Despite the congeniality of the day, however, Heather found herself growing nervous as the afternoon waned and the picnic wound down, since the time for speech-giving was fast approaching. She had seen Quinn Lovell across the meadow shaking hands with countless people, and knew he was making the most of the opportunity to ingratiate himself with voters.

Her nervousness increased tenfold, though, when she saw the mining baron make his way toward Sloan. When the two men met, Heather picked up a dozing Janna from the blanket and moved closer, so she could hear what Lovell was saying.

“…surprises me you can afford the expense when your ranch is mortgaged so heavily.”

“Seems to me,” Sloan returned with a chilling smile, “your interest in my ranch is misplaced. I have this quaint notion that my finances are my own business.”

Lovell gave him a measuring stare, but then he caught sight of Heather and tipped his hat to her. “I’ve had the privilege of meeting your lovely wife, McCord. You are quite fortunate.”

Sloan gave her a brief glance. “Yes, I am,” he said coolly.

“Well, then, I shall wish you luck. May the best man win.”

Lovell turned away then, toward the platform which had been erected for the speechmakers and the fiddlers.

“What did he want?” Heather asked Sloan curiously.

“To deliver a threat, I expect.”

“A threat?”

Sloan’s jaw clenched, but then he smiled at his sleepy daughter. “You’d best go back to your nap, darlin’,” he murmured, deliberately avoiding Heather’s question. “There’s no need for you to listen to long, boring speeches.”

As the crowd resumed their places before the platform, Lovell was introduced to the crowd by Harvey Baxter, who ran through a long list of the baron’s accomplishments, including his stock holdings in railroad companies and mining ventures.

Waiting for the applause to die down, Lovell raised his hand benevolently. “Most of you know me by now,” he began with a friendly smile. “And you also know that I want to bring renewed prosperity to this part of Colorado…”

What followed was a long speech—as boring and uninspiring as Sloan had predicted, Heather thought, making no allowances for her decided partiality. The speech garnered a smattering of polite applause, before Lovell stepped down for Sloan to take his place.

Although unsure if her imagination was playing tricks, Heather could feel the sudden rise in tension as the two men passed. Sloan stepped up on the platform then, and faced the crowd, making deliberate eye contact, one by one.

A charge of energy filled the air; the atmosphere was so quiet, it sounded almost like a crack of gunfire when Sloan cleared his throat and raised his voice so as to be heard in back.