Richmond High School - Shield Yearbook (Richmond, CA)

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RICHMOND RODEO —it was as light as day; she could never dare to cross it. Keep- ing near the edge, she was making her way around in the shadow of the wall, when a footstep arrested her. She sank back into a doorway, fearing every breath detected. But it was only old Jose, the friendly keeper. As she went toward him he started and would have cried out, but she motioned him to be silent. ‘‘Jose—the door?’’ she whispered, clutching his sleeve. “fh! What did I promise, Senorita?’’ he said, and jingled his purse. She silenced him quickly, for the slightest sound awoke the echoes. ‘“‘Gratias, Jose,’’ she smiled. ‘‘Adios, Senorita.’’ He would have lingered but she dis- appeared abruptly in the shadows. At the timbered door in the outer wall she stopped to quiet her pounding heart and peer back into the moonlit gar- den. Then, finding the bolt in the dark, she slowly swung the door on its hinges, just wide enough to let her pass, and slipped out. But to close it—she seemed hours long. The ponderous weight jarred, and the iron bolt grated, until she was almost in a frenzy. Stealing away, she sought every clump of shrubbery and crept along until finally a friendly cloud covered for a moment the all too bright moon—then she sped frantically up the hill. The tall Gringo sprang to meet her, his eyes flashing—his voice tense— ““Ah, my Mercedes!’’ He took her hand and together they rushed on. Now over the top of the hill she stopped for breath, but soon they hurried on down the slope toward the water. There was the great ship riding at anchor on the brilliant bay, her masts swaying to and fro with the current, and below was the small boat that was to help them to the ship.. Climbing down the rocks they reached the beach. Here, surely, they need not fear, for the cliff hid 19

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RICHMOND RODEO THE HOLY CROSS | | HE night seemed steeped in silver moonlight. Mercedes crept to the window, and pressing her face against the bars, gazed out into the peaceful stillness. Below her, rolling hills spread out into the marshland, but to the west the land rose steeply to a crest—at the foot of the slope on the opposite side lay the bay. She studied the lurking blackness beneath the clumps of brush for signs of life. Ever were the traders on the alert for wandering bands of Indians. The strong walls of the convent served not only as a school for the young people but often as a fortress for this hardy little band of Mexican explorers. Toward the east several black clouds hovered and cast their ominous shadows. Startled by a noise within she drew her mantilla over her head and stepped back into the room, away from the light of the window. Her roommates were sleeping heavily; the whole house seemed weighed down with stillness. She was impatient to be away. Her life appeared hard and unpleasant by night; she did not realize that daylight would lend a brighter aspect. It was all too stern and strict; the long hours of study were intolerably tiresome and confining. Only the day before she had been forced to crawl and lick the cross outlined on the floor of the chapel, merely for evading the morning service. She shuddered at the thought of the undue severity of the pen- ance. Glancing out of the window again she sighed for joy. On the ridge of the hill, his black form outlined abruptly against the bright sky, stood the Gringo. She drew a cloak about her and creeping along in utter darkness, felt her way stealthily through the hallways. On reaching the patio she was startled 18

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RICHMOND RODEO them from the surrounding country. They lingered long at the water’s edge, the tiny waves lapping the beach at their feet. The moon broke forth again in all her glory and lit up every cranny and crevice of the rocky precipice. The bay sparkled in its silver mantle. Suddenly a shadow fell on the water from the overhanging bluff. The Gringo started and clutched his sword. There on the cliff directly over them, stood the stern visaged priest, hol ding a crucifix on high. His sword dropped and the Gringo sank back. The priest’s robes were an armor against which a sword availed nothing. He descended to the beach and ap- proached them. They dared not move, fearing the ban of the church. ‘‘Ah, my daughter,’’ he said, raising his hand. And with kind persuasion he led her, gently weeping, away. The Gringo stood petrified and watched them disappear. Then with clenched hands he strode up and down the beach. In that darkest stretch before the dawn, a great flame leapt into the heavens and lit up the sunrrounding sky. The cross, rising above the walls of the convent, in the very heart of the fiames, flashed with a white heat. Pushing off from the shore, the Gringo, his features glaring malignantly in the smoky light, pulled fiercely for his ship, which, her sails flung to the breeze, was already moving down the bay. The next evening a Spanish ship under full sail, carrying the survivors, passed through the Golden Gate into the face of the setting sun. t And now a crumbled foundation to be found on the Rich- mond hills, near where the Baptist church stands, marks the place where the old convent reared its adobe walls. —MURIEL TRULL, ’10