Eighteenth-century items about the mission of Ácoma so far available are brief and laconic. In 1703, General Cubero was having a difficult experience with the Moquis, who were trying to incite the Zuñis to revolt, with the result that both pueblos were eventually abandoned to the aborigines. Padre Miranda wrote from Ácoma that the Indians of that pueblo and of Sía wished to go to the rescue of the priest, but that he would not allow it, fearing immediate death for the padre if the Zuñis heard of an approaching force.[91]

In 1713 both Ácoma and Laguna threatened their resident priest with death because of his interference with their native rituals. In a report made by Father Menchero in 1744 we are told that

Ten years later, from a letter by Father Trigo,[92] we glean a few more scraps of information.

The church was more or less neglected through the years, but in 1710 it was restored and the mission was again opened, with the patron saint changed from San Estévan to San Pedro.[96] In 1776 Father Garces, on his journey from Mojave to Moqui wrote from Oraibí that there was “a padre at Ácoma and one at Laguna.”[97]

Ácoma mission had a daughter. And, as sometimes happens, mother and daughter did not always agree. This daughter was Laguna. The pueblo of Laguna did not exist in Oñate’s time, nor for nearly a century thereafter. It was founded in 1699 near a lagoon which has since dried up; hence its name. Unlike almost every other pueblo settlement, it was not a homogeneous colony, but was compounded of people from Ácoma and Sía, who were Keres, others from Zuñi, and still others from pueblos of different languages. It became, nevertheless, a daughter mission or visita of Ácoma. The boundaries of the two pueblos were defined after a fierce battle at Sía between the Indians and the Spaniards in 1699 in which the Keres were conspicuous. After the smallpox epidemic of 1780-81, the headship of the mission was transferred to Laguna, since which date Ácoma has been the visita or branch.

The battered and almost indiscernible painting of San José that now hangs near the high altar of the Ácoma church became a bone of discord between these neighbor towns.[98] The picture is said to have been presented to the Ácomas by Charles II of Spain. It gradually acquired a supernatural fame, and came to be a talisman against misfortune of every kind. With it Ácoma prospered. The people of Laguna, who had thrived by no means so well, grew envious, and believed their poor crops and their childless women would be bettered if they also had a miraculous painting.

A solemn meeting of the head men (principales) of Laguna was held. It was decided that they should ask the older colony for a loan of the miracle-working San José. The Ácoma principales held an equally solemn council. They at last agreed to loan the precious canvas for one month, but were explicit about its return at that time. With much rejoicing and the utmost care, the holy “foster-father of Jesus” was carried over the long, rough trail. As Laguna came in sight, out trooped the whole population with hope and reverence, to meet the saint. Duly installed in the Laguna church, day after day, the picture received the humble devotion of the people. When Holy Week came it was carried in procession throughout the pueblo, followed by the devout inhabitants.

As the story goes, from this moment the fortunes of Laguna changed. The sick became well, the crops were good, and a wholly different atmosphere prevailed. But now no one was willing to part with the blessed talisman. The Ácomas, weary of waiting for the return of the picture, sent messengers to ask the reason for the delay. They got no satisfaction. Angered by such bad faith, there was talk of an immediate raid upon Laguna. The parish priest, Fray Mariano de Jesús López, the last Franciscan ever to be in charge of the Ácoma mission, averted war. He counselled that a conclave be held of the principales of both pueblos and the cause of the trouble discussed. The conference met. After a solemn mass it was agreed that they should draw lots for the picture. No one suggested that St. Joseph might not approve of gambling. Twelve ballots were prepared, eleven of which were blank, and on the twelfth was a rude sketch of San José. All twelve were shaken up in a jar, and one little girl from each of the two pueblos was chosen to do the drawing. On the fifth drawing the Ácoma maiden drew the saint. “So,” said the Father, “God has decided in favor of Ácoma.”

Ácoma was happy, but Laguna was not, and one morning when the people went to pray before their saint in the great Ácoma church, lo! he was not there. Terror, dismay, and wrathful vengeance filled the hearts of all Ácoma. By some ruse Laguna had stolen the patron saint. War assuredly would have resulted had not Fray Mariano once more found a way out. Ácoma ere this had passed from Spain to Mexico and from Mexico to Uncle Sam. Father López counselled that the whole matter should be taken to the United States court at Santa Fé. His advice was followed. The first decision was made in favor of Ácoma. Laguna appealed the case to the Supreme Court. In 1857 Judge Benedict affirmed the original decision in the following words:

Rejoiced at this victory, the men of Ácoma started for Laguna to recover their picture. Even to-day, says James, when they can be induced to tell the tale, they affirm that halfway “they met San José with his face turned homeward.” He had already heard of the decision and started alone, but being weary he had stopped beneath a tree to rest, and there was met “by his happy people going to fetch him home.”

Although the Indians have voluntarily accepted much of the Christian practice of religion, their ancient paganism has never been uprooted. A concrete illustration of their reluctance to accept the faith of their conquerors is found in an Entrada of Moqui by Mariano Rodríguez de la Torre, 1755, entitled: