Danger On Cherokee Ridge: The Bon Air Boys Adventures Series, #9

By Greg Golden

Normally quiet Lewisville is in the midst of a crime spree, and the Bon Air boys find themselves swept up by the mysteries and adventures as they help Sheriff Jenkins track down the perpetrator. Delayed by a fierce storm—going by horseback to the crest of Cherokee Ridge—traveling by boat to the property of a suspicious landowner—and hiking deep into an ancient forest on Native American tribal land, Frank, Griff, and Chase invite you to join them on their most fantastic adventure yet!

 

If you loved the original Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew books, you are already a fan of the Bon Air Boys! These wholesome adventures/mysteries are throwbacks to the days before cell phones and video games—when everyone rode their bicycles and talked with their buddies from bedrooms using walkie-talkies! Come along with Chase, Frank, and Griff, best friends from small-town mid-America. Adventure, intrigue, fun, and great friendships are here for you in the 9th book in the Bon Air Boys Adventures series! They are guaranteed to be absolutely age-appropriate for preteens, their parents, and, YES, their grandparents!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Golden
• Release date: Apr 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223657484

Book preview

Danger On Cherokee Ridge

A Bon Air Boys Adventure

Greg W. Golden

Copyright © 2023 Greg W. Golden

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

Protruding several inches from the twisted tire was the unmistakable sight of the slim shaft of an arrow.  The notch on its end and the groups of feathers—the fletchings that encircled the shaft—were easily visible in the beam from Frank’s flashlight.  The feather fletchings formed a spiral ring that would cause the arrow to spin when launched,  bringing about a deadly and accurate shot.

What in the world...! Mr. Hoover gasped in a tone that was both confused and angry.  He stepped next to Frank,  leaned over,  and touched the arrow.  Who would do that—and why?  

More thunder rumbled—but much closer this time—and large raindrops began to fall.  Two boy students and Mrs. Stebbins started to join the Bon Air boys and Mr. Hoover.  But just then,  a deep voice bellowed from the darkness of the trees across the road.  

I did it. I shot that arrow!

From Danger On Cherokee Ridge

Thoughts and Thanks

When I first began to write these adventures, I planned to write just three books. In my wildest dreams, I never expected to pen nine mysteries! But you are holding the ninth one, and already my thoughts are churning with plans and ideas for book number TEN!

So many people have encouraged me during this writing process that I couldn’t possibly name each one. When two famous New York Times bestsellingauthors contactedme and urged me to continue penning these wholesome and uplifting books, I paid attention! One wrote, ...Keep writing! We need you... Another said he was saving my books on his shelf for his grandchildren until they were old enough to read them.

My dear wife, Debbie, has supported me in every way sincethisprocessbegan.Thankyouforbeingthefirst person to read each page and helping me make them better.

Thank you, Melinda, for your expertise as an editor and for untangling many of my literary knots. I wouldn’t want to do this without you. You are absolutely the best!

Michelle, I have benefited from your prayers every time I sat down to write. Thank youfor your commitment (and the prayers of many others) to support me this way.

Robert, you lit the flame for all of this. Thank you!

Grant,asourfirstgrandchild,I began writing because I wantedyoutoknow what my boyhood life was like decades ago in a safer and saner time.

Our family now has five grandchildren, and each of you inspiremetotellrichandsuspensefuladventurestories.

Every book has its roots in my preteen years, and each is centered boldly around time-tested family values. I hope that you enjoy all of them!

Greg W. Golden, Mobile, Alabama

Danger On Cherokee Ridge

by

Greg W. Golden

Copyright 2023 © by Greg W. Golden All Rights Reserved

The Bon Air Boys Adventures Series

About The Author

GregGoldengrewupinmiddleAmerica,theyoungest of three children and the only son of a pastor. Greg’sloveforliteraturewasfirstdemonstrated when attheageoften heran outoftheforty-three Hardy Boys books available to read, and he wrote one

for himself.

After college, his career path took him to Mobile, Alabama, where he met and married Debbie. There they raised two sons, and those sons and wives have given them a grandson and four granddaughters—the newest loves and diversions in their lives.

Greg is an ordained minister, and he frequently mentors those who come across his path seeking encouragement and guidance.

Chapter 1

Griff tilted his head to his left and squinted so that his eyes were nearly shut. He studied the cloud formation above him, and, after a few seconds, he leaned his head with its curly brown hair in the other direction—far enough this time so that his right ear almost touched his shoulder. Then he closed one eye, opened it, closed the other one, and finally turned to Frank, who was lying a few feet away from him in the cool grass.

Does that look like a horse to you? Griff asked. "I don’t mean a whole horse, he explained, but his head and maybe part of his front legs."

Where? Frank requested. Point to what you’re talking about.

Griff lifted an arm and extended his index finger. "Right there," he said, indicating a slow-moving gray- white cloud.

The meaningless conversation between the two buddies took place on Frank Whidden’s front lawn in the open space between a pair of tulip poplar trees. It was early August, and the two middle schoolers were enjoying an unseasonably cool afternoon sprawled on their backs on the carpet of grass. The final weeks of summer were slipping by. A cobalt blue sky was spread abovethemfromhorizontohorizon,disturbedonly by a few fist-sized cumulus clouds that crossed into and out of view. Their shapes slowly changed as they drifted by overhead.

Frank Whidden and Griff Jenkins were two of three best friends, the absent one being Chase Spencer. Unless they were sleeping in their own bedrooms, eating meals with their families, or in classes at school, it was rare to see just one of them without the other two. The three pals could not remember a time in the past dozen years when they didn’t know one another.

They all lived within a block and a half of each other in the Bon Air Village neighborhood on the southeast edge of Lewisville. Their town, a small but thriving communityof11,000 hard-workingcitizens,wasbounded by the bank of the New Haven River to the north and farms and forests to the south.

"I kinda see what you’re seeing, but I’d say it looks more like a seal than a horse. It doesn’t have any ears," Frank observed.

It had ears a few seconds ago, but you weren’t looking then. Griff paused and then conceded, Okay, I can go along with it being a skinny walrus or maybea duck.

Frank chuckled at his friend’s imagination, then with his hand farthest from Griff, he silently gathered a fistful of grass from the thick fescue lawn around him. Frank tossed the grass blades into the air toward Griff at an angle so that most of them landed on his unsuspecting friend’s face and neck. Immediately, Griff sputtered a mouthful of the loose grass as he brushed the green blades from his cheeks and eyes. With the reflexes of a startled cat, Griff sat upright.

At that instant, Frank, sensing the beginning of anotherfriendlyclash,rolledontohisside,jumped to his feet, and began high-stepping toward his front porch. But Griff, a better athlete and the faster runner, quickly caught up with him by making longer strides, then tackled and dropped the shorter Frank to the ground before he could reach the sidewalk. Both boys grunted and pretended that the situation had become a life-or-death struggle, but their serious expressions quickly turned into smiles.

With one more burst of energy, as Frank tried to escape to his front porch, Griff wrapped both arms around his buddy’s ankles. Frank fell forward, and both of them began to laugh. Griff, a wrestler on their school’s junior squad, rolled his worn-out friend over and sat atop Frank’s stomach with Griff’s knees spread apart on the grass.

Say ‘uncle!’ Griff demanded, his hands pinning Frank’s shoulders to the ground.

Grandpa! Frank hollered. Aunt Mary! Grandma Moses!

It’s not, ‘uncle,’ but it’ll do, Griff said with a satisfied smile.

Just then, Frank Whidden’s mother opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. Griff withdrew both hands as he leaned back and then stood, leaving his defeated buddy on his back with Frank’s feet pointed toward the street.

Hearing Connie Whidden’s arrival, Frank tilted his head back as far as he could, which gave him an upside- down view of his mother standing ten feet away and threestepsabovehim.Griffbackedup,raisedafistin triumph, and grinned a satisfied smile.

I’m guessing that nobody here is bleeding or has broken any bones, she said, pretending to have a serious expression that quickly turned into a half smile. Frank sat upright, rose to his feet, and brushed off the grass from his shirt and blue jeans.

We’re fine, Mom! Frank reported. It was just a little misunderstanding. But Griff apologized to me, and everything’s all good again.

Griff rolled his eyes and wagged his head, indicating to her that this wasn’t actually what had taken place.

I believe I get the picture, Mrs. Whidden said, nodding toward Griff with an understanding twinkle in her eyes. She knew both boys and their pal Chase very well, and this playful episode was typical for them at any point in the day.

I came out to remind you to get packed soon. The bus leaves for Camp Windward from the school parking lot at 5:00. We will need to leave here with your things loaded no later than 4:40. She turned to Griff. We can swing by your house, Griff, and pick you up a few minutes after that if itwould help your parents.

That would be great, Mrs. Whidden. I know that my dad will still be at his office then, and my mom will probably be fixing supper around that time.

I’ll get ahold of Chase, Frank said to his mother, and see if he needs a ride, too.

All right, boys. You both have less than two hours to pack. She turned back into the house, quietly closing the screen door.

◆◆◆

Griff said farewell to his friend and walked one block to his home. He was surprised to see his dad’s patrol car parked in the driveway. Sheriff Jenkins wouldusuallybeinhisofficenearthetownsquare or on patrol somewhere in the county at that time of day. Lewisville was the county seat of the mostly rural county, and Griff’s dad was serving his third term as the elected high Sheriff there.

Griff climbed the back porch steps, pulled open the screen door, and found both of his parents seated atthe kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee before them. Hey, Dad. What brings you home before supper?

LeeJenkinsturnedtoacknowledge theoldest of his two sons. Hi, Griff. I stopped by because I needed to pick up this set of photographs that your mom located for me. He pointedtothestackofahalf-dozenblackandwhite pictures on the table.

Griff walked closer, leaned into thespacebetweenhisparents’chairs,andthumbed through the eight-by-ten photo prints.

"You’re looking at some of the oldest arrowheads that have