Too busy with the Spring roundup to visit Molly, the Virginian instead pens a letter to her. Lately, he composes three-fourths of the judge’s business correspondence, his missives succinct and clear. A letter to Molly, however, is fraught with danger: verbal missteps might remind her of his dubious social status.

The first draft is done in pencil, and he adds several corrections. The final version, sent by the inefficient local mail system, takes 20 days to reach her. She reads that work and weather have detained him, he has been reading Shakespeare—he admires Mercutio more than Romeo, and hates what Othello does—and will try to visit her as soon as possible. He places a flower in the envelope, telling her he has kissed it. She puts the flower to her lips as well. The next morning, Molly sees the Virginian’s horse tied up at the Taylors.

The Virginian is in Bear Creek on business, but he manages a few minutes with Molly. He returns some volumes she had lent him, leaves a horse for her to ride, gives her a bunch of flowers, and departs. For days thereafter, Molly is moody trying to resist her feelings for him.