The music filled the valley as Johnny Nobles coerced the strings on his Gibson. He ended the song with a flourish and sat still, eyes closed. The March sun warmed the rock he used as his stage. He waited for applause, but the new corn stood silent.

Two years ago, he sang his only hit song to packed houses across the nation. Today, he sat beside the cornfield on his land, just outside the Navajo Nation. His grandfather had been half Navajo, but his grandmother full-blooded Irish. He spent many days in his youth beside the corn, banging away at an old Alvarez as his grandfather worked the land for a meager living. Johnny sighed.

He missed the adulation of the crowd, the thrill of performing, but his career never blossomed. Friends quit calling. His agent dropped him. The song kept sending decent royalty checks, so he took his nest egg and fixed up the family farmhouse.

He formed a C on the neck and strummed. The resonance of the chord made him smile. He played a tune running through his mind, a new tune, native to his home. He closed his eyes and imagined the sun as the bright lights of the stage. Laughter broke his concentration. He stopped playing and glanced up.

"Very pretty," said a little girl. She looked to be about ten. Dark hair flowed over her shoulders. She wore the traditional blue skirt and blouse of the Navajo.

The round face favored him with a smile, displaying the innocence of the young, but her eyes saw too deep for a child, which unnerved him.

"How did you get here?" Johnny asked.

She laughed. "I belong here," she said "I won't stay long, but I would like to hear." She smiled and the innocence of her face returned. "You play so well."

"Do your parents know where you are?" Johnny looked around, wondering how she appeared without his hearing or seeing her, but when he was playing, he lost himself in the music and experience of performing, even if only in a cornfield.

The little girl stared, holding his attention. "Play," she said with a soft, demanding voice.

Johnny sat up straight, but his hands found the strings. His eyes closed as the melody drifted through him. Words hovered at the edge of his consciousness. He forgot the little girl as he realized that this was a breakthrough moment, if he could only capture the lyrics that hid beneath the music.

He ended the piece with a repeat of the beginning. Silence greeted the finale. He opened his eyes and looked for the little girl, but she was gone. The music pulled at his thoughts. He played the melody again, but the words remained unheard. A gust of wind blew through the valley and he thought he heard a little girl laugh.