Susan whispered to Clay, “Poor Albert.” She felt like the vultures that soared over the valley in the afternoons.

“Can’t find the date the Catfish are playing,” Albert said, returning. “Losing my memory. Just ask in town.”

There was a pause while he sat back down at the card table. Susan wasn’t ready to abandon their purpose but she did wish Clay would ask. Men turned to Clay, they trusted him. He did what he said he would; that was why she had married him. But he also held to what he wouldn’t do; he had said you ask and he was sticking to it. She edged forward on the easy chair.

“Albert,” she said, trying not to sound like she was trying to sound as if it had just occurred to her. “We were wondering about that sandstone in the front yard, if you’d be willing to sell it to us.”

Albert looked at her and said nothing.

“I mean, if you want to get rid of it, we’d take it off your hands,” she said, with a little open-handed gesture and a shrug.

“The sandstone,” Albert said, and he turned to Clay. “Have you talked to Kyle Yazzie lately?” he asked. “Is he going to help you build your house?”

“I think so,” Clay said easily, moving the bluegrass book off his lap. “He’ll lend us his backhoe, anyway.”

It was always the way, she thought: Clay got to make breezy conversation about gear and tackle, and she was stuck with requests and complaints. Kyle Yazzie was on the Navajo tribal council; Clay and Albert would start agreeing about him in a minute. He was a man men liked to agree about.

“You should dig up a garden plot while you’ve got the backhoe,” Albert said.

Clay looked to Susan.

“We’re not planting much,” she said. “Just desert plants we won’t have to water.” She was embarrassed; she felt strongly about water use, and native plants choked out by imports, but she didn’t like to proselytize. And she knew Albert liked his lawn, and liked the imports; he said Russian olives made good shade trees. “I think we’ll grow some peppers,” she offered.

“Kyle’s a nice young man,” Albert said. “Plays a good banjo, too.”

“His kids have been out to play on our land,” Susan said, cutting off Clay’s agreement, and feeling foolish once she had done it. She liked Kyle’s boys, who chased each other shouting through the tamarisk. She liked his shy daughters, too; the girls were pretty, and she wondered when they would stray from home, and where they would stray to.

Albert said, “Kyle was helping me with some paperwork, a couple-three weeks ago. I guess I trust him all right. I can’t always see the numbers.” He shuffled magazines and bills around the card table. “Well, I guess I’ll give you that sandstone,” he said.