Arthur sat forward. "Give me the name."
"His real name is Micah Bell," Hosea read from the paper. "He is not just a hired gun. He is an inheritance specialist."
"A what?" Charles asked.
"He preys on wealthy, isolated targets," Hosea explained. "He finds a discontented spouse, helps them engineer an accident, and takes a massive cut of the inheritance. He's wanted for two similar deaths in New Hanover. A logging baron died in a hunting accident. A shipping merchant drowned in a river. Both deaths looked completely natural. Both widows disappeared a year later with Micah Bell."
Arthur felt the coldness settle deeper into his bones. Molly had not merely made a mistake; she had invited a serpent into his home.
"What do we do, boss?" Charles asked, his hand resting on the butt of his revolver. "I can ride back there right now. I can drag him off that carriage and handle him."
"No," Arthur said. His voice was sharp. "If you kill him, Molly claims she knew nothing. She plays the grieving wife. She still gets everything, and we become the murderers. The law will hang us, Charles."
"So, we go to the sheriff," Hosea suggested. "We show him the ledger."
Arthur shook his head. "The ledger has my name and a price. It proves someone wants me dead, but it does not prove Molly is part of it. A clever lawyer would say Micah stole the book or that it's a forgery. We need ironclad proof. We need to catch them in the act."
"How?" Hosea asked.
Arthur looked at the map of the territory hanging on Hosea's wall. He traced the line of the stagecoach route with his eyes, stopping at a sharp bend labeled O'Keeffe's Run.
"We let them try again," Arthur said softly.
Hosea stared at him. "Arthur, that is suicide."
"It is justice," Arthur corrected. "Molly thinks I missed the carriage by chance. She will regroup. She will try to force the trip again, and when she does, I will be in that coach."