Quinn Lovell tipped his hat again and politely took his leave, while Heather breathed a sigh of relief. Normally she reserved judgment until she knew someone better, but instinctively she did not like Mr. Lovell. She had the uncomfortable suspicion he possessed the same ruthless ambition as Evan Randolf.

Sarah Baxter seemed to agree with her assessment. Sarah was behind the counter of the general store when Heather entered, and wasn’t at all shy in giving her opinion about Quinn Lovell.

“He’s a low-down sidewinder, that’s what.”

“A sidewinder?”

“A rattlesnake,” Sarah explained. “Pure poison—preying on decent folk down on their luck.”

When Heather eyed her quizzically, Sarah explained. “Lovell’s been buying up cattle ranches hereabouts. He offers the owners a pittance, but with the terrible winter we had and the price of beef so low, they have no choice but to sell. And that isn’t the worst of it,” she added darkly. “I’ve heard he’s assayed a dozen sites and means to start digging new mines any day now.”

“He suggested as much in the speech he gave just now. But why is that a problem?”

“Have you ever seen a slag heap? Mine tailings are about the ugliest thing you could ever lay eyes on. It’s going to destroy this beautiful land.”

“If that’s so, then I should think the voters would object to having Lovell as their representative.”

Sarah gave a ladylike snort and shook her head. “He already has a lot of support. A good third of the business in this town comes from miners, and they want someone who’ll look out for their interests. And folks who lose their ranches could find work in Lovell’s mines… It’s a prime pickle for sure. We have to stop him, Heather,” Sarah said earnestly. “We have to do our darnedest to make sure Sloan gets elected.”

Late that night, though, when Heather told Sloan about Lovell’s speech in town, he only nodded with grim resignation.

“Lovell is getting a head start on the campaign,” she pointed out. “If you’re not careful, the election will be over before it’s even begun—and he will have won.”

“Even so, I can’t afford to spend time campaigning just now. I have a ranch to see to. When roundup’s over, I can concentrate on the race.”

“Could you not let your foreman run things for a while now? You could hire more hands to replace you, could you not?”

“I can’t spare the cash.”

“But there must be something you can do.”

Sloan sighed, his frustration evident. “It takes money to fight men like Lovell. Money I don’t have.”

Heather winced silently, remembering precisely why Sloan was short on resources: because he’d paid her debts. She dropped the subject for the moment, but the issue gnawed at her.