This young cowboy, working long hours in a lonely, sometimes boring, sometimes hectic job, is reading a letter that he has read for who knows how many times. The paper is getting frayed and the folds are beginning to tear apart.  There is still the very faint aroma of lilac water on the paper.  It's the words thereon that cause him to keep it in his pocket every day so he can read it again when ever he wants and where ever he goes. 

It's not fair to read over his shoulder, you know, but nothing can stop us from sorta guessing.