TRAIL OF TEARS - Anne Greene - One Free Book

Welcome back, Anne. How did this book come about? Most people in the deep South are acquainted with the history of the Trail of Tears. But I was raised in the Midwest and first heard about the Trail of Tears in church one morning when I lived in Wheaton, Illinois. Being a history buff and unaware of such a momentous event surprised me. The history fascinated me, and my first thought was – that’s a book that needs to be written.

Then, to make history exciting for my readers, I wrote a novel depicting what likely happened to one college-bound young man forced to travel the Trail. My book, Trail of Tears, The Story of John Ross, released February of this year.

Tell us about the book’s cover and what makes it unique. Although the cover doesn’t show the hundreds of Federal soldiers that guarded the Cherokee, the bottom portion of the cover depicts the wagon train on which one thousand Cherokees were transported along the trail. The top portion shows John Ross, the hero, and the two women important in his life.

I’ve known about the trail of tears for decades and found it to be a very shameful blot on our history. Please explain and differentiate between what’s fact and fiction in the book. Most of the events in Trail of Tears actually happened to the Cherokee people. I brought to life the hardship, suffering, and overcoming victory of the people as they spent seven months traveling from what is now Chattanooga, Tennessee, to Indian-controlled Oklahoma Territory.

A brave Moravian missionary accompanied this thousand-member wagon train of captives, and hundreds of Cherokees turned to Christ as they overcame the difficult, treacherous journey.

How much research did you have to do for this book? I researched the Trail, following it from Chattanooga, Tennessee, where my story begins, through western Kentucky, southern Illinois, Missouri, and Arkansas, until the Trail ends at Tahlequah, Oklahoma. I saw the outdoor drama, Unto These Hills, and visited the cultural center, Oconaluftee, an 18th century Cherokee Village replica. I met the present-day chief in Tahlequah and researched numerous books about the Cherokee Removal.

What are some of the most interesting things you found about this subject that you weren’t able to use in the story? Most of the American soldier guarding the Cherokee and the vast majority of American people were horrified that President Andrew Jackson uprooted the wealthy, educated, self-governing Cherokees from their ancient home to confiscate their land and search for their gold.

What inspired and surprised you while you were writing the book? Before the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee Nation split into two factions – a small group wanting to transport to the Oklahoma Territory – and a larger group led by John Ross, who believed by using passive resistance they could remain in their homeland. The splinter group’s leaders were executed by the larger group. Two leaders of the splinter group survived. Jarrett Ross fell in love with one man’s daughter – a man who swore to kill every Ross male. The other leader, Stand Watie, went down in history as the last Confederate General to surrender his sword. The Cherokees were split, brother fighting brother, in the Civil War as fought in the West.

What do you hope the reader takes away from the story? The story sounds as if it might be sad … and there are tragic events portrayed, but my book, Trail of Tears, is about hope, overcoming, and finding a new way of life. I think from the first page to the last, you will find Trail of Tears difficult to put down. It’s one of my favorite books!

What is the next project you’re working on? The second book in The Ross Family Saga. For Such A Time As This takes the reader into the life of Jarrett Ross, John’s younger son born in the wild Oklahoma territory. My book opens with Jarrett’s adventures with the Osage Indians, continues on to his time spent as a Pony Express rider, and includes Jarrett’s being conscripted into the Union army while his older brother fights for the Confederate side. All this time, Jarrett attempts to win the daughter of his family’s sworn worst enemy.

What do you do when you have to get away from the story for a while? I’m usually so intent in a story, I have trouble wanting to be away. But I do maintain a rigorous schedule of exercise – a daily walk and four times as week at the health club.

Tell us more about the story of Trail of Tears.

What if you are a twenty-year-old, about to attend college, and your whole world collapses? Your mother and sister are missing, and soldiers murder your father, burn your mansion, and take you prisoner.

Trail of Tears relives one of the most heartrending chapters in American history as the US Government transports the self-governing, wealthy Cherokee nation from their ancestral homeland to relocate in hostile Indian Territory.

The Georgia militia forces John Ross, with only a trickle of Indian blood flowing in his veins, to walk the thousand-mile Trail of Tears.

After John protects a full-blood Indian girl from the lustful wagon master, the cruel soldier targets John for retribution—until John’s shoved too far.

Bitter animosity explodes from a jealous Army Captain as John pushes and pulls his Conestoga wagon over mountain roads made muddy by rain and slippery by snow. 

Yet the persuasive voices of the preacher and his daughter have an impact.

A new destiny awaits John at the end of the trail—if he survives. Four thousand Cherokee do not.

Please give us the first page of the book.

June 1838

John Ross walked with a confident stride, sure of his place in the world. He swung his arms, relishing the freedom of his buckskin shirt, so different from the confining claw-hammer coat dictated by his aristocratic status. His long steps covered ground fast. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and couldn’t wait to dive into the cool lake.

Today Father had released him from his responsibilities. Father said the slaves needed a day off. He would not admit to giving the reprieve because John needed one. But Father wasn’t blind. John smiled. Last night his footsteps dragged when he trudged up to his bedroom. Learning to oversee the Ross plantation hadn’t been easy. Without resorting to whips, he’d needed sweat and guile to motivate their slaves.

 “Gain their respect. Show them you can do any job better than the best of them.” Father laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Make them hustle to keep up with you.” 

John hadn’t been certain he could obey Father’s orders. But he stood in line beneath the blistering sun for hours loading heavy bales of cotton onto wagons to be driven north from the plantation to what when Father had been a lad had been called Ross Landing but was now named Chattanooga.

Many times, only John’s Scottish—Cherokee pride kept him working. The gentleman in the suit couldn’t quit with the slaves watching. If he gave up, they would call John a lily‑livered silk stocking.

John flexed his work-hardened hands. All that suffering paid off. He was in top shape, his muscles toned, lean and hard.

John stiffened. What?

His moccasins skidded as he slid to a stop on the dewy grass.

A huge oak blocked his path. The scent of fresh sawdust filled the air. He touched the smooth still-living end of the hewn-down tree. Someone had cut down the boundary oak.

He rubbed a hand through the short hairs on the back of his neck where every nerve prickled.

Toppling the boundary tree was an act of war.

This land would one day be his. And he wouldn’t let anyone steal it. He was born here where the wind blew free, and his father before him, and his father before him. John tightened his lips. He knew every stream and every wood.

He glanced around, scanning the countryside. The small lake sparkled, serene in the early morning sunlight. Across the water, familiar farmland rolled toward foothills. Mountains rose above the hills, following each other in stately procession, peaks shadowed with smoky haze. No enemy in sight.

He shifted his feet. What should he do?

In the distance, a horse neighed—answered by another.

He clenched his fists. He had to get home. Something was wrong.  

He spun back the way he had come and sprinted. In the hot, muggy air his moccasins made no sound. Following a faint path beneath trees festooned with ivy, ears sharpened for danger, he heard only the shrill chirp of an occasional bird, bees buzzing among wild flowers, and the whisper of squirrels foraging for nuts.

Humid air hung a damp coat of perspiration, wetting the buckskin on his shoulders and chest. Swiping a sweaty arm across his brow, he dodged a clump of wild raspberry branches reaching across the trail to rip at his buckskins.

Suddenly, gunfire thundered from the direction of the house. Taking a shortcut, he pounded off the narrow path, shielding his face as he plowed between tangled branches, briars, and bushes. Shot after shot crackled in the still morning air.

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Thank you, Anne, for sharing this book with my blog readers and me. I’m eager to read it.

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