Free the Riders Of High Rock (1993) by Louis - Hopalong 0 L'amour

was standing on his steps, looking across the street. There was nobody else in sight. The tracks of the horses could be plainly seen from where he sat, and all were going out of town, none coming back.
    Mormon John looked curiously up the street towards the trail out of town. He scowled, then turned and walked back inside. Hopalong considered the action and looked up. Casually he asked, "I recall a couple of buildings between here and the edge of town. Is there anyone living over there?"
    "Uh-uh. Just a couple of empty shacks and the old Gold Strike Saloon. Ain't been anybody in 'em for years."
    Watching the saloon, Cassidy saw Mormon John come outside again. Obviously the big man was curious and trying to conceal his curiosity. He came out now and began sweeping the porch before the saloon, pausing from time to time to look around, but his attention centered itself on the trail towards the west or something in that direction.
    Sourdough brought the pot and filled Hopalong's cup once more. He seemed oblivious of Hopalong's interest in what was happening outside. After a minute or so Hopalong got up, stretched, and changed his seat. He tried the fresh cup of coffee. From the new position he had taken he could see down the trail. The faded sign on the Gold Strike indicated that building. In the rear corner there was a window. Could Mormon John have seen something in that window?
    As he sipped coffee Hopalong listened to the idle rambling of Sourdough's conversation. Once started, the old man was ready enough to talk, and his talking concerned the trail west and the country that lay out thataway, as he phrased it.
    "Applegate done started that trail," Sourdough advised, "and Pete Lassen used part of it on his own cutoff. Folks in them days was in a powerful hurry to get rich. They figured once they was in Californy they would have no trouble pickin' up plenty of gold, so when that Humboldt Trail swung south they didn't like it much.
    "Them that tackled the Applegate and Lassen routes, they
    cussed the livin' daylights out of both men for startin' it. Mighty scarce grass and less water, unless you knowed exactly where to look, and them days nobody knowed but the Injuns. But what Injuns they was wasn't friendly.
    "Rabbit Hole Springs they found because of rabbit tracks. Why, even the Humboldt didn't have much water in it. There was a young feller named Clemens workin' on a paper down in Virginny City who says a feller could tire himself jumpin' back and forth across the river and then drink it dry when he got himself thirsty.
    "Lots of hot springs over west. Lassen got hisself killed over there, huntin' silver. Clapper Crick's right back up thataway. Clapper was killed with Lassen. Maybe by Injuns, maybe by a partner. Nobody ever rightly knowed. North of there you'll find water at Soldier Meadows, and there's plenty of water and grass up Mud Lake Valley."
    He paused for breath, and Hopalong finished the last of his coffee, only lukewarm now. He stretched his muscles.
    "Reckon I'll leave now, Sourdough," he said. "Wish you'd go to the stable and saddle up for me. I've got a little job to do first."
    The old man looked at him quickly, struck by some tone in Hopalong's voice. "Somebody stayed behind." Cassidy nodded. "There's a man in that old saloon. I'd lay a month's wages on it."
    He waited after the old man went out, watching the saloon. Then he went swiftly to the back of the livery stable and out a door into the corrals. For an instant he stood there, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the glare of the bright morning sun. It was pleasant just to stand there and feel the warmth and brightness, to smell the rich barnyard smells, and over them
    the faint yet tangible odor of the sage-clad hills. Then he crossed to the corral fence and slid between the bars.
    He stood now at the corner of the barn. Removing his hat, he peered around the edge, studying the situation.
    The nearest house was some thirty feet away across a gravel