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rather stumped as to why these things have happened.”
With that prelude into the mystery of her story, Rainy realized she had the unwavering attention of everyone in the car, with the exceptions of Sonny and Mrs. Van Patten.
“It is said,” Rainy continued, “that a Franciscan friar named Brother Juan Padilla was murdered by a hostile Pueblo Indian in 1756. Now, the Pueblos are generally a very peaceful people, as they were then.
The killing took place because the murderer was afraid Brother Juan might betray the Pueblos to the Spanish.
“The Pueblos were terrified at what would happen if the killing were discovered. After all, Brother Juan had been with them for some time and his healing abilities had proven to the Pueblos that he must serve a powerful god. Knowing he was of Spanish descent, they feared Brother Juan’s powerful god would bring the Spanish to destroy them.” Rainy loved the way the boys seemed to be perched on the edge of their seat, waiting for the rest of the story. She glanced at Duncan and saw that he, too, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He gave her a smile that warmed Rainy to the bottom of her toes.
“Ah . . . where . . . was I?” Rainy stammered, trying to regain her composure. “Oh yes. The Pueblos, fearing retribution, arranged for four of their swiftest runners to take the body of the friar to Isleta, which was nearly seventy miles to the east. There, they were to bury the friar and return.
“The runners were in a very big hurry, terrified that they’d get caught with the body and the Spanish would find out what had happened. When they arrived at Isleta, they buried the friar without any form of ceremony. They dug a six-foot-deep grave in the dirt floor of the church and buried the friar in front of the altar. They stomped down the ground so that it looked as though it had never been disturbed and fled. Their deception worked, and the tribe bore no retribution for the death of the friar.
“Fifteen years later, a caretaker noticed that there was a bulge in the floor, directly in front of the altar.
He thought nothing of it, but over the years it grew and gradually began to resemble the outline of a man’s body. The ground cracked and the people tried to fill it with dirt, but nothing seemed to work. Twenty years to the day after the friar’s death, the people of the church came in one day to find the body of the friar lying on the ground. He looked newly dead, and his skin was soft and pliable. His robes had rotted, so they reclothed him and reburied him.”
“Oh, that’s awful. That poor man,” Gloria Van Pat-ten gasped. “What a horrible thing to happen.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it,” Rainy stated. She lowered her voice for effect. The boys moved from the back of the touring car and took a seat on the midway bench. “Twenty years later the same thing happened.
The friar again resurfaced and again he seemed just as freshly dead as when he’d been buried nearly forty years earlier.”
“What a horrible stor y!” Mrs. Van Patten exclaimed.
“There’s no possible way that could happen,” Mr.
Van Patten stated, as though Rainy had insulted his intelligence. He dutifully patted his wife’s hand as if to calm her. Rainy only smiled.
“That’s what many people said. So when the people grew fearful and tired of this, and after the padre had resurfaced a few more times, they called on the authorities of the church. The padre was given a proper burial with church rites in 1895. So far,” she said with a smile, “Father Juan has stayed buried. But every time I bring a tour group here, I always wonder if this will be the year Father Juan reappears.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Thomas declared. “This is much more fun than I thought it was going to be.”
“I want to be the first one in the church,” Richard said, nudging his brother. “I’m the oldest and I should have the first look.”
Rainy couldn’t help but chuckle at their sudden
With that prelude into the mystery of her story, Rainy realized she had the unwavering attention of everyone in the car, with the exceptions of Sonny and Mrs. Van Patten.
“It is said,” Rainy continued, “that a Franciscan friar named Brother Juan Padilla was murdered by a hostile Pueblo Indian in 1756. Now, the Pueblos are generally a very peaceful people, as they were then.
The killing took place because the murderer was afraid Brother Juan might betray the Pueblos to the Spanish.
“The Pueblos were terrified at what would happen if the killing were discovered. After all, Brother Juan had been with them for some time and his healing abilities had proven to the Pueblos that he must serve a powerful god. Knowing he was of Spanish descent, they feared Brother Juan’s powerful god would bring the Spanish to destroy them.” Rainy loved the way the boys seemed to be perched on the edge of their seat, waiting for the rest of the story. She glanced at Duncan and saw that he, too, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He gave her a smile that warmed Rainy to the bottom of her toes.
“Ah . . . where . . . was I?” Rainy stammered, trying to regain her composure. “Oh yes. The Pueblos, fearing retribution, arranged for four of their swiftest runners to take the body of the friar to Isleta, which was nearly seventy miles to the east. There, they were to bury the friar and return.
“The runners were in a very big hurry, terrified that they’d get caught with the body and the Spanish would find out what had happened. When they arrived at Isleta, they buried the friar without any form of ceremony. They dug a six-foot-deep grave in the dirt floor of the church and buried the friar in front of the altar. They stomped down the ground so that it looked as though it had never been disturbed and fled. Their deception worked, and the tribe bore no retribution for the death of the friar.
“Fifteen years later, a caretaker noticed that there was a bulge in the floor, directly in front of the altar.
He thought nothing of it, but over the years it grew and gradually began to resemble the outline of a man’s body. The ground cracked and the people tried to fill it with dirt, but nothing seemed to work. Twenty years to the day after the friar’s death, the people of the church came in one day to find the body of the friar lying on the ground. He looked newly dead, and his skin was soft and pliable. His robes had rotted, so they reclothed him and reburied him.”
“Oh, that’s awful. That poor man,” Gloria Van Pat-ten gasped. “What a horrible thing to happen.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it,” Rainy stated. She lowered her voice for effect. The boys moved from the back of the touring car and took a seat on the midway bench. “Twenty years later the same thing happened.
The friar again resurfaced and again he seemed just as freshly dead as when he’d been buried nearly forty years earlier.”
“What a horrible stor y!” Mrs. Van Patten exclaimed.
“There’s no possible way that could happen,” Mr.
Van Patten stated, as though Rainy had insulted his intelligence. He dutifully patted his wife’s hand as if to calm her. Rainy only smiled.
“That’s what many people said. So when the people grew fearful and tired of this, and after the padre had resurfaced a few more times, they called on the authorities of the church. The padre was given a proper burial with church rites in 1895. So far,” she said with a smile, “Father Juan has stayed buried. But every time I bring a tour group here, I always wonder if this will be the year Father Juan reappears.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Thomas declared. “This is much more fun than I thought it was going to be.”
“I want to be the first one in the church,” Richard said, nudging his brother. “I’m the oldest and I should have the first look.”
Rainy couldn’t help but chuckle at their sudden
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