the potion again if it could have told me how to solve this problem. The only thing I knew to do was stick with my plan. Look for the ghost. Do what it had told me. Which was why I was in the Hitchin’ Post with the crew, paper spell in my pocket, on the hunt for info on the Mad Monk.
If Mark had wanted to meet with just Phin, he should’ve picked somewhere other than the roadhouse. The rest of the crew were there, too, celebrating the find, and dissecting what it could mean. Since this was what I needed to know, too, I was happy when, after his toast, Mark set down his beer, rubbed his hands together, and said, “Okay, let’s brainstorm. Rosary and gold nugget. Where did they come from?”
“Did you find anything else after we left?” Phin asked.
“More bones that appear to be from the third skeleton,” said Mark. “Tomorrow we dig test holes around the field to see what else turns up. Then home so Dr. Douglas can write a grant proposal.”
“Well, some of us are staying for the party,” said Lucas, his eyes following a pair of women who walked by, checking him out in return. He lifted his beer to them, and they laughed and hurried on.
“Is it just me,” said Jennie, amused by the exchange, “or are we getting even more stares than usual?”
“Everyone’s talking about the dig,” said Lucas. “I’m not fooling myself that it’s because of my stunning good looks.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said.
Emery hunched over his bottle. “They’re a lot more interested today than yesterday.”
Dwayne elbowed him. “Stop sulking because Phin found some buried treasure and trumped your bones.”
Jennie giggled. “Trumped your bones. That’s funny.”
I was going to miss Jennie when she headed back to Austin. Emery, not so much.
“That’s the lamest treasure I ever saw,” he said. “A fist-size hunk of gold ore. Even at today’s prices, that would hardly be worth the cost of refining.”
“Well, I’ll ask the question no one has yet,” said Dwayne. “Where did it come from?”
Lucas tore his attention away from another passing woman and answered. “There are records of several Spanish expeditions to look for gold in central Texas.”
“Like Coronado?” Phin asked.
Mark turned to her with a laugh. “What is it with you and Coronado?”
She shrugged. “He’s the only conquistador I remember.”
I cleared my throat, hesitant to tell them their business. “While I was home this afternoon, I looked up that San Sabá mission that Mark talked about. There’s supposedly a lost San Sabá gold mine, too, that no one has ever found.” The Google hit had startled me, since buried treasure kept coming up in conversation. Ben had even reminded me today: the Mad Monk was supposedly guarding his treasure.
Lucas straightened with interest. “The San Sabá mine is just a legend, but there are actual records of a mine in this area. Los Almagres.” He stared at a neon beer sign for a moment, checking his mental files. “Or maybe that was silver. No surprise it was lost, because this was Apache country, and they weren’t keen on prospectors.”
“Maybe what we’ve found was a prospecting expedition,” said Jennie.
“But what about the cross?” asked Dwayne, tag-teaming the speculation. “Doesn’t that mean they were monks or missionaries or something?”
“Maybe it was both,” said Mark. “Missionaries wanted to convert the heathens; conquistadors wanted their land; everyone wanted their gold. It’s not like Spain had separation of church and state.”
Emery wrapped it all up with a sneer. “So we’re all agreed. The Mad Monk is a totally plausible theory based on historical record.”
Phin turned a considering gaze his way. “You would be sort of funny if you weren’t so obnoxious.”
Lucas laughed, and nudged me to let him out of the booth. “Well, you guys are great, but I’ve been with you all day. I’m going to do some socializing. Who’s with me?”
“I need something to nosh,” said Jennie, “and I cannot eat one more Hitchin’ Post burger or hot dog.”
“You forgot nachos,” Dwayne said.
“And nacho cheese fries,” added Mark.
“So who’s for trying that Mexican food place on Main Street?” Jennie looked at Phin, then me. “Wanna join us?”
I realized we were down one. “Where’s Caitlin?”
“She’s, um, on a date,” she confessed, so apologetic I would have guessed whom the other girl was with even if I hadn’t seen them talking at the dig today.
Which was fine. No, it was good, because it meant Ben was busy, leaving me free and clear to (hopefully)