Toward the Setting Sun: John R

“Richly detailed and well-researched, this heartbreaking history unfolds like a political thriller with a deeply human side.”—Publishers Weekly

Toward the Setting Sun chronicles one of the most significant but least explored periods in American history, recounting the unknown story of the first white man to champion the voiceless Native American cause.

Son of a Scottish trader and a quarter-Cherokee woman, John Ross was educated in white schools. It was not until he was twenty-two, when he fought alongside “his people” against the Creek Indians, a neighboring rebel tribe, that he knew the Cherokees’ fate would be his. Cherokee chief for forty years, he would guide the tribe through, its most turbulent period.

As increasing numbers of whites settled illegally on the Cherokee Nation’s native land, including Ross’s beloved home at Head of Coosa, the chief remained steadfast in his refusal to sign a treaty agreeing to removal. When a group of renegade Cherokees betrayed him and negotiated an agreement with Jackson’s men behind Ross’s back, he was forced to give way and begin the journey west.

In one of America’s great tragedies, thousands of Cherokees died during the tribe’s migration on the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma.

When Harris cocked his rifle, Ross wheeled his horse around and galloped off, retreating by the sound of the gun’s report. Ross knew the countryside well, and that knowledge gave him an advantage in the dark. He rode fast, knowing that it was not only himself, but the entire Cherokee Nation he had to save. The tribe depended on him; there was no one else who could stop Jackson.

Even though the attack made his blood boil, turning to fight never occurred to Ross. He was not a warrior, and he knew it. Ross’s only thoughts were of escape. Although it would have been natural to be afraid, Ross was more annoyed than anything else. The attack was just something else standing in the way of his business. He knew that he must get away, but he still had much work to do.

Andrew caught up to Ross within minutes, and the two rode quickly and quietly through the night. After a while, they turned off the trail that led to Coodey’s, not wanting to bring this trouble on their nephew.

As his horse sprinted, dodging branches on the narrow trail, John Ross had little time to wonder who had sent this man Harris. Had it been the governor of Georgia, the president of the United States, or one of his own tribesmen? In truth, he knew it mattered very little at that moment, because he could hear the man gaining.

And then, another shot rang out in the dark.