The Shadow in Pioneer Square

For two long hours she stood in the shadow of a doorway on Pioneer Alley, near First Avenue, watching the opposite alley, the entrance to the rooms where men banked their judgment of horseflesh with their hard-earned cash. The crowd passed in and out of the pool rooms, but still she stood in the wind, unmindful alike of the cold and the jeers of the passers-by. For she was fairly pretty and not more than 25 years of age. She was there on business, and her eyes watched fixedly. At last she espied a man over whose blood had run some thirty-five summers and winters and who had probably passed as many years of dissolute life. He had barely reached the door of the pool room when she swung her coat open, swirled him around with a sharp jerk, and in wrathful tones exclaimed: 'Oh, you wretch! This is the way you labor for work, is it? You have not supported me and the babies for ten days!' 'But, my dear,' the man broke in. 'I am not your dear. You’ll gamble your money on horse races and spend your winters in taking women out riding in hacks and in dirty dives, will you?' 'Let me explain,' he began. 'Let me explain,' she cried, and planting her back on his collar, the irate wife—for so she was—dealt the first, terrific blow in the mouth with a fist that had to be reckoned with, when she went at him upon one and hit him a blow under the chin that caused him to stagger. He rallied and started to move into the pool room, with her at his coat tails. 'Put that two to one on the short station!' shouted a pool boy as the pair tore by. 'The black horse is a winner on his nose, I’ll take you bet,' retorted another. At last the man managed to reach the pool room, and she was seen slowly walking away, ignoring the shouts of applause of the pool men.