A Beautiful Bounty: Book One of the Davenport Trilogy

By Melissa Lurquette

An Adventurous Twist On An Historical Western Tale of Action and Romance!

Passion is easy. Love is fraught with risk!

Shiara Montgomery, young and independent, is convinced that marriage is not for her, despite her father's insistence. With a harsh step-mother, an absent mother, and unconventional ideas, Shiara enjoys her independence and endeavors to keep it that way. That is, until she meets a magnetic bounty hunter who turns her world upside-down.

With a notorious reputation, Slade Davenport, running from his own emotional demons, must protect Shiara from her recklessness and defiance. With danger looming, he will stop at nothing to keep her safe, and win her heart.


Upon the revelation that someone is trying to kill them, Shiara and Slade must learn to trust one another and not let raw passion and hostility blind them from the truth.

Will love prevail? Will Shiara and Slade figure out who is trying to murder them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Lurquette
• Release date: May 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9780995902909

Melissa Lurquette

MELISSA is often called a jack-of-all-trades and master-of-some. Spending some days as a leadership consultant and other days as a writer, A Beautiful Bounty is her first work of fiction, fulfilling her dream of publishing a novel.Melissa was born in Chilliwack, British Columbia. She studied theatre at Simon Fraser University, and after graduation formed a sketch comedy troupe that toured Fringe Festivals across Canada and some of the US. After many years in the business world, and completing a Master’s degree in Leadership, in 2016 she published a thesis on succession planning. Unfortunately, her creative side is always tugging at her sleeve, pulling her back to graphic design, photography, guitar playing, and writing. Currently living in Nanaimo on beautiful Vancouver Island, her debut novel, A Beautiful Bounty: Book One of the Davenport Trilogy, is a return to her creative roots.In her free time, she enjoys exploring the island’s hidden gems with her dog, Echo. She looks forward to continuing the story of the Davenport Family, with her next novel, A Captivating Captive: Book Two of the Davenport Trilogy.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

All happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910)

Southern Oregon, USA – April 1885

SHHH EBONY, HE WHISPERED, attempting to calm his majestic, black steed.

Slade Davenport remained hidden deep in a copse of giant evergreens, concealed by thick undergrowth, hoping the fading light of day would prevent his pursuer from venturing deeper into the dense tree cover. That last bullet had been too close.

Ebony nickered and shifted nervously. The sky was dark enough now that his horse couldn’t be seen, if he kept the beast still. He pulled tighter on the stallion’s reins. Had it not been for the horse’s superior power and speed, Slade was sure one of those bullets would have found its mark.

He remained still, clutching his revolver firmly in his fist, patiently listening for the pounding of approaching hoofs or another bullet to crack the silence. The thud of his hammering heartbeat seemed almost loud enough to reveal his whereabouts. Beads of sweat crawled down his back. The air was heavy with tension, and all sounds of the wild seemed to still. This was what he lived for - the apprehension, the danger. It was times like these that he felt alive, only when he was so close to death.

The exaggerated minutes dragged on. The familiar smell of damp dirt, a hint of pine, and his own sweat filled his nostrils. Freedom was only a matter of time now, and he could be patient. He was used to being the hunter, not the hunted. Perhaps he had misjudged his prey; a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time, if he managed to make it out alive.

It seemed like an excruciating wait for Oregon’s spring sky to finally abandon all the day’s light and fall into night’s embrace. It was fortunate that the moon would not be making an appearance this night, as thick cloud cover reigned over the sky.

In the consuming stillness of the forest, his mind dredged up images of his father. He tried to steel himself from the all-too-familiar emotions that threatened to grip him. Anger, hurt, grief, and vengeance tortured him when it came to memories surrounding his father’s death.

The first year after the murder, he had drowned his emotions in drink and violence, often allowing his fists to do the talking. However, that approach had caused him nothing but severe bruising and broken bones, and after those had healed, his emotional pain still clung to him like a second skin.

That’s when he had decided to take some control back, if only to save his family from watching him destroy his life further. Knowing he had the skills and the desire to get revenge, he had become a bounty hunter. Being the eldest son, his family didn’t support his choice of deadly profession, but it didn’t stop him. It gave him immense pleasure each time he could bring an outlaw to justice and lessened his pain regarding his father’s senseless death at the hands of a petty thief.

He was one of the few bounty hunters to use his real name, and now his reputation preceded him. He was known as a sharpshooter, which meant there were both fellow bounty hunters and outlaws alike, who were hoping Slade would meet his maker. He knew many bounty hunters walked a fine line between the good side and the bad side of the law, so he chose his friends cautiously.

Contrary to rumors about his gun skills, he prided himself on trying to bring his man in alive, to guarantee the full reward. Quite often, the money would be cut in half if the prisoner was dead, and only a few years ago Robert Ford was charged with murder for killing the outlaw Jesse James in cold blood. Those charges were eventually dropped, but Slade wasn’t a man to take the chance that he wouldn't get paid.

Now here he was, holed up in the woods, alone, and anticipating his next move to regain the upper hand against his quarry.

After a long wait and confident the danger had passed, Slade mounted and rode hard through the night, not allowing his prey to get another chance to bury him. He was sure he’d get his man – he usually did. He just needed to better assess his situation and cultivate a new plan.

This undertaking would require all his experience and skill if he wanted to succeed. He needed to stay focused and not allow distractions to complicate the situation. This was one bounty he was going to enjoy collecting.

Outskirts of Medford, Oregon – May 1885

SHIARA MONTGOMERY PAUSED in the doorway and took a deep, steadying breath. She smiled widely as she charged into the kitchen and plopped herself down at the table.

Good morning, grandmother, she chimed, completely ignoring her younger half-sister, Hannah, who was already seated at the table.

You’re in fine spirits this morning, Shiara. Her grandmother, Clara, placed eggs and some cornbread on the table in front of Shiara, and noticing the girl was wearing trousers she said, You must be planning to go riding. She chuckled to herself. I daresay you are not like most other girls your age!

Their grandmother, Clara Montgomery, was a rotund, strapping woman in her late fifties. With her silver hair and laughing eyes, she was an easy woman to be fond of.

I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to enjoy the warm day and fresh air.

Hannah rolled her eyes but said nothing.

What about you, Hannah? What are your plans for this fine day?"

My plans would never include riding on the back of a stinky beast out in the middle of nowhere, especially looking like that. Those activities are best left to individuals who care not if they smell like animal or conduct themselves in uncivilized ways. In case you've forgotten, you have a riding habit that you could wear. I'm sure it's like new for all the use it gets.

Oh my, the princess has a tongue after all. If only it spoke words of meaning instead of useless drivel! Shiara bit back. And for your information, my riding habit is too constricting. I find these trousers much more to my liking.

Clara clucked her tongue. Now, ladies, let’s not have such unpleasantness today.

Both girls looked contrite. Truth be told, Shiara didn’t mind the riding habit, but when she was around the ranch, she felt more comfortable in trousers.

Shiara genuinely regretted being so disagreeable in front of her grandmother. At times, she was more like a mother figure to Shiara, instead of a grandmother. Clara had lived with them since Shiara was eight, and quite often acted as cook and nanny to the Montgomery sisters. Unlike many women of her station, she liked to do the work herself when she could. She would often do the housekeeping alongside the hired help, to keep herself busy. Shiara believed she had inherited some of her grandmother’s unconventional qualities.

Clara caught Shiara’s downcast look and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Shiara winked back, then turned to size up her graceful sister slowly eating her breakfast. She wondered whether she would ever look that sophisticated if she wore such exquisite clothing. She doubted it. She didn’t know how to be poised or refined, so there was no need to put aside her practical clothing in favor of such frivolous attire.

Her sister, Hannah, was dressed in a lavender, muslin dress, which enhanced her blonde locks and sparkling, blue eyes. Her hair was tucked discreetly under a white bonnet, with a few stray locks hanging down. She had to admit her sister was beautiful, and she would have no trouble finding a husband, which was one of the many reasons the two sisters were so venomous to one another in recent months. Hannah was forbidden to marry until Shiara had first found herself a husband; which they both knew would not be forthcoming since Shiara had no intentions of marrying... ever. She studied her sister and decided she would try to be civil, even if it killed her.

Hannah caught Shiara staring at her, and she glowered back. I'm surprised you aren’t still confined to your bedchamber after your lewd behavior in the creek yesterday.

It was Shiara’s turn to roll her eyes. Lewd behavior, indeed! She thought. You could hardly call a private swim in the river ‘lewd’, even if she had been naked. It was just unfortunate that one of the ranch-hands had happened to wander by and see her, and even more unfortunate that he had informed her father.

Disappointed, you mean, Shiara retorted. I'm surprised you're not still lazing about in bed, like most mornings.

Clara shot them both another disapproving look, and Shiara grinned, realizing that she would have to try harder to hold her tongue.

Hannah shrugged. I'm going into town with my mother. She wishes to leave early, as she has an appointment with an old friend. Then, we plan to stop by Gina Wilcox’s place to pick up my new dress! She’s such an accomplished dressmaker. It’s so exciting. Perhaps I will find a new hat to match.

You and your mother just like to spend all of father’s money. Why is it so impossible to restrain myself? Hannah is not worth getting upset over! Shiara thought.

Hannah smiled smugly. What makes you think it’s any of your business what we do? You are just jealous!

Shiara refused to be baited into an argument any further and decided she would concede this one to her detestable sister. I do hope you enjoy yourselves, she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Hannah was not willing to let her escape so easily. I would invite you to come along, but mother mentioned she would like us to be alone this afternoon since we get very little time together without you hanging about. Besides, you never seem to enjoy yourself when we bring you along. You can be so embarrassing.

I refuse to argue with you on such a fine morning, Hannah. Frankly, I've wasted enough of my precious time listening to your foolish prattle. Shiara, seemingly unperturbed by her sister's comments, stood and walked calmly to the door. If you'll excuse me. With that, Shiara walked out to the stables, leaving her sister sitting furiously alone at the table, angry she hadn't wounded Shiara, as she was hoping to do.

Hannah would have been pleased to know she had, in fact, disturbed her sibling more than she knew. The moment Shiara entered the stables, she exploded like a wildcat, breaking her apparent cool façade to pieces. I will not let that odious sister of mine get to me! Oh, what I wouldn't do to ruin their little outing today! Damn, I’d like to show that witch just how embarrassing I can be! Shiara, in her fury, kicked over a bucket full of feed, and cursed again at the pain she inflicted on her own foot.

Hell’s teeth!

Good morning.

Shiara, startled, ceased her tirade, and turned to confront the familiar voice. Oh, father, it's you.

Upon hearing Shiara’s string of invectives, Bryant Montgomery smiled knowingly at his firstborn daughter. I thought I heard some yelling in here. Are you all right?

Shiara blushed, knowing he must have heard her cursing. Uh...Everything is fine.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, knowing his eldest daughter was trying to hold her temper. Well, if you're all right, I'll leave you to it then. Are you going riding?

Yes, I've been neglecting Spirit lately, so I'm going to give her a good run this morning. Would you care to join me?

Bryant shook his head. That sounds enticing Shiara, but I must check on the fences, before I can bring in the cattle. With the new Oregon and California Railroad, there will be a lot more opportunity for selling our cattle stocks to the new settlers arriving each week. It’s exciting times.

Getting caught up in her father’s excitement, she replied, Well, perhaps I'll ride out to help you this afternoon, and I'll bring along a picnic basket, too!

Bryant sighed. A picnic sounds wonderful, of course, but you shouldn't burden yourself with the outdoor chores. Just learn how to take care of things inside the house. When you marry, your husband will need you to take care of his household for him, not his fences. You need to understand that marriage is the best choice for a young woman.

Shiara frowned, wishing she could yet again tell her father exactly what she thought about the whole idea of marriage. A husband was definitely not for her. She knew what had happened to her own father and mother, and if that weren’t enough, Patricia Montgomery was only married to her father because of his vast wealth, not because she loved him.

This was Shiara’s interpretation of things, of course, but Patricia would deny it outright. She couldn’t believe her father couldn’t see through Patricia’s greed. Not too long ago, she even said something to her father about it, but he just shook his head and told her sometimes things aren’t as straightforward as they seem. He said relationships between a man and a woman were complicated, especially marriage, and until she was married herself she wouldn’t understand. As soon as the conversation shifted towards marriage, Shiara shied away from continuing the conversation. No matter what her father said, she would not be tied to any man and have her freedom and independence taken from her. What was the point of a loveless marriage? She supposed that was how marriages went, but she wanted no part of it. Plus, she knew women could work as teachers and nurses, and some women even controlled their own finances. She could see no advantage to having a husband.

Well, I’ll just bring a picnic basket then, she offered, mounting her mare.

Sighing in resignation, Bryant Montgomery mounted his own horse and smiled again at his eldest daughter. A picnic it is, then.

Leaving her to ponder his words about marriage, Bryant decided maybe it was time he pushed things along with her. Left to find her own husband, Shiara would never marry, he thought. The problem was, what sort of man could control his unconventional daughter, and especially her temper? Until recently, he had rarely imposed any boundaries for her, because he didn't want to hurt her again. His guilt regarding her mother had made him soft with his eldest daughter. Now, his lack of limitations with her was beginning to have serious repercussions. Knowing he was mostly to blame for Shiara’s unorthodox manner, Bryant sighed heavily. He wanted so much to see her happily married, but the ensuing battle to make that happen weighed heavily on his mind.

Shiara watched Bryant walk away. She felt herself fortunate to have such a caring and understanding father. Her upbringing had been unconventional, to say the least. Bryant had allowed her the freedom to pursue whatever she desired. That is why Shiara knew all about ranching, breeding, and raising cattle, and even knew how to ride better than most men. She often thought that he had always wanted a son, and Shiara was the closest thing to filling that void. It had been Bryant, himself, who had taught her how to defend herself with a knife, to ensure she could protect herself.

No matter what, she had always worked so hard for her father’s approval. She aspired to be as respected as he was. He was a middle-aged businessman and rancher, who sported a trimmed beard and smiling, chestnut eyes. He was very admired not only by the men who worked for him, but also by the community of Medford in general.

Shiara watched her father ride away and considered herself lucky he hadn't persisted about her choosing a husband, like he often did. It seemed as if every time they spoke to one another over the last few months, the conversation always shifted to marriage. It was beginning to cause some tension in their relationship, which, in the past, had always been so comfortable.

Relieved about her narrow escape, she rode Spirit out along Bear Creek, and waited until she saw an open, green pasture before pushing her mount into a full run.

It was a picturesque day, with a humid breeze that carried the slight smell of lilacs. Wildflowers dotted the landscape in front of her as she rode directionless across the meadow. Surrounded by white-capped mountains and cerulean skies, she almost felt like she was intruding on Mother Nature’s secret lair.

The confinement and discomfort of riding in the saddle was just too limiting. She had an incredible urge to enjoy the speed of her mount and the warm wind on her face. So, once she felt confident Spirit was keeping a steady rhythm, she carefully lifted her boots out of the stirrups one at a time and stood on the saddle until she was standing upright, holding the reins. She let out a howl of exuberance, celebrating the wild freedom of the moment.

CHAPTER 2

I do desire we may be better strangers.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

Outskirts of Medford - May 1885

SLADE DAVENPORT HAD made good time and was now almost in the new township of Medford. He would be lucky to arrive in time to make his meeting. After nearly a month on horseback and sleeping on the ground, he was tired, sweaty, and his stomach was rumbling for a good meal. He had decided not to stop until he arrived at his destination because he was anticipating taking a rest from hunting outlaws. He was suffering for his persistence now.

He was in a black mood, having been shot at on two separate occasions since leaving California. Fortunately, he had managed to emerge from both assaults unscathed. Now, he was eager to fill his stomach and catch some rest before nightfall. He decided his horse wouldn't go much further without some water and a rest, so he stopped by Bear Creek near a clearing to water his horse and drink for himself. It was then he heard a piercing scream from behind him.

Instincts taking over, he drew his revolver in anticipation of yet another attack. Slade was surprised to see a woman standing atop a horse, racing at breakneck speed along the edge of the open pasture. She was shrieking like a woman possessed. If it weren’t for the long, sable hair twisting in the wind, he wouldn’t be sure the vision in front of him was of the female persuasion. Without another thought, he re-holstered his Colt, leapt onto his stallion, and raced toward the frantic woman. He had no idea how she could have landed herself in such a predicament, but he was sure she must be frightened enough now to realize how foolhardy her stunt was. Within seconds, Slade was alongside her.

Shiara was so preoccupied with her own thrilling feat she didn’t see or hear his approach. Slade grabbed Spirit’s reins and tugged her horse to an abrupt halt. It was then Shiara snapped back to reality, nearly toppling over from the sudden jolt as her mount came to a stop.

Just what do you think you're doing? Shiara shot the stranger a furious look.

He drew his brows together in consternation. Frankly, I was about to ask you the same question, Slade barked. I was saving your damn fool neck! A little gratitude would be not be amiss!

Shiara sat back down in the saddle and caught a better look at the stranger. He was dark, with obsidian eyes and wavy, black hair that hung to his shoulders. Her eyes slid down his chiseled face, admiring the firm cut of his jaw that hid beneath an unfashionable growth of facial hair. His perfectly formed mouth held her momentarily spellbound, as his tongue slowly moistened his parched lips. A shiver crept up her spine at the look of him. He reminded her of an outlaw, the way he was dressed—all in black. His close-fitting breeches hugged long, powerful legs. He was broad-shouldered, and sported a cowboy hat that hung low, shadowing much of his ominous stare.

She unconsciously continued her rigorous inspection, until his eyes met and held hers. For a moment she forgot what was happening, and that he was a total stranger. Despite the look of pure menace being directed her way, an unsuspecting warmth flooded her face as his eyes boldly raked over her. It was just her anger towards him, she thought.

Finally noticing the gun belt, she regretted being so sharp with him. For all she knew, he may do her harm. It was quite evident that this man was dangerous. She was alone and unprotected. She decided to change her tone, just to be safe. Just what would you like me to be grateful for?

Slade raised one quizzical eyebrow at the she-cat before him. He was truly taken aback at her incredible, wild beauty. Her skin was mildly sun-kissed, which was uncommon for a lady. Her ebony hair was in a state of curly disarray, and her emerald eyes were penetrating his own. Her sooty lashes and beautiful arched brows made her look almost delicate, if not for that stubborn tilt to her chin. Her boyish attire, trousers and a loose-fitting, cotton shirt did little to hide the exquisite shape beneath. The way she was staring at him now nearly made him forget his anger, in favor of something more pleasant. Then he realized how hungry and tired he was, and his anger returned in a flash.

You damn near broke your bloody neck, woman! If I hadn't been here, who knows what might have happened! Just what addle-brained thinking made you think it safe to stand atop a galloping horse? Have you no sense at all?

Shiara couldn't believe the audacity of this arrogant man. For your information, I had everything under control.

That shriek certainly didn’t sound like control to me.

That was a sound of elation, not fear. Not that it's any of your business.

Madness is more like it, he accused.

Madness? The only madness is this unwelcome conversation. So, if you don't mind, now you've finished playing the gallant hero, you can take yourself off to continue your... your... diabolical activities. Or do you intend to rob me or violate me first?

He almost laughed at her matter-of-fact tone. If that had been my intent, I would’ve let you mutilate yourself when you fell from your mount; an inevitable outcome if I hadn’t come along, he stated casually. And what would possess you to be out here in the middle of nowhere unaccompanied? Does your husband know you conduct yourself so carelessly?

She harrumphed. Husband! Would she ever stop hearing that word? She bit her lip to keep her temper in check. I have no husband, and this is my father’s land, she explained. Which means you are trespassing.

He raised one black brow. Is that so?

It is. So, good day, sir. She turned her horse and headed in the opposite direction.

Slade, angry at the woman's arrogant dismissal and ingratitude, rode after her. Never had he been treated with such open antagonism for doing a good deed. Most women were either intimidated by him or flirted with him, so he was incensed at her blatantly cool indifference. His ego was pricked. Catching up to her with ease, he grabbed her mare by the reins once again.

Stop doing that! She demanded.

Slade cast her a sideways glance, seeing her temper had returned in full force. When I hear an appropriate thank you, as well as an apology for your rudeness, I will relinquish my hold.

He wasn’t sure why he cared so much about the apology, but he certainly hadn’t been disrespected by anyone for a very long time, and this irked him more than he would’ve liked to admit. He would not allow this slip of a girl to make a fool of him.

Shiara was outraged. This man was becoming increasingly irritating, and it was about time he understood just who he was dealing with. Shiara sized up the man once more before making her decision. Once she pinpointed her target, she opened her mouth and clamped down on his arm until she heard his roar of pain.

He was close to letting go of the reins but hung on despite the wound to his arm. Slade had never met a more infuriating woman, yet with so much spirit. He might even admire such a woman, if his irritation wasn’t clouding his senses.

Without thinking, Slade dismounted and dragged Shiara off her mare. She kicked and pushed at him but was unable to regain an advantage. He tossed her over his shoulder and sauntered over to the nearby creek. Shiara fought hard, hurling every ugly word at him she had heard used out on the ranch. It was futile. Slade stood at the edge of the water and raised his eyebrows questioningly. I will hear an apology from you.

She bit her lip. Looking down at the water, she recalled just how cold it was, but she was convinced this man wouldn’t dare treat a lady in such a manner. Never!

Slade shrugged his shoulders. As you wish.

Without further hesitation, he tossed her into the frigid water, and gave her a satisfied grin. He stood with his arms crossed, expecting her to finally concede. Curiously, she did no such thing; her indignation was unmistakable.

Sputtering and wet, Shiara shot daggers at the bold stranger. You... you insensitive, arrogant... overbearing, black-hearted cur! How dare you denigrate—

Denigrate? He interrupted. I hardly think cooling you off in such stifling heat would qualify as denigration.

Shiara plodded her way out of the water and was cursing under her breath. Her clothes were stuck to her, and her hair was a tangled mess. She realized her appearance must be the cause of the smirk on the stranger’s face. What, pray tell, is so amusing?

Slade tried unsuccessfully to hide his apparent amusement. He knew she was livid, and trying desperately to control her anger, but persisted nonetheless. That’s quite a colorful vocabulary you have, he prodded. You do look a sight, you know. Could you see yourself, you would also enjoy the spectacle.

You are no gentleman! Refusing to be insulted further, Shiara hauled herself out of the water and stormed away from him.

Slade, more than a little intrigued, and somewhat remorseful, followed her. She looked beautifully fragile, as the heavy, drenched clothing clung to her petite frame. He could just make out the magnificent curves that were hidden beneath. He had to admit, she was quite a contradiction; she-devil and angel combined. He just couldn’t quite figure out which one was more intriguing.

She heard his footsteps close behind her. She had never encountered a man with so much cocky arrogance. He had completely ruined her morning, and probably the rest of her day, as well. She scowled and turned to confront him. Do you now intend to harass me further? Have you not done enough? Don’t you have a murder to commit somewhere?

Feeling like he finally had the upper hand with this woman, Slade replied coolly, All in due time. Perhaps introductions would be in order.

Shiara spun away from him and stomped back towards Spirit, who had wandered away. I don’t intend to know you further, so there is no need for pleasantries.

Davenport, he called after her.

She stopped and faced him once again. I beg your pardon?

Taking a deep bow and removing his hat in a grand gesture, he replied, Slade Davenport, milady.

Shaking her head in utter disbelief, Shiara turned and marched away from him once again. She whistled, and Spirit obediently rode over to her. As she mounted, she took one last glance at the rogue in black, before riding home.

Slade watched her go, and contemplated following her, but decided he had wasted enough time already. He had to admit, the woman fascinated him. It was not an encounter he would soon forget, he thought.

After she disappeared, he mounted his own horse, and continued towards town, where he would finally find the