Turn the Hearts Of the Children I

The Authors
LoLyn, born Lola Lynda Jacobs, is the mother of seven children born from 1972 through 1984. At this publishing, she has 12 grandchildren. Her youngest two children, \brent and Lynae.bounced between her and their father with the step mother, step mother for most of their lives, staying with their father during the school weeks and with Mom every other weekend and holiday and eight weeks in the summer time.
By the time LoLyn began the actual writing of this book her older children were married, on missions and working, and going to college. so it became this little family of three who were able to skip around the country and visit museums, memorials and camp sites in 36 different states during three summer vacations. Brent and Lynae each have one baby boy, as of this printing. Lynae’s son is six and Brent’s son is just a few weeks old.
LoLyn has written poems and stories since third grade, which her mother was wise enough to save and encourage. These volumes took four years of research on the trips, research and study of books listed, added upon the many years of genealogy research done by her Uncle Eliseo and  






Turn the Hearts
of the Children
Volume I
an historical novel by
LoLyn Jacobs

Seventeenth century history of politics, culture, social and genealogy in New Mexico

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This project started out as an autobiographical sketch which was to include my mother and my two grandmothers, to be called “Four grandmothers.” As I researched the New Mexico materials, I found it so intriguing that I wanted to share that too with my grandchildren. Over the course of the three years it has taken to research and write and re-write this novel, I have lost track of the exact materials that provided the many quotations, descriptions and historical information I have used.
I originally planned to foot note every quote and every paraphrased description I used, but I found it overwhelmed the book as there were several footnotes per page. Since my purpose is to share information and not overwhelm a reader with a research document, I made the decision to fully acknowledge all the sources by abbreviated footnotes at the beginnings of the chapters, and use a different font face to indicate direct quotes from sources. In some cases I have lost tract of the exact source, and in others, I have paraphrased and rewritten so much I can’t remember where my words take over the original. So to the authors and publishers of the sources I have used, I apologize if I have infringed on any copyrights. I have made many attempts to contact the copyright holders, but most the letters have been returned by the post office.
I have worked to be as accurate as possible about times, places and events and descriptions, using poetic license only to make transitions between the present and past.
Genealogical information is accurate and mostly from Origins of New Mexico Families, and most of that is plagiarized from the source along with the descriptions and tidbits of family history that Chavez compiled. Since these can be found alphabetically in the first half of Origins, I deleted the footnotes telling the page numbers. Page numbers on the copies of pedigree charts are mostly from Origins.
I want to acknowledge and express my thanks to my mother, my two aunts, Marian Baca Candelaria Martinez and Dolores (Lola) Baca Candelaria Salazar, for their stories, both written and oral, and my wonderful Uncle Eliseo who worked so many hours with me decades ago to fill in the pedigree charts from microfilmed church records, cemetery records, and other sources.
This book is a monument to each of them and their families as well.
Dolores = Auntie Lola

The real authors of these books.

Brent's and Lynae's advice on reading TTHOTC

read the book in the order that they are told, . Brent, aren't you going to tell them that they can travel through time using their imaginations, and using the history and genealogy in this book, they can have the same adventures and exciting visits to the past?

No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.er that they are told.

Malachi 4:5-6

Malachi 4:5-6
Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord; and he shall turn the hearts of the fathers to the children and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.

Marching into the Eighteenth Century New Mexico

Brent and Lynae sat at home on facing couches, each wrapped in a favorite blanket, waiting out the unusual winter rainstorm. “Brent, listen to this. This is for my next report for American History.[1] I think my teacher doesn’t believe New Mexico is part of American History.
“Why don’t you use one of the ones you wrote last year? No one would know about it.”
“I think I’m a better writer now, and besides, this stuff is pretty interesting now that I am more experienced.” Lynae began to read out loud from the New Mexico History book pages.
The cause of most of New Mexico's trouble during the eighteenth century was the Comanche migration southward. By 1706 this most warlike of all Plains tribes began driving the Apaches out of the northeastern part of the province.
“You’re not going to get me involved in another massacre, are you?” Brent said pushing the paper back toward Lynae.
“No way. Just read it and help me out here.”
By 1746 the Comanches were undisputed masters of the eastern plains regions, having driven their hereditary enemies, the Apaches, westward and southward. Hence, the Spaniard were forced to fight the Comanches and the Apaches as well as the Utes and the Navajos on occasion. Either the Comanches were at war or at peace with the Spaniards in New Mexico, depending upon which course was most advantageous to them at the time. Hardly a decade passed without their making a raid upon one of the Indian pueblos, Spanish ranchos or even populous settlements.
“When they were not trading with the Comanches the Spaniards were engaged in trying to exterminate them. In 1717 an expedition led by don Juan de Padella handed the tribe a crushing defeat. A similar setback was metered out in 1747. A consistent campaign against the Comanches was difficult to conduct because many Spanish settlers desired periods of peace so that they could trade with them.
“ In addition, it was not always certain who was responsible for the outrages supposedly committed by the Comanches. The wily Apaches and other tribes littered the trail with Comanche gear after raiding the white settlements. Thus made it look like it was the Comanches who raided the settlement. More important, the presence of the warlike Comanches in the Plains established an effective buffer between the Spanish hold in New Mexico and the French far to the east. Hence, a complete removal of this hostile tribe might not be in the best interest of Spain."
“Although usually enemies, the Comanches could also be friends. During their periods of good behavior they'd came to the Taos Fair bringing with them some of their loot in the form of livestock, Indian slaves, or other goods to be traded for Spanish wares.
"How does that sound?"
“Work on it. When you totally understand it, then you can write in your own words for a report. At least leave out all the hences.”
“OK, I’ll rewrite it in my own words, but listen to this part, anyway.[2] Lynae read again directly from the photo-copied pages.
“Among the Spanish settlements in New Mexico far more than the threat of the hostile Indians was the persistent fear of a French invasion during the eighteenth century. Throughout the long period of domination in the Western Hemisphere Spain had to fight the French and the English as well as the Dutch to maintain control of her holdings in the Western Hemisphere. Fear that the French were prepared to take over the northern outpost was very real and greatly concerned officials at Santa Fé, although there was never any actual possibility of such a venture by the French.
“As early as 1695 reports reached Vargas that traders from New Orleans had penetrated the wilderness uncomfortably close to New Mexico. These reports were carried by Apaches who hoped to obtain help from the Spaniards against their foes, who had been armed with French rifles. Such rumors continued to circulate and every decade was to be marked by a virtual panic over an impending French invasion. It was not until 1762 when the Louisiana Territory was turned over to Spain that this threat was removed.”
Lynae became more animated as she read, emphasizing the exciting parts by changing her tone of voice.
“An expedition commanded by Pedro de Villasur was sent out in 1720 to investigate the truth of these usually exaggerated reports. A force of some forty soldiers accompanied by perhaps sixty Indians went northeastward from Santa Fé looking for the French intruders. In August this expedition was attacked by a force of Pawnees and, except for about a dozen survivors, was completely destroyed. The Spaniards claimed that the French directed the Indian attack, but verification of the charge is lacking.
“During the 1720's France made an effort to reach New Mexico. The reasons for this action stemmed from disappointment with the Louisiana Territory. The bursting of the Mississippi bubble showed that quick fortunes were not to be made in this vast wilderness. In an effort to derive some gains from their possession Louisiana, the French turned their longing eyes toward the Spanish colonies. The mirage of wealthy Spanish gold and silver mines was a primary factor behind such intrigues. Then, too, the French were accomplished traders and they believed that a profitable commerce could be developed between the French outposts and Santa Fé.
“Attempts to establish such trade were a dismal failure in 1724, and again in 1739. The geography of the area was little understood; for example, one French party believed that New Mexico could be reached by ascending the Missouri River.
‘Well, I could write about this part for a marketing class.” Brent mimicked Lynae sarcastically grabbing the papers from her and holding them high above her reach. Soon sarcastic mimicking gave way to true interest as he read more of the fairs at Taos.
“At the end of Spain's rule in New Mexico most of the people continued to be engaged in the difficult task of wresting a living from the soil. The self-sufficient economy was built around the raising of crops in the valley lands through irrigation. They consisted mainly of corn, wheat and beans. Sheep were the most important type of livestock, with both wool and animals being shipped southward to the Mexican markets. What little manufacturing existed was for domestic consumption.
“As is usual in such an isolated community, trade was the primary economic activity. During the eighteenth century the annual fair at Taos held in late summer, was the most important activity of the trading world. This small village became the center of trade because of its location and was easily accessible through he valleys in several directions, and also because trade there could be carried on without the official scrutiny at Santa Fé.
“Attending these fairs were the Pueblo Indians, the Spanish settlers from surrounding areas, and even the hostile Plains Indians, who took time out from lifting Spanish scalps to do business with their possessors. Indians brought hides, captives, and stolen livestock to trade for the necessary knives and horses and a wide variety of trinkets. The merchants of Chihuahua, who had gained control of the former mission caravans about the middle of the century, dominated the commerce of New Mexico in the eighteenth century. Their annual caravans brought the goods to be bartered at Taos and returned with the raw materials of the province. Their monopoly enabled them to engage in sharp practices that oppressed the inhabitants in the frontier settlements.”[3]
Brent puzzled over that statement, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Beckoning to Lynae he began pinning on the same pin he had used to travel to Santa Fe for their earliest time line adventure. He handed the rose shaped pin to his sister.
"I think I want to go to the Fair at Taos, Lynae. Wanna come with?"
[1] New Mexico p 95 direct quote
[2] New Mexico p95-95 direct quote
New Mexico 96-98

Gadson Purchase

“Let’s get Mom a bumper sticker that says, ‘This car stops at all historical sites,” Lynae suggested as they drove south Interstate twenty-five.
“OK, OK. I promise not to stop at any more museums after Mesilla. Look, it says "Historical area," so it has to be good.
“Mom, this is your trip, we'll be fine, go ahead and turn off at Mesilla." Brent encouraged from the back seat reaching around holding his hand over Lynae’s mouth to stop her protests.
“Oh, look, it’s a little plaza, a town square. All the little towns used to have a plaza like in Santa Fé, but this is just so tiny and cute. Let's park and look around, it doesn't look like anything is open, but we can at least read the signs."
"Look, Mom. That store just opened up, and the others are opening. We came just in time. OOO Kaay, Shopping!!" Lynae’s countenance suddenly changed.
”Well Lynae is happy now. She can spend money," was Brent’s uninvited interpretation.
"O como me moletsas tu, hijito mío. Leave her alone. It's her money. She earned it baby sitting." Mom hushed her youngest son’s criticism.
“Oh, look at the candles. I love them.” Lynae chirped.
“Yeah, look at the prices.” Mom scowled.
"Here, Brent, you need this hat!" Lynae said shoving a tall imitation beaver hat onto her brother’s head.
"Yeah, right, like I need an extra thumb," Brent harrumphed secretly admiring his reflection in the mirror behind the counter.
"So, what can be seen in Mesilla?" Mom asked the store clerk. Lynae hid around the corner suddenly embarrassed, making an effort to look as if she were shopping alone.
“Well, right over there,” the lady gestured, is the monument where the Gadsden Purchase was signed. Across the street is Kit Carson's hide out --"
"OK, what's the Gadsden whatever, and who is Kit Carson?" Lynae asked coming in to the last part of the conversation, curiosity apparently over powering her embarrassment.
"You really should watch more TV, kiddo.” Mom joked. Everything I know about history I learned from TV movies. Kit Carson was an out law, but I think he had some heroic episode in the Civil war; and the Gadsden Purchase was when the United States bought some land somewhere around here, and -- I guess I don't know much about history, after all. But I remember hearing that he killed one of our ancestors. I don’t remember details.
“Let's read the sign. Wait, I'll go back to the car and get the camera. You kids go on ahead. Take the lunch basket and the blanket -- I'll be right there."
"Race you to the historical marker." Brent jabbed Lynae and began running, still decked out in the beaver hat. They reached the marker together; huffing and puffing they threw themselves down on the grass as if they had run a marathon.
Looking for the marker, they saw instead a platform and people standing or sitting on blankets all around. A speaker began a historical review. He removed his tall hat and gestured grandly. Lynae began to recognize the sudden changes as she tried to tune into a string of seemingly unconnected phrases:
"Since the war we waged with the United States as Mexican citizens . . . we won the battle at the Alamo. . .”
“I saw that movie, John Wayne and everyone else died in the end.” Brent said beginning to pay attention to the speaker, as he settled onto the grass.
“Even though we lost in the final attempts to keep that territory of Texas . . . we used what we learned to declare independence from Spain. . . . American frontiersmen moved into Texas before it became independent from Spain. They pledged to become Mexican citizens and accept the Catholic religion for their own.”
Lynae poked at Brent, “That’s what Becknell was telling us.” Both sat up and began to listen as they scanned the crowd for familiar looking faces while the speaker droned on.
"With Mexico declaring independence, Texas became a part of Mexico. The new comers backed out on many of their promises ... Mexico was attempting to abolish slavery, a threat to the Texans economic security.... The United States tried to buy the area from Mexico. They wanted to make Texas a separate republic from Mexico.”
Lynae spotted two young families sitting near them on the grassy slope. Antonio María García and María Josefa Martinez with their young children including, José Rafael García. And close by on a blanket was Antonio’s sister, María Inez Faviana García with her very handsome husband, Nazario Baca. They had just been married a few years.
A new speaker continued the story in a more animated rendition of New Mexico history:
"President Santa Ana began in l836 to stop the uprising of the Texicans. ‘Remember the Alamo,’ became the war cry of the Texan. Sam Houston and Andrew Jackson caught Santa Ana in a bad position on the San Jacinto River and forced the Mexican army to flee. Santa Ana was captured by the Texas soldiers and forced to declare independence from Mexico for Texas.”
“So are we Mexicans, Texicans or Americans now?" Lynae whispered to Brent, who appeared to be spell bound by the orator.
"Just shut up and listen,” was all he responded -- then admitted, shaking his head solemnly, "I'm not really sure.”
“By 1845 President James Polk had taken office. He sent an envoy to Mexico to buy California and New Mexico and some land along the Río Grande that was still disputed between Mexico and Texas. Mexico refused to receive the envoy. Not until April 25, 1846, Mexican soldiers came across the Río Grande and engaged an American force.
“The President immediately asked Congress to declare war on the grounds that U.S. territory had been invaded, a point not very convincing since Mexico had at least as good a claim to it as the U.S. did. In fact, it could well be argued that U.S. had been guilty of aggression when Taylor's men moved into the Río Grande area,” the speaker interpreted.
"That was that Pike episode. Lynae, remember Pike?" Brent started punching at Lynae’s arm as he became more animated, finally catching on to the newest scene in history.
"But U.S. Congress agreed with Polk and declared war against Mexico. General Taylor engaged Santa Ana in Northern Mexico. Vera Cruz was taken in March l847, then the soldiers marched into Mexico City in September.”
Lynae began to loose interest in the speaker and look around for babies. "Oh, look at the cute baby," she cooed, not so much to Brent as to the baby.
Brent mimicked, "OOOO loook at the cuuuute Baaab-eee.”
“Brent, you’re such a BOY! “ Lynae applied her favorite insult to her brother.
"What's your baby's name?” Lynae asked the distracted mother of two little children sitting near by.
“This is María Eugenia,” Dolores Aragón answered softly, playing with the baby’s tiny fingers.”
“She is the daughter of Rafael Garcia y Martinez, and you must be Dolores Aragon! “
Dolores cooed gently rocking the young toddler, acknowledging that she was indeed the great-grandmother Lynae had identified, while at the same time grasping the restless five year old Antonio at her side. “O, como me molestes tu, hijito.” She said warmly but firmly.
"You've got your hands full," Lynae said, modeling the concerned motherly-voice she had heard from both Mom and Gina. I can help you hold one of them ‘til the program is over."
Lynae took baby María Eugenia into her lap and played with her quietly through the rest of the history lesson.
"Meanwhile, Santa Fé and New Mexico had been taken without a struggle." The speaker was saying. "Kit Carson got word to the U.S. soldiers that California had already staged a successful revolt."
"Now who was Kit Carson, again?" Lynae questioned Brent, who shrugged her off with a wave of his hand, pointing in the direction of what had just been a curio store across the street.
Lynae focused on the building. Now it was not a store, but a house. It was obviously, just as the sign had said, the home and hide out of the notorious Kit Carson.
Christopher Houston "Kit" Carson
Kit Carson MuseumTaos, NM
"John C. Fremont led the Americans and raised a U.S. flag over the territory with the assistance of some American ships which had been lying off shore for just such a break."
"Is he going to go on all day about this?" Lynae spoke in her best 'motherese' to the little girl cradled in her lap. "Do you know that you are really my great-grandmother?" she added in the same tone of voice.
Noticing there had been a change of speakers, Lynae glanced at the stage. The subject, of course, was still the same -- history of New Mexico.
"In l848, five years ago, the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo was written on U.S. terms. The United States received clear title to Texas and got all of New Mexico and California for a purchase price of fifteen million dollars and any claims of American citizens against Mexico. From this New Mexico and California territories, as well as the territories of Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado and New Mexico have been mapped out."
"So I guess we are part of the United States now! All of the southwestern states have been purchased!" Brent explained to Lynae, who he realized was not really listening, but playing with their baby great-great-grandmother.
"The U.S. decided to add more land to this territory, as a route for a new railroad to Southern California. James Gadsden was set to buy the land for ten million dollars and establish a new southwestern boundary to the United States of America.”
“So it is on this occasion, that we sign the purchase papers, and by doing so, all the families of the New Mexico and Arizona territories become citizens of the United States of America!"
The crowd broke into cheers and applause, although there were some who seemed to be attending more in protest of the political move than in support of it. Lynae grasped the food basket Dolores had indicated following her to an open area where they spread out their picnic lunches and prepared to eat. Mom wasn't back yet, and there was no sign of the cars that had been parked near the plaza just a few minutes before.
"Lynae, Brent, these are our good friends from Belén, Nazario Baca and María Inez Faviana García. Their two sons, Mauricio and José María.”
"Otro abuelito!" Lynae gasped in excitement, but quickly changed it to more of an "oomph" sound as Brent elbowed her in the ribs.
“Good save,” he teased.
"I mean, mucho gusto conocerles, ustedes.” She chanted one of the few Spanish phrases she had learned from Brent, even though she knew her English was automatically translated into Spanish.
“Your little boys are just darlings." Turning to Brent, she repeated, “That's our Great Grandfather Nazario and his Papá Baca!" Brent was just as excited. Here was José María Baca, the notorious grandfather Uncle Eliseo had described to them -- a little boy not quite three years old. And here they were, having a picnic with him to celebrate the Gadsden Purchase making New Mexico a part of the United States. No wonder he was so involved in New Mexico becoming a state -- he would later insist that all his sons go to school in Kansas City to learn perfect English to prepare for becoming a state.”
"WOW -- I mean-wow." Brent stammered.
"Yes, we are all excited about the new changes in government.” The older Baca acknowledged, interpreting Brent’s enthusiasm to be about the announcement. “After being independent from Spain and a part of Mexico, now we change again to become a territory of the United States of America. One day, maybe, New Mexico and Arizona will be states." Brent just nodded, wanting to tell him how correct his guess was.
Somehow the historical nature of the speakers now became so much more interesting to both Lynae and Brent. The excitement of being with their great-great-great grandparents, and their children, the great-great-grandparents seemed to put the purchase more into perspective.
"You know how Mom and Uncle Duane tease Grandma Lucy when she says, "We are not Mexican we are Spanish." Brent folded his hands in his lap in an impression of Uncle Duane’s imitation Grandma Lucy. We would have been Mexican if the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo and the Gadsden Purchase hadn't been signed. We would be a state of Mexico instead of one the United States. You’d be singing Fifty-Nifty Mexican States instead of Fifty Nifty United States.©[1]
"Well, if Mexico hadn't declared independence before that, we would be Spanish -- so Grandma is partially right. I guess it was just a matter of when and where they drew the lines on the map.”
After lunch and a long restful siesta, the families gathered again to continue the celebration. During the afternoon Lynae and Brent learned more about the astounding changes in politics and government over that first quarter of the nineteenth century that had meant so many differences in the lives they were living at the end the twentieth.
“During the time of the Civil War, Napoleon III of France wanted to follow in the footsteps of his famous ancestor, looking for land to include in an overseas empire. He thought he saw his chance in Mexico which owed money to several European nations, which were having trouble collecting. To force payment, England, France and Spain sent troops to occupy Mexico. The financial matter was promptly settled and England and Spain withdrew.
France stayed on; Archduke Maximilian of Austria was placed in command as France's Emperor of Mexico. When the war was over we immediately demanded that France get out, and sent troops to the Río Grande to back up our demands. And France got out leaving Maximilian to his fate at the hands of the Mexicans. Napoleon III finally withdrew from Mexico because of his threatened position in France, avoiding a serious showdown and testing the strength of American foreign policy as it had been established by the Monroe Doctrine.”
All during the evening festivities, the Bacas and the Aragóns introduced Brent and Lynae to more family visiting from Belen: Manuel Antonio, and Adoina de la Trinidad, José Aragón and Manuela Antonia Torres: parents of María Dolores de los Reyes; Policárpio Bustamante and Guadalupe Larranaga, along with their young son, José Antonio, born 1847 in Lemitar, Socorro county and some of their eight children born in Lemitar and Rody.
Gregario Chávez was another young child, born 1850. He had come with his parents Juan Chávez and Monica Vaca.
The mariachi band blared as children slept on blankets on the grass as their parents and older siblings danced and sang in celebration through the starry summer night. Brent and Lynae spread their blanket and joined in a game of cards. The deck was an Apache adaptation of ancient Spanish playing cards. Each deck had forty cards decorated with swords, cups, coins and clubs. Inspecting the decks, Brent soon realized there were no eights, nines or tens; neither was there a queen. The face cards consisted instead of a king and a page and a caballero or knight, decked out in fancy costumes of the Apache rather than the typical court dress in Madrid.
They both quickly learned to play the popular game of Monte, betting against the dealer. The family members bet with small sticks or piñon nuts and did not gamble money, but many a man had lost all his money to card games in the plazas of New Mexico towns.
The early morning silence was split by the sounds of cannon shots and buglers greeting the dawn. Brent stood proudly with his bugle blasting away along with last night’s mariachi musicians, awaking the exhausted partiers.
Rafael Torres, leaping from his blanket at the foot of his wagon grabbed Brent’s horn and threatened that if he blew one more note he would shove the whole thing down his throat.
Lynae joined with Rafael in berating Brent. “Just because you earned your Boy Scout merit badge with your bugle, doesn’t give you the right to wake up the entire world.”
Rafael’s wife, Rafaila Baca and older daughter, Manuela Antonia Agapita calmed Rafael, coming to Brent’s defense. “That’s no way to treat the boy,” José Aragon, Manuela’s husband agreed. We are all one country now, and one family. Let us be loving and kind.
After a huge community breakfast cooked in Dutch ovens and on open fire grills, the celebration continued. Brent remarked that it reminded him of some of the family reunions in their own decade.
Once again the families spread their blankets on the grass facing the speaker's platform. The United States Stars and Stripes fluttered gracefully above the stand in the cool morning breeze as more speakers stood to relate the history of this new and ever important Gadsden Purchase of l853.
“After Pike had shown the way, several Americans attempted both to trade with the isolated province of New Mexico and to trap in its streams between 1807 and 1821. In general these efforts were futile, as the Spanish continued to take the necessary safeguards against an influx of Americans.
“In the year 1821 a combination of circumstances led to a changed atmosphere. First of all, the success of the revolt in Mexico meant that Spain's authority was ended. And Mexican officials were to prove far less competent in halting the inroads of Anglo-Americans than Spain, perhaps because the government at Mexico City was unable even to give the little support extended when the Spaniards were in control.”
Lynae poked at Brent’s contraband beaver hat, which he had quite unintentionally shoplifted the previous day, one hundred sixty some years in the future. The speaker summarized the immigration of adventurers that swept into the South West after Pikes reports were made public, and their attempts to establish trade with New Mexico.
“They were men of all races, types and cultural background, bound together by one thing: fascination with the wild, free and irresponsible life of the trapper. Some were well educated, while others were illiterate frontiersmen, typical of those who had steadily pushed the reigns of civilization westward from the Atlantic seaboard. Through the books, letters, and even oral reports carried by these men, the rest of the United States was to learn rapidly about the west. Once fashion changed, the supply of beaver depleted, the mountain men turned their talents and knowledge of the vast area to other pursuits.
“The mountain men were but the prelude to the large intrusion of Americans. The trappers showed the way to the traders who were soon to follow in large numbers.
“It was not until 1821 when Mexico attained its independence from Spain, that the American traders were successful.
“In 1819 an appeal was made to the government for a military escort for the Santa Fé caravan. Washington officials did not understand the terrain of the land and ordered Major Bennett Riley and four companies of the sixth
infantry to accompany the caravan. Riley was successful in protecting the traders until they had passed into Mexican territory. Unfortunately, he and his group had to await the return of the caravan, and while they waited the Indians constantly harassed them. Being on foot, the soldiers were unable to protect themselves. The report of their discomfort and danger finally convinced the skeptics that a mounted force was absolutely necessary in dealing with the Plains Indians, who used the horse effectively. Thus was begun the United States Calvary.”
“Booh-YA!“ whooped Brent during the applause, “Now my bugle will be appreciated.”
“Santa Fé became the port of entry for the trade of much of the Mexican territory, with large caravans being
assembled there before making their way southward to Chihuahua or westward to California.
“ Unfortunately the Santa Fé trade brought friction between the Americans and the New Mexicans. Much of this ill feeling came from the traditional Spanish fear of interlopers, foreigners, and Protestants.
“Most Americans were Protestants. With intolerance toward the Roman Catholic faith, they seldom missed an opportunity to display it. On the other hand, the resentment against the traders was sometimes not their own fault. For example, the fear caused by the ill-fated Santa Fé Expedition in 1841 and the subsequent Texas reprisals caused all Anglos to be suspected of conniving to seize the province. After what had happened with the succession of Texas, Mexican authorities perhaps had good cause to fear the number of Americans who were moving in to New Mexico. The attempts to cut off the Santa Fé trade grew out of this fear. But New Mexico needed American goods too badly for such embargoes ever to be effective
“The Mexican War caused an almost complete collapse of normal trade on the Santa Fé road. But the needs of the military led to continuation of the caravans. Once the war was over the old trade was renewed along with regular passenger service utilizing stagecoaches.
“By 1860 nearly seventeen million pounds of freight had gone over the old trail. The business employed approximately 10,900 men needed six thousand one hundred mules, twenty-eight thousand oxen and three thousand wagons to service it. After the Civil War was over the trade continued to flourish and in some years four or five million dollars worth of goods were went out from Missouri. Such goods continued to be largely manufactured items for consumer purposes, for which New Mexico exchanged hides, skins and wool. Gold and silver were also shipped from time to time but the balance of trade remained against New Mexico. Fortunately just as in Spanish times, this deficiency was made up largely through the money brought into the territory by the army.”
The sun was just beginning to set in Mesilla that March fifth evening in 1853, when Brent and Lynae spotted Mom returning from the car with the camera. "Did I miss anything I should have gotten a picture of?" she asked cheerily. Brent and Lynae glanced around as they realized all the ancestors had disappeared and the parking lot was filled with modern cars.
"No, nothing we can't pick up on a post card of at Kit Carson's store," Brent chuckled. "While I'm there, I'm going to smash me some souvenir penny's in the machine for my collection.”
"Oh, while I was digging in the camera bag, I found this story Uncle Eliseo sent for genealogy. I brought it along so we could read it while we eat our lunch on that grassy slope there."
Mom missed the look that passed between Brent and Lynae as they headed for the picnic spot on the hill.
“I didn’t realize New Mexico was so involved in the Civil War! Look at this article I found on the Internet. [2] There were at least two battles fought right in New Mexico when the confederates attempted to take it over! Here’s a long list of soldiers that fought on both sides. One battle was lead by two commanding officers, brothers-in-law, who fought on opposite sides. The author even included actual letters in a newspaper from survivors who remember it from each side.”
“Where would our family fit in with the Civil War?” Brent asked, as he carefully returned the Beaver hat to the store counter.
“Well, the Civil War. That would be about the time of my great grand father, José María Baca. The Civil War came less than a generation after the conquest by general Kearney and the Mexican War. It was during the war with Mexico that the Mormon Battalion was called upon to leave their families crossing the planes from Nauvoo to Utah, and march to battle for the Union which had just persecuted them, chasing them from Missouri with threats of extermination. Brigham Young promised the men if they would be faithful they would not have to enter into a battle and all would reunite with their families. So to prove their loyalty to the United States, and to earn extra money for their families to make the journey west, they marched in a unit called Mormon Battalion.
The issues of slave holding, commercial interests, and even political interests in having New Mexico secede from the union all played a part. Breaking up the United States may have seemed like a new chance for independence for the generations of New Mexicans who had been raised during the wild rebellion around 1847, and the Gold Rush at the end of that decade. This was the era of stagecoach mail, which shaved the trip from Santa Fé to Kansas City to under eleven days. The economic growth of those two decades was impressive as more and more Americans flowed into the west and through New Mexico. Even after the Civil War slave holding continued in New Mexico as in other states, illegally.

José María
In 1862 a Confederate Army troop headed by H. H. Sibley led an attack against a Union army and captured Albuquerque and Santa Fe. Then Governor Gilpin of Colorado organized an infantry and cavalry to cross through the Raton Mountains in February, marched sixty seven miles in a single day to arrive at Fort Union, then set out to recapture Santa Fe. They had to fight more confederate troops in Apache canyon, then march on to more battles until the confederates were defeated and retired with no supplies first to Santa Fé then to valley of the Río Grande. Colonel Kit Carson was involved in this battle which was the last in which Confederates were a serious threat in New Mexico. They withdrew completely by August. Confederate raiders continued to attack various places along the Santa Fé trail until the close of the war in l886.[3] Let’s read what Uncle Eliseo had to say about that time period in our family.


[1] Author of 50 Nifty states -- -
[2] Http://www.nmgs.org/artcw.htm
[3] Coronado pp 245-47

José María Higínio Baca, son of Nazario Baca and María Inez Faviana García,

José María Higínio Baca, son of Nazario Baca and María Inez Faviana García, was born in Belen, New Mexico, January 11, 1852. The many personal characteristics that set this man apart were manifested very strongly, whether they were bad, such as his temper, or whether they were good, such as his generosity. He claimed to have been raised in extreme poverty, which could be true in a family of nine, headed by a widowed mother. He claimed, also, to have worked very hard and to have suffered many hardships. His youth was spent on a farm, his mother's, later his own, when farming was mostly hard physical labor.
However, in his early manhood, during the 1870's, somehow, he acquired wagons and oxen and spent a number of years freighting from Kansas and Colorado into New Mexico and Arizona. He found time to get married. On February 23, 1876, he married María Eugenia García, the daughter of Rafael García and Dolores Aragón.
In 1887 he gave up freighting when he and his younger brother, Anastacio, took cattle on shares from Federico Scholle, a merchant in Belen. In 1888 they moved out of the Río Grande Valley west to a spring east of Santa Rita, later known as Riley, when a post office was established there.
The partido contracts usually were for five years. By 1892, while still running cattle, they opened a little store at nearby Santa Rita. There their children could attend what was called a school. When the contract expired in 1892, the brothers turned back to Mr. Scholle three hundred head of cattle. Seventy head were left for each of the brothers. About this time went into the sheep business. The sheep, as was very common, were being pushed farther and farther west in search of better and better grass. And so it happened that on one of the trips to check on the sheep, José María went on to Rito Quemado, a settlement that had been started some nineteen years before by a group including José Francisco Padilla and Reducindo Padilla, brothers, intimate friends of José María and also distant relatives. The Padillas and others induced José María to move his little store to Rito Quemado. And so in February of 1893, José María arrived at the settlement with his family and the few belongings, including the store. There was a great need for a store, so, in a modest way the business prospered
The family had been in Rito Quemado less than four years when the mother, María Eugenia, passed away. Perhaps the hardships of frontier life and the raising of a large family contributed to her untimely death. Nine children were left, ranging in ages from nineteen years to fourteen months: David, Margarita, Damácio, Nazario, Filemón, Trinidad, Encarnación, Enrique and Adelaida.
The family was shattered as could be expected, but not scattered. María Eugenia died on November l, 1896, and was buried in the Rito Quemado cemetery. The grave is well marked with iron railing around it. A year later José María married Margarita Piño, widow of Nestor Gonzales and daughter of Pablo Piño and Frances Skinner. So, the family was looked after by a step-mother whose character was beyond reproach. Never was any unfavorable comment made by any of the stepchildren!
In 1898 or 1899 José María filed on a hundred sixty acre homestead in what is now east part of Quemado. By 1900 he was well settled in the new location. He had built, not the first house in Quemado, but the second oldest and still standing now, in 1991. Doña Margarita, as José María called his second wife, owned some strips of land in Mangas, 18 miles southeast of Quemado. In 1903 José María relinquished his homestead in favor of his brother, Anastacio, who moved the store he had in Puertecito Blanco, west of Santa Rita, to Quemado and José María moved his to his wife's property in Mangas by 1904.


In Mangas, José María continued with the store with cows, with sheep and with farming. He had also taken over the post office and purchased additional land. He never got wealthy, but he was never broke. He provided for his family and tried to give the children at least the rudiments of an education. Although José María never saw the inside of a school when young, he learned to read and write and to do simple arithmetic. And he read a lot. Partly because he read so much, he acquired an amazing vocabulary -- sacred and profane.
In 1910 Doña Margarita died. The doctors found that she had cancer in one leg. When she had to choose between dying and having her leg amputated, she chose death. She left a daughter Mary Gonzales, from her first marriage and Eugenio Baca from the second.
José María stayed in his beloved Mangas. Gradually he closed the store in order to let his son, Filemon, run his nearby, together with the post office. His sheep were out on shares and so were most of his cattle. He devoted his attention to farming and to fattening of hogs; and gave away most of what the farm, garden and hogs produced. Although his children were grown, he was seldom alone. He did very little visiting but not a day passed without someone coming to see him. Old timers have been asked, "Why did people put up with his temper?" The words in the answers varied, but the meaning was the same: “Because he was there when he was needed.”
In 1918, sheep that he and his son, Nazario, had out on shares were turned back unexpectedly in the month of March and in poor condition. Although José María owned half of the sheep, he did not take part in handling them, but his meadows were used at lambing time. His son, Nazario, managed the sheep business and went often throughout the year to check on the sheep and on the grazing situation. The sheep ranged far and wide, then.
By 1915 José María's health had begun to fail. Diabetes was his trouble with other complications. On July 11, 1923, he passed away, seventy-one and a half years old. Incidentally, he took with him a perfect set of teeth, unimpaired hearing and excellent vision.
No effort has been made to canonize the man. His faults were well known and cannot be denied; they have been gleefully discussed throughout the years. At the same time, his forceful personality, his resourcefulness and unusual native intelligence have been acknowledged even by some who did not love him dearly. Those who knew him best and those he helped when help was sorely needed had reason to feel that his good traits outweighed the bad ones.
“Lynae, are you crying, baby?” Mom stroked Lynae’s brown hair.
“It just seems so sad that he’s dead already.” Lynae sniffed, wiping at the tears on her cheek.
“Sweetie, he’d be nearly a hundred a fifty years old. What do you mean already?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I just somehow feel really close to him and his family right now.” Lynae responded lamely looking toward Brent for validation.
Brent interpreted to change the focus. “So we probably got big families and diabetes from the Bacas.”
“And you must have gotten your orneriness from José María.” Lynae sniffed.
“Quítate hijita. I think we got the orneriness from more sides than one.”
“We seemed to have inherited having step-mothers too.” Lynae giggled in spite of her red nose and teary eyes.

Loretto Academy Santa Fe, New Mexico

“I think if we park here and walk around Santa Fé we can see St. Francis where “La Conquístadora” is still on display, and Loretto academy where my mother went to school after her father died. Then, well find a nice to have lunch and take a siesta.” Mom said maneuvering the Escort® into a parking place at an odd angle.
“¡La Conquístadora! Isn’t that the little statue they carried out of Santa Fé when the Indians rebelled in 1680?” Lynae startled Mom with the enthusiasm in her voice.
“And just as carefully escorted back at the Reconquest.” Brent added confidentially. “She was dressed like a Spanish queen, and known as “The Queen of the Kingdom of New Mexico and its Villa of Santa Fe.”
“She is the saint who the colonists revered for saving our lives and ensuring victory for the Reconquest. In 1694 they started celebrating every year by taking her to the place where we camped to pray for safety and victory. They built a shrine with tree branches and held a novena and Mass. This is the oldest Marian festival in America.”[1]
“My, my, you two have been studying my New Mexico history materials on the sly.”
“Well, you know, these people are family.” Brent said smugly winking at Lynae. “And some of that stuff can get pretty interesting when you actually get into it.”
The morning flew by quickly as they walked the narrow streets of Santa Fé, filled with a carnival like atmosphere during the summer festivals. Vendors and bazaar booths filled both sides of the streets in additions to the myriad of small stores selling specialty souvenirs and historical items.
At the Palace of Governors the previous day they had been told that because all of Santa Fé is a protected archeological site, whenever any hole is dug it has to be approved, and the archeologists have first privilege. So any time a gas line or phone cable has to be dug, the street might stay dug up for weeks while the archeologists sift through the dirt for layers of historical specimens from past centuries.
Even when the palace was built there, centuries of civilizations were uncovered, showing that this had always been a very important trade route. “I liked that one story about the tree. “ Lynae remembered. “They wanted to plant a new tree for the visit from the king of Spain some years ago, and in digging a three-foot cube hole, they found tons of relics[2]. We saw a lot of those are in the museum.”
“Mom, it’s getting so hot, and I’m really tired. Can we go eat lunch now?”
“Not yet, Lynae, look there it is -- Loretto Academy, or rather Hotel Loretto. I guess it’s not a school so much any more, but it’s where my mother went to school her first three years. There’s a sign where we can go in and at least see the stair case.” Mom said encouraging her lagging daughter.
“What stair case is that?” Lynae asked with little interest.
“We’ll go in and hear the story.“
Inside the little chapel the air felt cool and comfortable. Lynae collapsed onto a pew near the back to rest. Brent began inspecting each nook and cranny of the chapel and Mom settled in to listen to the recorded messages and enjoy the beautifully depicted Stations of the Cross along the walls.
‘Oo, I’ve got to find a restroom; it’s probably out by the gift shop. I want to pick up some post cards and pictures while I’m out there, so you two stay in here and get some rest from history, and I’ll be right back. Then, Lynae, I promise we’ll go eat.”
“At the Blue Corn Tortilla®?”
“If we can find it, we’ll eat at the Blue Corn Tortilla®.” Mom nodded in agreement.
The mid morning sun shone through the stained glass windows and a recorded message began playing for the small group of tourists as Brent settled into the pew next to his lethargic sister.

The Inexplicable Stairs
Answer to a Prayer to St. Joseph[3]
“In September 1852 the Sisters of Loretto came by paddle steamer and by covered wagon to the southwest. Their trip had begun in Kentucky the previous May on a steamer named The Lady Franklin, which took them up the Mississippi to St. Louis. From St. Louis to Independence, Missouri, they took the Kansas, but on the way a calamity befell the little community of nuns. Their superior, Mother Mathilda, took the cholera and died shortly after arrival in Independence. Two other Sisters also had the disease but they improved.
“Eighteen fifty two, -- just before the Gadsden Purchase.” Brent remembered the great celebration at Mesilla. “So there was already a lot of our family in the area and near Bernalillo and Belen.”
After more months of struggles and fears, broken axles and wheels, sights of dried to chalk bones and scorching days, what was left of the group finally arrived in Santa Fé, New Mexico. Four nuns arrived to establish the community. At the request of Bishop Lamy, Sister Magdalene was appointed superior of the group by the motherhouse. She was a woman of faith and resolution and the situation she and her Sisters faced was a difficult one.”
“Boy it sounds like our trip north for the resettlement.” Brent whispered to Lynae. Lynae nodded drowsily in agreement.
“Remember all the hazards of a journey in a covered wagon? Imagine these little nuns enduring all that!” she added.
“It was only because these sisters of Loretto were great women thoroughly permeated with the love of God that they were able to brave the hardships of those first years. Because the country was still raw and unsettled, they had no comfortable convent waiting for them on arrival. They lived at first in a little, one-room adobe house. The little town of Santa Fé was made up mostly of Indians and Mexicans at that time.”
Lynae stirred as she heard the whooshing sound of the nuns walking by in their long black robes, and right away she recognized all the signs of changing centuries, and the listlessness left her.
“Bishop Lamy has directed us to teach these frontier people,” Sister Magdalene was saying to the others. “If we are to be effective in this calling, we must have a nice building for a chapel and a school. And we need a place to live ourselves.”
Lynae realized Sister Magdalene was talking to Brent who was standing in a group of Mexican carpenters. She was directing them on how to lay out the arrangement of buildings. “When the school is completed it will be called Loretto Academy of Our Lady of Light.”
Construction began immediately. Lynae worked with the nuns and other women of the parish preparing meals for the carpenters, even helping teach the little children who were beginning to attend school.
“Boy, construction sure goes faster without electric wiring and plumbing.” Brent commented to Lynae one evening over supper. “Yes, we’re already to begin work on the chapel. I’ve seen Bishop Lamy’s drawings; it will be such a beautiful chapel.”
“I know, Brent, we were just sitting in it a minute ago. Remember!”

“The chapel was begun on July 25 of that same year. The same architect, Mr. Mole, who designed the cathedral in Santa Fé, designed this one. Because Bishop Lamy was from France, he wished the Sisters to have a chapel that was similar to his beloved Saint Chapel in Paris. That means that it was to be strictly Gothic, the first Gothic structure west of the Mississippi River.
Brent grew more excited as he assisted the builders on the new structure.
It should be very large,” Bishop Lamy had stressed. ”Larger in fact, than most of the mission chapels in this area; I want it to be 25 feet by 75 feet with a height of 85 feet.”
Mother Magdalene reported to the other nuns, “We have placed this chapel under the patronage of St. Joseph, in whose honor we communicate every Wednesday, praying that he might assist us."
Each Wednesday the Sisters met and prayed especially for the work of the building and shared the testimonies they had of St. Joseph’s intervention and assistance. "Of his powerful help we have been witness on several occasions." Sister Magdalene reported as the construction of the chapel neared completion. The chapel work progressed with some financial worries and a maximum of faith on the part of the sisters.”
Lynae stood in the middle of the floor of the nearly completed chapel. “Sister Magdalene,” she asked respectfully. “I don’t mean to criticize or anything, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but ummm, I was wondering, how are we going to get up to the choir loft to sing?”
Mother Magdalene looked at the young girl standing there in front of her. Then she looked up at the choir loft, built high above the back of the chapel. She looked toward the front of the chapel, and than again toward the choir loft, and finally understood the terrible error that had been made. While building the choir and the chapel separate teams had made no arrangement to join the two together. The exceptionally high loft stood unapproachable except by a ladder. No stairway joined it to the chapel, and there was no space to build one.
Brent and Lynae listened as Mother Magdalene called in many carpenters to try to build a stairway.
“Can you find a way to build a stairway to the loft without taking up most of the Chapel?” she asked each one that was sent to her.
Brent assisted each one as they measured and looked for a way, but each shook his head sadly and reported: "It can't be done."
“You might try using a ladder,” one suggested. “We could secure it to the wall.”
“Well I can’t see the sisters and the young ladies climbing a ladder in order to sing in the choir.” Mother Magdalene stated defiantly. “And I know it is God’s will that we have singing in our chapel.”
Others suggested tearing down the back side of the building, enlarging it and building in a stairway in the enlarged area, but the thought of undoing any of the finished building was too heartbreaking to even be considered.
“These nuns have traveled through the wilderness, given up their families and their own lives, and dedicated their lives to God.” Brent said discussing the matter with Lynae one evening when they were alone. “They don’t give up easily, and I think they will find a way.”
“Well, duh, Brent, you know they did find a way. We saw the staircase. We were just there.”
“Well, then we know they do find a way, but so far every single carpenter has insisted that there is no way to build stairs without taking up most of the chapel floor.”
Mother Magdalene discussed it with the sisters at the Wednesday prayer meeting and then suggested, "Let's wait a while and make a novena." Lynae learned from some of the nuns that a was a Latin word meaning nine, and they would pray the novena rosary for nine days to ask for this special blessing Because the sisters of Loretto are so devoted to St. Joseph, they made a novena to him for a suitable solution to the problem.
“Mother Superior?” Lynae tapped gently on the new door of the school office. There is a gray haired gentleman here with a donkey. He says he wants to help. So I came to get you.”
“Oh, child, this is the last day of the novena and I planned to spend the day in prayer, but I cannot turn away someone in need. Show him to the refectory and get him a meal, then I will meet with him.”
Brent took the strange man’s donkey to the watering trough and then to the stable area to brush its coat, while Lynae followed the Mother Superior’s direction. He noticed the toolbox strapped to the donkey, and carefully removed it, placing it on the carpenter’s bench nearby; curious about what marvelous tools might hold. When Mother Magdalene approached the gentle old man, asking how she could help him, he humbly asked her if he might try to help the Sisters by building a stairway!
“Can you do that?” Mother Magdalene asked somewhat incredulous after having been told so many times it was impossible. But holding to the faith she had in her novena and prayers, she gave her consent gladly, and the old carpenter set to work that very day. Brent ran to get the toolbox, and was disappointed on opening it to see that there was nothing more than a hammer, a saw and a T-square.
”How will you build such a magnificent stair case that you have drawn there with such simple tools?” Brent asked as he worked by his side. Day after day he worked. Every day but the Sabbath, the work went forward for nearly eight months. Some days the detail work was so intricate and time consuming; it was difficult for Lynae to see what progress had taken place as she inspected it each evening.
The recorded message continued describing the staircase to the tourists as Lynae stirred in the pew:
“The winding stairway that the old man left for the sisters is a masterpiece of beauty and wonder. It makes two complete 360-degree turns. There is no supporting pole up the center as most circular stairways have. This means that it hangs there with no support. The entire weight is on the base. Some architects have said that by all laws of gravity, it should have crashed to the floor the minute anyone stepped on it and yet it has been used daily for over a hundred years.”
Mother Magdalene inspected the final craftsmanship of the staircase. “Brent, find the carpenter so we can pay him, although no amount of money could possibly compensate for this beautiful hand crafted beauty. “
”Mother, he’s gone.” Brent returned from his assignment. “The donkey and tool chest are gone too. I have looked everywhere, and there are not even tracks leading away from the stable. I know he was here this morning when we put the final wax polish on the wood, but now, he’s just -- gone.”
“Come with me then to the lumber yard. We shall at least pay for the wood.” Brent and Lynae escorted the pleasant nun to the lumberyard.
“Brent, please ask the clerk at the desk how much we owe.”
“Mother Magdalene has money to pay for the lumber that had been used in building the staircase at the new chapel. How much does she owe here?”
“I know nothing of wood for the staircase. “ The clerk answered. I have wondered over the past months where the builder was getting his lumber. We carry nothing like it and I don’t even know where one could purchase such fine wood. I wish I could accept payment, but it did not come from here.”
Many of the carpenters that had refused the job had come by the chapel to inspect the finished product and wonder over it. The recorded message described it:
“The stairway was put together only with wooden pegs -- there was not a nail in it. The part under the treads and between the stringers is a lime plaster with horsehair to strengthen it. At the time it was built, the stairway had no banisters.
“Our next project will be to add hand railings to protect the young ladies as they climb the stairs.” Mother Magdalene announced. Lynae stirred again to push Brent away from her. He was poking her arm to get her attention.
He reached across the velvet rope separating the visitors from the stairway and rubbed his hand along the smooth wood.
“Banisters were added four or five years later.” The recorded message informed the tourists at the gift shop, continuing to explain:
“Among the girls who attended the academy at the time the stairway was constructed was a girl of about thirteen years. She later became a Loretto Sister, and was the first to climb up the stairway. She said that before the banister was built, they were so frightened when they got up to the choir that they came down on their hands and knees.
Visitors have come from all over the world to see the wonderful stairway. Among them have been architects who, without exception, say they cannot understand how the stairway was constructed, nor how it remains as sturdy as it is after almost a century of use.”
“Mr. Urban C. Weidner, a Santa Fé architect and wood expert states that he has never seen a circular wooden stairway with two 360 degree turns that did not have a supporting pole down the center. One of the most baffling things about the stairway however is the perfection of the curves of the stringers, according to Mr. Weidner. He tells me that the wood is spliced along the sides of the stringers with nine splices on the outside and seven on the inside. Each piece is perfectly curved. How a single man in did this in the 1870’s and out-of-the-way place with only the most primitive tools has never been explained.
“Many experts have tried to identify the wood and surmise where it came from. No one has ever been able to give a full report on it. The treads have been constantly walked on since the stairway was built. They show signs of wear only on the edges. Mr. Weidner identifies this wood as ‘edge-grained fir of some sort.’ He knows definitely that this hard-working wood did not come from New Mexico. Where the old carpenter go that wood and the identity of the rest of the wood is a mystery.
“The sisters at Loretto Academy say that the stairway is St. Joseph’s answer to prayers. Many like to think that the carpenter was St. Joseph, himself. The Chapel of Our Lady of Light was dedicated on April 25, 1878.”
“Well, what do you think of the stairway?” Mom asked returning with a hand full of postcards and a printed article about the building of the stairs.
“I think it is one of the most beautiful pieces of construction that I have ever seen,” Brent stated frankly admiring the craftsmanship.
“What do you think of the legend?” Mom inquired.
“Well, I for one didn’t see any load of wood when I took care of the donkey.” Brent puzzled.
“What?” Mom answered distracted by the task of finding her way out through the exit.“So are we going to eat now, Mom?” Lynae interrupted
[1] The full detailed story of image and shrines is told in the book, La Conquistadora: the autobiography of an ancient stature. This bit of information was taken from a pamphlet at St. Francis in Santa Fe.
[2] Tour guide at Palace of Governors, Santa Fé, New Mexico
[3] Inexplicable Stair Case. Recording and booklet at Loretto. Much of this chapter is quoted or paraphrased from this story. Change of font indicates direct quote.

Triplets

"Brent! Brent. Aunt Jean says our cousin Diane is going to have twins. Oh, I hope I get to have twins, I love twins, it would be so fun to have two babies... and Mom’s cousin Jaime is having twins too!"
"Settle down, Lynae, you are so baby crazy and you're only thirteen. Don’t wish your life away! You want to know what having twins is like, let's go visiting. What do we have that can take us back to 1885, let's see, here's a coin that should work. Get ready to see all the twins you can handle."
"What are we doing outside in a barn? It's cold out here, and it stinks like cows and goats."
"Well, yes, it's a barn. Barns smell like this, and we're in Santa Rita New Mexico."
"Policarpio,” a voice interrupted, “have you got that goat milked yet. We will need extra milk, so you're going to have to milk on time every day. But for now, bring in what you've got, you have a new sister."
"A new baby, a little girl? Wow, OK, I'm coming right now, I'll finish the chores later."
Brent and Lynae followed the nearly eleven year old Policarpio into the kitchen and watched him strain the small pail of milk into a clean bowl, then run back outside in the cold January night to continue milking and cleaning with fourteen year old brother, Jorge.
Brent trotted after them and offered to help out with the chores. It was better than sitting around a house while a new baby was coming into the family. Lynae followed the sounds of women talking and cooing and the sound of the newborn infant cries.
A mid-wife ran quickly past, instructing her to find more blankets and bring more hot water. "There's another baby coming!" she told Lynae who hastened to obey. Taking the blankets into the room, Lynae saw two beautiful new born baby girls and offered to hold one, while the midwife began to clean up from the birth.
Ana María called out again to say another baby was coming, but the midwife claimed it was just the afterbirth coming from the first two deliveries. She cried out again, and Lynae called to the midwife -- I think it is really another baby, it looks like the head is coming out. Sure enough a third baby was being born.
Lynae felt dizzy and weak. With the tiny baby cradled in her arms she found a chair to sit in while the nausea passed. She decided that just because her stepmother had been a mid-wife, it sure didn't make seeing birth for the first time any easier to watch. Lynae sang to the baby in her arms: " María Clara, little abuelita, you'll grow up some day, and be the mama of my Grandma Lucy, and my Auntie Lola and..." She took a moment to gaze at the calico covered walls and admire the coarse xerga fabric spread over the floors. Looking upward she focused on the muslin tacked across the ceiling beams.[1]
When news of the second baby had come to the boys in the barn, Policarpio became excited and begin working faster to finish the chores. When the news came that a third child had been born to his mother's already large family of eight children he became enraged.
"I'm going to put a stop to this," he told Brent, grabbing his arm and marching into the house in protest. Jorge and Brent laughed at the small boy so determined to stop the natural process.
"Anyway,” Brent assured him, "there were only three babies, there won't be any more."
"Well, just eleven kids, I guess that's OK." agreed Policarpio, calming down. At least some of them have already moved out and started their own families."
“There would have been sixteen, but four babies died. One set of twins and two others. Even though they have all of us, Mama and Papa were really sad when those babies died." The Bustamantes were considered a wealthy family in their time, but this many children had to put a strain on life’s demands.
Twin sisters Angelita and Felicitas, now nineteen had married before they were sixteen. Both were there to help their mother in this difficult birth and little two-year-old Francisco Antonio ran from room to room saying “three babies, three babies. “ Marie Ana, nearly five, attempted to hold on to him to keep him out of the way, but could not, herself, contain the excitement of having three little sisters.
Lynae struggled to keep her excitement under control as she helped tend the three tiny babies, watching the two small children as they grew more and more excited.
The four boys came in from the barn with a blast of cold from the winter night following them into the kitchen. They stood by the cook stove warming their hands and faces before they attempted to wash up. "What's for dinner, we're starving," they all said looking around at the unusually empty kitchen.
"Everyone is busy with the babies," Lynae said coming into the kitchen on her errand to fetch milk for the baby girls. "Brent, you boys will have to find something to eat on your own, we women are busy tending to the triplets."
Policarpio and Jorge groaned in unison, and little Hipolito copied them with a sigh and imitated their body language. Brent looked around for a refrigerator or microwave to begin the dinner, as Policarpio suggested they go to the root cellar to get some potatoes, a fairly new food in New Mexico.
"I know how to cook potatoes,” Brent said enthusiastically remembering when he was, “and there's some meat hanging out there in the cold too, we can take the hatchet and cut off a piece, it’s frozen hard.”
Gradually the warm smell of cooking meat and potatoes with carrots and onions filled the kitchen and welcomed the busy family to a hot dinner.
"This is really good, Brent." Jorge said taking a second bowl full.
"It's just something we make when we're camping with our mom. Lynae and I learned to make tortillas last summer." Brent said modestly, glad he had learned to make the popular scout stew during their summer adventures.
Lynae picked up the genealogy charts. Two of the triplets died when they were just little, but Clara grew up to marry and have a family of her own. “You finish cooking the tortillas I have rolled out.” Brent directed from the couch near the apartment kitchen, “and I'll read you this story that Uncle Eliseo wrote about his mother, Clara Bustamante. You probably ought to stir the stew, too, so it doesn't burn on the bottom of the pan.”
“That would have all been right around the time the railroads came through. Another big change in travel and that really made a difference in the tools and fabrics available to our families.”
“Up ‘til then the only things brought into New Mexico were brought by mule train or wagons from Mexico or from Missouri. But the people kept up with the fashions. As soon as they began receiving woven goods they went back to wearing the brightly colored chaquetas, laced calzoneras for pants with brightly colored sashes and embossed leather belts. The ladies dressed in silks, satins, ginghams and lawns with embroidered crepe shawls, and gaudy jewelry, huge necklaces, rings, combs, and bows. The women painted their face with white flour paste and rouged vermilion on their lips and cheeks. The white paste was partial protection from the sun and partly cosmetic. The poorer people dressed in serapes and flannel, but the colors were just as bright and varied.[2]
[1] Samta Fe Trail pp 160-161
[2] Santa Fe Trail pp 1770-171

Clara Bustamate by Eliseo

By Eliseo Baca
Born January 13, 1885 married January 23, 1902
died 5 November, 1918.
Clara Bustamate was born at Santa Rita a small settlement twenty miles north of Magdalena, New Mexico. He parents were José Antonio Bustamate and Ana María Vallejos. José Antonio is listed with his parents Policarpio Bustamate and Guadalaupe Larranaga living in Tajique, New Mexico in 1850. Ana María may have been living in the area because she and José Antonio were married at Tome.
By the time of the Civil War they were living at Lemitar, from there they went to live in Aton Chico, where they stayed for seven years. They returned to join other families that were moving from the Río Grande to start a new settlement that has been known and is known to this day as Santa Rita, not Rily.
José Antonio and Ana María had altogether sixteen children among them, two sets of twins but only one set of triplets. Clara was one of the triplets; the other two died at the ages of two or three.
Clara had very fond and vivid memories of the seventeen years she lived in Santa Rita. Many were the incidents she remembered. Some sad, yes, but most of them hilarious. With her wonderful sense of humor she could see the funny side of life and with such a compassionate nature she keenly felt the misfortunes of others.
The people who lived in Santa Rita were not wealthy, but never the less they lived in rustic comfort. The family of José Antonio, besides having the farm, drew some extra dollars from his work as the village blacksmith -- his sons learned the trade.
Clara lost her father in 1894 when she was only nine years old but the youngest in the family. The mother held the family together. With what the farm produced and with the willingness of the boys to do their part, they managed to carry on.
Then in 1901, out of the clear sky, so far as is known, Nazario Baca dropped into this peaceful village to ask for the hand in marriage of the little guerita he had known when they went to school together back in the early nineties. The details are not known as to how the decisions was made to leave a pleasant home and a pleasant way of life to go to an isolated frontier ranch in the boondocks of the west Rito Quemado. How many tears were shed will ever be known. Regardless of the imagined heartaches, Nazario and Clara were married in the Santa Rita church and shortly afterwards left for Rito Quemado.
Clara left the house where she was born. She left behind her beloved Santa Rita; she said goodbye to her even more beloved mother, never to see them again. A month after the wedding Clara's mother was killed by a train at Lemitar as she was getting on it.
Nazario and Clara went to what is now called East Quemado and lived there for well over a year in the homestead of José María Baca, the father of Nazario. Perhaps because José María relinquished his homestead to his brother Anastacio, Nazario and Clara moved for Lomita Collards, about two miles down the creek and lived in one large room by Nazario's sister’s house. Then Nazario filed for 160 acres where the town of Quemado stands. There with the help of don Severo Rael a fairly good three room picket house was built to which three more rooms were added later. Those are bound to have been harsh times for Clara, but when she spoke of them, she did not complain. Harsh times were taken for granted.
When Nazario and Clara moved into the new house, they were some five hundred yards from the home of Nazario's Uncle Ramon García and his wife Anita. This couple was a great comfort to the family even years after Nazario and Clara passed away. Their many acts of kindness have never been repaid.
At the age of seventeen Nazario had taken his deceased brother's sheep on shares, and on sheep Nazario and Clara with their growing family depended for their livelihood. Late in 1912 or early 1913, Nazario went into the store business and it could be that economically life improved, but the fateful years of 1918 were approaching.
The marriage of Nazario and Clara lasted a little less than seventeen years. At least six children had been born but four were living when the flu epidemic of 1918 hit the country. Clara was among those taken she was not quite thirty-four. She was followed by Nazario four years later when he was thirty-nine. Although the two parents died young, the four children they left behind are still alive.
“Wow, thirty-four”, Lynae spoke reverently. “That’s when I was born. Mom was thirty-four when she had me. And Mom and Dad were married for 17 years. She didn’t die, but she nearly did. She definitely would have in that time.”
“So, Auntie Lola, Grandma Lucy, Auntie Marian and Uncle Eliseo are the only living kids of Grandmother Clara?” Lynae added trying to keep it straight in her own mind.

“Yeah, remember Auntie Marian is the little tiny lady in Albuquerque. When you were about three we went to visit her and you wanted to steal her shoes because they were so tiny and cute.” Brent reminisced.
“She seemed to be really big to me then, but when we went this summer, she was so tiny. I had to bend down to give her a hug. Remember Eugenia and her son Dominique were visiting there, too, and they were roasting green chilies on the barbecue grill in the back yard.”
“Oh, yeah, I love the smell of that.” Brent inhaled a big breath remembering the pungent odor of the roasting green chilies in the Albuquerque summer.
“She’s the one who gave us this story about her family and the nuns at Loretto Academy. “

Marian Baca Candelaria

Written by Marian Baca Candelaria Martinez in 1970
"To know him is to love him:" doesn't exactly apply to Papá Baca but strangely enough it tells much of his daughters.
Papá Baca, José María, is remembered my most as stern, solemn even cantankerous and a bit on the cruel side -- expecting and getting silent obedience at all times. I recall shaking and loosing my voice at the sight of him. I do want to mention that he did Lucy and me a great kindness.
On March 4, 1922, he brought us to Loretto where we met Sister Josina, who was for many years the joining link of the family. Our Auntie had taken and practiced the vow of poverty, but she gave to us and to the world riches money cannot purchase. An unforgettable Little Nun she was!
Born 1890, and christened Trinidad, she helped to rear her brothers, sisters and her sister's children who were numerous. Sister Josina said, "at my sister's there was always one child learning to walk another in the basket and expecting arrival of a new one."
Papá Baca was not much on recreation. The girls’ social life was nil -- but Sister Josina tells of a special occasion that they were permitted to attend, perhaps on the order of the present day wedding shower dance. Sister Josina -- then Trinidad, made a big to-do and was so happy for the rare opportunity of displaying a purple bow (her favorite color) which she planned to wear at the back of her head. She clasped said ribbon and very carefully and with much precaution gently put on her hat (a must in that day and age.)
The hat was to be removed immediately on arrival at the festival for she wanted all to soak in the beauty of her satin purple bow. She told how she created reasons to turn her back for everyone to feast their eyes, so pleased for this chance. It was super -- until time to leave when poor Trinidad discovered her pride and joy had remained stuck in her hat when removed. She told of her disappointment with sadness -- to her it was drastic -- so much so as to bring a little tear each time she related this story.
The occasion for "showing it off" never presented itself again. Papá Baca decided his daughters, Trinidad and Encarnación (Later Sister Romaulda) should enter the convent. Accustomed to silent obedience the two young girls accepted, figuring their future was settled. Sister Josina proved she did have a vocation. To us she was a Godsend. Many nieces crossed her threshold before and after our time. All loved her.
Back to March 4, 1922. Lucy and I arrived at Loretto Academy Santa Fé, New Mexico and placed there for keeps, so Grandpa thought. We were two very scared little orphans. With our severe case of whooping cough we were immediately placed in the infirmary. All were so good and kind. I soon recovered.
Lucy remained and managed to pick up any and every available germ. Lucy would be informed of her various illness, measles, scarlet, fever, chicken pox, mumps etc. etc. Sister Avelina, nurse and Sister Josina nursed Lucy through it all. After teaching in a classroom of ninety to a hundred first graders Sister Josina relieved the day nurse and took charge. As Sister Josina bathed Lucy, one day, she said, "Lucy 'Cow" (Lucy's proud interpretation of last name) “You have a nephew." Lucy saddened as she asked, "Oh, no, what kind of sickness is that? I thought I was getting well." Lucy recovered.
One summer day Sister Josina escorted her out to the play grounds, Lucy decked out in her very own original haircut she had created in her many leisure hours with nothing else available but art scissors and construction paper -- obviously she tired of cutting on papers. To me Lucy, as always was a welcome sight. Having been in quarantine for so long I had not been close to her in months. We clasped hands; to the chapel we went to give thanks. Overflowing with joy, we began our lives together in our new home with our precious Auntie, Sister Josina at our side -- a place she never left.
Speaking of the chapel brings to mind that Sister Josina's Saturday job was to clean God's House. What a familiar sight to see our Little Auntie in the highest parts of the Old Marble Altar along side the Dover emblem of the Holy Ghost. They looked so good together -- had much in common -- both enlightened people. Sister Josina worked hard to keep this precious place spotless.
We often helped remove wax from candle holders. How very privileged we were made to feel. I shudder to think of the miles a meter would record that Sister Josina traveled on her knees scrubbing, waxing and polishing every nook and corner. Many years and many callused knees later I visited Sister Josina. She led me to the chapel door and said, "I no longer clean God's House, look for yourself. I have been replaced.” There in place of eighty nine pound Sister Josina were three husky men with complete electrical equipment doing the job she had done with her own little hands for many years. My heart bled for her as I watched her forefinger nail between her front teeth -- a habit of hers when disturbed.
Lucy and I were not among those who had an allowance to spend at the candy store, but our treat come at 3:00 o'clock each day for eight years when Sister Josina came from St. Frances School. We would meet her at the back green gate. She would reach down in her pocket (if said pocket could talk -- WOW!) and out came "goodies" for the nieces. Candy, piñons, fruit and even sandwiches.
Delicious they were indeed! These surprises and generosities were not limited to these occasions -- never a feast day or birthday passed but what we found a neat little package at our place in the dining room. Which brings me to a little incident I'll always remember and gloat over.
It was lunchtime, dining room was on the second floor -- steps were narrow. We were going up double file in silence, as required, looking straight ahead, like ladies, when I felt our Superior, Sister Bernard, grab my arm, hit me, scold me angrily -- following our strict orders not to turn around or talk in rank -- I waited until we reached the top of the stairs to ask what I had done. Sister Bernard looked surprised as she said, "Wrong girl -- thought you were Marcel!"
Someone, not I, rushed to Sister Josina, told her I had been mistreated unjustly. At our very next meal there at the refectory stood little Sister Josina along side two hundred pound Sister Bernard. I wondered why but soon found out. After grace, Sister Bernard said, "Before you get recreation I have an announcement; yesterday I struck Marian Baca by mistake. I wish to apologize before all. I am very sorry Marian," she said standing by our table. At that Sister Josina left happily, not before assuring the superior I was not responsible for her knowledge of this incident. Turning back Sister Josina said, "O, Yes, next time Sister Bernard, look before you hit." You wonder why I loved this little Nun. Nobody, but nobody dared order our Superior around.
Among the million things Auntie did for us I recall how she insisted we place our soiled handkerchiefs in a bag she replaced with clean ones every Saturday. These she laundered herself. I could never understand why she didn't want us to send them in the general laundry since she had seen that hankies had our names and no danger of getting lost. Perhaps to check to see we had clean ones daily. However our Lucy always forgot hers (I believe she does to this very day) soiled or otherwise. Sister Josina would meet her on the play grounds with "Lucy Cow, do you have a hankie?" Sheepishly she would answer, "Doo" suggesting very much need of a handkerchief. Sister Josina searched in her bottomless pocket as if by magic produced a hankie for that Lucy.
The years slipped by -- many relatives and friends visited Sister Josina except on first Sunday of the month. Lent and Advent. Always we were brought into the parlor and introduced as "Marian and Lucy, my brother's Nazario's girls." To friends she would add, "he died so young -- was smart and promising -- well -- he was the cream of the crop.” How my heart filled with joy. To myself I would say, "you Sister Josina, are the cream of the feminine side.” I told her this often and thankful I did. Wherever Sister Josina was the relatives gathered -- she and she alone possessed that magnetic power. She was the joining link of a very large generation.
Life at Loretto was routine. Graduation 1929, many including Sister Josina were certain I would be a nun. Never could figure what gave them that impression. When I was confronted with, "Do you plan on joining the Loretto Order." They seemed stunned and disappointed -- especially Sister Josina when my answer was, "No, the world needs good mothers, and I intend to be that." Even though Auntie was a bit let down she added, "You are right Marian, how else would we have vocations. I haven't been much help in that direction. But I tried as a mother.
We had Sister Josina visit in our homes through the years. She brought us much joy. Always had a package hid in that famous built in pocket of hers. Once she handed me a neatly wrapped box just as she was leaving to be opened after she was gone. The package was labeled "Mouse trap guaranteed to kill by scaring them to death. We found, to our amusement and pleasure a picture of Sister Josina. On these visits, Sister always played the mouth harp -- danced to her polkas -- daringly picking up her habit, even exposing her ankles -- how cute she looked -- how she loved it. I think she pictured herself wearing her purple "bow".
Sister Josina had a sparkle in her eyes, dimples on her cheeks, and that daring streak I dearly loved. In those days religious life and rules were strict. Evenings, after dinner few disasters were seen on premises except those on duty. I was attending Loretto centennial, anxious to spend every possible moment with Sister Josina and Sister Romaulda (who lived together now). I was very sorry they would not be a the program that evening. They were presenting the History of Loretto, which the nuns attended that afternoon with orders that no nun must be seen at the evening performance. Convent quarters were locked as customary at 7:00 p.m. I walked into the auditorium a bit sad -- imagine my surprise when I discovered, in the rear of the place two Black Crows (we called them that with affection) motioning me in their direction. I quickly joined them, a very nervous Sister Romaulda who greeted me with "this was Josina's idea; I don't know how she dared or how we will get back into the convent." Sister Josina relaxed and smiling said, "no te apures Romaulda, you don't think I came unprepared. Here are the keys I swiped from Mother Superior's desk. Our night clothes are in the downstairs closet -- so what -- no rule says we can't get up out of bed and go downstairs." This day and age it doesn't seem too daring -- but believe me it was! Sister Romaulda continued to be afraid. Finally Sister Josina said, "enjoy this now -- we see Marian so seldom -- if we are caught we will pay later; you're not going anywhere else."
Through the years, I kept Sister Josina posted, especially when in need of prayer
Sister Josina taught at St. Frances in Santa Fé for fifty years. During that period more than four thousand children began their education under Sister's directions. She claimed that one of her most illustrious pupils was the late Monsignor José García -- but he was a rascal."
As sister closed her classroom doors over eight hundred gathered to thank her for what she had done for the community. It was said, "we join fifty years of Santa Féans who had their noses wiped, their childish tears dried, and the doors of learning opened to them by this devoted woman.
In January of 1969, our dear Sister Josina suffered a broken hip -- between that and arthritis she laid unable to move a muscle with this poem by her bedside:

The Only solace
To walk I cannot use my feet
My hands, I cannot use to eat.
But O! I have my eyes to see.
Dear God, You are so good to me.

My body's is bound with an iron chain.
I am quite cognizant of pain,
But I restrain the blinding tear
and thank you God, that I can hear.

For every need I must depend
Upon the service that other rend....
O heavy cross, the galling kind,
But, Thank you god I have my mind.

Daily, hourly ,suppressed desire
To do for other ignites a fire
that lights my way up Calvary's Hill
The only Solace, ‘Tis God’s will.

She died on February 10, 1970. I can picture the Golden Gates wide open awaiting her arrival -- hear the trumpets playing -- St. Peter and our Daddy Nazario greeting her with a big welcome -- St. Peter saying "Come in; you, like your Brother N.G., are white clean through." No doubt Sister Josina is sitting in her well-earned throne probably even showing off a beautiful purple bow. One thing I know, she is wearing her traditional Loretto habit that she dearly loved.
This little poem that I learned on my father's knee -- I can still hear Daddy, "recio ya despacio hijita[1]."

A Big Love
If you could see my love for you
How big it is -- how wide,
You'd look at me and wonder how
It ever got inside."

There were hugs and kisses all around as Lynae and Brent followed Mom to the car. “I hope you can come back again,” Auntie Marian and Eugenia told them. “It’s been a wonderful visit.”
“We’re headed down to Arizona to see my granddaughters first thing in the morning.” Mom answered bending to hug her four foot eight inch Auntie. “But we hope to come again next summer.”
The car pulled out and headed back to Río Rancho to spend one last night with Grandma Lucy.
“That was fun,” Lynae agreed. “That made the visit to Loretto Academy even more important to me.”
“I wish we could have stayed for the dances tonight at the festival!” Mom sighed. “But we need to head on down the road.”
“I’d like to see the cock fighting and bull baiting.” Brent’s eyes lighted up.
“I don’t think they do that now, but it was a popular tradition in the 1800’s. “They had all kinds of dances, waltzes, tango, the cuna, or cradle dance, but my mother jokes about doing the fandango. I found out it was really a dance. Everyone danced, the poor, the rich, the ladies and young people. I read that the dances went on almost every night and the streets had a carnival air. The dances were announced by a parade of the musicians around the plaza. But the young women were always chaperoned, and did not very often choose their own mates[2],” Mom added in a stern tone turning toward Lynae.
“I think our next adventure should be to Auntie Lola, and Uncle Eliseo and just force them to tell us stories and record them.” Brent insisted.
“We’ve tried that,” Mom explained, “and we have a few, but they just clam up when they see a recorder. The best luck I’ve had is writing down what I know or remember hearing and then having them correct all the mistakes and misunderstandings.”
[1] recite it a bit slower, little daughter that I love
[2] Santa Fe Trail 170