The Virginian

The Virginian returns alone, looking troubled. He and the narrator talk quietly for a while about nothing. They pack up and ride out. Shafts of sunlight ahead portend better weather. As they ride, the Virginian opens up. The hanging was his first, and Steve had taken his own death in stride, which the Virginian admires, and this digs into his conscience. The narrator says he’d be too cowardly to complete such an awful task, but the Virginian believes he would have done so, and bravely, had he the need.

Part of what bothers the Virginian is that Steve shunned him after the capture, as if condemning the Virginian for doing his duty. The narrator responds, “Did you want indorsement from the man you were hanging? That's asking a little too much” (397). The Virginian is not assuaged, and, in a rare show of emotion, bursts into tears. The narrator puts an arm around him, and soon he is himself again.

They discuss Shorty, who escaped but is too feeble-minded to survive for long as one of Trampas’ minions. As they enter the eastern foothills, they look back at the plain and can just make out the stand of cottonwoods that hosted the hangings. They climb further into the hills until the plain and its trees are lost behind them. 

As they rise up into the Tetons mountains, the Virginian and the narrator cross quiet glades where streams teem with fish. Higher up, they find recent signs of a horse and a man walking. Further scouting shows it’s two men who take turns riding, one of them lightweight and the other heavier; the prints are four hours old.

They enter a high region of toothy, alpine peaks and snowfields, the mysterious hoof and footprints leading the way. The narrator begins to fantasize nervously that the two hanged men have returned and are sharing a horse just ahead. The narrator discovers a sheet of newspaper stuck among the rocks; he examines it and realizes it’s from the paper he had given to Steve on the night before the cowboy’s execution. He shows it to the Virginian, pointing out some notes he had scribbled on it days earlier.

As darkness descends, they follow the footprints down into a basin, where they pitch a tent among pines, have dinner, and play a game of cribbage. The narrator turns in, but the Virginian stays up, the scrap of newspaper in hand, puzzling over it and pondering Steve’s crimes. Finally, he sleeps, tossing and turning.

At dawn, something spooks the horses, and they gallop a distance before settling down. The Virginian admits that the piece of newspaper has unnerved him, and the narrator realizes that both of them have the sense that Steve hovers nearby.

They break camp and move out. Partway down the trail, the Virginian discovers the spot where the lightweight man had spooked the pack animals. Shortly, they discover the prints of a galloping horse; one of the men must have been left behind. Searching, they find the mystery men’s camp; lying dead by the campfire is Shorty, shot in the head. He must have reported the spooked horses to the heavier man, who, fearing capture, killed Shorty to quicken his own escape.

The rest of the newspaper lies there; the narrator discovers writing on it: “‘Goodbye, Jeff,’ it said. ‘I could not have spoke to you without playing the baby’” (420). The Virginian reads the message and says that Steve used to call him Jeff because he was from the South. 

The trail of the escaping horseman leads down to the fertile valley of Jackson’s Hole. Surrounded by near-impenetrable ranges with the Tetons on the west, this valley is home to outlaws and renegades. Here, the horseman has gone to ground.

At Molly’s school during recess, a group of kids pretend to lynch one of their number. He has a rope around his neck and must jump from a tree; Molly stops the game before he gets hurt. In the process, she learns about the real hangings. That night, she can’t sleep. Her relatives have condemned her man as a killer, and now she fears they are right. The next day, Mrs. Taylor finds her distraught and listless; she tries and fails to assuage Molly’s anguish.

The narrator, in an aside, argues that doing evil because it leads to good is wrong, but that not all acts considered evil are always so. Trespassing on private property ordinarily is wrong, but if it is done, for example, to save a life, then it becomes right. “[…] the same act may wear as many different hues of right or wrong as the rainbow, according to the atmosphere in which it is done” (431-32).

Judge Henry drops in at Bear Creek, and Mrs. Taylor implores him to say something to Molly. He tells her that justice begins with the citizens, who delegate that power to the government but who must retake it when government is largely nonexistent, as in the territories. He agrees that war and executions are terrible, and he hopes that someday they may become unnecessary: “But they are none of them so terrible as unchecked theft and murder would be” (436).

The judge’s words help somewhat, but for days, Molly remains restless. 

The narrator returns East, where he receives a letter from the Virginian requesting that he locate and send the finest gold rings for the upcoming wedding. Molly, still smarting from the scoldings she received from relatives about her decision, decides not to invite them. The wedding will be in Wyoming, far from Vermont.

The year winds down. Mrs. Henry teaches the Virginian about engagement rings. He chooses an opal for Molly, her birthstone, set about with small diamonds, the jewels of his own birth month. The wedding is set for the following July 3. 

The day before the wedding, the couple ride to the town where they will be wed. The Virginian’s happiness is unbridled, but Molly feels a growing dread because none of her family will be there. Her love for her man somehow puts her at his mercy and makes her feel vulnerable and lonely.

Atop a hillock, they look down at the town, set in a wide, fertile valley. A horseman approaches, and the Virginian fingers his gun. The traveler nods briefly and continues onward. Molly, seeing the tension in her lover’s eyes, reckons that the passerby is Trampas, and she tells the Virginian as much, and that she believes he is the livestock thief and murderer who got away. She also says that she understands why the Virginian did what he had to do, but that it’s unfair that a killer escapes when horse thieves must die.

The Virginian confesses that her mother’s refusal to answer his letter hurt him. Now, though, he feels he has wronged her by agreeing to marry her daughter at a great distance from her. He suggests they travel immediately to Vermont, where they can be married in the presence of family. Molly flatly rejects the idea. The Virginian knows she is lonely today and that being left out of his doings makes her feel even more alone. He also knows she has a tough spirit, so he breaks his rule about never speaking ill of another man to a woman, but he does so gently.

He begins by discussing the differences between men and women, and how they need each other. Molly banters: “Machinery could probably do all the heavy work for us without your help” (453). He ripostes that in-law jokes are always about the mother, but she retorts that this is because men write all the “comic papers.” They go one like this for a while.

The Virginian then casually mentions Trampas, someone with whom he shares a mutual dislike but also a certain civility. He describes how he and Trampas had a minor tiff during a card game, and that Trampas, feeling humiliated, resents him and foments trouble at work. Molly reminds him that he berated Trampas when the man impugned her reputation at the Swinton party. He agrees, adding that the encounter further darkened Trampas’ view of him. And finally, the Virginian nearly caught Trampas with the gang of thieves. “So d' yu' wonder he don't think much of me?” (457) Molly appreciates being let into his confidence; she feels less lonely for it.

They ride into town. Outside the saloon, they encounter Scipio, Honey Wiggen, and Lin McLean. Scipio quietly signals that there is danger. The Virginian gets Molly installed in the hotel and comes back. The men share drinks, play a mechanical game involving nickels, and chat softly on what to do about Trampas, who has started a rumor that the Virginian is a cattle rustler who killed Shorty. Despite their offers of help, the Virginian is firm: He must deal with Trampas by himself in the ageless way.

Trampas bursts in, slightly drunk, pistol drawn. A scuffle ensues, and the gun goes off into the ceiling before being taken away. Trampas warns the Virginian to leave town by sundown, then stalks out. The Virginian is of two minds about Trampas, as Molly is with him. Going for a walk, he encounters the bishop, in town to marry him to Molly. The bishop suggests he inform Molly, and that he leave for one night so that Trampas can calm down. The Virginian counters that the bishop should ask Trampas to leave, but he agrees to speak to Molly.

In the hotel, Molly has heard the news. She implores the Virginian to come away with her, but he says people would think him a coward thereafter and he’d be unable to show his face anywhere. She argues that the world’s opinion of him doesn’t matter. He answers that he’d be unable to live with himself if he didn’t stand up to cruelty and intimidation. She tells him she’ll leave him if he fights Trampas. His heart breaking, he takes her hands, tells her goodbye, and walks out.

Already, Trampas regrets his rash threat to the Virginian. There are easier ways to get even, but now he must face him. He meets up with some of his gang, and they drink a few toasts. Resigned, he draws his pistol and heads for the street.

The Virginian leaves the hotel through a side door, positions himself strategically—his three cowboy friends keeping watch, lest Trampas’ friends play a trick from behind—and waits, looking out at the mountains where he had planned to honeymoon with Molly. He feels a sharp breeze on his arm and looks up to see Trampas, who pitches forward onto the street. Trampas’ gun lies there, smoke wafting from the barrel. He looks down and sees smoke rising from his own gun. He walks over to Trampas; the man twitches and lies still. It is over.

On the street, people are congratulating the Virginian and shaking his hand, but his heart feels cold. Glumly, he walks away toward the hotel, leaving them staring. He finds Molly in her room and tells her he has killed Trampas. She cries, "Oh, thank God!” and runs to his arms (482).

The next day, attended by their Wyoming friends, Molly and the Virginian are married, and they ride off toward the mountains and their honeymoon. 

The newlyweds travel on horseback, following a creek up through the foothills toward the higher ranges above. Where the pines begin, the stream branches around an island perfect for swimming, fishing, and camping; nearby, an emerald pasture awaits the horses. This is the Virginian’s favorite spot in the world, and he shares it now with Molly.

She adores the place, and wants to help him pitch camp, but he insists that, on this night, the task shall be his. She wanders the secluded canyon while he erects the big tent, builds a campfire, catches a set of trout, cooks the meal, and calls for her. They dine together in the twilight and finally retire to the tent.

In the morning, they awake to the murmur of the stream, and together they watch the sunrise. The Virginian turns to his bride and whispers, "Better than my dreams” (490). They wash up in the stream, and Molly prepares breakfast. After eating, they loll lazily, enjoying the place. He tells her it’s time to continue their journey, but she doesn’t want to leave. The Virginian realizes happily that his new wife loves this place as much as he does. He lays his head in her lap and talks about his love of the mountains, and she sees in him an innocence vastly different from the hardened killer of two days earlier.

They camp there for six days, at one point huddled inside the tent as a storm rages. For the rest of the month, they explore the mountains, passing through meadows and alongside alpine lakes, climbing up toward the rocky heights, watching elk and bear, and catching trout. All the while, their love grows deeper. They spend a final night on the island and swear to return to it every year on their wedding anniversary.

They travel to Bennington to meet Molly’s relatives. The Virginian has ordered clothing from back East, and he looks and behaves like a fine gentleman, welcome anywhere. The locals are at first remote and sullen, but slowly they accept that Molly has made a good choice.

They journey to Dunbarton in New Hampshire to visit Molly’s great-aunt, who greets them warmly and calls the Virginian “nephew.” Over evening tea, she gets him to open up, explaining his thoughts about territorial issues and revealing his future plans, including his investment property in the coal region—the trains will be needing that fuel in large amounts—and she concludes that he makes an excellent match for her niece.

Back in Wyoming, Judge Henry makes the Virginian his partner, and they move operations to Montana, avoiding the worst of the Johnson County War between the ranchers. The Southerner’s coal land prospers and helps make the Virginian and Molly very wealthy. Before her death, “the great-aunt was able to hold in her arms the first of their many children” (503).