* * *
With the procession complete and the monstrance returned to the altar, Padre Javier disrobed and stored the vestments, then dressed in his jerga garment with its simple wooden rosary. He knew he should be feeling elated. The Corpus Christi had gone perfectly. Almost two thousand had lined the roads of Pueblo Santa Barbara to pay homage. But he was strangely reticent about celebrating. A tingle of dread niggled the deepest part of his insides. Something was amiss, but he could not put his finger on it.
He knew he was expected at the presidio, where the first of many fiestas had already begun. He hurried out, his altar boys following close behind.
He guessed he was just letting down from the excitement of the day. Still, he could not shake the feeling.