The Rooster

by Jeff Cates

Padre Romero knew Juan Franco was a scoundrel from the moment he’d laid eyes on him. Juan dressed in colorful pressed shirts, and his polished shoes clicked on the red tile floor of the church. He wore an oversized silver crucifix on the outside of his shirt that matched the silver earring in his left ear. He strutted like a rooster as he entered the holy place.  Rumor had it that Juan left a trail of broken hearts and unwed mothers in neighboring St. Josephine. The priest stammered when he’d noticed The Rooster flirting with his fifteen-year-old sister Rosita and several other giggling girls while he was leading the congregation during Mass. Rosita was the baby in the family, and the only one still living with their parents.

After the service, he noticed Rosita walking out of the church with Juan. “May I speak to you privately?” he asked his sister. Juan stopped, flashed her a brilliant white smile, and waited a short distance away. 

“That man is six years older than you,” he warned. “Be careful around him.”

“I’ll be fine, Roberto. He’s just walking me home. He’s a real gentleman.”

“Why aren’t Mama and Papa walking back with you?”

“Papa’s cough is bothering him again, and Mama’s taking care of him.”

He knew Papa’s cough must have been pretty bad for both of them to miss Mass. “Just go straight home, Rosita,” he said loudly, leveling a chilling stare at The Rooster.

After he’d greeted all the departing parishioners, his smile disappeared as he watched his sister and The Rooster in the distance walking toward their parents’ home.

***

Juan Franco stood a short distance away from Rosita’s home when he smiled and said, “Adios, Rosita.” His eyes tracked up and down Rosita’s body as she turned to go. He had no desire to get close enough to speak to her parents so soon after he’d met the pretty young girl.

His rented shack was only a couple kilometers away. He cut across the neighboring hacienda as he headed back. A scrawny, pregnant cow chewed her cud and stared at Juan with big brown eyes as he approached.  “Boo,” he shouted, laughing loudly as the animal dashed away. 

Halfway there, he passed an overgrown graveyard. He could still make out names on some of the tombstones that were still standing: Joseph Hernandez, Miguel Lopez, Antonia Rivera. There were even some faded plastic flowers stuffed into a tin can in front of one of them.

Thinking of the upcoming Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, when the spirits of the deceased roamed the earth a few days away, Juan walked more quickly as his hair stood on end. Looking toward the nearby coast, he checked to see if the morning fog had burned off yet. 

***

Roberto stopped by his parents’ home after church to make sure his father wasn’t too sick. And, (even though he wouldn’t admit it), he wanted to be sure Rosita had gone straight home.

His father’s cough was pretty bad. He offered to take care of him during the night, so his mother could get some rest. Delores kissed his cheek in gratitude and told him she was going straight to bed. He thought of mentioning The Rooster to his parents, but neither one of them was in any condition to deal with that now.

A little after midnight, Roberto’s father had finally stopped coughing long enough to fall asleep. His mother was sleeping in another room to give her husband some peace and quiet. The young padre was enjoying the solitude for a few minutes when he heard voices. 

Ten steps away, he stopped outside Rosita’s bedroom door. Perhaps she was talking in her sleep. Then he thought he heard another voice. He listened a few seconds longer and opened the door. Standing outside his sister’s open window was The Rooster. Rosita straightened up and gasped. Her face was flushed.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Roberto shouted. He didn’t sound like a priest.

“I was just being friendly,” The Rooster answered with a smile. If Roberto hadn’t taken his vows, he would have liked to knock out each of those shiny white teeth.

“After midnight?” Roberto shouted. “You need to leave my sister alone.”

“Rosita’s old enough to choose her own friends,” he answered.

“Leave now,” Roberto shouted, “or I’m coming out there.”

“Bye, for now, Rosita,” The Rooster said cheerfully as he strutted away.

Roberto turned toward his sister. “What were you thinking?”

“Juan’s just being friendly. He said he just wanted to talk, and he couldn’t wait until sunrise to see me.” Rosita wouldn’t look her brother in the eye while she spoke.

“What would Papa do if he knew a man came to your bedroom window?” Roberto asked.

“Please don’t tell Papa. He’s already so sick.”

“What’s going on?” their mother asked, rubbing her eyes. “Why’s your window open, Rosita?”

“I thought I heard a noise outside,” Rosita answered. She made eye contact with her brother, hoping he wouldn’t say more.

Roberto scowled at her and said, “I’d better get back to check on Papa. At least now he stopped coughing.”

Fortunately, Rosita’s sleepy mother went back to bed, and Roberto said nothing to their parents about The Rooster’s visit.

***

The next day Rosita and her seven-year-old niece were shopping in town for small sugar skeletons to give out to other children as treats during the Dia de los Muertos festival. While little Carmelita was looking at candles, a tall figure wearing a mask popped up in front of them and said, “Boo!”

Rosita cringed and Carmelita screamed. Whipping off the mask, a smiling Juan said, “Did I scare you?”

Rosita smiled back and said, “Not that much,” while Carmelita half-hid behind her aunt’s leg.

He looked down at the little girl. “Oh, I did scare you. Wait right here.” He disappeared behind the counter and brought back a piece of candy. He held it out to Carmelita. “Here, you can have one. I’m Juan, Rosita’s friend.”

Carmelita hesitated and looked up at Rosita. “It’s OK. You can have it,” she said.

The little girl grabbed it and popped it into her mouth.

“What do you say, Carmelita?” Rosita asked.

“Gracias,” she mouthed around the candy. 

“Do you work here, Juan?” Rosita asked.

“I’m helping my Cousin Leta for a while,” he answered. “Maybe we could get together for lunch. I could close the shop early while we’re gone.”

“That’s nice of you Juan, but I need to get home and make lunch for my parents since Mama’s busy taking care of Papa’s cough.”

Rosita paid Juan for the sugar skeletons.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other soon,” Juan said with a wink before they headed for the door.

***

Despite Roberto’s warning, The Rooster returned to Rosita’s bedroom window the next night. Roberto had smoothed the dirt before he left, and there were fresh footprints underneath her window the following morning.

Roberto wondered how long it would be until The Rooster tried to climb into his sister’s bedroom. She was too young to realize what that grown man was trying to do to an innocent young girl.

The next day would be the Dia de los Muertos festival, and many of the villagers would be wearing masks, lighting candles, and honoring those who’d passed on before them. Many families would be taking meals out to the graveyard and leaving them on the resting places of their relatives. Being a padre kept Roberto from joining people in the graveyard to honor his ancestors.

Sure enough, he spotted Rosita the next night carrying a meal into the local graveyard, accompanied by a strutting man wearing a devilish mask. He frowned as he watched them from a distance.

When Roberto returned to the church, he was greeted by Pedro Cruz, a neighbor who owned a piece of land next to the hacienda. Pedro and he had grown up together and got into mischief as children. Roberto told him about The Rooster, his rumored history, and his nightly visits to Rosita’s bedroom window, and Pedro recalled seeing him cutting across the hacienda.

“There is a way to keep The Rooster away from Rosita,” Pedro said. He read the expression on his friend’s face. “Don’t worry, I know you’ve taken your vows, but I will need your help.”

***

As Juan left his rented shack, he had warm feelings about Juanita. This would be a good night to tell her he was cold and ask if he could climb inside. After all, there was a ground fog cooling things off.

While he walked across the hard-packed soil, the sound carried strangely. His footsteps echoed, and he thought he could hear voices in the distance as he approached the graveyard.

Perhaps it was just his imagination. Nobody had visited the rundown old graveyard in years. As he got closer, the voices grew louder, until they were quite clear.

Only the tops of the tallest tombstones were visible above the gray haze. Juan stopped dead in his tracks, perhaps a dozen steps from the graveyard and listened.

“Joseph Hernandez.”

“Here.”

“Miguel Lopez.”

“Here.”

“Antonia Rivera.”

“Here.”

“Juan Franco.” There was silence for a moment, and the voice repeated, “Juan Franco.”

“He’s not here,” another voice answered.

“Go get him,” the original voice commanded.

Juan stood frozen for a moment, and then he turned back and ran for his life.

Rosita never saw The Rooster again. Rumor had it that he was living in Canada and studying the priesthood at a monastery somewhere.

Alfie couldn’t wait to get to the cemetery that morning. When the young man appeared in her headlights, it was a shock to her heart when she stepped on the brakes, and they didn’t work. It was a bigger shock for Israel.