Congratulations to Mary Jo Brown on earning first place in fiction for her short story, Rejected, in the 2025 Sassafras Literary Adult Writing Contest!
Here is her entry:
Second – Whitney Lofton – The Word of the Mountain
First – Mary Jo Brown – Rejected
Honorable Mention – William Cochran – A Broken Gaze
Third – Gus Gibson – Miss Pearl Aberdeen
Rejected
August 8, 1838 Sanderstown, GA – Cherokee Nation East
“Come, William, you can do it.” Salina James knelt by the wood stove, encouraging the wobbly toddler as he lifted big brown eyes toward her, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his little mouth. A look of determination shown in his golden-brown face, a complexion so unlike her own porcelain skin. He took one tentative step. Salina held her breath. Then gaining sudden momentum, her son catapulted toward her – two, three, four more steps! She gathered the wiggly child into her arms, “Oh you did it! I’m so proud of you! Happy birthday, my beautiful boy!”
A long shadow appeared across the dusty wooden floor. Startled, Salina quickly stood with William held tightly to her chest. Recognition came as suddenly as the fright and with it, a relief and warmth that filled her heart as Johnson Alberty stood before her. He was ten years her senior, her greatest love and her greatest scandal.
When Salina’s father’s name was drawn in the Cherokee Land Lottery a few years prior, Sharud James and family made the trek from South Carolina to the hills of north Georgia. He nor her mother, Dicy, ever dreamed what that move would mean for Salina. The family settled in the community of Talking Rock, not quite a town yet, but a collection of small farms, all in proximity of the Indian Village of Sanderstown. Salina’s curious mind was piqued as she frequently saw the Cherokee trading with the local white population.
And then she saw HIM…tall and lean, jet-black hair and shockingly blue eyes. Salina was quite taken aback to realize those piercing eyes had noticed her as well. A discrete conversation (her father would not approve), an irresistible attraction, a few quiet rendezvous (one of which went further than a respectable Southern lady – a Baptist no less! – should ever
allow), and suddenly Salina’s life was turned completely upside down. When she realized she was with child, and she could hide the relationship no longer, Salina and Johnson faced Sharud James. Though her mother was heartbroken and sympathetic, her father was resolute. In his anger over the illicit romance and the shame of a half-breed grandchild, he ordered Salina to leave. So she did…
“Johnson! I didn’t expect you so soon.” Then studying his expression and reticence, a knot of dread formed in Salina’s stomach. She breathlessly asked, “What is it?” “Fort Newnan is complete. The soldiers are preparing for our removal. It will be soon.” He spoke the words matter-of-factly, but his clenched jaw belied the emotionless statement. Salina’s eyes widened. Young William fretted to be put down, but she couldn’t let go, not yet. “What now?”
Johnson closed the distance between them, gently prying William from her grasp. “Papa!”, he squealed, happily patting his father’s chest with chubby little hands. Johnson held the child in one arm and took Salina in the other, placed a gentle kiss to her forehead and said, “It’s time for you to decide.”
Upon hearing those words, Salina’s heart shattered. Silent tears sprang forth and rolled unchecked down her cheeks. She couldn’t look into those penetrating eyes. Johnson stiffened. “You’ve already decided.”
Salina couldn’t speak, but slowly and deliberately, she nodded. The decision was an excruciating one. In the time since her exile from her family, she’d been able to reconnect with her mother and siblings, though her father remained aloof. Salina loved Johnson, had grown to care for the members of his family, but she was not Cherokee. They were not married. The looming journey the Cherokee people were about to endure would be dangerous. And though her
son may never find full acceptance among the white man, she must consider his safety. Salina and Johnson had discussed possible scenarios at length. His sisters had tried to persuade her to let William go with them, but the thought of being separated from her son was unbearable. Johnson had left the choice with her.
Now, a sorrowful acceptance enveloped the star-crossed lovers. Johnson kissed his son and lowered him gently to the floor. Once steady, William toddled haltingly a few more steps before plopping down on his bottom to play. Johnson sadly exclaimed, “He’s walking!” Salina smiled weakly and nodded, still overcome with emotion.
Johnson turned to Salina, and lovingly caressed her face. “You will tell him about me? About our people?”
Salina, struggling to find her voice, lifted her eyes to meet his, seeing her brokenness reflected there, said “I promise.”
Johnson, considering the obstacles Salina and William might face, asked, “Will your father allow you back into his home?”
“Mama spoke to him. We’ll have a place to stay.”
Gathering her fully in his arms, Johnson said, “Let us make the most of the time we have left together…”
Salina, finishing the thought they both shared, “…and may God preserve and protect us all.”
When autumn came, they said goodbye.
December 4, 1906 Jasper, GA
William James slowly dismounted the aging mule. The five-and-a-half-mile ride from Talking Rock to Jasper left them both stiff and covered with a fine layer of dust. William wasn’t a young man any more. Years of farming had taken its toll on man and beast, but still they persisted. Life had never been particularly easy. William’s mother had kept her promise in telling him about his father and the Cherokee. He was proud of his heritage, and had never hidden the fact. It was public knowledge in their community that he was a bastard child of a quarter-blood Indian. Most of the neighbors never held that against him. The current laws made things difficult on occasion. The land bequeathed by William’s stepfather had to be deeded to his wife and children, but not directly to William. He could have denied the truth of his parentage, passing as white, in order to circumvent the laws regarding Indians, but one thing William refused to be was a liar.
Perhaps today might be the impetus for William to receive the validation for which he’d privately longed.
He entered the courthouse and was directed to the Superior Court. Pickens County’s official, Elias Whitfield, sat at a plain wooden table covered in papers. Next to him sat a well dressed man that William didn’t recognize, probably from the U. S. Court of Claims.
William approached the table, exchanged greetings with Mr. Whitfield, and was quickly given an application form. He found an empty seat at another table where other applicants were answering the form’s questions. His hands trembled slightly as he took up a pencil and began the process.
Finished, William flexed his aching hand and began proofreading his answers. Satisfied he’d answered the questions correctly and as fully as possible, he stood, turned in the forms, gave
Mr. Whitfield a list of character witnesses to interview, and headed home. William wasn’t a patient man, and he knew waiting for the government’s response would be tedious. It was a lengthy wait.
Between December 1906 and June 1909, letters and testimonies were sent between Jasper and Washington, DC. None were alive who remembered Johnson Alberty, but some testified of hearing the story from William’s mother. Growing anxious for a reply, William wrote letters asking if there was more information he could provide to help confirm his claim. Elias Whitfield wrote on his behalf, including a photo of William saying, “His very appearance will convince anyone that he is part Indian”. Guion Miller, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs asked questions of clarification, which William promptly answered. Mr. Miller also expressed exasperation at William’s persistence, stating there were over 38,000 applications to be reviewed.
On May 31, 1910, Guion Miller arrived in the area distributing government payments to those with accepted applications. William James was not one of them.
Rejected. William stared at the word, searing it into his very being. His letter stated that it appeared Johnson Alberty never claimed him as his son.
Did the agency follow due diligence in an investigation? Did they try contacting other relatives of Johnson Alberty? As the government had failed the Cherokees so many times before, it was easy to assume the answer to both questions was no.
Rejected, rejected, rejected. The word ricocheted in William’s mind. The government had once again denied him a father. Embittered and in stubborn defiance he began wearing his hair in braids, still proud to be Cherokee, and always Johnson Alberty’s son.
Epilogue – 2013 Marble Hill, GA
Mary, a descendant of William James, was excited to see her parents’ DNA test results were in. Scrolling through her mom’s matches, one caught her eye.
“Hmmm…what’s the connection here?” Clicking the tab, she quickly realized the common ancestor was Johnson Alberty. There was another, and another. Suddenly she realized, these matches were descendants of Johnson Alberty by other children he fathered – William’s half-siblings!
Blood doesn’t lie. At last, here was the bittersweet proof that William’s rejected claim was true after all.