They climbed one set of rickety steps and then another. At the top of the second one, Micah could see they were in some sort of warehouse. It was filled with crates of every size, but otherwise the place was deserted.
He figured Morgan would step out of the shadows at any moment, but he didn’t. They passed through the warehouse to the doors and then out to a small wagon.
“Climb up there. You’ll sit between us.”
“There isn’t room,” Micah said, looking at the big man as if he were crazy.
“He’s right,” the smaller man said with a shrug. “I’ll get in back and keep my gun on him. He won’t jump over the side without a bullet following him.”
Micah took his seat but did his best to look for a chance to escape. He wasn’t going back into that cell, nor was he going to sit idly by and let these two kill him.
His heart raced as he considered his odds. He wasn’t in the best of shape after several days of little food and no exercise. He would have to find a place where he could not only jump from the wagon, but do so in such a way that he had immediate coverage to protect him from the gun. He also needed to pick a place that wouldn’t risk the lives of anyone else.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“It’s not important. Just keep quiet and don’t do anything that will get you or someone else killed,” the big man replied, nodding toward the street market just ahead.
From that point on, Micah kept his thoughts and questions to himself. He figured by the growth of beard on his face and the number of times the twosome had brought him food that he had been captive for at least ten days. By now his family would be frantic, and his friends would know something was wrong. He was counting on that and hoping that the police were looking for him. Still, the two men who guarded him would most likely do as they threatened, and innocent people might be harmed if Micah made the wrong move. He had to wait for just the right opportunity.
When they made their way out of the burned-out section of the city and into one of the remaining middle-class neighborhoods, Micah straightened a bit in the seat. His movement caused the man behind him to press the revolver into the space between his shoulder blades.
“Don’t be moving around,” the man warned.
It wasn’t long before they pulled up to the back of a large three-story house. The white clapboard was trimmed with black shutters. The big man at his side all but dragged Micah from the seat and held him fast as they made their way to the back door. Once inside, the man shoved Micah forward until they were standing in the middle of the kitchen.
At the opposite side of the room stood Arthur Morgan.
“I see you’ve survived,” the blond man said with a smug look.
“Despite your meager accommodations.”
“Yes, well, I hadn’t planned to accommodate you with anything but a grave. However, it seems my hesitation has paid off.”
Micah tried to assess his surroundings without appearing to do so. He shrugged and leaned back against a wooden table. “So why am I here now?”
“You’re going to clean up and dress properly, and in one hour you are going to meet with Kenzie for the final time. You see, she has agreed to marry me. We will be wed at exactly ten thirty this morning.”
Micah frowned. “Why would she ever agree to marry you?”
“I like to think it’s because she loves me, and in your absence, she was able to realize that. Of course, I helped her along by explaining that I had bought you off with a hospital.”
“I see. And she was gullible enough to believe you?”
Morgan crossed his arms and gave a casual shrug. “She’s always been gullible. She believed I was in love with her a year ago—that I’m still madly in love with her now.”
“But you weren’t and you still aren’t. So why are you determined to marry her?”
“If you must know, she serves a purpose in a bigger scheme. I’m bringing her here to tell you good-bye and to give you a piece of her mind. She’s very put out with you.” He laughed. “As she well should be.”
“I’ll tell her it’s all lies.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “You will—if you want her to remain safe and unharmed—convince her that you no longer love her. You will tell her that the hospital I offered to build you was too big of a prize to let go. You’ll wish her well and tell her you knew we were always meant to be together. You will convince her that nothing is amiss and that this is what you want—no matter what she says to you. Do you understand?”
“I’m beginning to.” Micah knew Kenzie would never believe him—he wasn’t a good actor.
“Good. Please understand that I will make her miserable if you do anything to interfere with my plan. I’ll start by having you killed in front of her.” Morgan smiled, and his nostrils flared. “Although as angry as she is at you, she very well might enjoy that.” He looked at Micah’s guards. “But enough of this tea talk. Boys, take him upstairs and see that he’s properly groomed. Shave him yourself, lest he get his hands on the razor and make a fool of himself. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, so waste no time. Have him positioned exactly as we discussed. That way you’ll have no trouble keeping your guns trained on him.”
It was nearly a half hour later when Micah sat dressed and ready to receive Kenzie. He wore an expensive black wool suit with a vest of green striped silk. It wouldn’t have been his choice, but Morgan had guessed his size adequately, and the suit fit him well. He’d been instructed to take a seat near the fireplace and to look relaxed—disinterested.
