Anything for You by Jo Ann Ferguson

find for your Gypsy. We ain’t used to the jacks bringing their own gals with them. This should be fun.”
    Fun was the last word Gypsy would have chosen. As she stepped beneath the ring of lanterns, she understood a beast’s fear when it was caught in one of the traps set by the jacks. As Nissa chattered, she led Gypsy on a sinuous path between the tables, which were cramped with men.
    A pain-filled screech froze Gypsy in midstep. She scanned the room, sure someone was strangling a woman.
    â€œDon’t look like that, Gypsy.” Pointing toward the end of the bar, Nissa said, “That’s just Lolly. Lolly Yerkes. Fortunately the loggers like looking at her enough to put up with her singing.”
    Gypsy stared at the blonde, who wore a short wrapper. The singer stood with her foot on a bottle so the men had a view of her silk stockings topped by a lacy garter. Waving her hands like an opera diva, she continued to make that horrid sound. Cheers met every trill.
    Laughter came from behind Gypsy. When she glanced back, she gasped. Where was Adam? Blast him for bringing her here and leaving her with Nissa!
    Her flush of fury vanished. It must be almost impossible to maneuver through the crowd with his crutch.
    But where was he? She searched the room. Every male face was familiar. She was astonished to see Chauncey Lewis, the camp’s inkslinger, with the young blond singer perched on his knee.
    He was not the only man with a woman draped over him. Peabody should know better than to cavort with some whore while his wife was at his farm raising his six children alone.
    Where was Adam? Once she found him, she would leave. This was no place for her. The jacks were going to be embarrassed to see her here. Farley would be furious if this upset the men. Not that she was worried about his sending her on the hay trail, but if Daniel heard about this …
    â€œNissa, I think—”
    â€œLost Adam, haven’t we?” gushed Nissa. “Go on over to the bar, Gypsy, and I’ll round up your gentleman. Have yourself a drink on the house.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Nissa grinned. “Don’t thank me, dearie. This should make for an interesting evening.” She vanished into the crowd.
    Knowing it was useless to try to find Adam in the packed room, Gypsy turned to the rough bar. It was crowded, but her elbow in the back of a logger gained her enough room to fold her hands on the scarred top. Posters of half-dressed women were nailed to the wall behind a vast collection of whiskey bottles. A keg of beer sat to one side, a damp spot on the floor where the foam had spilled over the rims of the tin mugs.
    â€œGypsy!”
    She glanced over her shoulder, not surprised to see Oscar when she heard his voice break. Smiling, she asked, “Is it always this crowded?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” He blushed to his roots and fled.
    â€œMa’am?” she repeated. He always called her Gypsy. This was going to cause all kinds of trouble.
    â€œWhat’ll you have?” The burly bartender must have noticed she had no drink.
    Glancing at the whiskey the men were downing as if it tasted as good as her apple pie, she said, “Nothing, thank you.”
    â€œThen move away.” His tiny eyes nearly popped from his head. “What are you doing here? Ain’t no place for a woman who don’t work here.”
    Wanting to agree, Gypsy pushed through the crowd. There was scarcely room for twenty people in the room, and more than three times that number must be packed into it. Every breath she took was flavored with sweat and whiskey. Finding Adam among this press of flesh wrapped in stinking wool might be impossible, even for Nissa.
    An arm slithered around her, and she tried to pull away. It clamped tightly to her, tugging her against a hard body. Bold fingers settled on her waist.
    â€œWell, well, little lady, don’t think I’ve seen you about afore. What do you say