Parson Justin P. Stone leaned on his cane at the railroad dock in Washington D. C. and gazed westward, towards the great desert country to where he longed to return. He had his plans: see some old friends, spend time with his long estranged son, and maybe start some churches for younger men to take over. However, Lincoln had other plans. Saying no usually wasn’t difficult for Stone—saying no to his old childhood friend, Abe Lincoln, was.

His coat pocket was full of letters. One making him active in his old Army rank of Colonel, another one made him an Army Chaplain, and a third one gave him unlimited requisition powers. The silver-star pinned inside his vest made him a special US Marshal, answering directly to the president.

Lincoln’s top priorities: keep Arizona Territorial Governor Goodwin alive and the territory in Union control. No easy task in such a lawless land. The Rebel sympathizing, Knights of the Golden Circle controlled most of the towns—the Apaches most of the country. “Out there is not but a handful of undersupplied troops, and I have no money or men to do anything about it,” Lincoln had said. “All I have is you—you and God.”

His six gun hidden under one arm, his Bible held in his other, Stone leaned on his wooden leg. The train whistle pierced the early morning stillness. Time for this mission to begin. How would it end?