Next Work in Progress
By Cliff Ball
I wanted to let everyone know what I’m working on next. At first, I was going to write another end times novel, maybe a series, but after a month, I only managed to get four thousand words written (about 10-12 pages on 6×9 page setting on Word). I was struggling to come up with a new way of telling the story that didn’t keep seeming to bump up against actual current events. So I prayed about it. I came up with the idea of putting my Christian western short story, Dust Storm, exclusively on Amazon, and then having it go free for just two days this last Friday and Saturday. I was surprised when it received well over three hundred downloads with really no advertising/promotion from me other than maybe Facebook and Twitter, although one or two sites picked it up. I even managed to get downloads from countries, like France, where I had no sales at all for any of my novels up until that point. I would say that encouraged me to try writing a historical fiction novel (maybe even a long term series) that starts off in the 1830’s. I minored in history in college, and I’m more of an American history buff, so I’m pretty sure I can keep my history straight and not have Oklahoma City appear before the late 1880’s (like say, The Rifleman TV series does). I finished chapter one on Saturday and thought I should post it to get some feedback from those of you who write similar titles. It’s untitled right now, but I’m sure I’ll come up with one later on before I’m finished with it.
Chapter 1
It was the shouting that woke George up.
“George! George! Wake up! Get out of bed!”
Realizing that he was the one being shouted at, George kept his eyes closed and asked, “Huh? What?”
“You’ve got to get up. The Army’s here, or it’s the Georgia militia, I can’t tell. They want everyone outside,”
“Why?”
“Don’t you remember? That Major General, Winfield Scott, was sent here to finally remove us to that so-called Indian Territory out west. Looks as if that’s happening now,”
Not good news, George thought to himself while getting groggily out of bed. He glanced at John, his only brother, who looked like he had just gotten out bed himself, and asked, “What time is it?”
“It’s close to sunrise. The sun hasn’t come over the horizon yet, but they’re insisting everyone get up now and gather outside. So hurry up, brother!”
“All right, all right, I’m coming.”
While getting dressed by the light of his oil lamp, George prayed, “Heavenly Father, please help my people and I deal with those who wish to remove us from our lands, the lands of my ancestors. I ask for the strength to do what is right in your sight. Thank you for all that you do for us, including dying for my sins. In your name, I pray, amen.”
Christian missionaries came to the village in 1828 to establish a church for his little clan of Cherokees in what was now northern Georgia. George accepted Christ into his heart at ten years old and his family did the same. His parents and the clan changed their names to anglicized versions and took the last name of the missionaries, Massey, for their own. George took his first and middle name after the first President of the United States and John took the name of the second President. The missionary family left the now established church to his parents, and his father had led their clan’s church services up until he and his mother died from cholera five years earlier. George was now in charge of the church and was also the leader of the clan at the age of twenty.
The fact that his clan were Christians didn’t matter to the last two American administrations, Andrew Jackson previously and now Martin Van Buren, who viewed all Indians as savages or potential enemies of the United States. Settlers in increasing numbers wanted the lands of the five tribes and religious affiliation hardly mattered at all. While his people were Christians, George’s father had insisted that they remain true to their culture. The Indian Removal Act of 1830 was enacted to remove tribes who didn’t want to assimilate into American society. In George’s clan, almost all of the young people under the age of thirty left voluntarily to Indian Territory, which left him and John with thirty older people, all of whom were over fifty. Now the day had arrived when leaving was not voluntary.
Grabbing day old bread off the table so he’d have something to eat, George went outside to meet with Major General Scott. Scott and his men were on horseback, and his men had their rifles pointed at the people gathered. George hoped to keep the tensions down so no one would get killed. He approached Scott, and asked, “Are we being forced to leave now? The sun has barely come up,”
“Are you in charge here?”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,”
“Good. You and your people have been ordered by the United States government to leave and make your way to Indian Territory. We have other Cherokee waiting for your little group, so it would be best if we get on our way immediately,”
“We need to gather up food and other supplies before we make the journey. Surely you’d allow us to do that, sir,”
“I can’t allow that. I have my orders to remove you and that’s what we’re going to do. By force, if we have to,”
“But what about the fact that the Supreme Court ruled that the United States couldn’t force us to leave?”
“As President Jackson once said, ‘I’d like to see them try to enforce that ruling.’ Besides, your own Cherokee government signed a treaty that gives up their lands, so you have no legal leg to stand on, young man. If you keep resisting, we will remove you by force. These men with me are Georgia militia and would have no problem showing you they mean business. Am I correct, men?”
The men responded positively, with some tossing of racial slurs at the Cherokee assembled. Scott seemed greatly amused by what was happening, and said, “Maybe we ought to show them we mean business. Torch a house.”
Three militiamen on horseback headed for the nearest house with a torch that was already lit. Before George could do or say anything, John ran in front of the horses to try to block the men from getting any closer to the house to burn it down. John wasn’t a warrior, but he stood proudly as he attempted to stop them.
“You can’t do this. It’s not the Christian thing to do. We’re all God’s children, why defy Him by harming us? What did we ever do to you? Please stop.”
“Stupid savage,” said one of the men as he fired his rifle at John. The bullet hit John squarely in the chest and he was dead before he hit the ground.
“No!” shouted George, but before he could run over to his brother’s side to check on him, two militiamen grabbed him and held onto him. Tears began flowing down his cheek as he mourned for his brother and the fact that he was now all alone. But, he was comforted in the thought that he would see his brother in Heaven someday.
“Do you see what happens when you defy us? Men, torch the house. Now, will you leave by your own power or do we need to kill you too?”
Wiping away tears, George replied, “We’ll go, you’ll get no more trouble from us.”
“Excellent. Follow us as we lead you to the other members of your tribe, and then you’ll get to travel to Indian Territory together.”
The thirty clan members followed George out of their village with only the clothes on their backs and with very little food. Winter was near and there was a chill in the air. He heard Scott’s men laughing as they plundered each house and then torched them too. The heavy smoke from the village being burned down drifted over the travelers. Looking back, George could see the smug look on Scott’s face, which both angered and saddened him. His fleshly nature wanted to attack the much older man and kill him, while his spiritual side felt sorry for Scott, and he hoped that the General knew Christ as his Lord and Savior.
I hope he prays for forgiveness for this sin he’s committing if he is a Christian, Lord, and if he’s not, I hope he is led to you soon. George thought while praying, Dear Lord God in Heaven, please guide me on this journey and lead my people to safety. I pray that we find success in the new lands and you bless us in everything we do in your name. Thy will be done. In your name, I pray, amen.
Hours later, with the sun at their backs, the thirty-one members of the Massey clan arrived where the other Cherokee were being held before they were to travel west. George hadn’t been looking forward to meeting other tribe members. Many of those who remained in the lands viewed his clan as more white than Indian, since they had become Christians and appeared to be assimilated, so the few felt that the Massey clan had betrayed the overall Cherokee nation. The whites, on the other hand, saw him as a savage Indian and nothing more. If George had been honest with himself, he would admit that he really didn’t feel like he fit in with either culture, but since he couldn’t do anything about it, he tried to never give it much thought.
The Massey clan stood a few feet away from the main group, mostly because of the looks of hatred and mistrust coming from their fellow Cherokee. The main group were obviously the members of the nation who wanted nothing to do with the white man’s ways. George knew some even wanted war. However, without guns, tomahawks, or other weapons of war, they could do nothing about it.
“All right, we’ve got all the savages together, General Scott, sir. Should we begin escorting them to Indian Territory?” asked a lieutenant from the regular U.S. Army.
“The order is given, Lieutenant O’Brian, you may go ahead and carry it out.”
“Yes, sir! All right, you savages, get a move on. We ain’t got all day! Move!” O’Brian emphasized he was serious by having his men point their Hall breech-loading flintlock rifles at the Cherokee, which were also equipped with bayonets.
George couldn’t see how many Cherokee would be force marched to Indian Territory, but he could tell it was in the hundreds. His clan stayed at the back, so he decided to be at the end of the march. This was mostly to watch for people who might collapse from exhaustion so he could help them try to march. The Army followed alongside on their horses and it looked to George that they were amply supplied for this trip, since a supply wagon followed far enough behind that most of the Cherokee wouldn’t know it was there. The young Cherokee man begin to feel hatred enter his heart towards these men who were doing this to his people. He knew it was wrong, so he tried praying for peace, but it was a struggle for him not to let the hatred fester in his heart.
As he walked, the air temperature was getting almost cold enough to wear heavier clothes, but he no longer had heavy clothes. George’s prayer was that he and everyone else would make it to Indian Territory before the first freeze or first snow fall, whichever came first.
This is a post from Cliff Ball. Read the original post: Next Work in Progress
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