Page 12 of The Texas Sterling Collection
Wyl closed his door and turned to me, waggling his eyebrows. “This concert should be a blast with me tagging along. However, you’ll need to do a lot of explaining. I know nothing about orchestra concerts.”
"You haven’t been paying attention in class.”
A blush pinked Wyl’s tanned cheeks, an event I enjoy, perhaps a bit too much. I hoped to find more ways to make my rancher blush.Wait. My rancher? Oh, brother.
Seat belts clicked, and I started the truck. “You feeling okay? Your face is kind of red.”
Wyl glanced toward me and grinned. “Walking over to your truck is a strenuous exercise for an old man.”
I spoke with a chuckle. “Yeah, those twenty-foot casual strolls are hard on a body.”
“Your face reddened the other day in the break room.” Wyl elbow-nudged me. “And you only stood from a sitting position.”
“Shut up, and stop noticing when I turn red.”
Wyl gazed at me. “You mean like now?”
“You’re a funny guy.” I laughed and eased out of the parking lot and onto the highway. “I enjoy our chats before class, but the start of the semester always keeps me busy. We’ve chatted about our families and school, but now we have time to catch up. Tell me more about the real Wyl.”
Wyl glanced at me. “Okay. Like what?”
“You mentioned being a cryptologist when you introduced yourself to the class. Explain what a cryptologist does, and what you did in the Marines.”
“Sure. I didn’t realize you were interested. Most people find my Marine stories boring.”
“I’m not most people, and I can’t imagine you as boring.” I glanced at Wyl.
Wyl nudged me again. “Okay. You asked for it. As a teen, I loved cryptograms and word puzzles, so I decided to go into cryptography when I joined the Marines. The government codes anything it wants to hide, and I created the code for it. In my first year, I developed code on paper, but computers soon became the only way. I guess I learned well. After twenty years of service, the honchos in Washington asked me to re-up, but since Walt ran the ranch alone, I needed to be here to do my part. Even with our work crew, running the ranch is more than one person can handle. That, and the frequent relocation, got tiresome. I did my time. Not that they couldn’t call me back into service if something arose, but that’s rare.”
“Is it common for retired military to be…what…redrafted?” Since I didn’t enlist, I knew nothing about the terminology.
“If World War Three broke out, almost every former military man under 50 would be contacted. While we don’t expect anything drastic, my unique skills put me on a short list for recall.”
I couldn’t imagine. Wyl fit the rancher type, although I didn’t know what he did on the ranch. He conveyed a fondness as he spoke about helping his brother.
“When I attended high school, other students mentioned the Sterling family and a ranch west of town. I’m not much on ranching, but on your first day, Stella mentioned a huge spread.”
“My great-grandfather, Grover Sterling, settled what is now a 6,400-acre ranch. They had two sons, but one died young, so the ranch passed to my Grandpa Jacob. He and Grandma Sarah had only one child. She couldn’t have more children after Dad was born, so the ranch passed to him. It now belongs to Walt and me.”
“It must have been fun growing up on a ranch.”
Wyl nodded. “Yes. I worked, of course, but did most of it on horseback. Walt and I both love riding. We are a year apart, and both grew up ranching. In high school, I played sports, but he didn’t. Our high school friends called usWyl and Won’tbecause he didn’t want to play ball. I’m a year older, and we’re both the same build, but he had no interest in team sports.”
“And Walt took care of the ranch by himself until you retired?” Knowing nothing about running a ranch, I wondered how many people it took to manage. “What happened to your folks?”
“They died in a plane crash three years ago. Dad loved to fly and bought a small twin-engine plane. He graded an airstrip on the ranch. He and Mom flew all over the country, going where they wanted when they wanted. They hit a storm over the New Mexico mountains and crashed. I came home for the funeral but didn't stay long because I was involved in a critical assignment. When the assignment ended three years later, I retired.”
“Losing parents is tough. Both my parents are gone, too. Car accident.”
Wyl’s background impressed me. This handsome man was a computer programmer with skills still valued by the government and half-owner of a vast ranch. My doctorate in music paled in comparison. I wasn’t wealthy. My family did well financially, but my parents were careful with money and never cared about being part of the country club set, which is another reason why we'll be no more than campus friends.
Chapter Nine
WYL
My last close friend was Stewy in high school. After Dusty, relationships became a poison best avoided. With that baggage, why did I consider Rod a potential friend, like Walt suggested? His welcoming smile and witty sense of humor drew me in. I needed to put the past behind me and relax. After all, I'm out of the Corps, and Rod isn't Dusty.
“So, your turn; tell me about Rod Bonner.” I glanced at Rod, and our eyes locked for a second. Something flowed between us. Something unfamiliar. Something that punched me in the gut. I rubbed a palm across my chest. Panic, or just anxiety rearing its ugly head?
