Free Slow Hand by Victoria Vane

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.”
    â€œTaxes? 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.
    â€œYou won’t need to worry about any of that,” Wade reassured her.
    â€œHow would you know?” she asked.
    â€œBecause 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.”
    â€œWhy would he have made a will?”
    â€œIt’s smart to plan for the unexpected.”
    â€œSpoken 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?”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œWell, I guess that’s a relief anyway. So what now?” she asked.
    â€œI was going to take you back to the ranch, but I think maybe a change of plans is in order. Can I buy you a drink? You look like you could use one.”
    â€œYou just might be right about that too,” she replied with a shaky laugh.
    â€œC’mon. I know just the place. The Pioneer’s the best watering hole in the entire Ruby Valley.”
    * * *
    The bar reminded Nikki of an old-time Western saloon, with its cedar shingles and siding, and the old-fashioned wooden placard outside. It felt even more like one when she followed Wade inside. The paneled walls were dark, with numerous mounted antelope, elk, and bison heads as well as an array of faded black-and-white framed photos from the turn of the century. The backbar was crafted of deeply stained, hand-carved oak with a huge counter-length diamond dust mirror.
    Wade tipped his hat to the barkeep, and then to several waitresses who seemed to light up in response to him. She guessed he must have that effect on lots of women. He was certainly no stranger to the place, but then again, this area was his stomping ground. He propelled her to a corner table, pulling out her chair before taking his own.
    â€œCome now,” she chided. “The gunfighter seat?”
    â€œForce of habit.” He chuckled.
    He’d no sooner doffed his hat before a brown-eyed bottle redhead appeared wearing a low-cut top that displayed attributes that would put the Hooters girls in the shade.
    â€œHey, Wade.” She flashed him a huge smile. “Been a long time.”
    â€œJanice? I’ll be damned. I didn’t know you were back in town.”
    Her smile flickered for just a moment. “I never thought I’d set foot back here either, but I had nowhere else to go with my kid and all.”
    â€œI was sorry to hear about all that…” Wade shook his head. “What a gruesome way to go.”
    â€œIt was.” She shrugged. “But he knew as well as anyone that it was bound to happen sooner or later. With the bulls it’s never a question of if you’re gonna get hurt—it’s just when and how bad. Least he didn’t suffer much, being that he