Part 56 (1/2)
Two men mounted their horses, opened the brush gate, roped the steer and dragged him, bawling, into the a.s.semblage. Jane stepped down from her rock and, with a dozen others crowding about, examined the brand.
”That's unmistakable,” she said lowly as she straightened. ”Part of that brand healed months ago; the rest is fresh.”
She moved back to the rock on which she had stood and rested a hand on the pinto's withers.
”Oliver, what did you do?” she asked.
”I gathered the boys an' come down here as fast as I could. I saw this pen an' the calves. I sent men to both trails an' two to the Gap with orders to shoot to kill anybody that tried to get out. Then I went to Cole's house.
”Cole swore up an' down that he didn't know anything about it. His gal was there an' this here party from the east,”--with a rather contemptuous jerk of his head toward Hilton. ”I brought Cole back here an' the others followed.
”Seems Webb and Hepburn an' their men was in th' Hole. I didn't know it. Th' gal ... she went to get 'em.
”It's just as well,”--dryly. ”This ain't a matter that affects any one of us. It's for everybody in th' country to consider.”
Hepburn stirred uneasily as Jane looked from Oliver to him.
”I think all that's necessary is to talk to Mr. Cole,” she said.
The nester looked up slowly and laboriously gained his feet. He slouched toward the girl.
”I don't know nothin' about it,” he said in his whining voice.
Bobby Cole took a quick step forward as he spoke, but Hepburn put out a detaining hand and muttered a word. She stopped. Her face was colorless; eyes hard and bright; she breathed quickly and seemed almost on the verge of tears.
”Who built this pen?” Jane asked.
”I don't know.”
”Did you ever see it before?”
”No, I--well, I did _see_ it, but I don't know nothin' about it.”
”You've been here all the Spring and didn't know anything about it?”
Her tone was sharp, decisive and the color had mounted in her face. She leaned slightly forward from the hips.
”No, I don't know nothin' about it,” he protested, lifting his characterless eyes to hers.
”Who brands your cattle?”
”I do.”
”No one else?”
”Not another,”--with a slow shaking of the head.
”Can you think of anybody who would put your brand on my cattle?”