Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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like the women of the Gringos who live here now. La Palo- mita would do anything for that Gringo; and, Canastos! he asked her to show him where 4 Los Sepulcros’were. La Palomita feared the wrath of the dead; she tried to be strong and not tell, but he asked, and told her he doubted that love she gave him. And La Palomita, for love, tells him and shows him the hidden spot. “So the Gringo finds a grave of a great jefe of many years before, and tells La Palomita she must help him dig for the chains. And La Palomita, la pobre, helps him; for you must remember he made her love him. “The night that they left for the evil work was cloudy and black like one hell and La Palomita was scared, I tell you so. But the Gringo was not fearful then, no, not then — later; but wait. The way to the place of ‘Los Sepulcros’ was dark and full of horror to that poor little nina who had to go because her love commanded, and only her trust in her man kept her on the silent trail. The trail led them up a deep valley and at last they reached the dreaded scene of their evil work against the holy dead. The graves were on the side of a small hill up from the valley; just shadowing the graves, was ,a big cliff of rock that seemed to La Palomita to be a guarding spirit of those dead jefes. “The Gringo began to dig. As he dug La Palomita had more fe.ar and still more fear as she watched the impious one desecrating ‘Los Sepulcros’. That fear was like ice on the breast where love had burned and seemed a terrible warning of things that were to come. “At last the Gringo uncovered the bones of the jefe, and with a wild cry he snatched at the bones and pulled away the chains that had guarded it for so many years. Pero, Diablo, when that crazy Gringo dug up the chain, the spirit of the dead jefe was furious like the wild bulls of long ago. His sins rose up to blacken his soul and the spirit hurled the lightning at the cliff and that demon, the Gringo. It hit the cliff and the cliff slid over the open grave. It buried the bones of the old jefe, buried the living body of the unholy sinner against the dead, and buried the gold chain. Nothing was left. “L,a Palomita? When the Gringo uncovered the bones she forgot her love for the Gringo and fled on her horse to the rancheria. 11

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What a demon to ask us to desecrate the graves of the holy dead! You see we did not comprehend the Gringo then as I do now and know that to them nothing was sacred. Sangre de Christo! How they stole and killed when they came!” Old Joe sat silent, moodily gazing out over the valley that had been the kingdom of his fathers, now divided into small apple orchards. I did not interrupt his thoughts, but sat silent also, waiting for him to continue. “You may never have been told about those burial chains. All the jefes had them but the ‘jefes mayores’ or great chiefs had chains of old gold, richly fashioned by the best workers of the gold that the Indios had. When a jefe died these chains were bound around his body tightly and carefully. Why? I will say and you will laugh. But I believe—for I know, and I—I do not laugh, senor. Those chains were bound around the dead bodies of the jefes tightly and carefully, as soon as possible after those jefes died, to keep his sins from leaving his body with his soul. Thus his soul was white and pure for his God to pass judgment upon. It sounds strange, does it not? Si, but, amigo mio, there were many strange things in Califor¬ nia before the Gringo came, and only a few ‘viejos’ like myself know. “Well, this Gringo; he said that he must have one chain from the grave of one of the jefes. All the vaqueros and jefes say ‘No!’ It would leave the dead jefe without the guardian chains to hold his sins from blackening his soul. But still he asked Juan and Pedro and Felipe and Indalecio and all the vaqueros where to find the place of ‘Los Sepulcros’, but each vaquero frowned hard and with eyes black from anger answer¬ ed ‘ No sabemos nada! ’ Jhen what did that devil Gringo do? He makes love to La Palomita! Ah! La Palomita was known far and wide as the fairest nina north of the big bay! Beautiful and kind she was, and every man was mad for the love of her, for one glance from her black eyes. La Palomita was a queen. But she was a woman, and women listen to the stranger from a new land. And the Gringo talks and sends glances of fire at those black eyes; and La Palomita—well, she was a woman and he made her love him above all men. ,.r T ¥ t was a11 the Gh ' in go wanted. La Palomita was a Cahformana and her love was as a fire within her, not cold 10

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“But La Palomita was no longer La Palomito, but ‘La Bruja’ the witch, for all men feared her and looked the other way when she gave them the glances from her black eyes. And no man loved her ever in the long, dark years that she was doomed to live, for the spirit of the jefe cursed her. Her beauty left her and she grew loathsome to look upon. She, who had been La Palomita the beioved, became La Bruj,a the ac¬ cursed. And little children ran from her, and her lonely heart yearned for the touch of baby hands, and the mother in her longed to fondle and love some little one. But it could never be. Never was she to have husb ( and—babes—or friends; only the memory of the Gringo and that night of horror. “Thus it was, amigo mio, that the first Gringo came to our valley and died in our valley. Men say it is a lie; but my father’s father told me, and showed me where it happened, for the Indios know where the jefe .and the Gringo are mixed. Es verdad! But it is not good for others to know, so we never show that place of ‘Los Sepulcros.’ ” And old Joe Castaneda rolled a thin cigarette, using corn husk in place of the familiar brown papers, for Joe, let it be understood, was a Californiano of the old stock and, as such, observed many of the old customs of the days of the great rancherias.