Action & Adventure
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Westward the Tide (Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures)
Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures is a project created to release some of the author's more unconventional manuscripts from the family archives.
Matt Bardoul was a good man to have as a friend and a bad one to make trouble with. He was also a single-minded drifter-until he met his match in an outspoken beauty named Jacquine Coyle. She was headed into the Bighorn Mountains with her father and an expedition in search of gold. After Matt signs on to join them, he discovers that there is a group of outlaws in the party-gunfighters and thieves that Matt wouldn't trust for a minute. At first it's unclear what they are planning, but before long Matt realizes that he's the only man standing between innocent people and a brutal conspiracy of greed, lust, and cold-blooded murder.
In Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures: Volumes 1 and 2, Beau L'Amour takes the reader on a guided tour through many of the finished and unfinished short stories, novels, and treatments that his father was never able to publish during his lifetime. L'Amour's never-before-seen first novel, No Traveller Returns, faithfully completed for this program, is a voyage into danger and violence on the high seas.
Additionally, many beloved classics are being rereleased with an exclusive Lost Treasures postscript featuring previously unpublished material, including outlines, plot notes, and alternate drafts. These postscripts tell the story behind the stories that millions of readers have come to know and cherish.
Matt Bardoul was a good man to have as a friend and a bad one to make trouble with. He was also a single-minded drifter-until he met his match in an outspoken beauty named Jacquine Coyle. She was headed into the Bighorn Mountains with her father and an expedition in search of gold. After Matt signs on to join them, he discovers that there is a group of outlaws in the party-gunfighters and thieves that Matt wouldn't trust for a minute. At first it's unclear what they are planning, but before long Matt realizes that he's the only man standing between innocent people and a brutal conspiracy of greed, lust, and cold-blooded murder.
In Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures: Volumes 1 and 2, Beau L'Amour takes the reader on a guided tour through many of the finished and unfinished short stories, novels, and treatments that his father was never able to publish during his lifetime. L'Amour's never-before-seen first novel, No Traveller Returns, faithfully completed for this program, is a voyage into danger and violence on the high seas.
Additionally, many beloved classics are being rereleased with an exclusive Lost Treasures postscript featuring previously unpublished material, including outlines, plot notes, and alternate drafts. These postscripts tell the story behind the stories that millions of readers have come to know and cherish.
Readers Top Reviews
SylgalRichard Kellyf
Louis Lamour was the best storyteller who ever existed. All his books (how many hundreds?) are great stories where, as you may know, the bad always defeats the ugly. Pure western, even if the story takes you to Asia or to the seven seas. Hard to put it down once you opened a Louis Lamour's book. If you never had one of his books in your hands, get one and you will know what I mean. And you will want to read more and more of them. Addiction, sort of.
Kindle SylgalRichar
Amazing factually truth of our history couldn't put it down History presented in a most dramatic way and sometimes a little corny with romance
Jesse R. JohnsonKind
I just started reading L'Amour's books and jut picked this at random. I am a big fan of his books now and intend to read a bunch more of them. Liked this book.
ocMommacraeJesse R.
This is an amazing story, one of my favorites, and I read all genres, but the kindle edit is horrid, the line space after paragraphs really pulls you out of the story. Just buy the paperback.
RoxieocMommacraeJess
I am a die hard Louis L"Amour fan and have read all of his books (or thought I had). This one is new to me and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I like the main character very much and felt like he would be someone I would truly like to know in real life. Not romantically, bus as a friend.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1
Matt Bardoul rode his long-legged zebra dun down the dusty main street of Deadwood Gulch a few minutes ahead of the stage. He swung down and tied his horse to the hitching rail, then stepped up to the boardwalk, a tall young man in a black, flat crowned hat and buckskin shirt.
Instead of entering the IXL Hotel and Restaurant, he pushed his hat back on his head and leaned against one of the posts that supported the wooden awning.
In his high-heeled star boots with their huge rowelled California spurs, and his ivory-handled tied-down guns, he was a handsome, dashing figure.
It was the summer of 1877 and the "Old Reliable Cheyenne & Black Hills Stage Line" boasted the Shortest, Safest, and Best Service in the West. When the stage swung into Main Street Matt Bardoul turned his green, watchful eyes toward the racing six-horse Concord and watched it roll to a stop in front of the IXL.
He had kept pace with the stage most of the way from Cheyenne, but aside from the mutual protection from marauding Indians, he had no interest in the stage or its passengers until he saw the girl alight from the stage at Pole Creek Ranch.
He was lifting a match to the freshly rolled cigarette when he saw her, and he looked past the flame into her eyes and something seemed to hit him in the stomach. He stood there, staring, until the flame burned his fingers. He let out a startled yelp and dropped the match, and he saw just the flicker of a smile on her lips as she turned away.
He swore softly, staring after her as she walked toward the ranch house, and then he turned back to his horse, but his fingers trembled as he loosened the cinch.
Discreet inquiry, laced and bolstered with a couple of shots of rye, elicited the information from stage driver Elam Brooks that her name was Jacquine Coyle, that she was bound for Deadwood to join her father Brian Coyle, and that she was a pleasant, saucy, and thoroughly attractive young woman.
"Not a kick from her the whole trip!" Brooks said with satisfaction. "Most of these durned stage ridin' females are cantankerous as all get out!"
Stepping from the stage into the dusty street of Deadwood, Jacquine looked up quickly, her alert blue eyes searching the crowd of onlookers for her father or brother. The first person she saw was the tall, narrow-hipped and broad-shouldered young man leaning so nonchalantly against the awning post.
Instantly she was aware of two things. That he was not at all nonchalant, and that he had been waiting to see her.
This was the man she had seen at Pole Creek Ranch. The man who had accompanied them on horseback. She remembered him very well, both from his picturesque appearance and because of what she had overheard Fred Schwartz, the owner of Pole Creek, say to Elam Brooks.
"There's one man Logan Deane will do well to leave alone!"
"Who is he?"
"Name's Mathieu Bardoul. He's a Breton Frenchman, Maine born, but raised in the west. He was in the Wagon Box Fight."
"The hell you say!" Brooks turned to stare. "Then he's the same Bardoul that killed Lefty King, over at Julesburg!"
"He's the one, all right. Nice fellow to have for a friend, and a bad one with whom to have trouble. If he's ridin' on to Deadwood you won't be surprised by any Indians. He can smell out a bad Indian a mile away!"
All that went through her eyes in the flashing instant their eyes met across the heads of the crowd. She remembered his startled stare at Pole Creek, and now when their eyes met she saw something else, something that left her startled and confused. There was no effort to mask the look in his green eyes. It was the look a man, full in the pride of his strength, gives to a woman he wants.
Her breath caught, and she turned her face quickly, yet she was conscious of a quick, stirring excitement that left her wide-eyed and a little breathless.
She had seen that look in the eyes of men before but it had never affected her like this. She knew why men looked at her that way, and it was not merely because she was a young and lovely girl, it was because there was something in her shapely, rounded body that even the voluminous clothes could not quite conceal, something in the way she walked, and some of the same feeling in her eyes that she now recognized in the eyes of Matt Bardoul.
Yet this was different, too. There was something in the lazy negligence of him as he leaned there, the cigarette between his lips, his eyes upon hers, something that went beyond the handsome darkness of his face, the lean strength of his body, or the hard, strong maleness of him.
As she averted her face, her cheeks flushing and her br...
Matt Bardoul rode his long-legged zebra dun down the dusty main street of Deadwood Gulch a few minutes ahead of the stage. He swung down and tied his horse to the hitching rail, then stepped up to the boardwalk, a tall young man in a black, flat crowned hat and buckskin shirt.
Instead of entering the IXL Hotel and Restaurant, he pushed his hat back on his head and leaned against one of the posts that supported the wooden awning.
In his high-heeled star boots with their huge rowelled California spurs, and his ivory-handled tied-down guns, he was a handsome, dashing figure.
It was the summer of 1877 and the "Old Reliable Cheyenne & Black Hills Stage Line" boasted the Shortest, Safest, and Best Service in the West. When the stage swung into Main Street Matt Bardoul turned his green, watchful eyes toward the racing six-horse Concord and watched it roll to a stop in front of the IXL.
He had kept pace with the stage most of the way from Cheyenne, but aside from the mutual protection from marauding Indians, he had no interest in the stage or its passengers until he saw the girl alight from the stage at Pole Creek Ranch.
He was lifting a match to the freshly rolled cigarette when he saw her, and he looked past the flame into her eyes and something seemed to hit him in the stomach. He stood there, staring, until the flame burned his fingers. He let out a startled yelp and dropped the match, and he saw just the flicker of a smile on her lips as she turned away.
He swore softly, staring after her as she walked toward the ranch house, and then he turned back to his horse, but his fingers trembled as he loosened the cinch.
Discreet inquiry, laced and bolstered with a couple of shots of rye, elicited the information from stage driver Elam Brooks that her name was Jacquine Coyle, that she was bound for Deadwood to join her father Brian Coyle, and that she was a pleasant, saucy, and thoroughly attractive young woman.
"Not a kick from her the whole trip!" Brooks said with satisfaction. "Most of these durned stage ridin' females are cantankerous as all get out!"
Stepping from the stage into the dusty street of Deadwood, Jacquine looked up quickly, her alert blue eyes searching the crowd of onlookers for her father or brother. The first person she saw was the tall, narrow-hipped and broad-shouldered young man leaning so nonchalantly against the awning post.
Instantly she was aware of two things. That he was not at all nonchalant, and that he had been waiting to see her.
This was the man she had seen at Pole Creek Ranch. The man who had accompanied them on horseback. She remembered him very well, both from his picturesque appearance and because of what she had overheard Fred Schwartz, the owner of Pole Creek, say to Elam Brooks.
"There's one man Logan Deane will do well to leave alone!"
"Who is he?"
"Name's Mathieu Bardoul. He's a Breton Frenchman, Maine born, but raised in the west. He was in the Wagon Box Fight."
"The hell you say!" Brooks turned to stare. "Then he's the same Bardoul that killed Lefty King, over at Julesburg!"
"He's the one, all right. Nice fellow to have for a friend, and a bad one with whom to have trouble. If he's ridin' on to Deadwood you won't be surprised by any Indians. He can smell out a bad Indian a mile away!"
All that went through her eyes in the flashing instant their eyes met across the heads of the crowd. She remembered his startled stare at Pole Creek, and now when their eyes met she saw something else, something that left her startled and confused. There was no effort to mask the look in his green eyes. It was the look a man, full in the pride of his strength, gives to a woman he wants.
Her breath caught, and she turned her face quickly, yet she was conscious of a quick, stirring excitement that left her wide-eyed and a little breathless.
She had seen that look in the eyes of men before but it had never affected her like this. She knew why men looked at her that way, and it was not merely because she was a young and lovely girl, it was because there was something in her shapely, rounded body that even the voluminous clothes could not quite conceal, something in the way she walked, and some of the same feeling in her eyes that she now recognized in the eyes of Matt Bardoul.
Yet this was different, too. There was something in the lazy negligence of him as he leaned there, the cigarette between his lips, his eyes upon hers, something that went beyond the handsome darkness of his face, the lean strength of his body, or the hard, strong maleness of him.
As she averted her face, her cheeks flushing and her br...
