Mail Order Marcella

by Marie Higgins

  “Can’t you see I’m trying to save you?” Joanna muttered. “Men will lie to get what they want. They’ll tell you what you want to hear, but once you marry them, they turn completely around. It happened to me, and I know it will happen to you. After all, Mr. Greystone and my husband are cousins. I’m sure it’s a trait that runs in the family.”

  “Joanna,” Marcella motioned her hand toward the weapon, “Wesley will never do that. Please believe me when I say he is a very respectable man. He cares deeply for you, because he loves me so much. Together, he and I will find you a good doctor to cure whatever ailment you have.”

  Gradually, the other woman’s arm lowered. Wesley prayed Marcella would be able to calm the woman down and to release the weapon. The sister must still have a touch of the fever. Why else would she rant like a woman gone insane?

  “He’s the devil, I tell you. Both him and Martin.” She tilted her head. “Cella, we don’t need them. I have a plan that will save us both, and we’ll have all the money in the world. We will never have to rely on another man again.”

  “Joanna, are you listening to me? I’ve fallen in love with this incredible man.” She glanced back at Wesley and smiled. “He’s been nothing but kind and thoughtful, and he really is my protector in all ways.”

  Happiness grew in Wesley’s chest once again, and he wanted to take her in his arms and shower her with his love. Hopefully, they could get the pistol away from Joanna so that he could hold Marcella once more. “And I love you, my darling.”

  “Enough of this!” Joanna screeched. In a flash, she raised the pistol, strode to her sister, and yanked her arm. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  Anger filled him once again, and he gritted his teeth. “You are correct, Joanna. This is quite enough.”

  He took a step toward her, and she jerked back, bumping into a table. The quick movement made her stumble, and knocked her shoulder into the wall.

  Crying out in pain, she quickly cradled her left arm. A spot of blood gradually grew on the sleeve of her arm, spreading over the material as though it was in a race to color the material red. A pungent, almost decaying odor permeated the room. Her face turned ashen and for a second, Wesley thought she might empty her stomach on him.

  Within moments, his mind began to work. Shock seeped into his body, bringing with it awareness as it opened up his thoughts. Joanna’s left arm had been injured enough to draw blood. What were the chances she had been the one who’d tried to kill him—and the one he’d shot? Yet none of this made any sense. Confusion filled him and left him immobile.

  “Joanna!” Marcella hitched a breath. “You’re hurt.” She reached for her sister, but Joanna jumped back, bumping against the single desk by the west window. “Why is your arm bleeding?” Marcella’s voice shook.

  “I... I... I was injured not too long ago.” Joanna’s face hardened. “My injury hasn’t healed properly. Infection keeps coming back. That’s why I’ve been so ill lately.”

  “How were you injured, Joanna?” Wesley asked, finally believing that this woman could have had a motive to kill him and his father and brother, after all. She knew that Martin would inherit the ranch and the Greystone money if the other members of his family were dead. “An injury that keeps getting infected could only be from a severe cut or a bullet wound.”

  “Joanna?” Marcella’s voice cracked. “Did someone shoot you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes.

  The more Wesley studied the older sister, the more he believed she was indeed responsible. His stomach twisted. “Where were you about a week and a half ago?”

  Joanna released an unsteady laugh. “You cannot expect me to remember that.”

  Marcella moaned and rubbed her forehead. “Oh, Joanna, no.” She squeezed her eyes as tears escaped down her cheeks. “You’d left me to watch over Lottie while you went to visit a friend in California, remember?” She sniffed. “And a few weeks before that, you’d gone up north for a week, telling me that Martin wanted to find another place to live.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

  Joanna huffed. “I didn’t lie. Martin wanted to look for another place to live.”

  “Yes, I know that now.” Marcella lifted her gaze to Joanna’s. “Because it was you who tried to set up your husband to make him look like he killed his uncle and cousins.”

  “Dear sister, you are being over dramatic and highly imaginative.” Joanna rolled her eyes. “Save it for your stories.”

  “You, my dear sister,” Marcella took a step closer to Joanna, “are lying. Why? Why did you think you had to kill innocent people? What gave you that right?”

  In an instant, Joanna’s expression narrowed as she switched her attention between Marcella and Wesley. She raised the pistol toward Wesley. Fear slammed his heart against his ribs. He held his breath. Somehow, he and Marcella needed to coax the weapon out of her hand. A woman possessed with evil was the worst kind of person to try and negotiate with.

  “What are you doing?” Marcella cried. “Joanna, put that down before someone gets hurt.”

  “I have a confession to make. One,” she glared at Wesley, “that should end your puzzlement, Greystone. The least I can do is send you to your death knowing the truth.” She pointed to the weapon in her hand. “This is why I have a pistol, Cella. Because I’m going to protect us. I’ve always protected us.” She lifted her chin in victory. “When we were younger, I was always the one watching out for you. When I decided to marry, I searched for a man who wasn’t far from being the next heir in a wealthy family in order to keep us in the lifestyle we were accustomed to. Martin fit that position perfectly. So when he and I were invited to visit his uncle and cousin at their ranch, I made sure I put poison in their drinks. Fortune was on my side because the poison made them appear as if they both had the plague. It didn’t take them long to die, either.”

  Wesley gnashed his teeth. His heart broke a little more hearing the story of how his family had to suffer. He wanted to wring her neck for being so heartless and selfish. But for now, he needed to wait for the right moment to jump at her and snatch the weapon out of her hand.

  “Oh, Joanna...no.” Marcella’s sobs wracked her body.

  “Ah, I see I have solved one of your lingering mysteries. Let me solve the rest.” She offered Wesley an evil smirk. “The idea for killing you came when your brother mentioned you were in California and when you’d be coming home on the train. I knew I could hide and shoot you and nobody would know it was me.” She shrugged. “When I tried to run afterward, someone shot me in the arm. I had no idea the man who shot me would be the one I thought I’d killed.”

  “And I had no idea my killer would be a woman,” Wesley retorted.

  Joanna gave a full-throated laugh, obviously enjoying his pain. “Yes, I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?”

  “What happened to my sister?” Marcella shook her head, frowning. “What happened to the sister who was kind and loving—the sister I had looked up to all my life?”

  It physically hurt Wesley to see Marcella so distraught. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to his body. “Greed has changed her, my love.”

  “I didn’t do all of this just for me, you know,” Joanna argued. “I did this for both of us, Cella... and Lottie, of course. We’ll now live the kind of life we had when our parents were alive.”

  “No, Joanna,” Marcella whispered brokenly. “I’m not like you. All I want is to love a wonderful man and have him love me in return. I want to care for Lottie as my own child, and I don’t care where we live, as long as we are happy.” She buried her face into Wesley’s chest and cried.

  “What are you going to do with us now?” Wesley bitterly asked Joanna.

  Joanna shrugged. “I shall continue to do as I’ve always done. I’ll protect my sister, and if that means killing you, then I’ll do it. Besides, you’re supposed to be dead anyway, so it won’t matter.”

&nb
sp; “You’re too late. Most everyone knows I’m alive.”

  The insane woman chuckled. “You won’t be after I finish with you. My excuse for ending your life will be because you were hurting my sister, and of course, I was only trying to protect her.”

  “Don’t turn blame to your sister,” he growled. “The only reason you want me dead is to get my money. Your sister doesn’t want anything to do with your selfish needs.”

  “You are wrong. I love my sister, and I want to see her—”

  “Joanna stop!” Marcella wiped her eyes. “Wesley is correct. The only reason you’re doing this is because of greed and power.”

  Wesley shook his head, pulling Marcella closer to him. “She doesn’t need you any longer, Joanna. I’ll be the one protecting her from now on. I will always be the one protecting her. Not you. Not anymore.”

  FOURTEEN

  Marcella’s heart burst with an over-abundance of love for Wesley, yet at the same time it painfully broke to pieces because of her sister’s unexpected mental condition. Joanna was demented, and Marcella feared that Joanna would indeed follow through with her threat of killing Wesley.

  “Oh, my wonderful Wesley,” Marcella sighed and lay her head against his chest. “I love you so much—”

  Joanna screamed at the top of her voice, a sound so evil, it sent chills up Marcella’s spine. Never had she heard this tone from her sister. She never wanted to hear it again, either.

  “Will both of you be quiet,” Joanna yelled. “I don’t want to hear—or see—you two fawning over each other anymore. It makes me physically ill to watch.”

  Marcella scowled at her sister. This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed that her sister had to get all the attention and all the glory. Joanna had always been overprotective, but Marcella would have never suspected her sister of going insane. Yet, that was exactly what had happened.

  Growing up, Marcella always thought Joanna was the prettier, smarter, and more sociable one. Marcella had been kept in a sheltered world, and up until now, she was all right with living in such a way. But now her eyes were finally opened to her sister’s selfishness. Why hadn’t Marcella realized how controlling Joanna had been all those years? She could see now that Joanna didn’t want her sister to be independent or happy.

  But she wasn’t fine with it any longer. She was sick to death of her sister being so selfish. When was it Marcella’s turn for love and happiness?

  “Come on, the both of you,” Joanna snapped and motioned the pistol toward the door. “We are going outside.”

  Marcella frowned. “Why?”

  Joanna swayed, but quickly righted herself. “So that your imposter lover isn’t discovered in my house!”

  Marcella growled. “Listen here, Joanna—”

  “Marcella,” Wesley cut her off in a calm voice, “we shall do exactly what your sister requests. If she wants us to leave, we shall leave without arguing.”

  A victorious smile claimed Joanna’s face, making Marcella want to scream with frustration. She switched her focus to Wesley and studied his aloof expression. Why was he acting this way? What could be going through his head right now? He didn’t appear very frightened of the prospect that Joanna could shoot and possibly kill him. So why was he like this? She received the distinct impression that he was trying to communicate with her through his gaze. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand him at all this time.

  Wesley was the one to lead the group, moving at a slow pace out of the room and heading down the hallway to the back stairs used by the servants. As they made their way down the winding staircase, the house grew quiet. She prayed one of the servants would see what was happening, especially since they told the butler that they were going to remain in their rooms for a few days.

  Marcella stayed close to Wesley as they quietly moved toward the kitchen and to one of the many back doors to the grand house. As they walked outside, Wesley took Marcella’s hand in his and stopped, waiting for further instruction from Joanna.

  She closed the door securely and faced them, holding the pistol toward Wesley. “Go to the stable. We need to get... those... tools,” she slurred the last words.

  “What are you talking about?” Marcella asked.

  “You know... those... picks.”

  Marcella shook her head. “Joanna, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Do you mean shovels?” Wesley added.

  Blinking, Joanna nodded. “Yes, shovels. We need two shovels.”

  Marcella wished she knew what was wrong with her sister. Although her words were slurred, Joanna wasn’t the type of woman who consumed a large amount of spirits. A little wine at dinner was the extent of her consumption. Marcella’s sister even swayed a time or two, so perhaps she was slightly tipsy tonight. Perhaps it had something to do with her sister’s recovery from being shot. “Whatever do we need shovels for?”

  “To dig a grave.” Joanna belted out an evil laugh.

  Marcella’s stomach twisted as bile rose to her throat that had nothing to do with the malodorous vapors coming from her sister. Wesley didn’t argue with Joanna, but instead, led the way toward the stables.

  With each step, tears burned in Marcella’s eyes. How could they get out of this? How could they convince Joanna she was wrong? Wesley wouldn’t hurt Joanna because he wasn’t the kind of man who’d hurt a woman. It would be left up to Marcella to somehow cause some kind of commotion and distract her sister so that Wesley could snatch the weapon away.

  Anxiety and fear pumped through her body, making her tremble. Taking deep breaths, she tried to gain control. Be a character in your book. They’ll know what to do! Yet, although the idea was clever, fear had immobilized her mind. She couldn’t think of what needed to be done, and she felt like such a failure.

  Wesley didn’t say a word but casually walked into the stable and found a shovel hanging on the wall.

  “Get two of them,” Joanna snapped. “Your lover needs to assist.”

  “No.” Wesley shook his head. “I shall dig my own grave. I don’t wish to cause further pain to the woman I love.”

  “Joanna,” Marcella pleaded. “If you love me and care at all about my welfare, you’ll let me be happy, and I’m very happy with Wesley.”

  For an instant, Joanna’s expression softened, but then the moment was gone and evil lurked on her face. “Wesley Greystone won’t be living much longer.”

  Tears fell unhindered down Marcella’s face. She had finally found her prince, and she’d lose him just as quickly. She clutched her hands against her chest, and slowly died inside.

  WESLEY GRIPPED THE shovel handle tighter. Couldn’t Joanna see what kind of agony she was bringing to her younger sister? Joanna was heartless! He knew she didn’t care about Marcella.

  He wondered if he swung the shovel fast enough, would it knock the pistol from her hand? What were the odds if he and Marcella just took off running into the shelter of the shadows that Joanna would be able to hurt them? Yet, he didn’t want to do anything to endanger the woman he loved. She’d been through enough already, especially with what her sister was putting her through now. Wesley didn’t want to miscalculate and have Joanna fire the weapon and shoot one of them.

  However... He bit the side of his cheek. Little did Joanna realize, but by giving him the shovel, he now had a weapon to defend himself. She wanted him to dig his own grave, but there was so much more he could do with a sturdy shovel and some dirt. He’d play Joanna’s game until it was time to change the rules.

  Another thing in his favor was Joanna’s sickness. True, she was mentally deranged, but she was physically ill as well. The infection from her gunshot wound was throughout her body now, and had nearly taken over her mind. Infections were dangerous—deadly dangerous. And since she’d been battling with her injury for over a week now, he knew she was near her deathbed. Not only could he see the effect it had on her, but he could smell it.

  He couldn’t help but notice how weak she was now. A few times she’d stumbled b
ut quickly gained her bearings. Her confusion was obvious, as well. When she had first entered Marcella’s room, the moisture coating her pale face was quite noticeable.

  For now, he would wait until she lost consciousness, which with any luck would be shortly. She blinked quite a bit, which told him she was fighting the darkness trying to consume her vision. He prayed she didn’t try to shoot him before she fainted. Thus, the very reason he took his time getting the shovel. If he moved slowly, with any luck, she would pass out soon so that he could take control.

  “Go...over there.” Joanna motioned the pistol to the grove of trees nearest to the stable.

  Wesley took a quick glance in that direction. “Over there?”

  “Yes. To the trees.”

  “Are you certain?” he prodded. “There’s not much light when you enter the grove, and the moon isn’t full tonight.” Of course, he would remember that since the grove was where he had been hiding while spying on his cousin and Marcella.

  “Uh...” Joanna swayed again, but then blinked and shook her head. “Cella, go back in the stable and fetch a... a... candle.”

  “A candle?” Marcella’s brows creased. “Do you mean a lantern?”

  “Yes, of course that’s what I meant,” Joanna snapped.

  Marcella did as her sister commanded and was back within three minutes. She walked with Wesley toward the trees, holding the lantern high to light their way. He wasn’t sure just how far back Joanna was, but he knew she wasn’t close enough to hear him whispering to Marcella. He needed to ease her worries a little. Then again, he didn’t dare give her too much hope. There was still the chance Joanna could shoot him.

  “My love,” he said softly.

  She turned her head toward him, but didn’t answer. Her eyes were watery, and worried lines creased her beautiful face.

  He kept his voice low. “Whatever you do, don’t make your sister upset.”

  “I’m so afraid,” she choked on her whisper.

  “I have a plan, but you mustn’t get her upset.”