Chapter One


A bright-eyed child in a violet calico dress bounced over the threshold of the cabin door. Father, Mother, the Cherokee Phoenix, fresh off the printing press. Eight-year-old Lucy Drake burst into the sunlit room filled with the aroma of her mother Abbys bean bread, baking on the hearth.

Off the press so early? Abby reached to take Lucys school books and lay them on the edge of the hand-hewn oak table.

And Mother, Mr. Boudinet said Father should read it right away. The dark-eyed child smiled.

Benjamin reached for the newspaper. It rustled as he shook it open to study the black headline: Loss of Tribal Homelands, followed by the words: . . .forced removal ordered by President Van Burento be carried out by General Winfield Scott and his soldiers . . . .

Lucy stared at her fathers face as he dropped the paper and sagged to a bentwood chair made by his own hands, eyes transfixed in shock and grief. He stood, dug his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling. Ill have to race over to Spring Place and tell Mother Drake, and Aunt Rachel, Abby. General Scotts broom sweeps swift and clean like the great winds that shredded the hemlocks on the Hiwassee.

Abby, face drawn, straightened her shoulders and drew Lucy to her side. Her bosom lifted as she sucked in the mountain air laced with the smells of spring water and sweet balsam.

For a moment, Abby glanced through the window to the giant hemlocks and clustered cabins. Her eyes caught on the billowing clouds sweeping across the tops of the Great Smokies. Wispy tendrils drifted near the crowns of towering oaks. Her fine-boned face turned to her husband, Benjamin. How can the government force us out after our braves saved President Jacksons life at Horseshoe Bend? Her pokeberry-dyed homespun skirt swished as she stepped over to the hearth to stir the coals for the bread.

Theyre like the weather in our mountains, Abby, ever-changingfrom one week to the next. President Van Buren may enforce the treaty. Benjamin glanced up at their framed marriage certificate, and Abbys baptismal certificate issued by the Mission. His chin sank to his chest, betraying the ache gnawing his soul. I signed the treaty for the sale of our homelands, Abbythe removal treaty. His voice dropped. I thought that by doing so, it would save our lives.

Abby wiped her hands on her blue apron and stared into his dark brown eyes. You followed your conscience, Benjamin. There are good arguments for taking the money and moving to the Oklahoma lands, though God knows when it will happen, or how many of The People will survive such a journey.

May be I should have supported you, and Chief Ross. You admire him so. He made several trips to Washington pleading our cause.

In our nation, husband, were free to cast our votes without judgment. Your signature was honorable. You were weary of broken promises and

Chief Hicks words still ring in my ears: . . .as long as the mountains and rivers shall last, or the sun shine. Benjamin stepped over to Abby and brushed her flour-stained cheek with a kiss. Then he vanished through the door on his way to Spring Place to warn Mother Drake and Aunt Rachel.

* * *

Already the sun had risen, the air hot and humid. How had it all happened so quickly? Abby struggled, her shoes rubbing blisters on her heels as they plodded on the hard-packed trail.

Mother, the soldier said that a wagon would bring some of our belongings. Do you think they will put in our blue willow plates? Lucys hand swept back a fallen strand of hair.

No, my child, we cannot hope for that. But we will need our winter wraps. The wind may blow cold in the new land. We must trust God. Trust God? How? Already they were weary and Gunters Landing still a days journey away. Abby could hear murmuring rising behind hersounds similar to that of a frightened animal moaning for the comforting walls of a familiar cave.

Lucy reached for her mothers hot hand and held on. Mother, they said thered be a shelter tonight beside the Tennessee River. And boats, big boats to carry us all to the new lands. Lucy tried to steady her voice in spite of the grief twisting her heart over watching the government buildings in her beloved New Echota town go up in flames. After all, Mother, the soldiers said the government would pay all of us for anything we had to leave behind.

That night Abby and Lucy slept fitfully on the ground inside the rude bark-and-plank shelter hastily thrown up by government recruits. They could hear the roar of the Tennessee River on the other side of the plank wall. Tomorrow, the head sergeant had told them, they would be routed out and forced at gunpoint up gangplanks onto the keelboats. The wail of a steamboat shredded their spirits. We will endure, my child, Abby said, clasping Lucys hand. In her mind, the words circled without ceasing. Benjamin, my loving husband. Where is Benjamin? He will surely join us at one of the landings on the Tennessee, wont he?

Mother, will we ever see Father again? Lucy echoed her mothers thoughts as she reached for a hold on the rail when the keelboat heaved in the boiling Tennessee River. Abby attempted to grab Lucy, but the keelboat rocked and she was thrown into the side of an old Cherokee in buckskins who closed his eyes and murmured ancient prayers.