“So have you?”
“It’s not something you ever want to do,” Matt replied, being as non-specific as he could.
“But you have shot somebody, I’ll bet.”
“That’s enough, Green,” Sue said. “We’ll have no more talk about shooting people.”
“I’ll bet you could beat Butrum. I’ll bet you could kill him,” Green said.
“Green, I said stop it now, and I mean it!” Sue said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jensen, I don’t know what has gotten into him.”
“It’s all right. As I said, boys are curious about such things.” Matt picked up his hat. “But I really must be going now. And I want to thank you again for a wonderful meal.”
Sue began clearing away the table, but E.B. and Green followed Matt outside. Green retrieved Matt’s horse, and Matt put the saddle back on, then gave Green a quarter. “Your ma and pa wouldn’t take any money for that wonderful meal, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take a little money for your excellent handling of my horse,” he said.
“Gee, thanks!” Green said.
Matt swung into the saddle, then touched the brim of his hat as he looked toward E.B..
“E.B., I thank you again for your hospitality, and do tell Mrs. Fowler of my appreciation for the wonderful meal she cooked,” Matt said. “I hope someday that I can repay you in some way.”
“One never knows,” E.B. said. “You take care now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Not too long after Matt left the Fowler place, he saw a gate stretched across the road in front of him. There were two men watching the gate, which was mounted on a pivot so it could be swung open. One of the men stepped out into the road and held out his hand.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Nowhere. Anywhere,” Matt said. “Wherever this road leads.”
“For you, this road don’t lead nowhere beyond this here gate, without you payin’ a toll.”
“How much is the toll?”
“A dollar.”
“Who is collecting the money?”
The two men looked at each other for a moment, then laughed.
“That’s a dumb question, mister,” the man who had stopped him said. “What’s it look like, who is collectin’ the money? Me and Carver here.” He nodded toward the other gate guard, who was standing just off to one side.
“If you are collecting for the Dakota Territory, I’m afraid I’m going to have to see some authority,” Matt said.
“We ain’t collectin’ for Dakota. We’re collectin’ for Lord Denbigh, and that’s all the authority you need.”
“This is a public road.”
“Not no more, it ain’t. It comes right through the middle of Prestonshire on Elm. That’s Lord Denbigh’s property, and that makes it his road. If you want to pass through it, you’re goin’ to have to pay the toll.”
“I have no intention of paying a toll to pass on a public road. Open the gate.”
“You know what, Bleeker? I think maybe he don’t hear so good,” Carver said as he reached for his pistol. But when he saw a gun suddenly appear in Matt’s hand, he let his own pistol drop back down into its holster. Matt’s draw had been so fast that by the time it registered with Carver that Matt was drawing, he had already done so.
“Take off your pistol belts and hand them to me,” Matt said. “Both of you.”
“Mister, have you gone loco? Do you have any idea who you are up against?”
“I believe this man called you Bleeker, and you said his name was Carver, so, yeah, I know who I’m up against. Now, Mr. Bleeker and Mr. Carver, this is the last time I am going to ask you. Take off your belts and hand them up to me.”
“Lord Denbigh ain’t goin’ to like this. He ain’t goin to like it none at all,” Carver said.
“Who are you, mister?” Bleeker asked.
“The name is Jensen, Matt Jensen.”
“We’ll be runnin’ into each other again, Jensen.”
“I expect we will,” Matt said. “Now, take off those gun belts like I said.”
Bleeker and Carver removed their gun belts and passed them up to Matt. He looped both of them around the saddle pommel. “Open the gate,” he ordered.
With a scowl on his face, Bleeker complied.
“Mister, them guns cost money,” Carver said.
“Really? Take the money out of the toll you’ve collected so far.”
