Idyllwild

By "Mark Paul" Sebar

He is a witchman and they took his home, life and now they are out to kill Mohany Rodriguez. But they didn't count on Sheriff Wyler Scott, nor a Cahuilla Indian capable of escaping to vengeance. It all comes together in this explosive chase through the lower California deserts and the mountains towering above Palm Springs California. It is the second in the Sheriff Wyler Scott series that will keep readers glued till the explosive surprise ending as this action packed story unfolds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: "Mark Paul" Sebar
• Release date: Mar 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781930246393

"Mark Paul" Sebar

My most important love is story telling of fictional tales, far away places, memorable characters, great beginnings and surprise endings. I can author work across many genres comfortably. If I can connect with you my reader, then I did my job and we are hopefully, both happy.

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IDYLLWILD

By

Mark Paul Sebar

Copyright 1985 All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Idyllwild

Sheriff Wyler Scott Novel #02

Copyright © 1985 All Rights Reserved

Library of Congress, United States of America

ISBN 978-1-930246-39-3 TXu000382420

http://www.sebar.com/pub

If you have not, it is strongly advised you get and read the first Wyler Scott Novel Contact Of The Forestry Kin as there are important tie-ins to this book.

Please support the author, many thousands of hours went into this story.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

Sunlight reflected off the snow covered peaks of the San Jacinto Mountains. It was that early Southern California spring, that special time of year when the seasons transition, and the flowers and animals, awaken from their deep sleep. Two young Cahuilla (Ka-Wee-Yah) Indian boys ran across the field during that 1960's spring morning. It was a chase they had played out, many times in these meadows, and one they would play out again in the future. Behind them were the snowcapped peaks of the San Bernardino Mountains. The child’s play ended at a museum, which contained an Indian campground with tee pees, and a small building of Indian relics, and history detailing the lifestyles of the Cahuillas. One of the children, Mohany Rodriguez, hid inside a tee pee. The other child searched for him in the dirt parking lot of the Malki Museum. He searched through most of the premises, and then it occurred to him, where Mohany was. Garyson turned and went to the different tee pees, searching carefully and quietly. He was always better at this game than Mohany, and he always won.

Across the field, an older man walked. It was Mohany’s father and mentor, Black Claw. He walked to the museum, entering for the moment. Here, he had spent most of his time studying the ways of the Cahuilla Indian. Pride was something Black Claw had within himself, and cared not what others might think of him. He was a law abiding man keeping pretty much to himself and his son. Black Claw understood Mohany’s ways, disapprovingly. He had hoped Mohany would put more time into being a fanatical Pu’ul (Indian Shaman) of the past, rather than an educated son of today.

Black Claw had learned much from his father, including how to survive in the desert and mountains, surviving off the lay of the land if necessary and as a part of his own training. How to use the ancient Indian herbs the Cahuillas used throughout the past centuries. He was a Pu’ul, the medicine and witch man of the tribe, like his father and grandfather before him.

Those son of a bitches, he told himself, approaching the two boys. Garyson collapsed the Tee Pee around Mohany, who was at this point, in a state of turmoil in his surroundings. Black Claw grabbed at Garyson’s arm. Reaching down, he yanked Mohany from the collapsed, former structure. He stood both of them in front of him. Mohany stared down at the ground, while Garyson smirked a little. He had a sort of grin that spelled boyish trouble, and it was a ruthless snicker at best.

Wipe that smirk off your face—boy, he told Garyson. You go home Garyson, and you Mohany. I am disappointed in you. Mohany continued to stare at the ground, while Garyson made tracks across the field of cat tails. When his dad hears of this, you and him will clean it up, he told Mohany pointing down at the mess, which used to be one of the reservation’s Tee Pees.

Mohany glanced up at Black Claw. I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean for him to do that.

When I get done, you’ll not be playing those games again.

January, 1980

Years had passed since he heard that phrase, and now he was older. He was no longer a small boy playing games, but a young man. Black Claw’s hair had gone gray, as time passed in a flicker. Mohany had served in Viet Nam, returning as a well decorated war hero. He had a treasure house of wealth in his knowledge of the land, and how things interacted with each other. He gazed into the old eyes of his father. There were secrets that Black Claw hadn’t yet shared with him. They were the secrets of the Cahuilla Indians, secrets of survival and farming, ancient herbal medicines and gourmet plant foods. Secrets passed down from one son to the next, spanning generations of times when things changed. This was one of those times, and Mohany felt it, yet he wanted very much his freedoms in the world. He’d been many places his father hadn’t, seen of the world many things his father knew little of.

There was so much to do and learn, yet Black Claw hadn’t shown him all of it. Remember well my teachings son, for one day they’ll save your hide. Black Claw’s words hit the young man hard.

He was about to go out and seek his fortune in society, and the thought of parting from his dad, hit him in a soft gentle spot, where the war never penetrated his heart. He hugged his father as tears ran between them. There was a special bond between the two of them, a bond that went deeper than life. Palm Springs was a likely place to find work. Mohany planned to go there, first thing the next morning.

Black Claw’s skin had become wrinkled from the years. In his day, he was an energetic man, full of life; eager to learn all that there was to learn of his people. Now he was a tired old man, docile, recessed, waiting to greet Montakwet, the gatekeeper, at the rocks to Telmekish (heaven). His were the ways of the old, and he appreciated few modern day accessories with the exception of Cable television on Friday nights. This was the one time he sat up late, watching the Playboy channel and the nude girls.

September 1982

Mohany worked hard in the growing town of Palm Springs, pouring every ounce of sweat into his job. He maintained a certain pride and endurance that carried with him wherever he went, while he made the best of his work. But he wasn’t the only one to know of it, for it shined like a fluorescent glow amongst his peers. Working two jobs was a lot, but he knew, to get the money to start his own business, he’d have to have something. Therefore, he worked at the Restaurant cleaning tables during the day, and at a lavish hotel during the evening hours, performing odd jobs and hardware maintenance. This was the life that dominated the lad, all work, and little occasional time for the night life.

Sitting on a bar stool, his eyes scanned the disco floor of this famous Desert Palms nightclub. The women were all dressed up, dancing and cutting loose on the floor, as multicolored lights whirled from the ceiling, highlighting their figures and glitter. He’d come to Bennito's for a short while. All the locals knew it as a hot spot for meeting the opposite sex, and he was no different, making his first go at it.

Outside in the driveway, a Rolls pulled up, its shimmering black paint job, reflecting the lighting, the shiny chrome glittering in the moon’s mist. This was definitely a wild place, and the wealthiest of Palm Springs citizens also socialized here for a drink or two. Mohany felt embarrassed here, as his banged up Ford Pinto, and his cheap style of dress, didn’t fit in. However, he wasn’t about to give up.

Sniffing the air, he could smell the sweet fragrances as the women walked past him. He wondered why he had not been born to a wealthier family, and yet had he, there came the reality that his special relationship between his dad and him would never have existed.

The three women sat near him, talking to each other about their personal lives, and sizing up the men inside. Mohany’s eyes scanned the building. Low and behold, he spotted the three women. A fast paced disco song, the Spinners singing ‘Working My Way Back To You’ began to pulse, while the smoke vibrated in the active atmosphere of the evening. He fixed his jacket, and then he ran his fingers through his hair. Getting up, he walked towards the three women, prepared to make their acquaintance. His nerves were on edge, his charisma scattered, as he stared down at all of them. He knew what they were looking for. They were here to meet people. One of the girls threw him an evil eye. They wanted money, or so he thought. Hi, he smiled.

One of the women got up and walked away, giving him no second thought. Another one got up and turned to a man on her other side, quickly ignoring him. The third lady glanced up into his eyes, as she scanned him up and down. Hello, she replied, smiling back at him.

I saw you sitting here, and thought you might need some company, he replied. Sitting next to her, he crowded the other lady, her friend. Do you always come here? he asked.

She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. Blowing smoke in his face, she sat back and continued to stare at the disco floor. That depends, she replied, blowing more out the side of her mouth at him.

I’m sorry to have bothered you. He got up and was about ready to walk, when she grabbed his jacket, holding onto him.

You’re too nervous. You have to loosen up, go with the flow, she told him. Come on, let’s go out on the floor. You’ll loosen up to the music. She grabbed his hand, almost dragging him out there, under the flashing lights and the loud disco tune.

I’m really not a good dancer, he protested.

All it takes is practice and nerve, she casually replied. Look at the rest of these guys; they’re all working at it. She spun him around. So what brings you to this place, sex or money?

Neither, he replied. I came, because I wanted to have a good time.

Everyone wants to have a good time, she answered, spinning him around again. What type of good time, do you want to have?

The time of my life, he replied. Just then the music stopped, and they retired to the bar. Let me buy you a drink, he offered, eyeballing her sparkly dress.

Okay, she accepted him at his offer. They both sat on stools, gazing into each other’s eyes. There certainly was an attraction building between these two adults, and theirs wasn’t just the usual variety. So what type of work do you do?

Ah, one of those questions. I work at a hotel, he replied, taking a sip of the drink. But, I don’t plan to be there long.

She took a sip of her drink, sizing him up. I would hope that it isn’t for long.

I’ll tell you what. After the drinks, why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you the hotel.

She smiled at him. That might prove interesting—okay.

He’d aged the last few years, as he sat by the poolside of a large hotel. They’d invited him here to possibly be supported as sheriff of Riverside County. He’d served up in Central California, in the High Sierras, retiring, thinking only of relaxation. But time took from him, his one true love, and that love was his work. He had missed the cases, and the deputies. This was a wild, open county, and he toyed with the idea of trying for office. It would at least be a start, yet he had it made, if he’d just stay clear of the politics, let it all go. Wyler Scott wondered how things would work out.

Younger women walked past him, on their way to the inviting warmth of the Jacuzzi. Its waters bubbling in the cool night air, the silhouettes of the high San Jacintos, highlighting the backdrop against the star filled skies. Reclining back in the lounger, he took in the view. Then he started to think again. Perhaps he’s found peace within himself, in what seemed to be the perfect life. Things had worked themselves out over the years, even though he had experienced the depths, of what some would call hell.

Just as things remained settled this evening for Wyler, he heard a scream. His natural instincts kicked in. Within a few moments, he was up and about. Rushing, he headed around the pool to the lady. She was holding her right foot in pain as she screamed and whined like an old sow.

Pointing at the ground, the yellow creature, a natural inhabitant of the desert regions of Southern California, moved and started at Wyler with its stinger up. He took a cup of water, dumping it in the pool, and put it over the creature. She had been stung. Wyler knew an older woman at this age, heavy–set as she was, could be in for some real problems. One of the oldest creatures in the world, feared by many and liked by few. There it sat, under the glass, trying to get out of its hopeless situation, twisting and stinging. Wyler took a piece of paper, slipping it under the cup. He then flipped the cup over, sealing the scorpion’s fate. It kept stinging at the glass, lying in its own pool of venin, trying to claw its way out of the slippery surface. Wyler studied it, while a crowd formed around both him and the agonizing lady.

Get a doctor, the scorpion stung her, one man yelled.

Damned, her wound is swelling, came the words of another. Wyler looked around as the woman sat back, crying more from the thought than the actual event itself.

Mohany ran up near the poolside, staring at the lady. He recognized the scorpion at once. Wyler threw him a peculiar look of arrogance. Glancing around, Mohany wondered where he’d get the material. Then, he took his jacket, and pulled out a knife. Quickly, working with precision, he cut part of the garment at the arm, ripping at the rest. Stretching the material, he wrapped it around the lady’s leg, above where the sting had occurred. Tying it tight he took the blade, which glimmered in the evening light. What are you doing with that knife young man, she asked?

I’m saving your ass lady. That scorpion, he pointed to the glass Wyler was holding, It’s the deadliest of the small species. You don’t have long if I fail to do this. He turned to the ex-sheriff. Get some rubbing alcohol—quickly. Wyler handed the covered glass to another guy, sprinting as quickly as possible for the front desk.

He returned within a few minutes, and Mohany grabbed it from him, sterilizing the knife, then making a cut in the woman’s leg, above the wound. Her blood ran fast, as Mohany pushed below it. The venin flowed out of it, while he pressed above the incision, until all that ran was red blood. She lay back, holding her head. Dizziness had overtaken her, and the sound of sirens in the background, finished it. The ambulances were on their way, and that meant medical help. The creature continued to make hopeless attempts at freedom as Mohany took the glass from Wyler. He studied the insect. You seem to know a lot about this little booger? Wyler questioned. Oh, I didn’t catch the name?

Mohany looked into Wyler’s eyes. Not that it matters. But my name is Mohany. Mohany Rodriguez

Well Mohany, least I can do is buy you a cold one. Wyler looked at the scorpion in the jar. What are ya gonna do with that thing?

I don’t like to kill that which belongs in the wild. Besides I have a heart, I will keep it as a pet, he gestured at Wyler, –or perhaps set it free.

Wyler Scott, he introduced himself to Mohany. He now had made a new acquaintance in the desert, and this one was a native. Well Mohany. It looks like the police and medics are here. I certainly hope she doesn’t sue you, Wyler smiled jokingly. But it hadn’t struck Mohany as a joke when someone presented his attorney’s card to the woman, who by now was half out of it.

They looked in Wyler’s direction and he turned to look by his side where Mohany was standing. But the Indian was gone, as though he had vanished into thin air. It was only a moment, and that moment stuck in the ex-sheriff’s mind. This man saved a woman’s life. Now the woman was being presented with a way, to legally confiscate his earnings or properties. It wasn’t fair, but what was fair in the world of the eighties. The decade started off with a new president who was formerly an actor, turned politician. Things with Russia had never been worse, and here he was at poolside, watching a situation unfold that he hadn’t anticipated. Besides that, there were troubles in the county and the thoughts of running for the sheriff’s office lay in the back of his mind.

A man approached Wyler. Did you see where that kid went?

Why, no I didn’t.

That’s too bad. That young man saved her life. That scorpion sting could have proved fatal if he didn’t get involved.

Wyler tugged a little on that thick bushy mustache of his. He did that when he was nervous. I imagine he knew it when he saw the situation.

If I ever find him. I’ll do anything to help him. The man handed Wyler a card, then turned and went back to the ambulance, which at this point was about to whisk his wife off to the local hospital.

Mohany kissed her on a busy street corner in downtown Palm Springs. It was good meeting you. Even if you ripped your jacket by accident, she told him. A smile dawned on his face and hers as well, and they embraced each other’s moist lips once again. A horn from a passing car grabbed at their attention. They both looked in the direction of the car for a moment. The lights of Palm Springs at night, against the back drop of the San Jacintos, were absolutely breathtaking. There is a certain air to the town that adds spice to the life of one so new as Mohany. He was growing up, and the passing of his father brought out that man in him, as each day proceeded. However, little was he aware of the test that awaited him in the near future. It would become the test of a lifetime that would push his abilities to the ultimate, for if he failed, there would be everything to lose and nothing to gain, including his life.

CHAPTER TWO

October 1983

Reporters covered the area in front of the stage, like flies on honey. They were waiting for somebody very important, as their cameramen and microphones stood ready. Many people crowded the small auditorium. Then Wyler Scott fixed his tie, walking onto the stage.

Cameras clicked, bulbs flashed, as the crowd of reporters flooded Wyler with questions. He had been through this before, now he was going through it again. Only a few days earlier, did he think of this, feeling at ease with both his position and comfort the last few years. There had been something lacking in his life. Something that gave meaning to him, a sense for being who he was, and what he represented. The decision hadn’t been an easy one. But