Father Francisco Tejada

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It was a small village of around 50 people that housed the Tejada family; a quiet place hidden from most of the chaos of the Mexican countryside. Malavista, it was named, though that hardly matters now. The Tejadas came to Malavista with lives full of baggage already behind them, and seeking only to leave said baggage behind and raise their unborn son far from the troubles of their outlaw pasts. Francisco was born believing his family to be no more than simple ranchers. Yet, still, small bubbles of truth began to rise to the surface. As Francisco grew, so too did his resemblance to his father, in more ways than one.

The boy was a natural with a pistol, swiftly gaining notoriety around Malavista for his marksmanship. Ego became the young Francisco's greatest flaw, and before long he had earned the scorn of nearly everyone in Malavista through either his big mouth or his short temper. Unwelcome by those around him whom he had angered with his arrogance and fight picking, Francisco was nearly driven from the only home he had ever known; saved only by the untimely death of his father to illness. On his deathbed, the elder Tejada begged his son to turn his life around--to seek God and help others. Shaken by his father's final request, Francisco sought out an apprenticeship under the local priest, seeking to find humility and purpose in service of the Lord. Years later, Father Francisco Tejada became the official pastor of the town of Malavista--all trace of the anger filled youth now gone. Francisco was a pillar of the community, a constant shoulder to lean on to those in need, and a friend to all in his village. The young pastor's faith would, sadly, be put to the ultimate test before long. As war raged on between the French and Mexican people, gangs of banditos took advantage of the chaos to raid small towns and loot whatever they could find.

It was but a matter of time before Malavista was visited by one such gang. The heads of the lawman and his deputy were displayed in town as a warning on the first day. By the third, half the town had been burned and the residents took shelter within Francisco's church. On the fifth, the doors were forced open. Sworn to pacifism, Francisco prayed for the souls of each and every member of his flock, and heard each of their sobbing lamentations as they were struck down by the bandits. Sorrow and fear turned to rage within the priest as his people were stricken down. When at last he was called to be killed, and brought to his knees, Francisco could see nothing past the red of his own anger.

He moved without thinking, punching the nearest bandit and executing the man with his own pistol. By sunset that evening, Francisco's holy garb was covered with the remains of at least two dozen men, and Malavista was left a ghost town. The Father abandoned his now bloodied rosary upon the desert sands and walked for a great, long time.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. Francisco Tejada found himself haunted by the loss of his home, and soon fled Mexico for the United States, hoping to leave his pain behind. The former priest now fills his days drinking and shooting those who need to be shot. On rare nights, he can be heard reciting passages and prayers for the souls of those he has lost or lamenting that he has not yet joined them.

The loss of the town has become his greatest shame, and Francisco now wanders the United States seeking atonement for the lives he could have saved: had he not hesitated to act. Claiming to be abandoned by God, the young Mexican has come to Brimstone seeking nothing more than work. What he will find, however, remains to be seen.