Fiesta of Fear

By Amy M Bennett

A fall festival turns murderous in this haunting and wholly unforgettable sixth Black Horse Campground mystery from the author of A Summer to Remember.
 
With a mix of Anglo, Native, and Hispanic cultures, the village of Bonney, New Mexico, has its share of folklore and legends, but no one has ever heard of the Ghost Girls before. Three high school girls have convinced their fellow students that they have powers, but now that they’re graduating, new recruits are needed to carry on the tradition.
 
One night, the Ghost Girls take a hopeful prospect to the cemetery, where they discover a missing kid—and a recently-deceased man. The child is Mark Jr., the son of Corrie’s best friend. And the corpse? The high school principal. Mark had been causing so much trouble at school that he’d been suspended, but Corrie can’t believe he’s a killer.
 
As the village of Bonney gathers for the annual San Ignacio Fall Festival at the Black Horse Campground, Sheriff Rick Sutton and Det. J. D. Wilder uncover a web of bullying, hatred, and revenge—in which nothing is sacred. Not the school. Not the church. And definitely not Corrie’s campground . . .
 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Feb 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9781504091008

Amy M Bennett

Amy M. Bennett was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. End of the Road started as a project for National Novel Writing Month in 2009 but it went on to win Oak Tree Press’s 2012 Dark Oak Mystery contest. Her first and second books in the series, End of the Road and No Lifeguard on Duty, were both awarded the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval. She and her husband Paul currently reside in Bent, New Mexico, with their son, Paul Michael.  

Book preview

Prologue

The full September moon peeked out from behind the slow-moving storm clouds, as if checking to see if the coast was clear before making a complete appearance. A late night rain shower had cooled the pine woods and sent any and all living things that were out and about in the middle of the night scurrying for shelter, but now the clouds had moved on and the storm had slowed to an intermittent drizzle. Everything seemed to hold still for several minutes, then three shadows moved swiftly along the weathered-white fence of the San Ignacio Cemetery, heading for the back of the village church. The silence was broken by nervous female giggling and shushing.

Be quiet!

"I am being quiet!"

Shhhh!

The three figures huddled against the adobe wall of the church under the overhang that sheltered the back door and the handicapped access ramp. They wore oversized white hoodies with the hoods up over their heads, offering a little protection from the rain. The hoods made them look ghostly in the darkness; if anyone were around to see them, they would think they were seeing a few of the cemetery’s residents wandering the night. One of them, the leader of the trio, shushed the other two as they looked around. The church and its adjacent cemetery sat at the very edge of the village of Bonney, near the county line. The security light under the portico at the front entrance of the church was the only illumination; the area was completely dark except for the erratic moonlight.

The three girls had parked their car a half mile away, in the woods behind the cemetery, and followed the familiar path to the back of the church. They had been coming at least once a month since junior high, when the oldest had obtained permission—at the age of fourteen—to take her mother’s car whenever she wanted to, as long as she didn’t get caught. The private property where they parked belonged to an elderly great-uncle of one of the other girls; it had been their place to hang out for years, since the No Trespassing sign kept everyone else out, but didn’t apply to them. None of the other teenagers in town would consider using the back of the church as a hangout in the middle of the night—some because of a rare sense of propriety and reverence, but many others because they heard stories of the area being haunted and reported sightings of ghosts … stories started by the three girls themselves. On rare occasions when a few others had gathered the courage or taken a dare to visit the place, they had been scared off by their overactive imaginations and a few indistinct noises that created an aura of fear. Whether Fr. Eloy Trujillo, the parish priest, or any other adults were aware of the stories didn’t matter to the trio. In New Mexico, stories of ghosts and other supernatural phenomenon were common and it didn’t seem like anyone really cared if the stories were true or not.

Now they huddled by the back door of the church and waited for another girl to arrive. The leader of the trio, Jazmin Enjady, tapped her fingers against her cell phone impatiently, while the other two whispered bets to each other on whether the fourth girl would show up.

Hush! Jazmin snapped as a vehicle slowly drove by on the highway. Though they were well-hidden by the shadows and darkness at the back of the church, the three girls still held their breath as a light from the vehicle swept across the parking lot, along the fence line of the cemetery, and over the open field behind the church. The vehicle kept moving until the sound of its tires and the glow of its light had faded down the road and they let their breath out in a collective sigh of relief.

How long should we wait? asked one of the other two girls, nudging Jazmin.

Jazmin retorted with a sneer that couldn’t be seen, though it was palpable to the other two. We just got here. What’s your hurry? Don’t tell me you’re scared!

No, both girls responded, their words barely convincing.

It’s just that it might start raining again, Kayla Timmins, the youngest of the three, offered.

Yeah, the other girl, Turquoise Gonzalez, chimed in. "And sometimes my Tio Efrain doesn’t sleep so good when it storms and he might decide to check the gates and see the car parked back there."

Your uncle is, what, ninety years old? He’s almost deaf and can barely walk without help. Jazmin let out a snort of derision. Besides, everyone in the village knows he gets confused and rambles on about stuff and no one knows if he’s talking about the past or the present. Chill out, Turquoise. The clouds moved away to let the moonlight shine on the back of the church and the two girls could see the impatient expression on Jazmin’s face.

Turquoise gathered her courage and dared to speak up again. Yeah, well, that could have been a cop car that went by, you know. Everyone knows they’re out looking for that missing kid from school and almost everybody in town is keeping an eye out for him. If anyone saw your mom’s car parked on my uncle’s property and called the cops, we could be in big trouble.

Besides, I don’t think she’s gonna show up. I think she chickened out, Kayla put in, wiping raindrops off her eyeglass lenses. I knew she would.

She hasn’t chickened out yet, Jazmin said, slipping her cell phone out and checking the time. She’s still got ten minutes to show up or else she. She stopped and slipped her phone into the pocket of her hoodie, her action silencing the other two girls. Kayla and Turquoise huddled closer together. For the moment, they were willing to endure Jazmin’s scorn at their fearfulness, while she stood and peered into the darkness.

Looking for me? A voice came from behind the girls, from the opposite direction that Jazmin was looking, and all three let out a shriek as they whirled around. A cigarette flared to life, illuminating the pale face of a tall girl wearing a black hoodie. Her lips, adorned with heavy black lipstick, twisted into a cynical smirk and she rolled her black- fringed, pale blue eyes. Seriously? she murmured.

Where’d you come from? How’d you get here without us seeing you? Jazmin blurted, anger covering her embarrassment at being frightened. Kayla and Turquoise had scrambled behind Jazmin as if seeking her protection and, despite her annoyance at their actions, she appreciated the fact that it would make her appear stronger and in control. Not that the girl in the black hoodie seemed to notice. She took a slow drag on her cigarette and raised one brow.

Just walked across the parking lot. Not like I was sneaking up on you. Can’t help it that you weren’t paying attention. She gave a lift of one shoulder. So what’s the big deal about meeting here? Am I supposed to be scared or something? She sounded bored.

Jazmin bristled. She was supposed to be in charge and it was obvious that the new girl wasn’t the least bit impressed by the eerieness of their surroundings, nor intrigued at the mysterious circumstances of their meeting. Jazmin and her squad, as she referred to Kayla and Turquoise, had a lock on the title of being the coolest girls at Bonney High School. They were called the ‘ghost girls’ and commanded the respect and awe of almost all the kids in the village, even if they weren’t particularly liked. The more popular kids—the jocks, the cheerleaders, the party animals—all wanted to be accepted by the ‘ghost girls’ but Jazmin had strict rules for being able to join them. The first was that membership was by invitation only. Asking to join automatically disqualified any interested parties. The second rule was that any potential new member had to meet them, at one in the morning, at the back of the village church. Alone. And without telling anyone about the meeting. Those stipulations alone kept the number of recruits down significantly. Most kids either had a hard time keeping the secret to themselves that they had been asked to join the ‘ghost girls’ and the others either couldn’t—or wouldn’t—agree to go to the initial meeting alone. The very few who had gotten that far had been scared out of their wits and run away before they had remained for the mandatory ten-minute meeting that Jazmin demanded.

The truth was that Jazmin didn’t want to have anyone else join their group. She enjoyed the exclusivity of the ‘ghost girls’. It was better, in her opinion, to have lots of people want to join them rather than actually have a lot of members that she couldn’t easily control.

This girl was an exception.

She had transferred to Bonney High a week after the school year had started. She was a senior, like Jazmin and her friends, but different from all the other students. She made no effort to make friends, join any activities, participate in any conversations or discussions, not even in class. She kept herself apart from the rest of the student body and met any friendly overtures with stone-cold silence and a level stare. Speculation that she was deaf, didn’t speak English, or had some kind of disability whirled around the school in whispers. The teachers denied any kind of problem but that didn’t stop the rumors. Her appearance was simultaneously fascinating and menacing—white-blonde hair that hung straight to the middle of her back, blue eyes so pale that they almost appeared colorless, translucently white skin. She always wore black; clothes, shoes, even the little makeup she used—nail polish, lipstick, and mascara. Her expression rarely changed and yet she could look like she was angry, bored, or amused all at the same time. Some of the kids started a rumor that she was a vampire and many kids believed it.

Jazmin threw her shoulders back and tried to match the other girl’s attitude. No one scares us, she said as matter-of-factly as she could. The other girl raised a brow and a slight, mocking smile played on her lips but she didn’t speak. Jazmin felt her temper flare. Not everyone has what it takes to be one of us! she snapped.

The girl raised a brow and took another slow drag on her cigarette. The orange glow reflected on her dead-white face as she narrowed her crystalline eyes, giving her a sinister appearance. Why would anyone want to? she said, the corners of her black lips lifting in a sardonic grin.

Jazmin’s mouth dropped open and she heard Kayla and Turquoise gasp. She was thankful that the darkness hid the red rage that flooded her cheeks. It was tempting to just forget the whole thing and walk away, but Jazmin Enjady never backed off or walked away. The other girl would do it. She had to.

Before she could speak, the other girl dropped her cigarette on the hard-packed dirt, ground it out with her heavy black boot, and laughed. So what’s the big deal with being a ‘ghost girl’, anyway? No one else is allowed to wear white hoodies? I don’t wear white anyway, so I don’t care. And if I decide to join you, I still won’t, so you’ll have to kick me out because I won’t follow the dress code. Big whoop. Who cares?

Jazmin clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She tried to relax her jaw because she was beginning to believe her teeth would shatter if she didn’t. She wanted to claw at the other girl’s face, she wanted to spit words that would make her dissolve into tears, but most of all, she wanted back the control she had before the girl had shown up.

As if sensing Jazmin’s fury and humiliation, the girl laughed again. So chill already, she said. Her voice, still not much more than a whispering growl, mellowed slightly. Jazmin blinked, unable to hide her surprise. Tell me what the big deal is about joining you and then maybe, I might. One side of her mouth curved upward, but it didn’t look like a smile. Kayla smothered a whimper and Turquoise let out what sounded like a sob. Jazmin’s temper flared again, but she kept it under tight control.

"You don’t decide if you’ll join us or not, Jazmin said, forcing a confident tone in her voice. I decide if you join us or not."

The other girl smirked. "Oh, really? And on what do you base your decision? How do you determine who is worthy of being one of your friends?"

On whether or not you’ve got the nerve. Jazmin didn’t like the way the girl spoke so derisively of them, but she couldn’t afford to make a mistake and let her temper ruin her reputation. The girl looked interested and Jazmin felt the tightness in her stomach ease just a tiny bit.

The nerve? For what?

Jazmin allowed a tight smile. You’ll see. She hoped that Kayla and Turquoise would go with her on this. She was veering way off script, but she had to make sure that this girl would never join them, but would always fear and respect them. The ice-blue eyes narrowed.

What will I see? The way the words sounded like the hiss of a snake almost unnerved Jazmin. She straightened her back, aware that she had inadvertently shrunk away from the dark figure.

That we have power. Jazmin could sense Kayla and Turquoise exchanging a glance and she hoped the other girl wouldn’t notice. Power everyone else would like to have. Power that some people don’t know we have, even though we use it on them. Power that a lot of people fear. She paused for a dramatic effect, aware that she had all their undivided attention. Power over spirits, she whispered.

A long silence followed. The moon slid behind another cloud and it bothered Jazmin that she could no longer see the other girl’s eyes in the darkness, but she said nothing. The next one to speak, she decided, would lose this battle. At long last, she heard the other girl let out a long, sighing breath. Jazmin smiled to herself and thumbed her cell phone. She had it set to trigger a speaker she and the other two girls had hidden among the gravestones. It was her guarantee to keep the membership of the ‘ghost girls’ down to just her and Kayla and Turquoise. She’d only had to use it twice in the last couple of years, and those two kids, both football players, still gave her and her friends a wide berth. So let this girl make a sarcastic comment, let her sneer, let her….

You don’t know what you’re saying.

Jazmin blinked. The words had been said in a tired, almost bland voice. Before Jazmin could say another word, the girl turned and started to walk away. The action so stunned Jazmin that the girl was nearly twenty feet away before Jazmin found her voice. Hey, she said. The girl, barely visible in the darkness except for the silky cascade of hair that shone in the moonlight, didn’t turn or acknowledge her. Hey! Jazmin said, louder. Still no reaction from the retreating figure. Jazmin’s temper flared and she started after the girl.

No, Jazmin! Wait! Come back! Both Kayla and Turquoise lunged for Jazmin, their fingertips barely brushing the back of her jacket as she strode out of their reach. Somehow, neither of them were able to get their feet to move to follow her, and they stood staring after her as her white hoodie melted into the darkness.

Then a scream pierced the night.

Chapter 1

One week earlier

Corrie Black glanced at the wall clock over the door of the Black Horse Campground TV room and groaned mentally. Only fifteen minutes into the meeting and she was already done for the day … at nine in the morning. Fortunately—or unfortunately—it was mid-week and she didn’t have a lot of guests demanding her attention and giving her an excuse to slip away. She was beginning to regret having impulsively offered the Black Horse as an emergency meeting site for the annual church fiesta organizers after a torrential rainstorm had damaged the roof of the parish hall, but it was a habit borne of being a lifelong parishioner and a life- time of being closely involved with the church’s activities. It was, she knew, what her late father, Billy Chee Black Horse, would have done and would have expected her to do.

She also knew that he’d be relieved not to have to take part in it, as well.

She reined in the impulse to tap impatiently on her notebook with her pen. She had been delegated the job of taking notes, but so far only the heading Annual Church Fiesta had been written on the page. That much was all that the attendees had been able to agree upon.

Fr. Eloy Trujillo sat back in the folding chair at the front of the TV room where he listened patiently to the fiesta organizers and various volunteers go from excited chatter to hostile shouting. Corrie exchanged a glance with Jackie Page, her longtime employee and framily member, and they both shifted their gaze to Fr. Eloy, hoping he was going to speak up and pour some much-needed oil on troubled waters. However, it was apparent that the priest was saving his voice for when the overwrought ladies wore theirs out … and he had more patience than Corrie and Jackie did.

All I’m saying is that we don’t have time now to change the location of the fiesta. Bernice Evans, the parish secretary and unofficial fiesta chairman, planted her fists on her ample hips and stomped her designer boot-clad foot for emphasis. Bernice had transplanted from Amarillo, Texas to Bonney, New Mexico three years earlier. She had fully immersed herself in the village life while still holding on to her former rodeo queen fashion sense. Rhinestone-studded jeans and flashy Western shirts, along with mile-high hair which changed color at the owner’s whim and not-so-subtle makeup, weren’t typical church secretary attire. However, her organizational skills and willingness to volunteer had been her biggest assets when the previous church secretary had retired and moved out of state earlier in the year. Corrie knew that thirty years from now, Bernice would still be considered the new lady from Texas, but her eccentricities would be more acceptable. Right now, she was still eyed as an interloper and not entirely trusted, despite her position as Fr. Eloy’s right hand. Flyers have been posted, radio announcements have been made in the surrounding areas, even the newspapers in other towns have run ads for the event! All the plans have been in place since last year’s fiesta ended! There isn’t time to change the venue with less than ten days to go! Her gaudy bejeweled bracelets and earrings clanked and jingled as she used her arms and head to punctuate her frustration.

And you know very well, Bernice, that there is no way for the parish hall roof to be fixed in time for the fiesta! Magdalena Maggie Gonzalez, whose ancestors had been one of the founding families of the village of Bonney and San Ignacio parish, responded with an equally emphatic tone of voice and drew herself up to her full height of four feet eleven inches in her high-heeled dress boots. She was dressed immaculately in a severe black skirt suit with a charcoal gray silk shirt. The contrast between her and Bernice gave the impression of a bird-of- paradise and a raven facing off … with just as much squawking. Maggie and her family owned the land that stretched from just beyond the church property almost to the land that adjoined the Black Horse Campground. This, combined with their heritage, gave Maggie a position of some importance in the parish and village—at least in her own mind. Though she never stepped up to officially volunteer in any way, her voice was always the loudest when it came to decision-making and, for some reason, it seemed to work. Except with Bernice. Now Maggie cast a glance around the room at the fifteen other men and women who belonged to various church groups and made up the bulk of the fiesta organizers as if to make sure they knew whose side they were on. We have to find another place to hold the fiesta or else cancel it this year! she said. There were half-hearted murmurs around the room; no one wanted to disagree with Maggie but they weren’t pleased with her solution either.

Bernice waved her hands in the air as if trying to calm a boisterous crowd, her heavy bracelets clattering like castanets. Canceling the fiesta is out of the question! she barked. A few people winced as her shrill voice echoed in the room and she lowered her voice and her hands. The annual fiesta is the church’s biggest fundraiser and we can’t afford to NOT have it! After all, we’re going to need the funds generated by the fiesta to pay for the parish hall roof—it’s going to have to be completely replaced—and we’ve already started the work on repairing the church’s portico and putting in the wheelchair ramp at the front of the church. Our budget and funds are stretched to their limits, so we can’t cancel the fiesta!

And we can’t hold it at the church! Maggie said, her black eyes sparking with anger. You just said yourself that the roof needs to be replaced, so we can’t use the hall like we always do. Just where do you suggest we have it?

The church grounds and parking lot, Bernice said with a shrug, as if to say that was the obvious answer. We’ll just have to put up tents and knock together some wooden booths….

And use up all our parking space, Maggie interjected. She rolled her eyes. And you’re forgetting that we already use part of the church grounds for several booths. Where are people going to park? If there isn’t any parking, we’re going to lose a lot of attendance. What about that? she snapped.

Bernice, for once, appeared at a loss for words, but then she rallied. Well, perhaps we can use some other place for parking and shuttle people over to the fiesta grounds. There should be some empty lots along the way, not too far from the church grounds….

Corrie sucked in a silent breath and her eyes met Jackie’s in a sideways glance. It seemed like the entire room had collectively held its breath as well. Whether or not Bernice knew that the only empty land between the church and the BLM land that adjoined the Black Horse belonged to Maggie and her family didn’t matter at that moment. Bernice had crossed a line. Maggie was just drawing herself up and gathering her wrath for a retort when Fr. Eloy finally decided to speak up.

Bernice, I’m sure your intentions are good, but we can’t use the church grounds for the fiesta, he said, his voice a soothing rumble. We’ve already got contractors lined up to start work on the roof this coming week and they’re going to need room for their equipment. In addition, we’re having to block off sections of the church grounds for safety reasons. Bernice pushed her hot pink lips into a pout.

Well, Father, I would think you would have told me before I put forth my position, she sniffed. Corrie sneaked a glance at the priest. His patient expression grew even more pronounced; Corrie was sure that Fr. Eloy had told his secretary that work on the hall was to start soon, but Bernice had been too wrapped up in preparing her argument. Now Maggie looked smug and she looked around the room triumphantly.

So it’s settled. We move the fiesta to another location. If there IS another location that would work, she added, looking heavenward. There aren’t too many places in Bonney close enough to the church for us to call it the ‘San Ignacio Fall Fiesta’, she added.

We could change the name, Bernice retorted. She brightened. We could have it at the high school! Call it the Bonney County Fall Festival! Yes, that would work!

Afraid not, Miss Bernice, rumbled an apologetic voice from the back of the room. A tall, lanky man with a drooping mustache stood up and pushed his worn ball cap back on his head. Luis Soto was the custodian at the high school and the church’s groundskeeper as well. His wife, Estela, stood up as well, though her height barely reached to middle of her husband’s chest.

Luis is right, she said, nodding her head so that her silver-streaked black curls bobbed. The school can’t host the church fiesta. For one thing, the school can’t host an event that serves alcohol and the beer tent is a huge draw for the fiesta. She paused as many heads nodded in agreement, including Fr. Eloy’s. Second, this is the church’s fiesta. To honor our patron saint, Ignatius. The fiesta must have his name, the church’s name, Estela said earnestly, while heads bobbed in agreement around the room. To rename the fiesta would be to dishonor San Ignacio himself, she said, closing her eyes and crossing herself with a slight shudder. Several others in the room followed suit and Corrie had to clutch her pen and notebook tighter to keep from joining them and drawing attention to herself. Bernice looked annoyed at the gesture. While she never missed Sunday Mass, she also never received communion and it wasn’t known for sure if she actually was Catholic or not.

I’m sure, she said, with an exaggerated drawl, that the good saint really doesn’t mind that his name won’t be used for the fiesta as long as the church benefits from it. She shrugged. Personally, I think y’all are just being difficult. After all, the fiesta isn’t even being held on St. Ignatius’ feast day, so I don’t see what difference the name makes.

The church and the fiesta aren’t exactly named after St. Ignatius of Loyola. Corrie surprised herself by standing up and speaking out. Bernice and Maggie both gave her a blank look, as if they had forgotten Corrie was there. Having gained the room’s undivided attention, Corrie went on, The priest who traveled with the people who settled in Bonney was named Fr. Ignacio Barela. He was likely named after St. Ignatius, Corrie admitted, but in all reality, he’s the reason the church bears the name. In fact, she went on, the feast of St. Ignatius is at the end of July; our fiesta is held in late-September which is when Fr. Barela passed away. Before she could go on, Maggie spoke up.

Which is all the more reason to keep the fiesta’s name! she said triumphantly, throwing Corrie a look that expressed approval. Corrie groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to think she was on Maggie’s side … or Bernice’s, for that matter. She couldn’t afford to have half the village or county upset with her.

There’s no point in keeping the fiesta’s name if it’s canceled, Corrie responded. Maybe if we just moved the date, have it sometime in October….

Impossible! Bernice waved her arms again. The flyers and ads are already out and everyone is expecting the fiesta next weekend! It’s too late to change it!

Then we’ll have to find another venue…. Corrie didn’t even finish her sentence before Maggie’s voice erupted.

There is no other venue big enough for the fiesta! Her voice was even louder than Bernice’s and several people in the room winced. Before Corrie knew what was happening, both Bernice and Maggie were on either side of her, shouting and jabbing fingers at each other. She stared at each woman in alarm, dumbfounded, amazed at how emotionally-invested they were in this event and not at all sure she wasn’t about to become a casualty in this skirmish. She was relieved when Fr. Eloy’s six-foot-plus bulk stepped between the agitated women.

I think, he said, leaving no room for argument, that it’s best we calm down and discuss our options in a rational, mature manner. He lifted a shaggy brow and both Bernice and Maggie retreated to their respective sides of the room. Corrie wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. She glanced at Jackie, who gave her a sympathetic shrug, then turned her attention to Fr. Eloy. The priest cleared his throat. I think it’s important that we remember what IS actually important here. And that is simply that we must find a way for our parish’s biggest fund-raiser to take place as usual. Correct? Murmurs of agreement rose from around the room. Corrie found herself nodding vigorously. And we’ve already come to the conclusion that the church grounds are not available and the high school is not suitable, correct? Again, nods of assent, although Bernice’s were a tad unwilling. And so it’s obvious that we need an area not too far from the church grounds, with ample room for several booths, and easy access.

Now just one moment, Father! Maggie popped up from her seat like a jack-in-the-box, her cheeks flaming red with indignation. Are you suggesting that we use MY family’s property for the church fiesta? Do you expect us to simply allow hundreds of people to wander around MY family’s property? I’ll have you know, she said, shaking her finger, that MY family has always been very supportive of the parish….

So has mine, Corrie interjected. Maggie glowered at her.

And MY family is one of the parish’s founding families.

So is mine, Corrie said hotly. She knew her father had never been one for pushing his family’s position in the community, mostly because Billy had hated the spotlight, but partly due to the fact that his family had all but shunned him upon his marriage to Corrie’s mother. But the truth was that Maggie’s family had no greater claim on the San Ignacio parish than she, herself, did. So there.

But, Maggie went on, eyeing Corrie narrowly, that doesn’t give the parish or the pastor the right to assume that MY family’s property is available for their use whenever they want, no matter how important the need!

Of course not, Maggie, Fr. Eloy said before Corrie could respond. And that wasn’t what I was getting at. After all, your family’s property is a large, empty, fairly undeveloped lot. We would need electricity and water to run the fiesta properly and get the appropriate zoning permits for food vendors and the like. Truthfully, your family’s property is unsuitable for the fiesta…. though it would make a good parking area for the people attending the fiesta.

Maggie’s facial expressions had undergone dramatic transformations from triumphant satisfaction to consternation to thoroughly insulted. While she didn’t want to offer her family property for the fiesta, she didn’t want the reason to be because it was unsuitable and unwanted. Corrie knew she should keep her mouth shut but, seeing Maggie standing silent with her mouth hanging open, she couldn’t resist.

Father’s right, Maggie, she said as consolingly as she could. The fiesta needs more than just space. Like Father Eloy said, we’ll need electric hookups and water so that we can sell food. and your property, to be honest, just won’t work. But it would make an excellent parking area and it’s convenient to … to…. She stopped, realizing where she had just taken herself—and the entire fiesta committee—but the slow smile that spread across Fr. Eloy’s face told her it was already too late.

Yes, the priest said, nodding. Maggie’s property is convenient to both the church and the campground … it’s practically right in the middle of them both. And since you already close the campground for the weekend of the fiesta so that you and all your employees can help out, it shouldn’t be a problem for us to use the campground for the fiesta weekend. We’ll have plenty of volunteers to set it up and take it down so that your business won’t be disrupted more than necessary. It’s a perfect solution to the problem! God bless you for your generosity. Your father would be proud of you.

Corrie looked around the room. Bernice and Maggie seemed glum, probably disappointed that their fight had been settled with neither of them emerging as the victor. The rest of the committee members appeared to be relieved and became animated about making fiesta plans. Father Eloy had a cat that swallowed the canary look on his face. Jackie was shaking her head and rolling her eyes heavenward.

And Corrie knew that, beside any pride he might have felt, her father was probably face-palming in his grave.

Chapter 2

Corrie emerged from the TV room and heaved a long-suppressed sigh. After cleaning up the detritus of the meeting with the help of some of the women on the committee and seeing them off, she welcomed some quiet time. Fr. Eloy and several of the men had departed to take a tour of the campground and lay out the location of the various food and game booths. Corrie had declined to go with them, telling Father that she trusted him to make the decisions, although Jackie had scurried over to her RV to get her husband, Jerry, and his sidekick, Red Myers, to go with the group to make sure things didn’t get completely out of hand.

Corrie made her way to the front counter where RaeLynn Shaffer was taking care of the store with the help of Dana Myers, Red’s wife. Corrie could tell from the look on RaeLynn’s face that it wasn’t necessary for her to rehash the meeting—Dana had been up to her habitual eavesdropping and had already filled RaeLynn in on all the gory details. RaeLynn’s pale face showed sympathy. Can I get you some coffee, Corrie?

Only if you’ve brewed it with something stronger than water, Corrie said with a twist of her lips. I guess you heard most of it?

Well, not all of it, Dana quickly put in. Corrie didn’t argue. So the fiesta will be held here at the Black Horse this year? Corrie nodded.

Fr. Eloy clearly believes in miracles. We have ten days to build the booths, set them up, figure out all the legal ends, get the word out about the change, and come up with a shuttle system from the Gonzalez property to the campground. Dana pursed her lips.

What’s that about? she asked.

Well, we won’t have enough room for parking here at the Black Horse for all the fiesta-goers, so we’re going to use the Gonzalez property as the parking area, Corrie explained. She accepted the cup of piñon coffee from RaeLynn without objection, even though she was positive only water was used in its making. It’s only a quarter-mile from her property to the Black Horse if we use the forest trail. She suppressed a shudder at the memories—hazy though they still might be—she had of using that trail herself a few weeks ago. "We have two golf carts here at the campground and we can ask a few of the confirmation class students to shuttle people here from the parking