February 23, 1836
February 9, 1836

Dear Journal,

          We arrived in San Antonio the 2nd. Colonel Travis has brought a small group of defenders.  That brings our total number of men to 130. Travis keeps writing and pleading for more men and supplies. We desperately need help. The Mexican army has about 4,000 soldiers! David Crockett and other Tennessee Mounted Volunteers (Only three men are actually from Tennessee) came to help us. Spies told Travis that Santa Anna crossed the Rio Grande. We don't expect him until early spring.



He closed his book and set it aside. The men were having a celebration. They were dancing and drinking. Of course, there was Davy as drunk as ever. He watched on with a growing smile. One of the men was dancing with a little Texan girl. She was dressed in a baggy red shirt and white flowing skirt. Every time the gentleman twirled her around the skirt flowed with her. Her long brown hair flowed with the wind. She reminded him of his daughter, Martha. The fire crackled as the sweet Texas air blew over the land.

"Hey, Will. Why aren't ya dancing?" Jim asked him.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm just a little tired, that's all." He replied.

"William Baker tired?" He laughed. "I know something else is bothering you."

"I just miss my kids." He sighed. A sad expression came across Jim's face. He brought his strong hand down on Will's back. "I'll go and sleep now. It's going to be a long day tomorrow." Slowly, he stood up off the hard ground and dusted off his pants. Then he grabbed his journal and ink and headed off.

He walked past the livestock pens on the way to the barracks.

"Hey, Girl." He patted his stunning mare on her back and she whinnied a hello. "Sorry, I don't have any treats. The guys will come and feed you in a bit." He smiled. He loved that horse. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

The dust flew up as he walked to his room. The wooden floor creaked when he walked in. It was completely dark except for one small candlestick he had left burning. The room was mostly empty. There were a couple of pieces of furniture. He had a small wooden desk where he put his papers. The candle was sitting on top of the small dresser next to a wash bin and mirror. The bed was in the middle of a wall, between the door and a large window.

 "It sure feels good to rest." He thought to himself as he pulled off his rugged, old boots and plopped on the springy bed. He turned to the window and stared out at the wilderness.

"Dear father," He prayed. "Help us fight for our freedom. I don't expect to live; I just want to show how much we want to be free. To show the Mexican's that they don't mess with us! I want my kids to grow up with the freedom that I haven't had and I'll die for that." He sighed and looked through the window at the navy blue sky. It was speckled with dozens of stars. He could hear the coyote's off in the distance howling and the music of his drunken friends. His last thoughts before he fell asleep that night were of precious freedom.