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[Adsyc-user] complacent collaboration

From: Clifford Turner
Subject: [Adsyc-user] complacent collaboration
Date: Fri, 15 Sep 2006 13:38:48 +0300

Yet one felt in him aquick and discriminating intelligence.
Behindtheir camp, not far away, lay a group of great mesas. Jacinto was never, by any chance, naïf; he was never takenby surprise.
But I guess it will be all right from now on.
But it is growing too dark for that, unless he shouldfollow us on horseback, said the Bishop.
An Indian girl cooked his beans and cornmeal mush forhim, he required little else.
Thenotary told him the facts of the case in the plaza, where everyonecould hear. What needhad there ever been for this great church at Ácoma?
No, no, Christóbal, I would not be afraid with you. Scaleshimself they captured on the road from Taos, where he had gone tolook for his wife.
She began distractedly snatching rags and wet socks and dirtyclothes from the chairs.
Inall the plain through which he had come he had seen no trees but afew stunted piñons.
This was the beginning of a long friendship.
She was not old, she might have been very young,but she was probably half-witted. The Bishop seldomquestioned Jacinto about his thoughts or beliefs.
They actually lived upon their Rock; were born upon itand died upon it. Thedesert, the mountains and mesas, were continually reformed and re-coloured by the cloud shadows. A man dressed in buckskin hunting-clothes stepped out of the crowdand asked to see Magdalena. Asked when he had last celebrated Mass at Ácoma, he made nodirect reply. Navajos on the north, Apaches on thesouth; the Ácoma run up a rock to be safe.
Father Latour was so stiff that hearose long before daybreak.
That varmint wont come about my place, even if he breaksjail. Their horses Buck had ridden off by night andsold to Indians somewhere in the north.
No, I not know any name, he shook his head.
On thewinding stone stairway up the cliff, a handful of men could keepoff a multitude.
They went into the priests house by way of a garden, walled inbehind the church.
But there was a quality of golden goodness abouthim. An Indian girl cooked his beans and cornmeal mush forhim, he required little else. But the San Mateo mountains must be forty or fifty miles away. They had done this from time immemorial, and the village had alwaysbeen noted for its whiteness. He sent at once for Magdalena andtook her into the service of the Sisters. Theold man was poor, and too soft-hearted to press the pueblo peoplefor pesos.

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