the ghosts danced when america died (update)

The Ghosts Danced When America Died (draft 3 page 1)

My name was Nochedeilklinne, medicine man of the White Mountain Apache.
I was not a brujo and there was no magic when Usen, the giver of life, brought me a vision. My camp was at Cibecue Creek in the spring of 1881 where, with my wife and son we had a good life in those bad days. We had a good winter eating of the fat deer and pinon nuts. Many of my brothers and sisters were camped along the creek with their children playing among the lodge poles, throwing rocks at the fish in the creek and playing with their little bows and arrows learning to hunt.
I walked along the creek into the small canyon where the writings of the old ones where still on the walls of the rock. Writings of hunts and seasons passing; writings of
Brave men long ago forgotten but their dreams were still here for me to read. I sat, facing the sun, my eyes open when Usen gave me the vision. I saw around me the ghosts of the past, the ghosts of warriors dancing. They danced all around me letting me see what was in their eyes and what I saw was my death. My death, and the death of all of my people; the death of the spirit of the people. I saw the women, children and old men laying dead at Sand Creek, at Wounded Knee. I saw thousands of the people herded like sheep, like dogs by the Blue Coats, without a spirit, without life in their souls. The ghosts danced around me. They showed me how we should die, not dogs beaten into submission but warriors claiming our lives for ourselves. We were to wear the ghost shirt so that no white man's bullet could kill us until Usen could lead us into the spirit of the ghost. We were to dance the dance of ghosts, wear the shirt of ghosts, we were to remain Apache.
It was dark when I heard my son calling for me and I answered softly "I am here my son, let us walk to our home." I said nothing to my son of my vision as we walked back along the creek. I was tired but the ghosts were still dancing beside my vision. I could still see them when I turned my eyes quickly. I ate nothing that night. I sat beside the small fire thinking of tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come. I was not saddened for I knew that I was to teach my people the dance of the ghosts.
In the morning after the day of my vision I called for my brothers around the camp for us to talk. When they all came I explained the vision and the dance. They listened and they heard. They were awakened as if from sleep and there was a joy in their hearts. In the evening with the fires burning and the stars in the sky of Usen, we danced. We danced all night and when the dance was over my brothers went one by one to the other camps along the creek and into the mountains. Over the next days and weeks others came and joined our dance and the ghosts were always beside my vision. Within the month there were hundreds and then thousands of my people praying the dance, the dance of our lives, the dance of our deaths.
In the summer Goyathlay, known as Geronimo by the white men, heard of our dance and came with his wife's brother Juh who was a chief of the Chiricahua. They were living at San Carlos with the soldiers as their shepherds. They were not living as men of the Apache. We sat and talked of the dance, we talked of the time when the Spanish soldiers had come looking for Geronimo at his home and not finding him killed his mother and wife and children. We talked of the white men finding the gold, losing their minds over the shiny yellow rock, killing each other and our people over the yellow gold. We knew it was madness and we knew we could not stop them. I told him of the dance which would lead us to our death but would save our spirit. Then we slept.
Colonel Eugene Carr feared me and he feared the dance of the ghosts. He sent his men to kill me. Goyathlay and Juh escaped but the soldiers killed my wife, my son and me. They thought they killed the dance but they were wrong. They took the spark of the fire of dance and blew it into the flame that swept the country.