A Legal Affair Read Online Free Page B

firsthand were stocked with largemouth bass and black catfish.
    Crandall Thorne had purchased the property years ago, long before South Texas brush country was discovered by out-of-state billionaires seeking a recreational paradise in what many considered the last frontier. The invasion of affluent buyers and investors had driven up the price of the ranches, so that even Crandall Thorne would have been hard-pressed to afford the Hill Country home he now claimed as his primary residence.
    Caleb slowed the Durango as the road steepened in elevation, and after several more minutes his father’s sprawling estate rolled into view. Built of stucco and covered with red-tiled Spanish roofs, the hacienda-style ranch was situated atop a five-hundred-foot bluff that boasted stunning panoramic views of the surrounding valley. The property included three barns, three silos specifically for storing grain and feed, two outbuildings and a large roping arena. The main house had six bedrooms with wood-burning fireplaces, a large great room, a guest wing separated from the family living areas and featuring its own private porch and three detached garages.
    Caleb nosed his truck into an unoccupied unit and killed the engine. Bypassing the front door entirely—and knowing he’d catch hell for it from his father’s longtime housekeeper, Rita—Caleb headed straight toward the covered patio spanning the rear of the house.
    He knew Crandall Thorne would be waiting for him, seated in his favorite Adirondack chair facing east of the mountain range, where he wouldn’t miss the setting sun. After twenty-five years of pouring blood, sweat and tears into building a successful law practice, Crandall Thorne had finally learned to appreciate sunsets.
    It was amazing how a brush with mortality could change a man.
    “Didn’t know if you’d be coming today.” Crandall Thorne spoke without glancing over his shoulder.
    Caleb crossed the stained-concrete patio to claim the chair next to his father’s. “Might be the only chance I’ll get this week,” he replied, “now that the semester has started.”
    Crandall nodded slowly. His profile displayed craggy brows sprinkled with salt and pepper to match the full thatch of hair on his head. Dark eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate revealed the shrewdness of a man who missed nothing and had seen just about everything in his lifetime, a shrewdness that had served him well both in and out of the courtroom. His nose was strong, almost aristocratic, and a neatly trimmed mustache framed firm, no-nonsense lips. Whether seated at the head of a boardroom or lounging on his patio, Crandall Thorne exuded an innate confidence and power that was hard to reckon with. Few tried.
    Caleb had always been the exception.
    “How many classes are you teaching this semester?” his father asked. A thick afghan was draped across his lap to ward off the evening chill, a concession he’d made only to keep the women of his household—the housekeeper, cook and a private nurse—off his back while he enjoyed the outdoors.
    “Three,” answered Caleb, stretching out his long, booted legs. “Two civil procedure classes three days a week, and a two-hour advanced criminal law course on Tuesdays.”
    “I see. And what do you do with the rest of your time?”
    Caleb slanted his father an amused look, knowing where this particular line of questioning would lead. “I’ve been teaching at St. Mary’s for five years. You know damned well what I do with the rest of my time.”
    A grim smile curved one corner of Crandall Thorne’s mouth. “You don’t belong in academia, son. You belong in the courtroom, challenging the system and taking no prisoners. Academicians don’t have killer instincts. You do.”
    Caleb shook his head, chuckling softly. “I know you still find this hard to believe, Dad, but I actually enjoy teaching.”
    “You enjoy playing God,” Crandall corrected. “You enjoy dispensing your knowledge and wisdom and