Page 243 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“We’ll be careful,” Wyl said.
Rod caught Wyl’s worried expression.
“I’ll alert O’Brien to be on standby,” Glenn said. “Keep me posted on further developments.”
“Thanks. Later,” Wyl disconnected.
“You look worried,” Rod said.
“I think we’re fine, babe. We have to wait and see what Ailbe does.”
Rod pulled Wyl into an embrace. “Now, don’t worry. You’re the one who boosted me when I became uneasy. This is what we came for. The game. We need to let it play out.”
Wyl sighed. “I know. I realize we’re at that point.” The painful memories of his capture in Italy flashed in his mind. “Now, let’s have a martini, relax, and talk about this weekend.”
“This weekend?” Rod went to the refrigerator to take out a lemon for twists.
“How about we go horseback riding?” Wyl reached for highball glasses.
“Is there a place here in Ireland to do that?” Rod washed the lemon and used a paring knife to slice the lemon rind.
“Don’t you remember James mentioning it at Wilde’s Pub one night? There are stables north of here, up near the coast. I checked them out, and they’re happy to have a couple of Texans ride this weekend.” Ice clinked in the glasses as Wyl dropped in the cubes.
“That sounds like fun, Wyl.” Rod dropped the slices of peel into the glasses. “You helped me discover the pleasure of horseback riding, and I miss it.”
Wyl poured the Boru vodka into the glasses, ice crackling as the warm liquid flowed from the bottle. “We’ll drive up in the morning and spend all day riding. We can come back Sunday so I can face Ailbe’s rant when his trial run doesn’t work.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Saturday morning, Ailbe ran the program. With all data entered, all that remained was activating the script and raking in the millions.
The program halted and asked for input.
“What feckin’ input?” Ailbe groused aloud to himself as he tried to key in a sequence. The program aborted, and he was forced to start over. He tried again and again, always with the same result.
By noon, he knew the problem. “Fekkin’ Sterling did something,” he muttered. “We’ll see about that.”
Ailbe picked up the phone and called Declan. “We need to drive to Westport County and find those Sterlings. Wyl did something to halt the program, and I need him so I can succeed.”
“To get him, you need Rod,” Declan said.
“Then we’ll feckin get Rod!” Ailbe shouted. “Meet me at home in 15 minutes. We’ll go from there.”
* * *
Saturday morning, Rod and Wyl drove up to the Carrowholly Stables. They familiarized themselves with two fine horses and the Mulranny Mountain Trail. As experienced horsemen, they didn’t need the guidance offered to regular tourists, so they set out on their own to enjoy the views and nature.
“This is quite different from our ranch,” Rod said as they rode and took in the lush, green Irish countryside.
“I like it when you sayour ranch,” Wyl said.
“Well, it is our ranch.”
“Yes, but I remember how intimidated you were about owning half a ranch.”
“It’s a good thing you dragged me kicking and screaming onto the ranch and made me realize it was half mine.”
“The only kicking and screaming I remember is when you didn’t want to come back to the ranch with me after I forced myself into your home to apologize.” Wyl laughed.
