Long before American settlers carved farms from the Ohio Valley's forests, the land had already absorbed centuries of movement, alliance, and survival. The Shawnee, Delaware, Miami, Wyandot, and dozens of other nations had made this river corridor a home — and when pressure from the east intensified in the late eighteenth century, they made it a refuge for the displaced as well. The Ohio Valley became, paradoxically, both a gathering place and a battlefield. After the Revolutionary War, the new republic opened the Northwest Territory to settlement with a confidence that papered over a fundamental contradiction: the land it was distributing was not empty. Native tribes banded together in resistance, triggering the Northwest Indian War — a conflict that ended with the Treaty of Greenville in 1795, forcing the cession of roughly two-thirds of present-day Ohio. Neither side observed the boundaries for long. Settlers pushed forward. Treaties multiplied. Each one took more than it gave. Blood Along the Ohio follows this long dispossession — from the first colonial encroachments of the 1750s through the final removal of the Wyandot nation to Kansas in 1843. It traces the human cost with granular attention: the Shawnee and Lenape who rebuilt shattered villages in unfamiliar terrain, the Miami and Delaware pressed steadily into Indiana, the tribal leaders who traveled to Washington to negotiate and returned with less than they had left with. This is not a story of inevitable progress. It is a story of calculated pressure — of treaties drafted in bad faith, of legal language wielded as a weapon, of a republic that proclaimed liberty while erasing the peoples who had built the world it was inheriting.