She breathed deeply and moved a step backward.
"How do you suppose these calves come to be here? My calves, with your brand on them?"
"Them is my calves, ma'am," he protested, weakly, "Them is old brands."
"Oh, all but this yearling belong to you?"
"Yes,"—nodding his head as his confidence rallied. "Them's all mine. I branded 'em myself."
"And why do you keep them here?"
"Well, there's water an' feed an' I wanted to wean 'em—"
"And a moment ago you said you knew nothing about this pen?"
A flicker of confusion crossed the man's face and again he looked away toward Hepburn in mute appeal. Hepburn's face reflected a contempt, a wrath, and for a fraction of time Jane studied it intently, a quick hope forming in her breast. She lifted a hand to touch, in unconscious caress, the locket which was at her throat.
"Look at me, Cole!" she cried and her body trembled. Her tone was compelling, she experienced a sensation of mounting power, felt that she was dominating and without looking she knew that the men before her stirred, impressed by her rising confidence. "Look at me and answer my questions!"