Chapter 9: A Wounded Chief

The sorrowful warriors gathered around their wounded chief. Grieving because he was hurt, they were also worried. While Mangus Coloradus led them, even though they might suffer temporary defeats, in the end they always triumphed. What now?

Nadeze said, “We need a medicine man.”

“I am a medicine man,” Geronimo said.

Geronimo told the truth. Following the massacre of Kas-Kai-Ya, he had taken the training which he needed in order to become an Apache medicine man. This he had done in the hope that he might discover some powerful medicine which would make sure the defeat of the rurales responsible for the massacre. But even though he had learned all the rituals that an Apache medicine man must know, he was far too intelligent to have much faith in them. But others believed in them.

He said again, “I am a medicine man.”

“True,” Nadeze agreed. “I had forgotten.”

Opening his pouch of hoddentin, or sacred pollen, Geronimo rubbed a bit on Mangus Coloradus’ forehead. Then he made a cross of hoddentin on the chief’s breast. He sprinkled a thin line of the sacred pollen all around the Mimbreno leader and put a touch on the forehead of every warrior who stood near. Finally, he applied a pinch to his own forehead and took a bit in his mouth.

And even as he finished, he knew that hoddentin was not enough.

Geronimo was not so blinded by the ways of the Apaches that he was unable to see for himself that other people had better ways. Often he had seen rurales so badly wounded that he thought they could never fight again. Yet, in a later skirmish, he had fought the same rurales, and apparently they were as whole as before.

With the rest of the nearby Mimbreno braves too stricken to do anything, and no sub-chief near, Geronimo took charge.

He said, “Make a litter.”

“Where do we go with my father?” asked Mangas, son of Mangus Coloradus.

“To the Mexican medicine man at Janos,” Geronimo said.

Mangas said, “The Mexicans are enemies.”

“That I know,” Geronimo grunted.