Legacy of Lies: A Legal Thriller (Bocephus Haynes) by Robert Bailey

Author:Robert Bailey [Bailey, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

29

Bo awoke the next morning to the pleasant aroma of coffee. His body ached all over from the butt whipping he’d received from his cousin, his upper lip fat and swollen and his midsection bruised from being kicked.

When he opened his tired eyes, he was gazing out at Walton Farm. A thousand acres, a third of which was used for livestock and the rest for corn, were now illuminated by the rising sun, which glowed a stark orangish red. Bo was slumped in a rocking chair on the porch with a shotgun lying across his chest. As he leaned forward and placed the gun against a wooden coffee table, he couldn’t help but admire the stunning view. His biological father had placed the “Big House,” as Andy Walton had called it, at the highest point on the land, and it seemed that Bo could see for miles in every direction.

“You ain’t much of a guard dog,” Booker T. grumbled, walking out on the porch with two steaming mugs in his hand.

“Where’d you find the coffee?” Bo groaned, rubbing his bruised ribs.

“There’s a Keurig in the kitchen,” Booker T. said, handing Bo’s cup to him and then taking a sip from the other. He looked better than he had the night before. Sober and clear eyed. “I keep it and a box of K-Cups here so I can have a pick-me-up when I’m working the fields.” He nodded over the railing, and his expression softened. “Bo, I’m sorry I got you into my mess.”

Bo took a sip of the coffee, and the heat scalded his throat and burned his swollen lip. Still, he needed the caffeine. He glanced down at the wooden porch and saw that all six bottles of Yuengling that he’d brought with him last night had been drunk, and there was also a bottle of Bombay gin perched on the floor that looked a quarter full. “Did we tie one on last night?” Bo asked, the details of the night foggy after the confrontation with Finn Pusser. Once Pusser and his two minions had left, Bo had said he had a crazy idea for where they could bunk down for the night. Then Booker T. had followed him a quarter of a mile down Highway 64 to the property Bo had inherited by virtue of his being the only “surviving issue” of Andrew Davis Walton.

Booker T. chuckled. “I’d already drunk enough gin to float the Queen Mary before you arrived. But you pounded those beers you brought. You were pretty shaky after everything that happened, and you drank that six-pack in about thirty minutes while I told you my sad tale.”

Bo sipped the mug and rubbed his sore chest. “Correct me if I get the details wrong. You took out a two-hundred-thousand-dollar loan from Z Bank to finish paying for the irrigation system on your farm and some of the other properties you lease, including this one.” Bo pointed to the vast expanse of land out over the porch railing.

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