Native Nations, Ancient Paths: The True Story of the Oregon Trail

Previously

…Tolo closed his eyes, picturing the faces of his children, the future generations he was sworn to protect. He saw the endless streams of wagons, the relentless march of progress that seemed to leave only destruction in its wake. He felt the gnawing fear that the very foundations of their existence were being systematically dismantled, not by outright war, but by a thousand small betrayals, each one chipping away at the promises made. The land, their lifeblood, was being poisoned, its bounty diminished, its sacred places trampled. The accord was a whisper against a hurricane, and Tolo knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that the storm was gathering force.