“Yes,” Millie said pensively. “I’m sure they won’t either.”
From out on the street, they could hear Kenny’s call. “Paper! Get your paper here!”
John took a sheet of stationery from his desk.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to write a letter.”
“To the governor?”
“No, I wrote to the governor once, and it didn’t do any good. I’m writing this letter to Matt Jensen, but I’m going to send it to Smoke Jensen because he is the only one I know how to reach. If Smoke is still in contact with Matt Jensen, and I’m sure he is, I will ask him to forward the letter. I did a favor for Mr. Jensen once, and he said if there was ever anything he could do for me, to let him know. Well, there is something he can do for me now, and I’m about to let him know.”
Chapter Five
At that moment, five miles out of town, Ian McCann, his son Leo, and McCann’s two hands, Curly Dobbins and Slim Toomey, were moving thirty head of cattle along the Fullerton and Ellendale road when they approached a barrier—a gate that was stretched across the road. Leo, who was in front, stopped.
“What is it, boy? What did you stop for?” Ian called up to his son.
“Pa, the road is blocked!” Leo shouted back.
“What do you mean, blocked?”
“There’s a gate acrost it!”
“Dobbins, Toomey, you two boys watch the animals,” Ian said to his two riders, then, slapping his legs against the side of his horse, Ian rode past the little group of cows until he reached the front and saw the gate. There were two men standing in front of the gate.
“I’ll be damned,” he said. “What the hell is this, anyway?”
“What does it look like? It is a tollgate,” one of the men said.
“Who are you?” Ian asked.
“The name is Bleeker. I’m in charge of the toll-gate. You want to pass this way, you are going to have to pay a toll.”
“What are you talking about? This ain’t no toll road. I’ve done come this way dozens of times. It’s a public road.”
“It passes through Denbigh land. That makes it a toll road,” Bleeker said.
“All right. How much are you talking about?”
“A dollar each for each one of you, and a dollar for each of the critters that pass through. Except your horses. We won’t charge you nothin’ for the horses,” Bleeker added with an unpleasant laugh. The other rider laughed with him.
“Mister, are you out of your mind? I’ve got thirty cows and four men here. You’re saying you want thirty-four dollars. I don’t have that much money and I wouldn’t give it to you if I had it.”
“We can work something out,” Bleeker said.
“Like what?”
“We’ll take three of your cows.”
“I’m getting twenty dollars a head for these animals from the Indian agent in Fullerton. That would be sixty dollars.”
“Yeah, well, you ain’t exactly in Fullerton now, are you? You are on Denbigh land. Here, your cows are worth ten dollars a head, and that means you are getting a bargain. You owe us thirty-four dollars, but I’m willin’ to take thirty.”
Ian shook his head. “The hell you are. We’ll just find some other way.”
“Too late,” Bleeker said.
“What do you man, too late?”
“You don’t understand. You’ve done come this far on Lord Denbigh’s road. That means you already owe thirty- four dollars whether you go through the gate or not.”
“You’re crazy. I’m not going to pay you thirty-four dollars, and I’m not going to give you three cows.”
Suddenly and unexpectedly, Bleeker drew his pistol.
“What the hell, mister!” Ian shouted in fear. “We ain’t neither one of us armed!”
Bleeker pointed his pistol at the head of one of the cows and pulled the trigger. The cow dropped, and the others began bawling and milling about in fright, and if it had not been for Dobbins and Toomey, they might have scattered.
“If you had been reasonable about it, you could have given us three cows and gone on. Now it’s still going to cost you three cows, plus the one you just lost.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Shall we cut out the three cows? Or do you want to choose?” Bleeker asked.
