Watching helplessly, Sloan balled his hands into fists as Heather debated with the mining baron, but he forced himself to restrain his fury. Under most circumstances he might relish a fight with Lovell, but not when it threatened his home and family. He’d wanted to curse when he’d seen Heather running toward him. He didn’t want her anywhere near the bastard. But at least she’d come armed. Lovell couldn’t know she could barely hit the side of a barn.

She wouldn’t be able to hold them off alone, though. He would have to act, and soon… Sloan’s eyes narrowed, gauging the distance between himself and Lovell. Heather partially blocked the way, but that might be an advantage….

She was shaking her head. “I am afraid you are rather precipitous, Mr. Lovell. The mortgage will be paid tomorrow.”

“And just how will you manage that?”

“You are acquainted with Mr. Evan Randolf of St. Louis, I believe?”

“I know him.”

“Well, Evan is a close family friend, and he has just provided the capital to allow the outstanding mortgage on the Bar M to be redeemed.”

She dared not look at Sloan as she spoke, but she could sense the change in him.

“I don’t believe you,” Lovell replied.

“I am not in the habit of telling falsehoods, I assure you. Evan called here only a few hours ago and brought a draft to cover the full sum. It’s inside the house. I had intended to take it to the bank when I drove into town tomorrow, but if you insist, I can fetch it now. It can be signed over to you, if you’re willing to provide a receipt.”

Before Lovell could respond, one of his cohorts called out across the yard.

“Hey, boss? What d’you want me to do with the Injun kid?”

Both Heather and Sloan turned to see a man standing on the steps of the back porch, holding Janna awkwardly in his arms.

For a moment Sloan was paralyzed by fear. Then icy rage exploded within him.

Dropping to the dirt, he grabbed for the six-gun at his feet and rolled; when he came up, his hand was filled with iron. As he lunged for Lovell, he shoved Heather to the ground, then dragged the man off his horse. Before Lovell could even cry out, Sloan had wrapped an arm around his throat and put a gun to his temple.

It was all over in an instant. The wind knocked from her, Heather lay prone in the dust, looking dazedly up at Sloan.

Danger pulsed around him like lightning; his tone was lethal as he ordered Lovell to call his men off.

“Tell him to set my daughter down gently. If she so much as whimpers, I’ll blow your head off.”

His face etched with fear, Lovell rasped, “Do as he says.”