The next day, as the children ate the last piece of tortilla, Catalina told them they had to stay in the grotto without making a sound, without going out, without drawing attention to themselves. Tomás, always serious, asked if something was wrong. Catalina stroked his head and told him everything would be alright, but that she needed him to be brave and take care of his siblings. Tomás nodded, accepting this responsibility that no nine-year-old should have to bear. Lupita asked if her mother was coming back.
Catalina kissed her forehead and promised that she would always return. Catalina walked down to the village along hidden paths, avoiding the main road. She arrived mid-morning when the streets were half empty and the sun beat down on the adobe houses. She went straight to the parish priest’s house, a small building next to the church with whitewashed walls and a wooden door that was always open for anyone who needed to confess or ask for advice. Catalina entered without knocking and found Father Anselmo sitting in an old chair reading the Bible, wearing round glasses that slipped down his nose.
The priest looked up, surprised to see her. Catalina wasted no time; she told him everything. She spoke of the cellar, the tunnel, the chained corpse, the hidden gold, and the conversation she had overheard between Don Erasmo and Jacinto. She told him that this man, the chieftain whom everyone respected out of fear, was a murderer and a thief, and she begged for his help. Father Anselmo listened in silence, his face growing paler by the minute. When Catalina finished, the old priest took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.
