Francisco or el Franky, as his tío Pedro still liked to call him, was the youngest born to his sister-in-law, and while an unquestionably sensitive child—something which don Pedro tended to attribute more to being “spoiled” by his mother as the youngest boy and later by his godmother—he showed no early indications of being special in any way.

Pedro’s eldest brother insisted on yet another child after the birth of his seventh son because although it had been a good thing as a rancher to have so many boys, his heart yearned for a daughter. And so it was that the eighth and last of his brother’s children was a beautiful little girl, Reinita, named after her mother, Reyna.

When Franky started school at the age of six, both his mother and baby sister, who were not vaccinated as had been all the boys in school, became very ill and died of smallpox, leaving Franky’s father alone with the seven boys.

The youngest boys were sent to their respective padrinos and the oldest ones stayed to help their father with the ranch. When el Franky was ready for high school he left his godmother Felicia’s home, where he had been treated like a little prince without so much as ever being expected to fix his bed in the mornings, and went back home to help his father with the laborious tasks of farming.

Doña Felicia, because of her advanced age, was more of a grandmother to Francisco than a substitute mother and as the years went on his mother ever ascending toward heaven became more remote as a former human being and more akin to a celestial entity. To Francisco, yes, his mother was no less than a saint. Many men say this of their mothers, of course, who sacrifice themselves to their children and husbands, but for Francisco, what else could his mother be at that moment when he found himself a small child with his large family gone from him, if not una santita en el cielo watching over all of them to make sure that they completed the tasks she had labored so hard to bring each into the world to do?

In doña Felicia’s home, at that time she lived in Tome near the church and was, in fact, the keeper of the keys and the caretaker of the santos there, there was always something good and satisfying on the stove when he got home from softball practice, his denims were patched but clean, his shirts ironed; in short, he was well cared for by the old woman. And the little house was anything but gloomy, since it was always bustling with all kinds of gente from the community who came to get massaged, receive consultation for family dilemmas, be “cleansed,” or to get herbal remedies from the old healer woman.