They kneel on the tiled floor
till the evening service ends.
Miguel's heart sinks while he thinks of the missions. He bows in
prayer. Neglected vineyards and general decay reign over the deserted
mission lands.
It is years since Hijar scattered the missions, He paralyzed
the work of the Padres. Already Santa Clara's gardens are wasted.
Snarling coyotes prowl to the very walls of the enclosures left to
the Padres.
Priest and acolytes quit the altar. Miguel sadly leaves the church.
Over a white stone on the sward his foot pauses. There rests one
of his best friends--Padre Pacheco--passed beyond these earthly
troubles to eternal rest and peace. The mandate of persecution
can never drive away that dead shepherd. He rests with his flock
around him.
Hijar seized upon the acres of the Church. He came down like the
feudal barons in England. Ghostly memories cling yet around these
old missions.
"When the lord of the hill, Amundeville,
Made Norman church his prey,
And expelled the friars, one friar still
Would not be driven away."
So here the sacred glebe was held by a faithful sentinel. His
gravestone flashed a white protest against violence. In the struggle
between sword and cowl, the first victory is with the sword; not
always the last.
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