“Padre Romo, if Mama’s baby is a boy, Papa will have someone to inherit Rancho Refugio. Is that true?” Alicia glared at Captain Harris.
“Indeed, he will, Alicia. Papa loves you three beautiful girls, but it takes a son to inherit the land. We can only pray that God answers Papa’s prayers.” Padre Romo had all the answers, all the news and a way of making it sound holy. He was respected by almost everyone.
“The padre knows all about these things. He runs the Mission, you know.” Alicia directed her remarks directly to Captain Harris. She was glad to have a grown-up ally on her side for once.
It was true. At the Mission, the padre conducted mass and baptisms and monitored the weaving and wine-making workers. Not only that, he had a knack for spotting cargo from the Orient docked at Refugio. In short, Romo knew everything about everyone in the parish. For the Ortega family he spoke Spanish, the Mass was in Latin, and the Chumash instruction was in some combination of words and gestures. He impressed the Yankees with theological discussions in English. Many settlers arrived as Protestants, then were baptized as Catholics within a month of arrival in Alta California. Marriage to a local girl followed weeks later, all sanctioned by Padre Romo.
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