Telling Janna she would be right back—to stay there and play—Heather seized her rifle and slipped out the back door. The riders had circled the yard and the man standing beside the corral gate. Evidently Sloan had ridden in moments before and unsaddled his horse.

Her heart pounding, Heather picked up her skirts and ran. As she grew closer, she recognized one of the riders as Quinn Lovell. The others were holding Sloan at gunpoint.

Some of those same weapons swung on her as she slowed to a breathless halt.

“Heather,” Sloan commanded in a fierce voice, “go back to the house.”

Lovell, however, seemed pleased to see her, for he smiled and tipped his hat politely to her as he sat his horse. “Mrs. McCord. Good afternoon.”

“And to you, sir.” She forced the words past her dry throat. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”

His mouth curved slightly in appreciation of her composure. “I have a business proposition for your husband, ma’am. I’ve bought the bank which holds the mortgage for this ranch, and I’ve called in the note.”

“You mean to foreclose on the Bar M?”

“I am afraid so, Mrs. McCord.”

Her gaze swept the armed riders, feigning amazement. “Is this normally how you conduct business, Mr. Lovell? At gunpoint? Surely this display of force isn’t necessary.”

“When I’m dealing with a man like Sloan McCord, it is. I’m taking control of the Bar M, and I don’t expect him to go quietly.”

No, she didn’t expect he would, Heather thought with a glance at her husband. His blue eyes were as cold and glittering as glaciers.

Although Sloan’s Colt six-shooters lay in the dust, Lovell evidently saw the possible peril in his plan, for he uneasily cleared his throat. “However,” he added quickly, “I am prepared to offer you an alternative, McCord. You can withdraw from the election now and keep your ranch. I’ll cancel the debt entirely.”

Heather drew a sharp breath; the gall of the man never ceased to astound her. Lovell had already bought dozens of votes, and now he was trying to force Sloan to abandon the race when there was the chance he might lose. He must be truly getting desperate.

“Go to hell,” Sloan replied evenly, his tone deceptively controlled.

Heather raised her rifle, aiming it toward Lovell. “I believe you have your answer, Mr. Lovell. My husband is inviting you to leave.”

“Don’t be a fool, Mrs. McCord. You could get hurt if you don’t stay out of this.”

“I suggest you take your hired guns and go.”

Lovell’s jaw hardened. “The law allows me to take command of this property. If I must, I’ll return with the marshal to enforce my rights.”