Page 185 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“Have you been to a racecourse before?” Ailbe asked.
“I enjoyed attending horse races several times in the states,” Rod said, “but Wyl missed out.”
“So you’re a rancher, and you never raced?” Ailbe focused his gaze on Wyl.
Rod stood and gathered his tray and Wyl’s. Wyl tossed his napkin onto his tray. “I’ve been on a horse my entire life, but ranching and rodeo work differ from racing. Our horses are American quarter horses, bred for ranching, not racing.”
“That’s fascinating,” Ailbe said.
Declan walked up with the racing booklets and forms. “What’s fascinating?”
“I was asking whether the lads had been to a racecourse,” Ailbe said. “Wyl has been a horseman all his life, but he said racing differs from ranching.”
“I never thought of it as different. Ailbe and I never went to a ranch,” Declan said.
“Who never went to a ranch?” Rod walked into the conversation.
“We never had a reason,” Ailbe said.
“Come to the States, and you can spend a few days on our ranch. We’ll put you in the saddle and show you around.”
“Sounds like serious fun,” Declan said.
The two couples spent the afternoon reviewing the horses' and riders' racing statistics, placing bets, watching the races, and enjoying a pint as the racing day ended.
“We must meet again,” Ailbe said. “Do you know Wilde’s Bar?”
“Sure!” Rod responded. “We went the other night, in fact. We met the guy performing there. Good musician.”
“James Pearson. We heard him before, and we both like him,” Ailbe said. “Let’s plan to meet there and hear his show.”
“Are you about ready to go, babe?” Rod winked at Wyl.
“Ready when you are,” Wyl nodded.
“It was nice bumping into you both,” Declan extended his hand.
The couples traded handshakes, and Wyl and Rod left the building.
* * *
“Nowthatwas weird,” Rod said on their way home.
“Definitely. Declan kept a close eye on us, making me uneasy.”
Rod nodded. “Ailbe seemed focused on getting to know us. They obviously have plans for including us in their scheme.”
“I agree, and James Pearson will be interested in this unexpected development.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next day, Wyl and Rod rose early. They enjoyed coffee at the breakfast bar.
“We need to run to the market,” Rod said. “We have no orange juice for Mimosas, and we need tomatoes to slice and grill.”
“If we served French toast, we could skip the tomatoes. Hot mushy tomato slices just don’t do it for me.” Wyl shuddered.
“I could make those French toast bites like in San Francisco. We can add sausages and fresh fruit.” Rod made a mental grocery list.
