Wyler Scott Series #4
Broken Canyon
By
"Mark Paul" Sebar
Copyright 1995 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.
A mixture of Trouble
Mix together two feuding ranch estates, a ghostly secret and lost gold. Throw in a personal family dispute, and Wyler Scott, for Broken Canyon. On an invitation from a scared relative, the sheriff finds himself caught up in a nasty broil, over cattle and sheep. Befriended by Apache's, who are loathed by the local law, Wyler takes the rap from crooked deputies. It's a frame up, to get him out of the way. The Bodell's want him dead. The drug trafficker's want him dead. A ghostly curse threatens the Scott family, and a hired hitman pursues the sheriff, on a family visit he will never forget. It’s Wyler Scott at his best. Lots of action when he visits these problems in North Eastern Arizona. The West will never be the same!
Broken Canyon
Sheriff Wyler Scott Novel #4
First Edition Printing 2011
Copyright © 1995 All Rights Reserved
Library of Congress, United States of America
ISBN 978-1-930246-41-6 TXu000838198
Please support the author, many thousands of hours went into this story.
Table of Contents
Broken Canyon Links of Interest
Chapter 1
Page Arizona
Sky Parks was a beautiful woman, in her early thirties. She was also a town sheriff in Page Arizona. Her word was commanding, her skill at Jujitsu, the best. Local folk heeded her warnings, respected her presence. For a long time there were subdued feelings of anger and hatred at the Bodell Ranch, and she was always cognizant of the fact there would one day be a problem with those folks. They were an evil family, bent on controlling the cattle industry, in northeastern Arizona. She had a seminar to attend in Tokyo. Her first deputy, Clyde Swenson, carried her bags to her car. He helped her put them in her trunk. "Ma’am," he tipped his hat. "If you don't mind my asking, how long ya gonna be?"
"Two weeks. I expect a call from you every night at this number." She handed him a note. "I want to know what's happening around here when I am gone. This is an important seminar, and I don't want to miss it. Oh, Clyde."
"Yes ma’am."
"Make sure too keep an eye on the Bodell's, I wanna know any problems that arise. There has been some trouble with Jesse Bodell and his friends."
"I'll be sure to call you if there's any trouble happenin'." He watched her get in the old Ford Galaxie. The car was a restored 69 model, gloss white in color. One could see she was a clean person, by how she maintained her set of wheels. The paint shined, as she drove away from him.
Sky glanced in the rear view mirror. She had a feeling for the moment, but it passed, as she headed south towards Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, to catch her flight.
Coahchella Valley, California
The desert was blistering hot, but it had come down to a murder investigation. Wyler wasn't the man to mess with, he was someone, you just left alone. If you didn't, you were flirting with death, a fast and just death. The sheriff's instincts told him what was happening. They were arguing inside the Cathedral City apartment, hurling insults. A fight was emerging from the hatred between the woman and her husband. Mohany looked to Wyler for approval, the sheriff nodded. The Cahuilla deputy announced their presence.
"Riverside County Sheriff's Department, we have a search warrant."
Bang, bang, bang, all shots went through the wooden door. "So much for that," Wyler remarked. "Bubba, you get your vest on. I don't want you getting shot on me a second time."
The big black deputy straightened his Resistol hat. "Give me a little more credit than that, boss."
Wyler pointed at the locked handle. Then he squeezed off a round from his Stainless steel Dan Wesson 44 magnum, which took the handle clear off. "I have a question for you Wyler Scott," Bubba asked. "Why a 44 magnum? Why a Dan Wesson revolver?"
"Because I hit what I aim at, and then some. As for the brand. They're one of the most accurate revolvers on the market. Besides, with my Pistol Pacs, I can change barrel sizes." He pushed the door with his foot. Two more shots went through the wooden door.
Mohany came back from around the side of the apartment. "Sheriff, I got a look at him. He's got a snub 357, the lady's in the bathroom tied up."
Wyler swung the 44 magnum to the wall. He stood back, squeezing off three rounds. A moment later, there was a thud, and then a scream. Bubba kicked the door in as a shot rang past his head at the ceiling. Wyler entered behind him, putting another round in the dying suspect. The dying man looked up at Wyler. "I curse you to hell. Your relatives will pay with their lives for this," then he collapsed. Mohany entered the bathroom, quickly freeing the woman from her ropes, as more deputies filed into the apartment.
Bubba turned to Wyler. "You shouldn't take that seriously, Sheriff. I heard curses all the time in East L.A., from the opposing brothers, and I'm here talking about it."
"Damned well came close to a bullet in the head, too," Wyler scolded.
Mohany carried her from the bathroom. "I got the girl," he smiled. They all gave him a dirty look. "Well, don't all of you thank me at once," he commented, gently setting her on the couch. In moments, the paramedics were on the scene.
Wyler exited the premises. He stood on the balcony of the apartment complex, taking a deep breath of the smoggy summer air. To the east, a thunderhead crackled. It was monsoon weather out there, scorching hot in some parts of the desert, and sticky in others. He fixed his Stetson atop his head, taking a report that was handed to him, by another deputy.
"I'm due for a vacation purdy soon," he told himself.
"Remember the last time you took one," Mohany grinned, "Almost got me killed."
"Everyone almost got killed," Wyler replied. "You still heading to Japan for that conference?"
"Yeah," Mohany told him. "I stayed there on tour of duty during my days in Nam. I have a few old haunts over there that need revisiting, besides, it's a month long deal."
"I'd probably go myself if I had the time, but the way things are going here, I don't. Sushi and me have never agreed."
Mohany laughed a moment. "Sushi, huh."
"You have fun over there, I'm sure you'll be bringing me a lot of paraphernalia, when you get back." Wyler took his hat off wiping his forehead. "I need to get one those hats with ventilation holes in the sides, it's a hundred degrees wherever you go in Southern California."
"Yeah, but this is the home of my ancestor's, the Cahuilla Indian's. Look at those beautiful mountains," Mohany pointed at the High San Jacintos, rising above the smog of Palm Springs. "It's different up there."
Wyler checked his cylinders, emptying the spent rounds. He refilled the revolver, holstering it. "That was a real adventure then. I almost didn't get to you."
"Glad you did, sheriff. It's been a very rewarding career. I've had a lot of time to think lately."
Wyler thought he was going to say the worst. "Don't even think of quitting on me. I need you in this department. That Pu'ul ESP of yours, been keeping my neck out of some hot spots."
"No, not that. I got laid the other night by this chick from Cucamonga. She's a fine woman, got it all. I've had a few thoughts about tying the knot, but she is just in passing I suspect. Wanted to know if you’re interested in becoming a best man when my time comes?"
"Whoa…that came out of left field. Sounds like Mohany Rodriguez is ready to settle down." A couple of pesky flies attacked Wyler's head, as he constantly brushed them away.
"I'm not getting any younger, sheriff. I want a family, a son to teach what I have learned, as my father taught me. A wife to share my lonely time with. I need to get my life going, before it's gone."
Wyler smiled. "C’mon, I'll buy you an ice cold Sharp's. It's too damned hot out here."
Wyler and Mohany walked down to the sheriff's truck, as Bubba came running up behind them. Wyler looked at him. "Join us for a non-alcoholic beer."
"Thanks sheriff, it's almost that time of day." Bubba hopped in the passenger seat, Mohany got in back, and they all drove away. The paperwork these poor men would face was becoming overwhelming. Wyler knew he would have to streamline the workload, and pencil pushing at some point in the near future. Nevertheless, for now it was a matter of getting out of the blistering heat.
Northern Arizona
Big Mesa was a Tonto Apache Indian. He was actually a man of average height, who wore a chop top hairdo. Never once in his life did he ever smoke cigarettes, or use drugs. He almost never touched liquor, and knew nothing of gambling. His bank account was gained through honest hard work, using his hands and pouring sweat. The draw of dusk brought him to Angela Powers doorstep. Her family had accepted Big Mesa, realizing his solid values as a person. His older brother, Juh Mesa, was a different story. If ever there was a contrast, Juh was it. He'd tried drugs, smoked cigarettes and committed a murder at 13. But, the claim was that the murder was self defense. Even though the proof was there, Juh got the short end of the stick, spending time in jail. He was a hardened man, heading toward ruination. While the two lived together on the Navajo Reservation, they rarely talked. However, there was a strong love between them, that when things got bad, they were there as family.
Big Mesa waited on the porch of the old home, while Angela approached him on the porch. "I have this spot near Monument Valley, that's just breathtaking," he smiled.
"What kind of spot?" her old man questioned.
"Dad, don't jump on him. I'm a lot safer with his relatives and him, then with troublemakers like Jesse."
"Jesse's no troublemaker, he's a good kid, comes from a rich family. I suppose there ain't much I can do too change your mind?" he told them. "Big Mesa, you take care of my daughter. If anything happens to her, you're responsible."
"You know I will sir. She's my life." His words were sincere, and Mister Powers knew that to be true.
Big, removed the braid from her golden blond hair. Then the two of them walked over to his Jeep. He opened the door for her to get in. "I love you," he told her.
"I know. I love you too," she replied. They both drove off in the Jeep, leaving dust behind them.
Monument Valley was just as pretty as it had been in many a western photo or movie. Their Jeep sat at the edge of a cliff, a beautiful sunset, and clouds in the distant western sky, aglow in red and orange hues.
"This truly is beautiful," Angela remarked. "Your ancestors were lucky to live in Arizona. I can see why they live here."
"Most of them were Apache's, from Tonto. But now, Juh and I live with our Aunt…she's a Navajo." He turned around, reaching into the back of the Jeep. Big, handed her a gift, prodding her to unwrap it. "Go ahead, I got this for you."
Delicately, she undid the red ribbon. Then she meticulously unwrapped the gift. "You didn't have to—"
"I wanted you to have this."
"How beautiful. What is it?"
Big wiped his sweating brow. Then he reached across and kissed her on the lips. It was a passionate kiss, each rubbing tongues, exchanging drool. "A Kachina doll. My Aunt made this one for us. I have a question to ask you."
She put the doll on the dash. "What question is that?"
"Will you marry me?" He spotted resistance in her eyes; he read it like a book. "Give it time and thought. I have been waiting for the right time to make this proposal."
She caught her breath, bluntly staring into the sunset. "Yes Big Mesa, I will marry you. When do you want to do this?"
"I want to let our folks know. We can plan this anytime, how about this Saturday?"
"Okay. I have always wanted to get married in Vegas. How about a Vegas wedding," she smiled, realizing the commitment she was making? But it was a step forward, a beginning in her life. She grabbed his cell phone, dialing her home number. "Dad, I'm going to marry Big Mesa this Saturday."
"You can't do that," he threatened. "You're—"
"It's going to happen and that's, that." She hung up on him.
"No, I'll just stop this right here and now." Her father dialed the Bodell's Ranch. "Let me talk to Jesse."
A moment passed, while he waited on the line. Jesse was a good-looking kid. He was also a troublemaker, with an eye for Angela, and a hatred for all people who weren't white, especially Native American's. "This is Jesse."
"My daughter's with Big Mesa at the edge of Monument. The two of them are planning to get married on Saturday. Now, normally I would let her go, but not with Big Mesa. I'd advise you to stop her, and change her mind before she makes this terrible mistake. Do what I would have done when I was your age." The words that Mister Powers spurted were from prejudiced anger.
"No problem Mister Powers, I'll take care of this personally. Your little girl's safe with me." He hung up the phone, grabbed a forty-five, and popped a clip in it. Jesse picked up the cordless phone, calling his friends. "He's at it again. Sam, get Josh and Rod. I'm going to scalp an Injun and get a new girlfriend in one night." He holstered the forty-five, pulled out a large, sharp, blade. The evil steel glimmered under the living room lights. He grabbed his keys, heading out the door.
Wyler pulled up in his old Chevy Blazer, which had a slight case of pre-ignition sputters; he had been having car problems lately. In front of his Mobil home, sat a gloss black, Porsche 911 Carrera 4. There was a pink ribbon wrapped around it. He saw that Ileen's car was gone, and his door was ajar. The sheriff knew something was going on. He pulled his big Dan Wesson 357 Super Magnum from his new shoulder holster. The barrel was 8 inches long, with two heat-dissipating slots on each side. Thumbing the hammer back, he kicked the door open, with his foot. A cute blond in a bathing suit was on his couch. She jumped up, yelling "surprise!" And was she ever surprised to see the gun blaring down at her nose.
He holstered the weapon. "By God lady, could have given a man a heart problem."
She approached him. "This is to let you know that you have won a new Porsche in the Publisher's Bookworm Sweepstakes." She handed him the keys and pink slip.
He was speechless. "Where's—?"
"The other lady wanted me to tell you, she's on her way." Then she wrapped her arms around Wyler, pressing her lips against his. "I'm your second prize," she told him.
He gently pushed her away, glancing at her cleavage in the swimsuit. She had a nice bust, that matched the rest of her gorgeous figure. "Thank you for coming," he showed her to the door, "but I have some things to attend to, and this is a bad time. I'll call you a taxi." He helped her out onto the porch, and then closed the door behind him. She seemed bewildered, but accepted his privacy. Wyler glanced at the Porsche keys in his hand. He moved the shade, to look at the black car once more.
The taxi soon arrived, and she was gone. Not long after that, Ileen drove up. Wyler opened the door. He could see she had a left black-eye. "Ileen, what happened to your face?" It was something he had not expected.
"I had an accident and slipped. Here are your house keys." She paused a moment. There was something she really wanted to say, but she blurted something else instead. She could not look him in the eyes. "Fred's a good man. I guess I have made the final choice. Goodbye Wyler." She left him standing in that spot. He wanted to chase her, but his chasing days with her, had come full circle, and he realized that he had to give her the freedom she sought, as he truly loved her.
Jesse and his group drove down the highway, looking for trouble in their Land Rover. The 4X4 was loaded with every expensive feature that one could only imagine. He was a rich kid, whose arrogance spelled trouble. In a sense, he was a mirror image of his father, Alex Bodell. This kid had been jailed in the past for drug trafficking, attempted murder and rape, yet never served time, however, due to his family's wealth. If there were two kinds of justice in the land, his was the higher one. A justice, where criminals got country clubs, instead of jail, like the rest of Americans.
"I see em' over there," Rod remarked.
"Yeah, that's gotta be them in the Jeep," Josh added.
Jesse pulled the forty-five from the holster. He cocked it. Just as they turned off, the Jeep started out down the dirt road for the highway. "Show her a good time will you," Jesse remarked. He turned the truck and gave chase. "I'll show you marriage to my girl, stupid Indian. I'll show you Bodell justice." He floored the vehicle, bashing the back of the Jeep.
"What the," Big Mesa remarked.
She turned, spying a glimpse of the Land Rover, her worse fears coming true. "It's Jesse and his friends."
Jesse took a sip of beer from the can, ramming the Jeep again. "That's for screwing her."
"Get his ass!" Sam shouted in excitement, his adrenalin pumping.
Big, shifted the Jeep into a higher gear, giving it the gas. They were playing a game of chase on a twisted mesa road, in the middle of nowhere. It was a dangerous game, leading to 500 hundred foot drop-offs into ravines.
Jesse bumped him again, causing Big to fight for control of the Jeep. He pulled the knife from its spot, nudging Big again.
"They're gaining on us…do something," she desperately cried out. "He'll kill us."
"No he won't," Big told her. "He wants my neck. It had to be your father who called him. I know my aunt wouldn't want anything to do with this."
Jesse pushed him one more time, causing Big to lose control of the vehicle. He ended up going straight into an embankment. Jesse skidded his truck to a halt.
Big, got out of the car, helping Angela to her feet. "You bastards!" she yelled.
Big stood in front of her, putting his hands out towards his sides, looking to protect her from the four boys. He realized they were in deep doo-doo, having to face murderers. There was nothing to protect him from what was coming. Jesse approached him, gun in hand. Rod made the first attempt at grasping Big, but he laid a foot to the groin, stopping that little venture real fast. Rod dropped to the ground in agony.
Josh, however, was a lot bigger fellow, and therefore a lot more cautious as he took a swing at Big. Big laid a punch to his belly, ducking as he did so. Josh stumbled backwards, knocking Jesse to the ground. Rod was just getting up as Sam came at Big. Angela stepped back out of the way. Big swung punches in all directions, catching Rod on the lip and Sam in the chest. But it wasn't enough to stop four on one, and time was running down for Big.
Wyler studied the dash on the Porsche. He took the key and stuck it in the ignition on the left hand side. This was a car, meant to go fast. It had a stick shift. On the right hand side, were his black leather gloves. Out of respect for the car, he put them on, making sure the stick was in neutral. Then he turned the key in the ignition. The engine was cold, but it started with a varoom. It was in the back of the vehicle, a flathead six cylinder oil cooled motor, begging for him to take a little spin. It was dark out, as he put the lights on. There was a Blaupunkt stereo in the car. He cranked it up. K-Earth played old tunes from the 60's. He smiled, then pressing the button, he lowered the convertible top. It didn't get any better than this. He dropped it into first and accelerated away from the Mobil Park.
Chapter 2
Angela fought the three young men. Rod, grabbed at her top, while Jesse stood by, forty-five in hand. He pointed it at Big's leg. "You're gonna die, boy."
"No," she screamed. "Don't kill him."
Jesse turned to his three friends. "Put her in the car. I'll figure out what to do with her later." Then he turned towards Big. The Apache stood up, willing to face the bullet.
"I heard you got accepted to college at MIT. Only problem is, you ain't going." Jesse squeezed the trigger on the forty-five, ejecting the bullet towards Big's chest. It spun in the air, impacting Big, and creating a problem that wouldn't go away, until someone finished it.
Big was dying, but still alive. He tried to sit up, unable to find the strength. "Tell me Jesse, what did I ever do to you, to deserve this?"
As Jesse leaned over him, pulling the knife, he smiled. "You was born. Frankly I don't like anyone who ain't white folks, and my Pa feels the same way. That list includes Niggers, Kikes, Wops, Pollock’s, Mick’s, Spics, Chinks and Habibs." He took the knife, grasping Big's hair. Big looked up at him. "This is gonna hurt a little, but I figure it's worth something, round these parts." As Big screamed, Jesse cut into the scalp, blood gushing from the atrocious wounds. He yanked on the hair, pulling it back, with the rest of the scalp. Then he took the knife, Big still alive, and stuck it in his chest, killing the Apache. "See, that ain't so bad, Injun."
Inside the Land Rover, the three boys were committing a rape. They held her back, each taking turns, while forcing themselves upon her subtle body. She struggled to get up, but they were overpowering. Jesse turned his attention to the vehicle, dawning a look of disgust. Opening the door, he gazed down at her. Then he forcefully pulled them off. "Ya ruined this for me. I told ya all to just hold her, not bang the daylights out of her." He thought for a second. "She's a raped witness." Jesse grabbed her arm, jerking her out of the car. "Sorry honey. I guess you done been poked by one too many. Things just changed." Putting the gun to her head, he squeezed the trigger.
Wyler pulled the Carrera into the driveway, pushing the button and closing the top on it. Smiling at the experience of having driven his first Porsche, he got out and put the alarm on.
Inside his Mobil home, he answered the ringing phone. "It's me sheriff. I'm getting ready for the trip out of Ontario. I'll call the department when I arrive in Tokyo."
"You damned well, have yerself a safe flight." Wyler sighed for a moment. There was an envelope on the table. He opened it while Mohany bid him farewell, then he hung up the phone.
Glancing over the letter, he read something he did not like. It was from his younger brother, John Scott. "Dear Wyler. I am writing you and others, because recently we have found our property threatened. People have been getting killed around these parts, and I fear that our large neighbors, the Bodell's, are looking to steal our land. I have been trying to get extra hands, but Alex Bodell, keeps hiring them away. The other day, a feller of his, and one of my guys, had a nasty little tangle, near a gully just south of here. I think the sheriff's department is bought and paid for as well, as they appear to side with the Bodell's every time. I have written for help, to Phoenix, but have gotten little, as they feel it's a local matter. Can you head out? You can try and call in, but our phones have been out of whack lately. I tried too call out the other day, and was followed by some Bodell henchmen. I managed to slip this one in the bag of the mailman. We're last on his mailer route. Please hurry. Love always, Your baby brother, John Scott."
He set the letter down on the table. Wyler wanted rest, but knew what was happening. Trouble was brewing, and this was the kind of trouble he'd dealt with before. It was in a remote part of the country, just as hot and desolate a desert as any, only this one was also filled with Buttes and Mesas; a spooky part of the country, and he realized what lay out there. Any bullet in the back, and a body disappeared into nowhere.
He pulled the Supermag from its custom holster. "Nobody screws with family," he mumbled. Grabbing the phone, he dialed Arizona information. "Yeah, I need the phone number of the Page Police or Sheriff's Department." He wrote it down on a small pad. He dialed the number. "Howdy, I'm calling for the sheriff."
"Hi, this is Deputy Little Joe." Little Joe was anything but little. He was a tall, thin man, with a mean streak, as bad as any that crossed the path of an angry rattler, and a hair-trigger temper to boot.
"Deputy, my name is Sheriff Wyler Scott. I'm calling to get in touch with a Sky Parks. Is she available?"
"She won't be available till two weeks or so. I think you had better talk with Clyde. He's in charge of things ‘round these parts." Clyde took the phone from Little Joe.
"Sheriff, you a personal friend a hers?"
"Nope, just business. I heard there's problems up there, and my family's being affected." He took a deep breath.
Clyde wiped his forehead. The beads of sweat flowing down it like a small river. "Now sheriff. Let me get something straight. We don't need you coming into our town and causing problems. If you come up this way, there's bound to be trouble. Everything's fine here…you dig?"
"I think I'm gonna be coming there. Got family to visit." Wyler bid him a farewell, as Clyde made threatening overtones at the sheriff. "Damned well is trouble," Wyler told himself. "My troubles to deal with."
"Hurry up, filling them graves, boys. Don't want any bodies showing up." He held the scalp in his hand like he’d won a trophy, blood still dripping from it. "Sam, you take the Jeep and drive it down into that Ravine over there. Then pull those plates and the little VIN number by the windshield and flame her." He gazed out over the outline of the monuments, etched against the bright, evening sky. "Damned Injun, why ya go and make me do a thing like that for?" He took the scalp, wrapped it in a plastic cloth, tossing it in the back of the Rover.
Sam drove the Jeep over to the edge of the ravine. He took a screwdriver out, and removed the plates from the vehicle, then went around the driver's side and worked the small VIN tag, till it came loose. Then he took one of the Jeep cans on the back of it, and poured gasoline all over the interior and hood. He released the brake, watching it roll over the edge. As it did, Sam tossed a match into the interior, diving aside from the flaming mass. It fell, grill first to the bottom, exploding into a fireball, which could be seen for miles.
"I don't think that was a good idea, Jesse. That fire can be seen a long ways off."
Jesse rubbed his chin a second. "I say what's good and what ain't. Gimme them plates, Sam." Sam handed him the plates. "Okay boys. We gotta hit his employer. Have some business that Pa needs finished with them Riley's. They aim to sell the land, I aim to get it."
The Riley's were Big Mesa's employers. They had a small place just north of town. It wasn't a big spread, so much as it was a strategic one. Part of Navajo Creek, an offshoot from Lake Powell, ran through their property. This was a threat to the Bodell’s. The Riley's could deny them a major watering hole for the cattle, at any time. Alex had been after them for years, to sign over the deed to their property. Now he was taking action through his son Jesse. It was something both he and Jesse had discussed in the past, and even though he didn't directly tell his kid to go out and kill, the implied message was still there. Only one other property could deny Alex Bodell water besides the Riley's, and he had not yet called upon the Scott's