The Cave at Goat Mountain

By Emily Beaver

Intrepid amateur sleuth, Meriwether Knight, is back in Texas, along with the father who's not been home in 25 years. The discovery of an ancient fossil in a hidden cave at the family ranch leads to a town in uproar and a possible murder investigation. Cryptic warnings and danger abound, and Meriwether is at the heart of it all. Join Meriwether as she solves yet another mystery and puts another family's demons to rest in The Cave at Goat Mountain, Book 2 in the Meriwether Mystery series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Smooth Sailing Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2008
• ISBN: 9781618990426

Emily Beaver

Emily Beaver first wrote the title "Slipping Reality" at fourteen years old. A dedicated writer since the age of eight, she had always dreamt of publishing a novel in her teenage years, and it was the death of her brother Matthew that gave her the courage. Emily is currently a senior in high school, and her work can be seen in "Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cancer Book", various magazines, and thisibelieve.org. She is also a regular contributor on SparkNotes.com. In addition to writing, Emily loves acting, singing, and knowing Disneyland better than her own school campus. She lives in San Diego, California with her parents Ellisa and Steven, and their two German Shepherds, Rocket and Nala. You can follow her on her website at www.emilysreality.com.

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The Cave at Goat Mountain

By

Emily Beaver

The Cave at Goat Mountain

Copyright © 2014 by Smooth Sailing Press, LLC

Meriwether Mystery Series Book 2

Author Emily Beaver

Original Illustrations by Joy Noguess

All rights reserved.  No part of the work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise, or by any storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act, or in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission should be made in writing to:

Smooth Sailing Press, LLC

20519 Sunshine Ln., Suite B

Spring, TX 77388

[phone]

Printed in China

ISBN 978-1-933660-43-1 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-618990-42-6 (eBook)

Smooth Sailing press

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…for my dear parents.

Prologue

Churning gusts rippled through her loose hair.  Mist, born on the wings of the wind, covered her face in a cool, wet mask. 

All was darkness; but in the darkness there was a presence.  A presence not of the earth . . . but of air.

Meriwether searched the skies with blind eyes, and terror coursed through her body like rivets of electricity.

Flash! The sky lit like a thousand lamps.

Winged, black, enormous . . . she saw what she knew all along was there . . . had to be there . . . hovering, seeking, searching.

A piercing cry echoed into the night, and Meriwether knew this was it.  She would never watch another sunrise.  Never see Daniel's wide, easy grin.  Never laugh with Holly.  Never feel her father's gentle, whiskery kiss.  She braced herself for the inevitable . . . and awoke! in a mess of jumbled, sweaty sheets -- her heart leaping to escape her heaving chest.

Chapter One

Meriwether stared out dreamily across the expanse of clipped green lawn as she brushed her wavy locks in a slow, methodical rhythm.  The little house she could see from her bedroom window reminded her of the picturesque stone cottages of Oxfordshire, and even though the pitched roof was covered with wooden shingles instead of thatch, Meriwether could easily imagine herself with Daniel and Mrs. Doone, walking the winding country lane that would soon become Church Way.

Queenie, Miss Tillie’s little roving dog, yelped sharply from somewhere nearby. Jolted out of her reverie, Meriwether lay down her brush, pulled her hair into a pony-tail, and slipped on shorts and a sleeveless top over her swim suit.

As she made the trek through the great house she permanently occupied along with her grandmother . . . and temporarily shared with her archaeologist father, Meriwether tried not to think about the day, just a few short months ago, that she had traveled this same route -- a feeling of raw dread gnawing at her belly -- to discover Grandmother, mid heart attack, gasping and crumpled in her dressing room. 

The memory, especially now that she was back again, haunted her.  She scrunched her eyes and shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the parasitic thoughts that harbored in her brain, and made a conscious effort to think on happier things. After all, everything had turned out for the best. While she recuperated, Grandmother had sent Meriwether to her estranged father, Dr. Peter Knight, in England, and now he was here, in Texas, making up for lost years and old mistakes.

Grandmother's 75th birthday was today, and the Knights were hosting a soirée in the big house to commemorate the event.  An open invitation had been issued in the Sterling City Eagle so that no one would feel left out, and Meriwether expected that at least half the town would show up out of respect for Grandmother . . . and curiosity about Dr. Knight.

He'd left town the day after his high school graduation - loath to comply with his father's plans for his life after college - and had cut all contact, except for the infant daughter he'd sent with his housekeeper to be raised by her grandparents and one brief visit - to pay his respects at Mr. Knight's funeral.

Of course, everyone knew he was back.  Meriwether could feel the stares and knew people were talking about them whenever they saw her.  But, so far, Dr. Knight had kept himself either hidden away in his boyhood home or out at the ranch, reacquainting himself with the land and practicing his rusty Spanish on Abel, the Knight's Mexican born foreman. 

Abel had worked for the Knights, alongside his own father, since he was old enough to saddle a horse. He knew more about the ranch than anyone, and Dr. Knight had been picking his brain - trying not to be a bother. Abel was used to working alone.

Meriwether wasn't sure what was going on, but she could see her father's wheels turning. She figured he would let her know what he was thinking when he was ready, and if his reticence got the better of him, well . . . there was more than one way to skin a cat. Meriwether was not particularly known for her patience.

It was on this thought that Meriwether entered the breakfast room where Grandmother sat playing Solitaire at the shining wooden table.  Maricella and her sister Ana, under Aunt Phil's diligent supervision, were busily preparing for the party that night.  Meriwether felt guilty about skipping out on them, but she had promised Holly she would go swimming, and she had spent all morning tidying her room ...in case anyone got nosy.

I'm going swimming with Holly . . . be back in a few! she announced as she wound her way through the kitchen, grabbing a handful of grapes from the wooden bowl on top of the butcher block island.

Do you need any money? asked Grandmother without looking up from her cards. 

No, I'm good, answered Meriwether.

Aunt Phil swung in through the doors leading to the formal area of the house, normally used only for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the occasional Bridge party; the setting for the night's festivities. In her gloved hands was a blackened, greasy cloth (she'd been polishing silver), and her short dark hair was tied back in a kerchief, emphasizing the sharp lines of her face. She took one appraising look at Meriwether, Leaving?

Meriwether prepared to stand her ground.  She already had Grandmother's permission, and that was all she needed.  I promised Holly I'd go swimming, she said firmly, forcing herself to look Aunt Phil in the eye.  Why did she feel like such a worm?

Aunt Phil pursed her lips, a look of consternation flitting across her face.  Then, with effort, smiled brightly -- if not convincingly -- and replied in what she obviously meant to be friendly tones, Oh, good!  That's fine.  Maricella and I don't mind finishing up . . . You go and have fun. Don't mind us!

Meriwether could feel her color rising at the familiar manipulation.  She smiled wanly; remembering the phrase Grandmother had taught her from childhood: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

Bye, she said to no one in particular as she turned away from Aunt Phil and headed for the garage where her bike was stowed. She pressed the garage door opener, walked her bike out onto the drive, propped it up with the stand, went back into the garage, pressed the opener again, and raced under the closing door . . . ducking at the crucial moment. She waved at old Miss Ina, pottering about in her yard, water can in hand -- mounted her bike, and pedaled to Holly's.

When she got there, Holly's brothers Luke and John were playing basketball in the driveway, and Holly stood with her bike at the curb. As Meriwether sailed by, Holly swung in beside her. You escaped! laughed Holly, white teeth and deep blue eyes flashing.

Yeah, she wasn't too happy about it, giggled Meriwether with wind-induced euphoria.

Your grandmother?

"No, Aunt Phil.  She's helping get ready for the party tonight."

I feel sorry for Maricella.

Yeah, agreed Meriwether.

Where's your dad?

At the ranch.

Again?

Um-hmm.

He'll be there tonight though, right? wondered Holly.

Yeah, I don't see how he can get out of that one.

Everybody's dying to meet him.

I know, sighed Meriwether.

Holly pulled her bike over, and Meriwether followed suit.  What's wrong, Mer?

Nothing, Meriwether hedged.

Mer, I've known you since 1st grade. I know when something's wrong.

Meriwether tried -- and failed -- to avoid Holly's piercing look. Her hazel eyes met those of her best friend, Okay, I give up already! But I'm warning you, it's really stupid.

Holly didn't say anything; she just waited for Meriwether to spit it out.

. . . Well, when we were in Oxford . . . it felt like we were getting really close, you know?  Holly nodded.  "But now that we're back here . . . I don't know . . . it's like he doesn't have time for me . . . and that's crazy because he's not doing anything!  Meriwether was really getting going now.  I mean, he goes out to the ranch every day . . . spends all day with Abel, probably driving him insane, and he never even bothers to ask if I might want to come too! . . . .  And then at night, he disappears behind this massive book he's been reading, and it's impossible to get a word out of him!"

Holly started walking her bike along the shoulder of the street, Maybe it's really hard for him . . . being back here I mean.

Yeah, I guess, conceded Meriwether.

And maybe he's waiting for you to say you want to go with him.

Maybe.

Yeah.

Thanks.

No problem!  The doctor is in!  Holly laughed as they swung back on their bikes and pedaled the last hundred yards or so to the pool.

Chapter Two

As Meriwether dressed carefully for the party later that evening, she thought about the last time she had really gotten dressed up:  her amazing twelfth birthday, spent in Oxford with her father, and Daniel, and Mrs. Doone.  How she missed them!  And it had only been a few weeks.  The little townhouse on Abingdon Road had seemed almost instantly home, the people, family. 

Meriwether had thought about writing Daniel a couple of times since returning to