, aren't you? I don't want your body, Eleanor, if that's what you're worried about. You are a beautiful young woman—and if I had a daughter, she would be your age."

Eleanor felt her cheeks redden. She hadn't said it aloud but she had been wondering if his fee for helping her would be bedding him. Since the age of fifteen that was what she had had to provide to earn assistance from anyone.

"No payment is necessary for your room here and you are welcome to stay for as long as you need or want."

"I've been thinking that once the babe is born, I can go back to work at the brothel and figure something out for childcare while I'm working..."

"No." Doctor Reynold's voice was firm. "That is no life for a child."

"You said I'd find no judgment here," Eleanor reminded him.

He tipped his head. "And you won't. But being raised by a whore in a brothel is no life for a child and you have to think of your child now."

"What would you know about it?" Eleanor snapped, though the doctor was only voicing what she herself knew to be true. Brothels and saloons, no matter how well ran, were not safe places for children to be brought up. Trouble was, Eleanor didn't see many other options. Could she give her child up for adoption after bringing into the world? Eleanor truly didn't think she had the strength to do something like that.

Doctor Reynolds folded his hands on his belly. "Plenty. My mother was employed by a brothel and I called that brothel home until I was eight years old. I never knew my father because my mother was quite good at her job and it would have been impossible to say who helped create me. Despite the brothel being considered higher class and safe, when I was eight, I was beaten nearly to death by a drunken man who became enraged when I walked in on him and my mother. My mother knew then that she had to find another life for me. Instead of leaving and bettering herself to give me that life, she gave me to a wealthy doctor who frequented the brothel. He was moving west to open a new medical practice, had no children of his own, and took pity on my bruises and broken ribs. Thankfully, he was a good man who gave me a good life and ended up adopting two young girls who became my sisters. I've never seen my mother again. I tried to find her when I grew up, but she had moved on and I had no way of tracking her. Trust me when I say that I know all about being a child raised in a brothel and trust me when I say it is not a safe place for a child and not an upbringing that any child deserves."

Eleanor swallowed hard against the tears in her throat. "Doc..." her voice was thick and she hated the weakness. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to have give my child up."

Doctor Reynolds smiled warmly as he tilted his head. "You will be okay, Eleanor. Lewis is leaving here Monday and I know he planned on offering you the chance to leave with him and start over somewhere else—that is one option available to you. However, with him gone I will need help keeping the storefront stocked and dealing with the easier sales throughout the day. You can have that job as well as some training from me to learn your way around simple ailments and medicines if you choose to stay."

"But.."

"Don't argue. You want to earn your room here and that's what I need done. In exchange for your employment, you will have a room here, whatever meager food supplies I keep in my bachelors' kitchen, as well as thirty-five dollars a month. Most of that salary can be saved and put toward building a life for you and your child."

Eleanor sat there in stunned silence as Doctor Reynolds got to his feet. "I'm throwing a going away party for Lewis Saturday afternoon at the community center. You are welcome to attend. I have some patients to go see. I'll be back this evening and escort you to supper if you would like."

"I can't go to the diner...."

"And why is that?" Doctor Reynold's asked, grabbing his black bag from beside the desk.

Eleanor wanted to scream. What was going on? "Because I'm a whore, Doctor Reynolds. I am not allowed."

"You are no longer employed by the brothel and you will be coming as my guest. I recently saved the daughter of the diner owner when her appendix needed to be removed—you'll find that she may be willing to bend her rules and allow my guest to dine with me. Perhaps, given time and persistence, we can do away with such horrible judgmental rules that cause people to feel guilty for doing what they have to do in order to survive and provide a life for themselves. My own mother never dined in a diner—I think it's time."

With that, he left the office and Eleanor simply sat there in stunned silence. She had spent so long feeling so hopeless. But now... Now, when her life had fallen apart more completely than it ever had before, she was finding hope. Could the doctor simply be that good a man? She could have a home here, a job that did not involve selling her body, a safe place to raise her child—Eleanor laid her hand over her stomach, willing that hope she was feeling into her unborn babe.

Thing would be alright. They would be okay. Eleanor still had to find a way to tell her friends about her condition and she could only hope that they would be as understanding as the doc. An image of Timothy's face, full of sadness as he'd stood in her room upstairs and she had pushed him away, appeared in her mind. Pain lanced her heart and so she quickly shoved that image away. Timothy O'Neil was nothing for her to be concerned about. No man, no matter how good he seemed, would ever love a pregnant whore. 

A/N: So many feels between Zach and Tim in this chapter! Some backstory on the doc and what has helped shaped him into the open minded, awesome feller that he is! Eleanor is finally feeling a small sliver of hope--though how will Timothy react when he learns that she's with child? Will her face still be the one he sees when he thinks about a future? And something tells me that good ol' Judith Channing is not going to be happy about a "brothel whore" dirtying up her streets and attempting to make a life in town. So much drama! Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!