BooksBarbecue
Back Legacy of Lies
Chapters (88)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. PART TWO
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. PART THREE
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. PART FOUR
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. 73
  82. 74
  83. 75
  84. 76
  85. 77
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  88. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Booker T. shook his head. “Tried to get another loan from FNB, but I was in the hole too far. When I couldn’t pay my employees, they all left. Lost all the farms I was leasing except this one here and would have lost it, too, but the owner wasn’t paying attention.” He glared at Bo and spoke in a soft and bitter voice. “Even tried to call the owner, who happens to be my rich cousin, but . . . he was having his own problems.”

“I’m sorry,” Bo said, hanging his head. “I really am.” He sighed. “But Booker T., you can’t be trespassing anymore. Finn Pusser wasn’t messing around last night.”

Booker T. leaned his ample girth over the railing and gazed out at the vast expanse of land. “OK, then what am I supposed to do, Bo? I’ve got no job, no money, and no place to live.”

Bo took another sip of coffee and touched his swollen lip. “What time is it?”

“It’s 6:32 a.m.”

Bo closed his eyes. “I need to get to the office.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The office.”

“Why don’t you stay here? I mean, hell, it’s yours.”

Bo peered up at him. “You know I can’t.”

Booker T. blinked and gazed down at the porch. “Yeah . . . I guess not. I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

Bo waved him off and stood from the chair. He set his coffee mug on the table and stretched his tired limbs. “Booker T., where are you living now?”

“In my truck.” He let out a sigh fueled with regret. “How did everything get so complicated, Bo? All I ever wanted was some land of my own. Live off the fruit of my labor.” He shook his head. “That was the American dream for me.”

“Life’s not ever as simple as it sounds,” Bo said. “If you need an example, look at my crazy life.” Bo leaned over the railing, being careful not to press too hard on his aching rib cage. “Booker T., why don’t you live out here?”

Booker T. turned to him and raised his eyebrows. “Here? At the ‘Big House’? Naw, cuz, I can’t do that. I’m not as spooked by this place as you, but I still couldn’t live in the home of Andy Walton.”

“Just for a while,” Bo pressed. “You can stay rent-free until you get your feet back on the ground. And in addition to farming the land, I’d like to hire you to do something else.”

“And what might that be?”

“I need to do something with this property, and I don’t have a clue as to what. I want to hire you as a consultant to help me figure things out.”