September 19, 1925, Kansas City, Missouri to El Paso

En Route to K.C. Dearest, It was as hot as blazes, and pretty dusty the first part of the trip – especially when we stopped out at tobin on the switch for half an hour. It was nice + cool last night, and today its hot again, but not dusty. Marjorie, Freddie + a bird named Paster played bridge some yesterday afternoon for a while – except for that, there hasn't been anything doing, except think about you, which I've done quite copiously. Well, if we have a wreck or anything I'll write tell you about it, but there's nothing to write now. Love, Henry

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Dearest Helen, This is the second epistle to you for today – I don't know whether I will send the first one or not, but any way it's written, indicating that something unusual has happened in my young life – I guess I'm just beginning to realize how much I really do love you. I've never been so lonesome for you in my life, and I'm going to have to see you at Xmas some way or other, though at present I don't know how. I've been taking things easy today – took my grandmother for a ride this afternoon, + that's about all. Well, I guess when I do get started working, I'll have to work like the dickens to try to forget about you. Love, Henry
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