Alma Ellerbe

“ Besides, she only worked four days a week. The other three she rested—sewed a little, crocheted a little, knit a little—sweaters and stockings and mittens for Jim and herself, and kept her diminutive house as clean as a chemist’s scales; or sat quietly out in front in summer or inside by the stove in winter and let the long waves of peace wash deeper and deeper in. Peace is good after a life like Rosie’s. She lay in it thankfully, as in a bath, and soaked old stains away.
On the side of Gray Dome Mountain, with the sheer drop of the cañon at her feet and the range spread out beyond ”

“ Her knowledge of men was empirical, unhampered by theories.
Jim would give anybody anything she had—he possessed nothing himself—and be perennially surprized if she objected. Usually she didn’t, but if it was something she wanted she went after it and got it back if she could. Any bum or crook or sharper could win his friendship and pick his mind or his pocket if either happened to have anything in it.
But Rosie’s mind was her own, and instead of a pocket she used the Conifer County Savings Bank. ”

“ She had fought her way out of filth and blackness to cleanness and the sun, and now, without volition, the old horror came on her again from within—clicked through her brain like yards and yards of cinema film. ”

“ He fell into a chair on the porch. Rosie stood and stared at him. The one thing he knew was ore. He had the kind of knowledge that men had been willing to pay for when he’d sell it. His “then” had come. The realization went through her consciousness in widening rings. Whatever else it meant, it meant the end of this; the beginning of uncertainty.
He caught her in his arms and swept her into the cabin and danced her about until the place shook. ”

“ She wished now that she had it, but it had not occurred to her to wish it before. She had had something so much solider in poverty. Marriage might hold and it might not, but while he had been dependent upon her for his food and clothes, there had been no doubt. ”

“ Senator Sherrill, and Tom Potts, the hotel man, and Hooker Bates, who took his flier in Wall Street; and Mike Watson, who divorced his wife for Dora Schoonmaker, and a dozen others. They made their money and then were gathered in by women like the Schoonmakers. She had seen so many of them. They always left the women they had picked up when they were poor. Especially dance hall women. Even when they were their wives.
And she and Jim had never been married.
But Rosie Briggs wasn’t a quitter. Little in her life had gone by default. ”

“ Rosie fell into the chair, breathing in big painful gulps. She wasn’t used to running. The great altitude—ten thousand feet—had played havoc with her breath. Jim had swung a pick there too long to be much affected. They looked at each other in the dim light.
“It’s jest a place to sleep,” he said awkwardly. “Nobody knows I own it. Feller gave it to me that struck it rich an’ went away. Mostly I’m in the hills anyhow. So wouldn’t anybody look for us here.”
And then:
“The sheriff and the marshal’s both down on Al. If we can get away without bein’ noticed, it ain’t likely anybody’ll foller.” ”

“ A gold strike is likely to change a man’s viewpoint on many things ~ Especially Dance Hall Women
By Alma and Paul Ellerbe Long Jim Briggs wandered into Al’s Dance Hall one night when “Captain Mac” was drunk and throwing things.
She had splendid deep red hair and a skin as white as blanched almonds, and he admired her extravagantly. As a child admires a Christmas tree. And differently, too—very differently. He had even given up prospecting now and then and made good money as a carpenter so that he could spend it on her. ”