Free The Gamble (I) by Lavyrle Spencer

strong... and polite,” she purred in a naturally kittenish voice. “I can tell we’re goin’ to get along ju-u-ust fine.” Simultaneously, she gave them each a clap. “So, who’m I hangin’ on to here?”
    “Mort Pokenny,” answered the man on her left.
    “Virgil Murray,” answered the man on her right.
    “Well, Mort, Virgil, I want you to meet our friend, Marcus Delahunt. Marcus plays the banjo for us. Meanest picker this side of N’awleans.”
    The last man off the train carried a banjo case and wore a straw panama with a wide black band. His boyish face wore a happy smile revealing one crooked tooth, which only added to his appeal. His blue eyes were set wide in a fair face framed by collie-blond hair. Not a particularly manly face, with its pink complexion and sparse blond whiskers, but one forgot that when viewing his open expression of apparent pleasure with the world. Standing with one long-fingered hand on the rail, the other gripping the banjo case, he smiled and nodded silently.
    “Marcus here can’t say a word, but he can hear better than a sleeping dog, and he’s smarter than the rest of us all put together, so don’t ever let me catch you treating him like a dummy.”
    The men offered hellos, but immediately returned their interest to the women. “So what do you boys do for excitement around here?” asked Ruby.
    “Not much, ma’am. Been a little dull lately.”
    She laughed throatily. “Well, we’re gonna fix that, aren’t we, girls?”
    Jubilee scanned the train platform and inquired of Mort and Virgil, “You seen that rascal Gandy around these parts?”
    “Yes, ma’am, he’s—”
    “Enough of that ma’aming now, Virgil. Just call me Jubilee.”
    “Yes, ma’am, Miss Jubilee. Scotty, he’s over’t the Gilded Cage.”
    She flapped one hand, affected a winning pout. “Isn’t that the way with a man—never there when you need him! Well, we’re going to need some strong arms. Got a little something that needs hauling over to Gandy’s saloon. You boys willing to give us a hand with it?”
    Six males tripped all over themselves, shouldering forward.
    “Where’s that wagon of yours, Mr. Jessup?”
    “Comin’ right up!”
    Jubilee gave a “come on” with one shoulder and led the troop toward the freight cars at the rear of the train. Already the doors were being rolled back. The freight master stood beside one, looking in, scratching his head.
    “Durnedest thing I ever seen,” he remarked. “What in tarnation they gonna do with a hunk of junk like that?”
    “Yoo-hoo!” Jubilee called, waving.
    The freight master glanced up and saw the crowd advancing.
    “Did it make it all right?”
    “It did,” he called back. “But what in tarnation you gonna do with it?”
    Jubilee, Pearl, Ruby, and all their eager escorts reached the open freight car. Jessup arrived with his wagon. Jube rested her hands on her hips and winked at the aging freight master. “Come on over to the Gilded Cage some night and find out, honey!” She turned to the others. “Gentlemen, let’s load this thing and get it over to Gandy’s!”
    Violet was minding the front of the store several minutes later when she looked out the window and shrieked. “Agatha! Agatha, come here!”
    Agatha lifted her head and called, “What is it, Violet?”
    “Come here!”
    Even before reaching the front room, Agatha heard banjo music from outside. It was a warm spring day; the shop door was propped open with a brick. “Look!” Violet gaped and pointed to the street beyond. Agatha came up quietly into the shadows behind her.
    Another delivery for the saloon next door. One glimpse told Agatha she should order Violet to close the door, but there was too much that appealed to her in the scene outside.
    Joe Jessup’s buckboard came up the street piled with a crowd of exuberant men, three gaudy ladies, and the most enormous birdcage Agatha had ever seen. Six feet high it stood, made of bright, shining gold that