Free Calico Palace by Gwen Bristow Page A

to happen next—not that he cared, but one must get through the day somehow. His boredom was so different from the radiant aliveness of Marny that Kendra wondered how she could put up with him.
    But put up with him she did, for she was saying with perfect grace, “Mr. Fenway, may I present my friend Delbert?” With an air of elegant weariness Delbert bowed, and Marny suggested, “Why don’t you sit there by the stove, Delbert?”
    Moving with courtly indifference Delbert went toward the stove, and taking up the newspaper Pocket had left, he sat down on a box and began to read. Marny appeared to forget about him. Followed by her courtiers, she moved into the warm atmosphere between the stove and counter, and held out her hand to Foxy. “Now,” she said, “the cards.”
    The men gathered around her, all business suspended, watching. With his blue bandana Pocket dusted a space on the counter and reverently laid Marny’s bonnet and gloves upon it. Her eyes dancing around at her adorers, Marny began opening the case that held the cards. Her hands looked strong and firm, the skin very white and as freckled as her face. The fingers moved with expert speed. She took out the cards. Delbert continued to read the paper.
    Taking a step to the counter Marny cut the deck, holding the two halves on end, her thumbs almost touching between them. There was a zip and a zip, and the pack was shuffled. For a moment she held up the cards and looked at them, with a smile. It was a smile of affection. These cards were friends of hers; her fingers went through them, touching them gently, softly, as if each card had a personality of its own and she loved them every one.
    Holding the pack in one hand, she flexed the fingers of the other hand above them, then brought the upper hand down in a light firm grasp. With a quick movement she dropped the lower hand and lifted the other. For an instant the pack stood up in a column as though the cards had come alive to do her bidding. She brought her hands together and did it again, only this time she moved her hands horizontally apart and the pack opened out like an accordion. While the men watched in delight, she did it over and over, up, sideways, and in columns slanting to the right and left.
    She took the pack in one hand and raised the hand to the level of her shoulder, holding up the cards. After a moment of stillness she gave a twitch of her wrist and the cards fanned out. Anybody can fan a deck, but in Marny’s hand the cards were spread so perfectly that the edge of every card was exposed as much as its neighbor and no more, and the fan was firm between her thumb and her finely disciplined fingers. With another twitch she brought the deck together again.
    The men sighed with admiration. Pocket grinned proudly, as if he had discovered her all by himself. Even Mr. Fenway murmured approval. Delbert smothered a yawn.
    But they were not looking at Delbert, they were looking at her. “You sure can handle ’em, miss,” Hodge exclaimed.
    Foxy’s eyes were bulging. Foxy was a lean, gangling youth, loosely put together, with big hands and feet and a good-humored ugly face. Almost breathlessly he asked, “Will you deal us a game?”
    With a glance at Mr. Fenway, Marny smiled and shook her head. “Not now. Not here. Later.”
    “What games do you deal, miss?” Foxy asked eagerly.
    Marny’s green eyes flashed around the group. “You name it, boys, I’ll deal it.”
    Pocket took a step closer. “Are you going to stay in town, Miss Marny?”
    “I’m thinking of it. I might take one of those tables at the City Hotel. If I do,” she invited, “will you drop by?”
    Pocket said gently, “I don’t gamble, Miss Marny.”
    Her eyes widened in amused surprise. Before she could answer Foxy exclaimed, “Well, everybody else does. You’d better stay, miss.”
    Marny nodded thoughtfully. “They tell me,” she said with a question in her voice, “that in San Francisco, you haven’t got any pious