El Santuario was not far from the little adobe that don Domingo was having built for his daughter, and Caridad, who had chosen that spot because of its holy reputation, had only passed through the village. This was Caridad’s first pilgrimage. Sofi never took her girls to Chimayo during Holy Week. As a matter of fact, during their growing-up years it had been difficult to take them all together anywhere because of La Loca’s inability to be around people because of their all-too-human smell. But of course Caridad, through her dreams and from people’s accounts, knew all about Chimayo, which was why she had chosen to have her house built there with her father’s lottery winnings.

In that valley in the Sangre de Cristo foothills nearly two centuries before, a Penitente Brother performing his penances during Holy Week ran toward a bright light coming out of the ground not far from the river. He dug at the spot where the light emitted and found a statue of Our Lord of Esquipúlas.

Now, of course there are a lot of amazing aspects to this legend because Nuestro Señor de Esquipúlas was the black Christ of the far-off land of the converted Indians of Esquipúlas, Guatemala, and how He got to the land of the Tewa is anybody’s guess! But he most certainly had a mission, which was to let people know of the healing powers of the sacred earth of Tsimayo—just like he had done in Esquipúlas—so shortly after his appearance, the Catholic Church endorsed as sacred what the Native peoples had known all along since the beginning of time.

With this in mind, Caridad was more than willing to go but not all that thrilled, frankly, at the prospect of walking all the way there, which was the only way doña Felicia said that they would get there, refusing to jump in Caridad’s pickup when Caridad opened the door for her.

“If I can make it on these rheumatic legs filled with varicose veins—certainly a young girl like you can make it there skipping all the way!” doña Felicia told Caridad who, without responding, reluctantly followed the old woman as she started down the road.

Doña Felicia nimbly led the way in the direction of the penitente procession she told Caridad that they were going to join, only stopping occasionally to take a swig of water from the jar that she had handed over to Caridad to carry along with the rest of their provisions.