Love, your sweet baby.

                                                                                        Feb. 28, 1930
                                                                                        Dallas, Texas

Dearest Frank.
    Hello, my dear heart.  Hope this finds you okay.  I have been trying to scrimp together the money to go with your mother down to see you, but times are hard.  No jobs, no money.  Old Man Depression is blowing his cold wind on me.  Honey, I do mioss you so very much.  I still remember you singing to me while Tommy played the piano the night we met.  What fun it was to be so young and gay and all was right in the world.  Now, here you are, miles away and I sit here heartbroken and blue.  I miss your smile, your beautiful eyes, how you smell of Bay Rum and Sen-Sen.  Oh, honey, I don't know what I'll do if they send you up for a long time.  I dread March 20th, the day I am afraid my world will end.  I only wish that mean old judge knew how sweet you are, so he would let my big, strong man come home.  Enough for tonight.     
Love, your sweet baby,
Cindy


                                                                                        March 3, 1930
                                                                                        City Jail
                                                                                          Waco Texas

Cindy,
    Just got your letter today.  I miss you, too.  The boys on the other cells ask what I want most.  I say that my blue eyed baby is what I want more than anything.  It's hard when 20 years are hanging over your head.  Here I sit, and Fritz and Colly are free.  You know all about how we don't snitch, and let me tell you, I'll do my time before I'd rat, but it still seems unfair that I take the fall for a job I was only a driver on.  Here I am, running off at the mouth.  Enough about me, how are you, my baby?  I miss you so.  Please know that I never ment to hurt you.  Just think, 20 years is not that long.  Why, your already 20.  Didn't seem that long, huh?  Sometimes we take an easy way out.  I was damned sure I'd never pick cotten or farm someone else's land.  So much for that.  I'll be at Eastham cutting damn cotten soon enough.  Well, write back to me soon, baby.  I love you.
Frank