The old Texan looked at Garza. "Think it's okay, Herb?"
"Take my word, Sam, you can trust these people. They're not artifact robbers."
Trinity nodded vigorously. "All right, let's take a ride. We can go in my Jeep."
Trinity steered the Jeep Wagoneer up a dirt road past several modern homes and stopped in front of a barbed-wire fence. He got out, unhooked a section of the wire and pulled it aside. Then he climbed back behind the wheel and continued on over a trail that was grown over and barely perceptible.
When the four-wheeled Jeep crested a long, sloping rise, he stopped and turned off the ignition. "Well, here it is, Gongora Hill. A long time ago somebody told me it was named after a seventeenth-century Spanish poet. Why they named this dirt heap for a poet beats grits out of me."
Pitt gestured at a low hill four hundred meters to the north. "What do they call that ridge over there?"
"Has no name I ever heard of," replied Trinity.
"Where did you discover the stone?" asked Lily.
"Hold on, just a little further."
Trinity restarted the engine and slowly edged the Jeep down the slope, dodging the mesquite and low underbrush. After a two-minute bumpy ride, he braked beside a shallow wash.
He stepped from the car and walked to the edge and looked down.
"Right here I found a corner of it sticking out of the bank."
"This dry wash," observed Pitt, "winds between Gongora and the far hill."
Trinity nodded. "Yeah, but no way the stone traveled from there to the slope below Gongora unless it was dragged."
"This is hardly a flood plain," agreed Sandecker. "Erosion and heavy rains over a long time period might have carried it fifty meters from the summit of Gongora, but not half a kilometer from the next summit."
"And the other artifacts," asked Lily, "where did they lie?"
Trinity swept a hand on an arc toward the river. "They were scattered a little further down the slope and continued almost through the center of town."
"Did you conduct a survey with transits and mark each location?"
"Sorry, miss, not being an archaeologist, I didn't think to pinpoint the holes."
Lily's eyes flashed disappointment, but she made no reply.
"You must have used a metal detector," said Pitt.
"Made it myself," Trinity answered proudly. "Sensitive enough to read a penny at half a meter."
"Who owns the land?"
"Twelve hundred acres hereabouts have been in my family since Texas was a republic."
"That saves a lot of legal hassle," Sandecker said approvingly.
Pitt looked at his watch. The sun was beginning to fall beyond the string of hills. He tried to visualize the running fight between the Indians and the Roman-Egyptians toward the river and the fleet of ancient ships. He could almost hear the shouting, the screams of pain, the clash of weapons. He felt as if he had been present that fateful day so long ago. He returned to the present as Lily continued her questioning of Trinity.
"Strange that you didn't find any bones on the battlefield."
"Early Spanish sailors who were shipwrecked on the Texas Gulf Coast and managed to make their way to Veracruz and Mexico City," Garza answered her, "told of Indians who practiced cannibalism."
Lily made an expression of utter distaste. "You can't know for certain the dead were eaten."
"Perhaps a small number," said Garza. "And what remains that weren't dragged off by tribal dogs or wild animals were later buried by this guy Venator. any they missed turned to dust. "