In the last part Ben learns of Mason Salinger’s devious plan to destroy the region by introducing opium on a large scale. As God leads him to confront Salinger, He has also led Jones, Ben’s helper, as well as James Coley and Billy to help.

Four horses purchased with Ben’s savings at Grand Junction, they began the day-long ride to Mesa.

“Guess we can sit in town and wait for the ruffians to show up, or for God to direct us,” Ben said. “Might as well get a couple rooms at the hotel as sleep out in the cold.”

“Town this size must have a pretty big jail,” Billy said. “Come bail me out in the morning,” he added as he scampered off quicker that any could throw out a veto.

With an un-swallowed swish of whiskey in his mouth, Billy left the saloon in search of a deputy that he could feign drunkenness sufficient to be calaboosed.

“South down Grand Mesa Road near Clabber Creek. The first road east after the creek,” Billy said the next morning, relaying what he’d learned in jail. “They’re gonna make individual doses, just waiting on some people that know how to do it.

“Sounds easy enough,” James said as Billy and Ben mounted their horses. “I was afraid we’d have to burn down a building to destroy the stuff and burn down the whole town doing it.”

“Probably why they went out of town, that and to keep secret what they're up to,” Ben replied.

Jones handed Billy two boiled eggs and pointed at the canteen tied to Billy’s saddle horn. They started out at a slow walk, giving Billy a chance to enjoy his breakfast.

+++

At Clabber Creek, Ben asked the others to wait there while he rode ahead to scout the area.

“No, Ben. I’ll do it,” James responded, his voice insistent. “I fit in better. And you could use the rest. It’s been a hard ride.” It hadn’t been a hard ride, but James was well aware of Ben’s taxed condition. What he did not say was that his past offered a degree of roughness that might serve their purpose – and that he was the best gunman of the group.

A mile-and-a-half up the wagon trail, James came on a sharp bend, obscuring two armed men in front of an abandoned cabin that was more like a tool shed than a live-in cabin. A set of ruts ran beside the building toward a cliff about eighty yards back. The road followed the creek bed. At the face of the cliff where James figured Salinger’s hiding place to be, a mine tunneled into a knoll that separated the Grand Mesa Road from the Clabber Creek wagon trail. The creek spilled into a shallow gorge a short distance downstream.

+++

“You can turn around right there, friend,” one of the cabin guards commanded.

“Heard there was a homestead up here needin’ a hand,” James said offering plausible reason for his presence.

“Heard it wrong. Now you can git.” His gun hand had been massaging the butt of his pistol. His partner had his drawn, but pointed at the ground. Two carbines were propped against the building.

James slowly turned his horse, “Maybe the next creek,” he said as he trotted back the way he’d come.

+++

Returned to the others, James told them he wanted to check something out and would be back shortly. He galloped down the Grand Mesa Road around the knoll, and then returned more quietly.

After describing what he’d seen, he devised a plan. “There’s a saddle a half mile down this road. If you go on foot, you can get above the mine. I can stay here and keep these two busy worrying about what I’m doin’ while you take care of whatever it is you’re gonna do.”

Ben mounted his horse, accepting the plan as good as any. Jones and Billy followed. Giving them what he figured to be enough time, James returned to the Clabber Creek trail to within a hundred yards of the guards. There he dismounted and started a white man’s camp fire, one large enough to send the scent of smoke up the trail. His horse tied to a tree, James angled to the creek bed where he intended to stealth his way to the gorge where he could harass the two guards, convincing them to remain away from the mine and his friends.

From a tree-covered hillside, Ben clearly saw the mine entry, a large cave-like hole carved into the middle of an already cavernous grotto shelter. A dilapidated wooden structure was within the cover of the sheltering rock roof. Three saddle horses and a wagon team appeared to be asleep inside a make-shift corral.

Ben asked Jones and Billy to work their way around the knoll to where they could pepper the horses with stones, stirring them up enough for him to slip into the mine. Their brows furrowed with concern about leaving Ben to such a dangerous prospect, yet they obeyed. In short order, Salinger and a guard came out of the building to see what had riled the stock. Ben quietly slid down the slope on his seat and made his way into the mine unseen.

Jones and Billy quietly inched their way back into the trees.

Hearing the horses, James’ two guards ignored the campfire smoke they’d been craning their necks to figure out, even so far as to venture around the sharp bend a few steps, then to turn and begin a walk back toward the mine. Hidden in the gorge, James fired a shot that echoed off the mountainside, totally obscuring its origin. The two guards sprang into a confused crouch, their heads and eyes darting about in search of an intruder. As long as they stayed away from the mine, James was satisfied not to have to hurt them.

Inside the mine shaft, Ben saw that the floor dropped downward immediately. He smelled the water before he saw it. The entire mine floor was a lake. Not until he reached the water did he see the wagon as he turned to look back toward the mine entrance. The shaft had split, forming a ‘Y’. A two-foot-wide column of granite held up the ceiling as the shaft split in two around it, rejoining beyond to form a house-size cavern. The wagon was on the other side of the column, kept from rolling into the water by the business end of a sledge hammer.

A short man holding a torch entered the mine. “Who is that?” Salinger yelled, making his way closer to Ben.

“What is it, Mr. Salinger?” The guard from outside the grotto asked.

Salinger didn’t answer, but walked closer to Ben, the light from his torch beginning to illuminate him. Ben saw that he held a gun in his other hand.

“Well, well, well. My old friend the do-gooder.”

Ben saw Salinger’s jaw tighten, his pistol hand rising slightly. Falling to his stomach, Ben jerked the hammer from behind the wagon wheel. The wagon with its load of ten casks of opium instantly began to roll back into the water. Ben hoped that it wouldn’t float.

Salinger ran for the wagon brake, attempting to yell to his bodyguard, but for no apparent reason no sound came from his opened mouth.

Ben darted toward the column, the sledge hammer firmly in his two-handed grip. With Samson-like force, Ben swung in a discus-throwing manner. After his full circle swing, he connected with the column with an awful explosion of rock and debris clearing the path for the hammer to completely clear where there had been solid rock.

His hand on the brake and the wagon stopped with the bottom of the wagon bed barely wet, Salinger grinned, aiming his gun at Ben’s head. An intensifying, rumbling roar caused Salinger to look upward, catching a horse-sized boulder full on. The boulder was quickly followed by the rest of the mountain, killing the guard who’d ventured too far into the mouth of the cavity.

Ben was called home before the first rock crashed down.

James sensed his brother-in-the Lord’s home-going and allowed the two guards their flight.

There appeared to be no excavating the mine entrance.