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Thread: Moving West-Chapt 22 - Trail of Tears

  1. #1
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    Moving West-Chapt 22 - Trail of Tears

    Since crossing the Mississippi, Sean, Mariska, and Dover had been traveling north for five days, when they stopped to make camp just a mile from a river settlement founded by the French, called Cape Girardeau. As Sean and Mariska set up camp, Dover rode into town to warn them that Fowler might be in this area. Just as Mariska was finishing cooking supper, Dover rode back in and dismounted.
    “Ma'm, I swear I could smell your coffee all the way in town!”
    Mariska laughed, poured him a cup and handed it to him as Sean asked “ Did you warn them about Fowler?”
    Dover sipped his coffee and answered, “Turned out, I didn't need to. Fowler showed up in that town yesterday morning. When he walked out of the Saloon, the Mayor's wife and 4 other women were waiting with rifles, shotguns, and pistols. The Mayor's wife yelled at him just before they started the ball..said she wanted him to see that it was a bunch of women that were sending him to hell. He hadn't walked two steps out of the Saloon, when they shot him to rags.
    Everybody agreed that he didn't deserve a decent burial, and they certainly were not going to have him in their town cemetary. One of the men threw him across a saddled horse, led him out into the woods, and dumped his body for the coyotes, wolves and buzzards to feed on.”
    Dover grinned at Sean, and said to Mariska, “Ma'm I swear your coffee is worth it's weight in gold. If Sean here ever gets himself killed, you be sure and look me up. For a woman that makes such great coffe, and looks as good as you do, I reckon I'd make a pretty fair replacement for Ole Sean...:

    Mariska smiled and winked at her husband as she said “ Mr.Dover, I'll certainly keep that in mind... it isn't everyday that a girl gets such an attractive offer.."
    The day before, Sean had told Dover that he and Mariska had decided to join Dover when he turned west, instead of continuing on to St. Louis. So, after passing through Cape Girardeau, they turned west a couple of miles north of town. After a days journey, they started moving up out of the flatlands and up into the hills of southern Missouri. Soon, Sean and Mariska noticed they were seeing occasional crudely made grave markers, and in some cases, what appeared to be human bones not far off the trail. When they asked Dover about it, his answer was a shocker.
    “ What you are seeing here, the folks in Washington don't want people to know much about. As far back as Washington and Jefferson, our Presidents have been trying to find a way to take away the lands of the southern Indian tribes. Andy Jackson and his bunch of crooks finally stole the lands of the Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, Cherokee, and Seminole, and forced them to move to the Oklahoma Territory under armed troops. The Choctaw were the first to be forced out in 1831, and the Cherokee, the last in 1838.
    The trail we are following is one of the two routes that most of the Cherokee took. The other four tribes were marched across a more southern route. In all of these tribes, people were forced out of their homes, many of them not allowed to take more than what was on their back. Untold thousands died on these trails, from exposure to winter weather, exhaustion, sickness, and many from murders performed by our troops, so horrible in nature, that I'm ashamed to even talk about it. I was passing through here right after the last group came by, and I found a Cherokee
    woman who had been left to die. She was too far gone, and there wasn't much I could do for her, but she hung on for a couple of days while she told me stories of the horrors of their trip.
    I'm far from a tenderfoot, and I've seen a thing or two out here, but I have to tell you that her stories made me sick to my stomach.”
    Clearly disgusted, Sean asked “ How far will we travel this trail?”
    “All the way to Springfield,” Dover answered. “Almost completely on the other side of Missouri. From there the tribe was marched southwest to the Oklahoma territory. We will leave the trail at Springfield. It's not a pleasant trail to travel, but it's something you need to see firsthand, so that you can pass it along to your kids, and hopefully, they will do the same. The people in Washington must not be allowed to bury their evil deed from history.”
    Mariska dismounted at the next grave marker, and examined the ground around it. “Mr. Dover, I cannot help but think about how easily it could have been my people on this trail.
    I know we need to see the evidence of what happened on this trail, but, the sooner that's done, the better I will sleep.”
    “Sean, I'm sure you will agree with me on this - let's rise early, ride hard, and camp late, so that we can get this done as quickly as possible.”
    All three of them agreed, and they proceeded
    down the trail with that in mind.
    --------
    Done totally with AR2.5, used all the tools except the spray, and the roller.
    Lots and lots and lots and lots of layers...
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    Last edited by barnburner; 01-01-2011 at 06:48 AM.
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  2. #2
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    I'still riding the trail. BB

  3. #3
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    Quote Originally Posted by eighty+ View Post
    I'still riding the trail. BB
    Glad to have you along sir... Much appreciated.
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  4. #4
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    barnburner,
    As they proceeded to travel along the trail of tears, Mariska could not
    help but notice the tall stately trees as they seemed to stand as silent
    witnesses to the sad occurrence and as spirit earth's sentry's, their
    protective branches, as if in solemn prayer, tenderly reached out and
    over the graves in an embracing jester of homage, as if being paid to
    those souls who, even from their graves, continue to whisper the story
    of their tragic fate.

    Those elequently painted trees were my inspiration to add an additional
    paragraph to this most touching story. So poignantly related and well
    painted!

    Mairzie Dotes

  5. #5
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    Love the forest illustration for this. Well done on all accounts.

  6. #6
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    Quote Originally Posted by Mairzie Dotes View Post
    barnburner,
    As they proceeded to travel along the trail of tears, Mariska could not
    help but notice the tall stately trees as they seemed to stand as silent
    witnesses to the sad occurrence and as spirit earth's sentry's, their
    protective branches, as if in solemn prayer, tenderly reached out and
    over the graves in an embracing jester of homage, as if being paid to
    those souls who, even from their graves, continue to whisper the story
    of their tragic fate.

    Those elequently painted trees were my inspiration to add an additional
    paragraph to this most touching story. So poignantly related and well
    painted!

    Mary Ann, thank you so much for that heartfelt and eloquent addition to the chapter...
    Those trees are the kind of trees that dominate the area I have written about in this chapter. I've been through this country many times, so getting the geography right as far as describing it was fairly simple. Painting it, not so simple..
    Thanks again.
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  7. #7
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    Quote Originally Posted by gzairborne View Post
    Love the forest illustration for this. Well done on all accounts.
    Many thanks kind sir... It was quite time consuming, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. My mother and step-father lived very near one of the trails the Cherokee were forced to march over in southeastern Missouri. Altho I didn't intend for it to
    end up that way, this setting is very similar to the country just down the road from where my Mother lived.
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  9. #9
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    yes, very well done...
    regards,
    waheednasir.
    www.waheednasir.com

  10. #10
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    Quote Originally Posted by Alexandra View Post
    Great job dear friend.
    Thank you so much Sandra.. I appreciate your support very much my friend.
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