Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(18)

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Yes. I know how it feels to lose someone when there were important things that shoulda been said.”

“I feel so lost, like a whole hunk of my life wasn’t really what I thought it was. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“How did you deal with it?” she asked.

“Not very well, I’m afraid.” His expression went grim, color flushed his high cheekbones. But he didn’t elaborate. “Are you ready to leave now? Not that I’m trying to rush you or anything.”

“You’re not rushing me, and yes, I’m ready.”

“Then, c’mon. Let’s get you outta here.”

With a steadying arm about her waist, he guided her out of the morgue. Once outside, Nikki dragged in a great cleansing lungful of fresh air. And then another in an effort to purge the scent of death. Nikki wasn’t even aware of the tears streaming down her face until he brushed a thumb over her cheek.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I thought seeing him would give me closure, but it hasn’t. I only feel worse.” She couldn’t keep the quaver from her voice. “You were right, Wade. I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is.” He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“I didn’t know anyone still carried handkerchiefs.” She accepted it and blew her nose.

“They come in useful at times. Most of the ranch hands carry them. It’s not uncommon to need a makeshift bandage when mending barbed-wire fences.”

“Do you really do that?” she asked. “Mend fences?”

“Yeah. I still do my share of ranch work,” he said.

“On top of lawyering?”

“There’s many folks in these parts who wear two hats. Partly because it’s so hard to make a living ranching full time.”

“So why don’t they do something else?” she asked.

“Because this is Montana and people here are proud of their heritage—often to the point of stupidity.”

“Your brother?” she suggested.

“Yeah. My brother. It’s what I have to talk to him about and it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“I shouldn’t be there then. It’ll be awkward.”

“It’ll be fine. If it gets too nasty, we’ll take it outside.”

“Surely, you don’t mean that literally.”

“Won’t be the first time my brother and I settled a matter with our fists.” He shrugged. “I figure it won’t be the last.”

“But that’s ridiculous! You can’t resolve issues like that with violence!”

“Sure we can.” He laughed. “Men aren’t like women, Nikki. We don’t think and feel the same way you do. Sometimes things between us are best settled by forceful means. It’s ugly as hell, but when it’s over, it’s over.”

“So what happens now?” she asked. “About my father I mean.”

“You can’t do anything until you have a certified death certificate.”

“Which I can’t get until I have my license.”

“Exactly. Once that happens you can dispose of the remains and then start settling the estate.”

“Dispose of the remains?” she repeated with a frown. “That’s my father.”

Wade flushed. “I’m sorry. That was mighty insensitive of me. I guess I’m just a bit hardened to this process after so long. It’s a hazard of the job when you handle probate.”

“Apology accepted,” she replied.

He steered her toward the parked truck.

“How does probate work?” she asked. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“It’s mostly a bunch of paperwork,” he replied. “Your first priority will be to post notices of death in all the area papers. Then outstanding debts and taxes need to be paid. You especially don’t want the IRS knocking on your door.”

“Taxes? Debts?” A huge knot formed in her stomach. “I hope to God he didn’t leave any behind. I don’t think I could deal with that on top of everything else.”

She hoped he’d left sufficient funds at least to cover the burial and prayed she wouldn’t be saddled with any of his outstanding debts. She had more than enough of her own, barely keeping her head above water with a dead-end job she despised.

“You won’t need to worry about any of that,” Wade reassured her.

“How would you know?” she asked.

“Because I looked into a few things earlier today. There’s no harm in telling you that his affairs are in pretty good order and he left a will. I had Iris check with Evans on the off chance there might be one.”

“Why would he have made a will?”

“It’s smart to plan for the unexpected.”

“Spoken like a true lawyer,” she replied dryly. They stood beside the truck, she spun to face him. “If you knew all this, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t know. He filed the will six years ago when he first established Montana residency—before I was in practice here. I didn’t mention it earlier today because I wanted to wait until we had your ID straightened out, but I figure there’s no harm in setting your mind at ease. You need to understand that I can’t disclose anything more to you at this juncture. You can rest assured, however, that there’s no debt burden for you to carry.”