Chapter Thirty-Four

          Zachary instantly moved Samantha behind him and took a step forward, blocking all three of his companions from the Marshall's view—and the aim of that revolver.

          "Put that goddamn gun back in its holster, Leonard."

          Marshall Oxley swayed a bit on his feet. Clearly the man was so damned drunk, he was having trouble managing to stand. It was only a little before ten in the morning so it would seem the good Marshall had been working on that drunk all night.

          "What do you think you're doing, Zachary?" he asked, his words slurring both from drink and the swelling around his mouth and nose. "This is my jail..."

          "Unless you're going to shoot me, Leonard, put that gun away before I put it away for you."

          For a brief second, Zachary wondered if the Marshall was going to pull that trigger. Finally, his arm dropped and as he attempted to holster his gun, he lost his balance and stumbled sideways. The wall kept him from falling, and after several pathetic  and rather awkward attempts, the man managed to holster his weapon.

          "You ain't got no right to do that," he muttered, pointing toward the cells. "You ain't got no right to free my prisoner."

          Zachary rolled his shoulder. Decided he wasn't going to waste much time on this conversation and stepped forward. "You had no right to lock him up. That man on the street was mistreating a lady and Timothy stepped in because there ain't a lawman in this town worth a damn. If anything, you should have been thanking him for doing your job."

          Marshall Oxley stepped forward, weaving heavily. "He assaulted me."

          "You assaulted that lady first. And as far as anyone is going to hear from us, you were dog drunk, fell, and assaulted the damn bars with your face and no help from anyone else." Zachary growled. "Now, you either let us walk out of here now or I'll be doing worse than assaulting you, Marshall."

          Leonard sneered. "Is that a threat?"

          Zachary's gaze simply went upward. He motioned for Samantha, Timothy, and Eleanor to follow him and headed for the door. "Where are you going? I'm an officer of the law and I'm speaking to you!"

          Zachary motioned for everyone to go ahead of him and stopped at the door. "You're nothing but a pot-bellied, drunken coward with a tin star attached to him. Goodbye Leonard."

          Marshall Oxley took a step forward, got his feet tangled up in his drunkenness and fell on his face on the wooden floor. He made one attempt to get up before slumping down onto the crooked floorboards with a moan. Zachary simply shook his head at the pathetic sight, turned his back on the half-conscious man, and walked out the door.

          Hanging the keys back on the hook where he had found them, Zachary made his way outside to join the others. The weather had definitely taken a bad turn. Rain pounded upon the boardwalk roof, the sky was black, lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and the wind was whipping.  "Maybe you shouldn't have just taken me out of the cell like that, Zach," Timothy acknowledged. "You could have paid bail."

          Samantha scoffed as she moved into Zachary's arms. "Paid bail for what? You didn't do anything wrong, Tim, and you shouldn't have been there to begin with. Besides, the Marshall is so drunk he probably won't remember much of this whenever the drink wears off."

          "I'm not worried about Leonard Oxley," Zachary admitted honestly. "He shouldn't have that job."

          Timothy laughed. "Maybe that badge will just leap off his chest in shame and find someone better suited to wear it."

          The wind gusted and Zachary saw Eleanor shiver and wrap her arms around herself. He saw the way Timothy slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him—and he saw the way Eleanor's eyes lit up as she gazed up at him. Zachary chose to say nothing about those things he saw. It wasn't his business. He was just happy to see that his best friend seemed to stand a decent chance with the woman who had been occupying his thoughts. Samantha had brought Zachary nothing but happiness—he wanted the same for Tim.

          Glancing toward the clock tower, Zachary sighed. "I gotta head to the bank and meet Caroline."

          "I should probably go get cleaned up," Timothy admitted glancing down at his clothes which were covered in dirt and a bit of blood from his brawl the night before.

          Eleanor's posture stiffened a bit. Her expression became guarded. She pulled from Timothy's arms and wrapped her own arms around herself. "Samantha? Could... could we go talk?"

          Zachary saw Samantha bite her lip and turn a questioning gaze in his direction. He nodded. "You go ahead. I can handle the meeting with the bank." While Zachary was selfish when it came to Sam and wanted her near him, he also knew that if anyone could help Eleanor with whatever the woman was obviously dealing with, it was Sam. The sooner all of that was dealt with and Tim could be happy—the better. Zachary was tired of tension.

          "And the saloon?" Samantha raised a brow. "I know you'll be going to see Thomas when you're done at the bank."

          "I won't hurt Thomas, I promise." He shrugged. "I might have to kill him but I'll make sure he doesn't suffer."

          Her hand struck his arm as she glared up at him. "Not funny."

          "Wasn't joking." He kissed her brow. "Go with Eleanor. I'll be fine. He won't give me any trouble." 

          Samantha studied his eyes a moment before seeming satisfied with the answer. She turned to Eleanor. "Sure, we can talk." Samantha smiled gently at her friend.  "Zachary, just come to her room at the docs to pick me up when you're done."

          Zachary nodded. He pulled off his duster coat, wrapped it around her shoulders to protect her from the rain, pressed a quick kiss to her lips and then headed down the boardwalk. He pulled his hat down lower against the wind and glanced at Timothy who was walking with him. "I'm surprised you brawled in the street, Tim. I thought I was the hot-tempered one."

          Timothy grinned. "I told Eleanor you were a bad influence."  

          "So... she seemed happy to see you this morning."

          "Yeah. I think she just might like me too."

          "That's real good." Zachary prepared himself to step off the boardwalk and brave the rain he'd have to get through to get to the bank. "I gotta get to the bank. Caroline wants a loan to buy the saloon and they aren't wanting to give it to her."

          "Look at you." Timothy nudged him with his elbow. "Who'd have thought that Zachary Marston would become a regular old hero."

          Zachary grumbled. "I ain't got no interest in being a hero."

          Timothy just laughed and slapped him on the back. "You're doing a pretty bad job at not being one. Me, I got a dinner date with Eleanor tonight so being a hero is working for me."

          "Except it got you thrown in jail," Zachary reminded him.

          He simply waved his hand. "Minor detail. Are we still going to the land office?"

"I reckon."

"Should I just meet you and Sam at the doc's after I've cleaned up?"

Zachary nodded. "That works. Shouldn't take me long with Caroline."

          "Alright then. Have fun not being a hero at the bank."

          Timothy as chuckling as Zachary grumbled. Some days he wondered why he was friends with that damn man. Holding his hat in place against the wind, Zachary stepped onto the muddy street and jogged his way toward the bank. He was instantly soaked to the skin from the driving rain. His boots slipped and slid and more than once he nearly lost his footing but managed to arrive on the bank porch without a muddy ass.

          Water was dripping steadily from the brim of his black hat as he scanned the porch and found Caroline sitting on a bench, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Good morning, Zachary. Lovely weather, isn't it?"        

          "It is what it is." Zachary motioned for the door. "You ready?"

          She stood up and smoothed out her black skirt and blue blouse, both of which were dry indicating that she had been waiting at the bank a while and beaten the rain there. Zachary noticed the way her hands shook, and the tense set of her jaw but he chose not to mention either. "I'm ready."

          Holding the door open, Zachary let her enter first. He left muddy boot prints and water drips on the polished wooden floor as they approached the counter. "Mr. Marston!" the teller greeted brightly—a small-bodied man with more mustache than face and bright red bowtie. Zachary didn't recognize him, but the owner of the bank Preston Michaels had clearly insured all his workers would recognize him when he entered. "What can we do for you today at the Hackney Bank and Loan?"

          Zachary shook his head. "Not a thing. You can help the lady here."

          His friendly expression faltered. "Mr. Michaels already spoke with her yesterday..."

          "And he'll speak with her again today," Zachary insisted. "Let him know we're here."

          "Mr. Marston, Mr. Michael's is a rather busy man...."

          Zachary pulled off his hat and rested his free hand on the handle of his revolver. He kept his posture and expression relaxed and held the teller's gaze. "I don't like asking for something twice."

          The man looked like he may cry. He swallowed hard against that red bow tie, nodded quickly, let out a squeak, and turned on his heels as he rushed off to deliver Zachary's message.

          Caroline was frowning as she tapped Zachary's arm to get him to look her way. "I'd prefer my loan not be approved at gunpoint."

          "I didn't threaten anyone at gunpoint, ma'am." Zachary's lips twitched. "I've been told, from time to time, that I'm an imposing figure."

          She ran her fingertips over the small lines beside her eyes and pressed them into her temples. "Impose a little less."

          Zachary shrugged. "You're the one that asked me to be here. I can leave."

          Before Caroline could reply, the teller reappeared, stepping around the counter and approaching them. "M...Mr. Michaels said he'll see you. Foll...Follow me."

          Zachary motioned for Caroline to go ahead and he took up the rear as they were led down a short hall to a large cherry door. The teller knocked twice before opening the door and allowing them to enter.

          "Hello, Mr. Marston!" Preston Michaels greeted brightly, rising from his desk.

          "Hello Preston." Zachary disliked the banker. Of course, Zachary disliked most people. But the banker was a greedy, pompous asshole who was only showing friendliness now because Zachary had more money and investments with this bank than any other person in Oklahoma had in any other bank. And it wasn't Zachary's doing. He hadn't touched much of anything since his family had died—his father had been the one who was good at dealing with finances.

          "What can I do for you today, Mr. Marston?" Preston asked, glancing at Zachary's feet.

          Zachary glanced down at the puddle forming beneath him. He dug into his pocket and found the matches and cigarette inside—both still relatively dry. "Is the lady invisible, Mr. Michaels? Or do you have issues with your sight?"

          "No, of course not," Preston replied quickly.

          Zachary put the cigarette between his lips and struck the match. "Then it's your manners that are lacking then. Greet the goddamn woman."

          Preston's face reddened beneath his impressive black sideburns as he nodded and turned to Caroline. "Hello, ma'am."

          Caroline stood straight and proud with her shoulders back and her chin held high. Zachary was impressed. She was a smart woman and one that seemed confident and sure of herself. She would probably do pretty damn good at owning a business and running it well.

          "Hello, Mr. Michaels. Thank you for seeing me. I would like to talk to you about that loan we discussed yesterday."

          Preston frowned. "I can't see what we have to discuss, ma'am. I told you yesterday that we cannot help you with your loan."

          Zachary took a draw off his cigarette and shook his head. "Sit down and talk to the woman, Preston."

          "Mr. Marston, I already explained to the lady yesterday that this loan is simply too high risk for us to assist her with."

          Zachary pointed to the desk. "Do you always leave your clients standing by the door, Mr. Michaels? You seem to have some chairs there by the desk and I assume they're for sitting in while discussing business."

          Preston quickly motioned for the chairs. "Of course. Of course. Have a seat and I'll explain to you what I discussed with the lady yesterday."

          Zachary waited until Caroline had taken her seat before he turned his chair sideways to keep the door in his line of vision and sat down beside her. Preston placed an ash tray in front of Zachary, adjusted the jacket of his suit and sat himself down on the other side of the desk. "I understand the lady wants a loan for one-thousand seven-hundred and fifty dollars. That is a rather substantial amount of money."

          "I reckon this is a bank. It should be full of a rather substantial amount of money."

          Preston Michael's sighed. "It is. And we have utmost respect for you, Mr. Marston. But when we give loans we have to look at the risk we are taking. A lady such as Miss Reeves may not be able to pay back such a loan. We have no reason to think this would be a smart investment for us to make."

          Zachary scratched at his jaw. "Why?"

          The banker seemed confused and annoyed by the question. "Because she has no experience in running a business..."

          "That's not true," Caroline spoke up. "I helped the Morgan's run that business for years. I know the ins and outs of running a brothel and a saloon. I know how to keep inventory, manage profits and expenditures, and deal with the public..."

          "Yes, ma'am, I know you have experience dealing with the public." Preston folded his hands over his red vest.

          Zachary saw the color raise in Caroline's cheeks. "I know you doubt my business sense, sir, and that's why Mr. Marston is here. He has faith in my ability to successfully run The Hackney Hotel and Brothel."     

          Zachary nodded. "I'll cosign the loan."

          Preston Michael's was clearly surprised. He rubbed at his sideburns, shuffled some papers on his desk and cleared his throat several times. "Mr. Marston, I don't know what the lady promised you in return for your investment but, please, this isn't a wise business move..."

          Zachary had had enough. This conversation was pointless and going nowhere. He had heard enough pompous hot air come out of the bastards' mouth.  "Let me get something straight with you, Preston. Caroline here is a smart woman and I have no doubts in my mind that she can run a business and run it successfully. I'm willing to cosign for that fact and nothing else. We all know I have enough money to cover the amount of that loan plus interest at least a hundred times. That means your ass is safe even if she fails—which she won't." Zachary killed his cigarette on his boot and leaned forward, blowing smoke toward the banker's pale face. "And you're going to stop saying lady and ma'am as if they were dirty words when you refer to Caroline. You are going to treat her with the same goddamn respect you would any businessman or businesswoman coming in that door, and you are going to apologize for the hell you've given her because of your prejudice against her chosen profession."

           Preston Michael's stuttered several times and his eyes darted quickly between Zachary and Caroline. Zachary growled. "You'll give her that apology now."

          "Yes... Yes, I am sorry Caroline...uh, I mean Miss Reeves."

          Another growl left Zachary's throat. "And the loan?"

          "We.. We would be glad to assist Miss Reeves in securing her loan for The Hackney Saloon and Brothel. Though, I will say, we could simply loan the money to you Mr. Marston... it would look better on the paperwork..."

          "But the loan is for me," Caroline countered quickly.

          "And I don't give a damn about your paperwork or what it looks like. Get your papers drawn up in Miss Reeves names, let us sign, and give the woman her damn money before I lose my goddamn patience, pull every dime I have out of this backwater bank, and take my money somewhere else."

          "No!" Preston quickly jumped to his feet. "No, don't do that, Mr. Marston. I am terribly sorry to both of you if I have caused offense. That was certainly not my intention. Paperwork for loans typically take a day or two to draw up...."

          "Don't have a day or two."

          "Of course not. I wouldn't think of making you wait, Mr. Marston. I will go have that paper drawn up now." Preston pulled a gold pocket watch from his vest and checked it before flipping it shut. "Shouldn't take more than ten minutes. Once you both sign, we will be happy to give Miss Reeves her money and let you both get on with your day."

          "Thank you, Mr. Michael's," Caroline replied with a polite tip of her head. Zachary didn't have anything else to say. He simply motioned toward the door to hurry the pompous bastard on his way.

          After Preston had scurried from the room, Caroline let out a happy burst of laughter. "This is happening!" she exclaimed in a hushed whisper as her hands clapped silently. "I am going to have my business!"

          "You would have had it with or without the banks' help, Caroline. I would have loaned you the money if they hadn't."

          Her dark eyes studied him a moment. "You truly are a good man, aren't you? I worried at times that you might be dangerous for Samantha. I saw your temper, heard the rumors, and thought you might hurt her..."

          Zachary snorted. "Folks like to judge me and that's alright. I don't know much about the type of man I am. I've done good things and I've done bad things. One thing I would never do is hurt that woman."

          "I know that now," she admitted, and Zachary could see the honesty in her expression. "Thank you, Mr. Marston."

          "You're welcome."

          "Did you have to resort directly to threats and bullying to help me though? Couldn't we have attempted polite dialogue?"

          Zachary leaned back in his chair and plopped his hat on his head. "Nope. Don't pretend like you didn't know that's how this conversation would go. You had this planned. You saw me for what I can be—a dangerous man who isn't afraid to use threats and fists to get his way and you knew I could help you get your way." Her eyes widened and he shrugged. "And that's how I know you'll do alright in business. You know how to take advantage of the resources around you in order to get what you want."

          "I should argue with you but I'm not going to. You're right. I knew you had money and a temper and with Samantha's influence you would feel motivated to help me." She smiled and Zachary was surprised to find himself returning the gesture. "I might be a whore, Zachary Marston, but I'm no fool."

          A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "No ma'am, you most certainly are not."

***

          The moment the two women were locked inside Eleanor's room, Eleanor began to pace with agitation. Samantha frowned at the sight and took a seat in the armchair. The room was a small one and with the way Eleanor was pacing, she had been at risk of being run over if she had continued to stand.

          "Eleanor? I think it's obvious that you're not okay and that you haven't been for a while now. What's wrong?"

          Eleanor stilled instantly. The tension in her body seemed painful as she stared hard at the yellow curtains covering the window. "Timothy."

          Samantha's frown deepened. "Timothy? Timothy is fine. And I saw the way you looked at each other at the jail—you both seemed happy. But you're not happy now so...."

          Eleanor's gaze remained locked on that window. "Timothy is an amazing man. He is kind and funny and gentle and genuine and earnest and.... Any woman would be lucky to have him show interest in her."

          "But?"

          "But he won't want me once he knows the truth about me...."

          Samantha attempted to pick her words carefully. "Eleanor, I'm not saying this with any judgment so do not take it wrong. You spent a lot of years making your living laying with men and Timothy still seems pretty earnest about wanting a future with you. I don't think there's anything else you could be hiding that would make him turn away."

          "Oh, but there is." Eleanor went to the bed and sat down hard. "Timothy is a fool for wanting me, Samantha. I'm a whore."

          Samantha stood up and went to the bed. She sat down beside Eleanor and took her hand in hers. "No. You are not a whore. You may have worked as one but that was your job not your identity, Eleanor.  You are a sweet, strong, warm woman who showed me nothing but kindness when I was at the brothel even as I attempted to keep everyone at arms-length. You worked as a whore but you are not a whore."

          Samantha was shocked when Eleanor suddenly burst into tears. They were quiet but they were powerful and her entire body shook with them as she buried her face in her hands.

          Samantha rubbed her back. "Eleanor, please, talk to me...."

          "I'm pregnant."

          Samantha blinked several times. Had she heard those words correctly? Eleanor's voice was muffled—perhaps her sobs had made Samantha misunderstand.

          "Pregnant?"

          Eleanor gave one finally sniff, wiped her hands across her face, and looked at her with puffy, blue eyes. "Nearly three months along. I should have ended the pregnancy—I was going to, but I waited too long. I... I think I waited too long because I didn't truly want to end it..."

          "Of course, you didn't. I always thought the women that worked the brothel had ways to prevent getting with child..."

          "We do. There's a tea we drink that stops pregnancies—and a lot of men won't finish inside us." Samantha blushed at her bluntness. "I did what I was supposed to do to prevent it. It still happened."

          "Does anyone know?"

          "Only the doc and you." Eleanor's gaze went down to her stomach as she laid her hands over it. "I had a good childhood, Sam. We were poor but my parents were good people. They taught me about family and I grew up wanting that. I wanted a family and a love like I saw them share. I wanted a good husband and children I could love and raise. Then, when I was fifteen they died—and I was left with nothing. No money, no help, no one to turn to. But I was pretty and men liked me so...." Eleanor shrugged. "Life didn't go as I had planned."

          Samantha took her hand once again. "Life rarely does. My mother was a good mother. Somehow, even with my father's drinking and gambling, she made life seem good. She was sunlight for all of us. She got sick and died. My brother died shortly after her in a saloon fight over cards. I did my best to keep our home going. I farmed and hunted and took odd jobs for money, but my father often spent more than I could make. He got drunk one night in a saloon while gambling and he took a loan from a man—when he couldn't pay that man back, he told him all about his beautiful, red-haired, innocent daughter who would make a good wife."

          "Samantha..."

          "That man showed up at our home a few weeks later. He killed the old man who worked for us." Samantha swallowed bile at the memory of Charles' head smashed open in the barn stall. "I found out about my father's betrayal then. And the man insisted I had to come with him—that I belonged to him now. I ran, and because I ran, he killed my father, and chased me. He chased me for two years before I ended up here. I've been here six month or so and haven't seen him again. My life didn't go as I had planned either—but that's turning out to be a good thing."

          "Because you have Zachary. You have a man who loves you."

          "Yes. And you have Tim."

          Eleanor sniffed and shook her head. "No, I don't. He's already going to face so many judgments for being with a whore..." At Samantha's sharp glance, Eleanor sighed. "For being with a woman who worked as a whore. He'd be a million kinds of fool to be with a pregnant whore."

          Samantha simply sat in silence a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Timothy might be happy to be a million kinds of fool if that means he can be with you."

          Eleanor let out a quick sob that she swallowed down. She shook her head. "No, he won't. No man would."

          "You need to leave that choice up to him."

          The other woman nodded and let out a long breath. "I know. I'm going to tell him tonight. I'm terrified."

          "I wish I could say everything will be fine but... I can't. I can say that Timothy is a good man and I think he'll be very accepting of you and that babe."

Eleanor surprised her when she laid her head on her shoulder. "That's a pretty dream. I'd love to have a happy marriage, a home, a man who truly loves me and our children.... But it's dreams."

"Dreams can come true, Eleanor."

          "Not for women like me."

The sadness and finality in the other woman's voice broke Samantha's heart. She rested her head on top of Eleanor's. "Even if Timothy doesn't do what you're dreaming he will, you will be okay. The doc seems like he is taking you under his wing and you have me and Zachary. You and your child will not be alone, Eleanor. I promise you that."

"Thank you."

The two women remained that way a long while, both lost in their own thoughts while only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall filled the silence. It wasn't until a knock sounded on the door that they moved away from each other and stood up.

"Who is it?" Samantha asked, having learned long ago not to simply throw open a door.

"A handsome gentleman caller."

Samantha smiled at Timothy's foolishness. She met Eleanor's gaze. "You have to tell him tonight."

"I will."

Samantha opened the door. "Well, you certainly look a bit cleaner," she admitted.

"Smell cleaner too. Want a sniff?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "No."

"Your loss." Timothy's green eyes lit with amusement. "Zach's waiting outside. He said everything went good at the bank, the deed and all the paperwork for the saloon are now in Caroline's name, and he's ready to get the business at the land office over so he can go take a nap—with you."

Samantha felt herself flush red. "I'll just head down and go meet him then." She smiled at Eleanor. "We'll talk again tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Sam."

          Samantha paused before leaving the room to hug Timothy. "You're a good man, Timothy O'Neil. Remember that."

          Timothy scratched at his hair as she pulled away. "Okay...." He frowned at Eleanor. "You look like you've been crying. Are you okay?"

          Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself and managed a small smile. "I'll be just fine."

          "Do you uh.. are you still wanting to spend some time with me this evening?"

          "Of course."

          That had a boyish smile curving his lips. "Well alright then. How about I pick you up around five? Even if the weather is still bad, I'll think of somewhere we can eat and talk without fear of loud-mouth Channing and her flying judgment of fury."

          Eleanor's smile was a bit happier. "Sounds good."

          Samantha reached out and grabbed his sleeve, giving him a yank. "Come along, Casanova. The sooner we can get all this done, the sooner we can get Zachary that nap." She winked. "I'm sure he's exhausted."

          Samantha found herself pulled into Zachary's arms the moment she stepped onto the boardwalk. Lightning and thunder still tore from the clouds and rain poured down. Zachary was soaked and Samantha let out a grumble. "You're getting me all wet."

          His lips found her ear. "That is my job."

          Samantha trembled. "I'm serious." He let her go slowly. "How did things go with Caroline?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

          "It went. She got her loan, Thomas signed the papers, and he's going to catch the next stage out of town."

          Samantha would be lying if she said she wasn't relieved. She was still doubtful, however, that it had been that smooth. "Did Thomas say anything to you?"

          "I never spoke to him. I stood by the door while him and Caroline dealt with the paperwork. I stood by another door as he packed up his things and gathered his suitcase. And I stood by yet another door while he bought a ticket to the stage that's leaving in about ten minutes."

          "I'm surprised you didn't stay to watch him get on it and ride away."

          Zachary chuckled. "Gavin is making sure he leaves and knows to come get me if he doesn't. Thomas has no reason to stay here now."

          "Zachary 'the hero' Marston. That's your name now," Timothy teased.

          Zachary grumbled. "Let's just get to the land office and take care of things. We'll have to make another trip to the bank as well to have your name put on those accounts."

          "The bank.... You're giving me access to all that money?" Timothy's eyes were wide as his jaw dropped.

          Samantha nearly laughed as Zachary pulled off his hat and shoved his hand through his hair. "What did you think I meant by giving you your share of everything?"

          "Holy shit... that's.... I just thought you meant the land..."

          Zachary just rolled his eyes, took Samantha's hand, and headed down the boardwalk. "Come on, Tim. Let's get the paperwork done and you can get started on spending your fortune while I get started on my nap."

A/N: A busy chapter! Thoughts and feelings, let me hear them! I love interacting with y'all! We have one problem taken care of--or at least leaving town. It remains to be seen if we've heard the last of Thomas Williamson. And what about Marshall Oxley? Do you think he'll remember the interaction once his drink has worn off? Eleanor opened up to Sam and she's finally going to be honest with Tim. Zachary bullied a banker into giving Caroline her loan. Timothy is smelling better. Oh, and Zach is quite serious about his naptime. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!