YOUR LOVING HUSBAND, GERONIMO

The Many Wives of Geronimo

THE WOMEN SQUAT ON THE FLORIDA FORT'S COLD, DAMP ground, ragged blankets drawn tightly around their too-thin bodies. They listen raptly as an interpreter reads the letter from Fort Pickens, some 400 miles away. Certain words, certain phrases, cause their dark eyes to sparkle and quick smiles to touch their lips before hands hurry to conceal them: I am very well satisfied here, but if I only had you with me again I would be more so. As sure as the trees bud and bloom in the Spring, so sure is my hope of seeing you again. I think of God, the President and you in the same light. I like you so well.... I think you have influence with the sun, moon and stars. Write to me soon a long letter.

Your husband. Geronimo.

Geronimo as a loving husband may come as a surprise to some, but during his lifetime he was seldom without a wife and often had as many as three - "overlapping" them, as his nephew Daklugie put it. At age 17, Geronimo became a warrior, but "perhaps the greatest joy to me was that now I could marry the fair Alope," he said. The "slender, delicate" Alope was his first and greatest love, and although Apache culture dictated restraint, he said, "We had been lovers for a long time." He described the time as one of tranquil domesticity. "Not far from my mother's tepee I had made for us a new home. Thetepee was made of buffalo hides and in it were many bear robes, lion hides, and other trophies of the chase, as well as my spears, bows, and arrows. "Alope had made many little decorations of beads and drawn work on buckskin, which she placed in our tepee. She also drew many pictures on the walls of our home. "We followed the traditions of our fathers and were happy. Three children came to us children that played, loitered, and worked as I had done." But in 1851, Geronimo's peaceful world ended tragically when Mexican troops killed Alope, their three children and his mother.

tepee was made of buffalo hides and in it were many bear robes, lion hides, and other trophies of the chase, as well as my spears, bows, and arrows. "Alope had made many little decorations of beads and drawn work on buckskin, which she placed in our tepee. She also drew many pictures on the walls of our home. "We followed the traditions of our fathers and were happy. Three children came to us children that played, loitered, and worked as I had done." But in 1851, Geronimo's peaceful world ended tragically when Mexican troops killed Alope, their three children and his mother.

He said, "I had no purpose left.... I spoke to no one and no one spoke to me there was nothing to say." On returning to their camp, he saw "the decorations that Alope had made and there were the playthings of our little ones. I burned them all, even our tepee," he said. Then he vowed "vengeance upon the Mexican troopers who had wronged me." He married Chee-hash-kish, a "handsome young woman," while still grieving for Alope. Their marriage lasted for 30 years until her capture by Mexicans in 1882. Their children, Dohn-say and Chappo, would join Geronimo in his final struggle for freedom, and ultimate surrender and imprisonment. Nan-ath-ath-tith became the third Mrs. Geronimo about the same time he married Chee-hash-kish. "This marriage," explains Geronimo biographer Angie Debo, "indicates his rising importance in the tribe. Only a superior hunter and raider could support two wives." During the early 1850s, Geronimo led war parties into Mexico, avenging the deaths of his family. "In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother, wife, and the babies. And I fought with fury." In retaliation, the Mexicans attacked his camp, killing many people, including Nan-ath-ath-tith and their child. Sometime in the 1860s or early 1870s, Geronimo married She-gha, a relative of Cochise. During this same period, he married his fifth wife, Shtsha-she, and for the first time Geronimo had three wives. Little is known of Shtsha-she, although she remained with him until 1884, when it appears she was captured by whites and died.

(OPPOSITE) Geronimo and Azul were married in 1906, when the Apache leader was close to 80 years old. ILLUSTRATION INSPIRED BY PHOTOGRAPH FROM FORT SILL MUSEUM, FORT SILL, OKLAHOMA

RANK LESLIE'S ILLUSTRAT A Love Letter from Geronimo

MY DEAR WIVES, AND MY SON AND DAUGHTER: Are you at Fort Marion? If so, how do you like it there? Have you plenty to eat, and do you sleep and drink well? Send me a letter and tell me all the news. I am very well satisfied here, but if I only had you with me again would be more so. I work every day, except Sundays. It is very healthy to work. My work is not hard. It consists of hoeing and raking in and around the fort. It seems to me the Great Father and God are very closely united. I do hope he will let us see one another soon. As sure as the trees bud and bloom in the Spring, so sure is my hope of seeing you again. Talking by paper is very good, but when you see one's lips move, and hear their voice, it is much better. I saw General Miles, heard him speak, and looked into his eyes, and believed what he told me, and I still think he will keep his word. He told me that I would see you soon, also see a fine country and lots of people. The people and the country I have seen, but not you. The sun rises and sets here just the same as in our country, but the water here is salt. The Government is good, and does not like to see the Indian imposed on. It has given us pants, coats with pockets on, and shoes, and enought to eat. I think of God, the President and you in the same light. I like you so well. When I get your letter I will think well over it. I hope you think the same of me as I do of you. I think you have influence with the sun, moon and stars. If the Government would only give us a reservation, so we could support ourselves - oh! wouldn't it be fine? We are at peace now, and by God's help will remain so. There are seventeen of us here, and not one thinks or acts bad. Everybody is well and contented. Chatto is a bad man, and has caused us lots of trouble. His tongue is like the rattlesnake's, forked. Do not let him hear a word of this letter. Do what is right, no matter how you may suffer. Write to me soon a long letter.

By 1882, several Apache bands were ensconced deep in the Sierra Madres, licking their wounds after the Mexican attack that resulted in Chee-hash-kish's capture. A "diminutive Nednai girl named Zi-yeh," whose white father was "an Apache in all but blood," caught Geronimo's fancy and soon became his sixth wife.

But the Americans were closing in, penetrating deep into Mexico, using friendly Apache scouts to track the renegade Apaches into their most secret Sierra Madre lairs. In 1885, the scouts under Wirt Davis attacked Geronimo's camp. Although he escaped, his three wives She-gha, Shtsha-she and Zi-yeh - and at least three children were captured. His 2-year-old son died soon after the prisoners arrived at Fort Bowie. His grave marker, still standing in the post cemetery, bears the un-Apache name "Little Robe," obviously pinned on him by the Americans.

Geronimo was now without connubial companionship. With four warriors, he headed for Fort Apache, where the prisoners had been taken. He rescued She-gha and their daughter, but Zi-yeh and her son Fenton remained in captivity, and Shtsha she had disappeared.

Because so many of his warriors had lost wives, it became expedient to steal more, and they swooped down on a party of Mes calero Apache women and children gath ering piñon nuts. One of the captives was Ih-tedda ("young girl"). After offering her to Naiche, the chief, as was the custom, and finding him "well supplied," Geronimo took Ih-tedda as his seventh wife.

As 1886 dawned, there was no hiding from the encroaching Americans, and Geronimo agreed to meet Gen. George Crook "in two moons to talk about sur rendering." To show good faith, he turned over nine members of his band, among them She-gha's fragile daughter and Ih tedda. His choices are easily understood: The daughter needed medical attention, and Ih-tedda was pregnant. While he was undoubtedly concerned about Ih-tedda's condition, choosing to send her to the Americans may have been self-serving, as well. Apache culture dictated that mar ital relations end when a woman became pregnant and resume when the child is weaned some three years later.

With Ih-tedda and his daughter in Amer ican hands, only She-gha and his son Chappo, who was beginning to prove him self as a warrior, remained with Geronimo. As promised, the Apaches met with Gen eral Crook, but a whiskey peddler's insid ious whispers of treacherous plans against them sent Geronimo and 37 of his band bolting for the safety of the Sierra Madres. Joining family members already in cap tivity in Florida proved the major en ticement for Geronimo's surrender in September 1886.

The Apaches traveled by train to Fort Pickens on Florida's west coast. Geronimo and the other men debarked to the wild lamentations of the women, who, along with their children, were sent to Fort Marion at St. Augustine, where She-gha joined Ih-tedda and Zi-yeh. It was there the wives received Geronimo's poignant love letter, and where Ih-tedda gave birth to a daughter, Lenna. Crowded, damp Fort Marion also is where Geronimo's child and a grandchild - She-gha's sickly daughter and Chappo's daughter - died. In late April 1887, the women and chil-

dren were moved from unhealthy Fort Marion. The families of the Fort Pickens prisoners joined their husbands and fathers, while the rest were sent to Mount Vernon Barracks in Alabama north of Mobile. The Pensacolian newspaper said, "We suppose that Geronimo's cup of happiness is overflowing now that he is surrounded by his papooses and wives."

Visitors to Fort Pickens were amazed by Geronimo's tender affection for his wives and children. One tourist noted, "[Geronimo] is a terrible old villain, yet he seemed quiet enough today nursing a baby [Lenna]."

A reporter wrote: "Naiche and Geronimo are better husbands, although much married, than some hod-carriers, and know more of their children than do some of the sporting fraternity."

Geronimo's happiness was to be shortlived. She-gha, ill with tuberculosis when transferred from Fort Marion, died in September. Geronimo buried her in Barrancas National Cemetery, the only Apache laid to rest there.

The following year, the Fort Pickens prisoners joined the other Apaches at Mount Vernon. Disease continued to take its toll, and when word came that the Mescalero Apaches could return to New Mexico, Geronimo sent the pregnant Ih-tedda and Lenna home, although Ih-tedda protested mightily and tearfully, for she loved Geronimo.

"We were not healthy in this place,"

Geronimo explained later, "[and] I consented to let one of my wives go.. This separation is according to our custom equivalent to what the white people call divorce, and so she married again soon after she got to Mescalero. She also kept our two small children which she had a right to do." (Robert was born shortly after Geronimo sent Ih-tedda away.) Debo notes, "The sequel was to vindicate Geronimo's judgment. Her children were the only ones who were to live to perpetuate his family."

From that time on, Geronimo said, he "never had more than one wife at a time." Zi-yeh bore him his last child, his beloved Eva, in 1889. A visitor wrote of seeing Geronimo hauling Eva "in a child's little express wagon, and seem[ing] quite proud of his employment."

Just before the Apaches were moved from Mount Vernon to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, Geronimo suffered another heartbreak. Chappo, the "unusually bright young Indian," was sent back from the Carlisle Indian School in the last stages of tuberculosis. He died shortly thereafter.

At Fort Sill, Geronimo set up housekeeping with Zi-yeh, trying very hard to be "white." A visitor, invited to dinner in the early days, was served a "good, clean meal" by Zi-yeh, which they ate with their fingers from a board placed between them on the ground. Two years later, he visited again and this time ate an excellent meal, including dessert, at a "well-set, linen-covered table."

As the turn of the century neared, Ziyeh's health failed, and Geronimo did all the housework, keeping their home immaculate. By now he had lost his son Fenton, and his daughter Dohn-say and her husband and children except Thomas, who was away at school. Zi-yeh died in 1904, and on Christmas Day in 1905, Geronimo married his eighth wife, a mystery woman called Sousche or Mrs. Mary Loto. Little was known about the Apache widow with a grown son. Of this marriage, he said only, "I married another woman but we could not live happily and separated. She went home to her people - that is an Apache divorce."

the housework, keeping their home immaculate. By now he had lost his son Fenton, and his daughter Dohn-say and her husband and children except Thomas, who was away at school. Zi-yeh died in 1904, and on Christmas Day in 1905, Geronimo married his eighth wife, a mystery woman called Sousche or Mrs. Mary Loto. Little was known about the Apache widow with a grown son. Of this marriage, he said only, "I married another woman but we could not live happily and separated. She went home to her people - that is an Apache divorce."

Eva became his life; he adored her. "Nobody could be kinder to a child than he was to her," an observer noted. Geronimo gave her an elaborate Puberty Ceremony, but forbade the petite girl to marry, for he feared she would not survive childbirth. She did marry after Geronimo's death, and bore a daughter who lived only two months. Eva died one year later of tuberculosis.

In 1907, Geronimo married his ninth and final wife, Sunsetso ("old lady yellow") or Azul. She nursed him through his last illness in 1909, refusing at first to take him to the small hospital the Apaches called the "death house." When he died, Azul, reverting to custom, rushed to kill his favorite horse, but was stopped. Although Geronimo had asked her to place his belongings, some of considerable value, on his grave so he could pick them up in three days, Azul elected to bury them with him, next to Zi-yeh. Geronimo lives on through his children by the stolen Ih-tedda. Robert, who died in 1966, had four children, and Lenna, who died in 1918, also left descendants, a testament to a man, be he saint or sinner, who was a feared warrior, a caring husband and doting father.