By Elia Wilkinson Peattie
Elia Wilkinson Peattie was once a prolific fiction author who specific her studies as a lady within the West in dozens of essays, brief tales, and novels. In "A Mountain Woman," Peattie provides us the unique story of a cosmopolitan ny urban architect who marries a country yet eminently useful girl from the mountains of Colorado and brings her again to the East to mingle with excessive society. [C:\Users\Microsoft\Documents\Calibre Library]
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Extra resources for A Mountain Woman
His big ill-shaped body had grown more gaunt; his deep-set gray eyes had sunk deeper; the gentleness which had distinguished him even on the wild ranges of Montana became more marked. Late in August he volunteered to take on himself the entire charge of the night watch. "It's nicer to be out at night," he said to Catherine. "Then you don't keep look- ing off at things; you can look inside;" and he struck his breast with his splay hand. Cattle are timorous under the stars. The vastness of the plains, the sweep of the wind under the unbroken arch, frighten them; they are made for the close comforts of the barn-yard; and the apprehension is con- tagious, as every ranchman knows.
The last of the vegetables were taken out of the garden and buried in the cellar; and a few tons of coal -- dear almost as diamonds -- were brought out to provide against the severest weather. Ordinarily buffalo chips were the fuel. Catherine was alarmed at the way her wretched little store of money began to vanish. The baby was fretful with its teething, and was really more care than when she nursed it. The days shortened, and it seemed to her that she was forever working by lamp-light The prairies were brown and forbidding, the sky often a mere gray pall.
The men in it are moving corpses. They're proud to be that way, and so was I till I knew you and learned what life was like. All the happy moments I have had have been here. Now, if you tell me that we are not to care for each other --" There was some one coming down the hall. The curtain lifted. A middle-aged man stood there looking at him. "Culross," said he, "I'm disappointed in you. I didn't mean to listen, but I couldn't help hearing what you said just now. I don't blame you particularly. Young men will be fools.