Then he sat in the leather chair and spoke. He told Hosea everything. He spoke in short, factual sentences. He explained the fake driver, the forged telegram, Ellie's warning, and the conversation in the parlor.
Hosea did not interrupt. He opened the ledger, adjusting his spectacles. He studied the sharp, heavy handwriting. He traced the numbers and the name with a steady finger.
When Arthur finished, the room was completely silent. Only the muffled sounds of horses and wagons in the street outside could be heard.
"I pulled your will and the deed to the ranch from the bank vault last week," Hosea said quietly. "Molly requested a review of the documents. She said you wanted to make sure everything was in order before your trip to Denver."
"I never asked for that," Arthur said.
"I know," Hosea replied. "But as your wife, she has legal standing to review the estate. If you die, Arthur, everything goes to her: the land, the livestock, the rail shares. It is worth nearly a million dollars. Once the mourning period passes, she could liquidate the entire empire and disappear."
Charles leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "The man in the ledger. Who is he?"
Hosea opened a heavy wooden filing cabinet behind his desk. "I have a friend, a Pinkerton agent operating out of Blackwater. Name is Joel. He owes me a favor. Let me send a wire. If this man is a professional killer, the Pinkertons will have a file on him."
"Do it," Arthur said. "But do it quietly. I need to know his name."
Back at the ranch, the morning sun was climbing higher. Molly paced the length of the parlor. Her silk dress rustled against the Persian rug. She checked the grandfather clock. It had been forty-five minutes since Arthur went to find his deeds.
She walked to the window. The black stagecoach was still waiting at the gate. The driver was sitting rigidly on the box.
Molly felt a faint prickle of unease. Arthur was a punctual man; he hated delaying business. She turned and walked down the long hallway toward his study. She opened the heavy oak door. The room was empty. The ledgers were sitting neatly on the desk.
"Arthur?" she called out.
No answer.