McKay's Promise

By Mike Poppe

Morgan McKay, a veteran frontiersman, was summoned to the Arapaho camp by their chief, Grey Wolf. McKay is asked to rescue a young Arapaho girl who has been kidnapped by the hated Ute tribe. The Arapaho, decimated by a disease that wiped out half the village, are no longer capable of fighting the Ute. McKay recognises this is a suicide mission, and from where he sits, it's none of his business. Then Grey Wolf slyly hits him with the deal clincher. If McKay doesn't bring back the Arapaho girl, Lisa Flood, a white woman being held prisoner by the Arapaho, will be burned at the stake. With great reluctance on the part of the veteran frontiersman, the bargain is struck, and McKay sets out on what he knows is an almost impossible mission. Still, a bargain, is a bargain, and he doesn't know any other way, than to try and live up to his word, even if it kills him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Poppe
• Release date: May 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310355448

Mike Poppe

I was born in Rector, Arkansas, a small farming based town in Northeast Arkansas. Later, my parents moved to St. Louis in search of better economic opportunity. At age 16, disallusioned and bored with the “One Size Fits All” educational system, I dropped out in the 10th grade.Just as soon as I turned 17, I joined the Marine Corps. The education the Corps provided, wasn't always polite and pleasant, but it most certainly was not boring. My four year enlistment included one year in South Vietnam. 7 November, 1965 to 6 November, 1966. At the end of my enlistment, having attained the rank of Sgt E-5, I returned to civilian life.After nine months as an Industrial Engineering Clerk, I took advantage of an opportunity to move into transportation. For the next 34 years, I was a dispatcher and driver supervisor in the Trucking Industry.In 2011, the rise in popularity of E-books caught my attention. A life long avid reader, I'd always believed I could write a book, but didn't know how to go about getting it published. The birth of E-Books changed all that. In the fall of 2011, fulfilling a life long dream, I published my first book, The Sparrows Whisper.Today, my wife, Mary Katherine, and I, live in a small rural town in Southwestern Illinois. With the encouragement of family and friends, I've published a total of 13 novels. The split between my books has been divided pretty evenly between Mysteries and Westerns. Work on number 14, is under way.For all those that have taken the time to read my books, I appreciate your interest very much.

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McKay's Promise

A Western Novel by Mike Poppe

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Mike Poppe, May 2015

Revised May 2020

McKay's Promise is a work of fiction.

No resemblance between the characters of McKay's Promise, and anyone living or dead is intended.

Chapter 1

Morgan McKay was preparing his cabin for the onslaught of winter, when he caught a hint of movement to his left, in the corner of his eye. Two seconds later,an Arapaho warrior stepped out of the timber. The Indian took two steps into the clearing, stopped, then waited for the white man's reaction. McKay recognized the young man from past trading visits in the Arapaho village. His name was Runs Fast and Long. Because of his running prowess, the Arapaho chief often used him as a messenger. McKay stepped away from the cabin and called out, Come. You are welcome here.

The young Arapaho walked forward and stopped an arm's length from McKay. He knew the white man was familiar with much of the Arapaho language. Using the few words of English he understood, along with his own language, the warrior explained the Arapaho chief, Grey Wolf, wanted him to come to his village.

McKay wanted to ask why Grey Wolf asked to meet with him, but he knew without the chief's permission, Runs Fast and Long would never answer that question. McKay still had a great deal of work to finish. He touched the messenger's shoulder and said, I will come in three days.

The young Arapaho runner shook his head frantically and pointed in the direction of the village. He insisted Morgan must come with him now.

McKay answered, No. I cannot come now. I must make my cabin ready for the winter winds. Return to your village. Tell Grey Wolf I will come tomorrow, before dark.

By nightfall, McKay had finished enough repairs to declare the cabin ready to handle the first winter storm. After breakfast the next morning, he saddled his horse, tied on his blanket roll, and his possibles. After slipping his rifle into the saddle scabbard, he stepped aboard the big dun, then started down the trail. Through the years, the Arapaho nation had with few exceptions, remained at peace with the white men. Although McKay had visited this village on several occasions, once staying several days, this was the first time his presence had been requested. Of one thing he was sure, the long ride to the village was not to be taken lightly.

The Arapaho were at peace, but that offered no guarantee of safe passage. To get the best wives, and to improve their standing in the tribe, the young bucks needed horses, scalps, and tales of courage in battle. If a young warrior returned from a hunting trip with a new scalp on his lance, and a new horse or two in his possession, who was to say he had not simply acted in self defense? Peace was often a good thing for the older men, who had established their worth in the tribe, and understood how critical the loss of every man killed, was to the future of their people. For the young bloods, anxious to make their own mark, peace could be suffocating in terms of their future within their tribes.

The Indians didn't make war like the white man. War to most tribes, was a battle or two, usually with little loss of life to either tribe. Then there would be a time of peace. The white man on the other hand, made war until either he or his enemy had been crushed or destroyed. War between Indian tribes was almost always a spring and summer thing. The white soldiers made war regardless of the weather, making it easy for them to find their enemy taking refuge in their village during the winter. Because the difference in war making between the whites and Indians was totally foreign to the Indian way of life, few Indian leaders ever figured out how to deal with it. Nor were they ever to truly grasp the long term devastation that war with the white soldiers, with their almost endless number of replacement soldiers and supplies, would eventually bring down on their people.

Morgan McKay had learned to assume that danger lurked in the form of men, animals, or natural disaster, around every bend in the trail. The cost of undue caution was nothing more than a small loss of time or sleep. The price of over confidence was often death, or worse, death preceded by terrible forms of torture.

Chapter 2

Staring at the majestic eagle soaring overhead, Morgan McKay wondered what the bird might be thinking, as he looked down upon this uninvited intruder into his domain. Under different circumstances, McKay might well have taken the time to fully appreciate the beauty of the surrounding landscape. Instead, assuming the Arapaho could would not have sent for him unless it was a matter of some important, his concentration was focused primarily on reaching the village with as little trouble as possible. A mere 20 feet before the narrow trail crossed over the ridge, McKay stopped his horse and dismounted. After two years of riding his barrel chested dun, he trusted the mount to stand in place, with nothing more than a ground rein. The pack horse, recently obtained from the Arapaho, couldn't yet be trusted to do the same. After tying the animal to a sturdy aspen limb, he climbed the 40 feet slope to the top of the rocky hill.

As he reached the top of the ridge, McKay slipped off the trail to his right, to avoid sky lining himself. He took care to pick a spot where timber to his front, and a rock wall to his rear, would make his presence invisible to anyone more than a few feet away. Moving only his eyes, the well versed mountain explorer scanned the trail ahead, as it dipped into a thickly wooded valley. From his point of view, the valley seemed to be populated primarily with tall lodge pole pine and white barked aspen trees. The bite of the late autumn wind running along the ridge line, sent a chill down McKay's spine. Winter was on the way, and getting closer each day. A man had to be careful to not get caught in the high country when the first blizzard hit, or he might well not get out again. He'd known a few men who'd stayed too late in these Colorado mountains. A couple got lucky. The rest were never heard from again.

Normally, he would be able to reach the Ute village in two full days of travel. With winter too close to think about, these mountains were filled with warriors hunting food to feed their people during the winter months. McKay was always a cautious traveler, but he would have to be even more vigilant than normal, or else his hair would be hanging on some warrior's lodge pole. For almost half an hour, Morgan McKay remained where he was, his eyes tracing the trail down into the valley. He carefully examined every potential area where one or more warriors might wait to ambush an animal or an enemy. Satisfied he had taken every precaution possible, he carefully made his way back to his horses. When he climbed back in the saddle, the frontiersman rested his rifle in the crook of his arm and spoke so quietly, that only his horse could have heard.

Morgan McKay, it's a damn fool you are, but you gave your word. A bargain is a bargain. Speaking to his mount, he said, Horse, if I get killed, best you head for the flat lands like your tail was on fire, else those Utes will be having you for supper before sunset.

Born and raised on the frontier, there was little about staying alive in this part of the country, that this thirty five year old veteran of the mountain country hadn't learned. Simply getting to the Ute village alive was dangerous enough. The task that lay before him, when and if, he managed to get there, might well be his undoing.

Chapter 3

As he had anticipated, McKay found the Arapaho village to still be located in the same valley, and along the same stream the tribe had been using during this season, for years. To his dismay, he noticed the number of tepees was dramatically less than at any time he could recall. At least smaller by half. In the middle of the village, sitting in front of his tepee, the Arapaho chief sat wrapped in his blanket, as he watched his old friend enter the village, and stop just a few feet away. McKay dismounted, handed his reins to a squaw, and spoke to the leader of the village.

Grey Wolf, my friend. It is good to be with you again. My heart is saddened to see your village is smaller. What happened?

There was genuine sadness in the tall Arapaho chieftain's eyes when he spoke. Let us go inside and smoke the pipe. We have much to discuss.

After pulling the tepee entrance flap open to allow McKay to step inside, the chief signaled to his wives, then followed. He pointed to a blanket on the ground then motioned for McKay to sit. Grey Wolf assumed his usual resting place opposite his friend McKay. At that point, the two men went through the traditional exchange of pleasantries, as McKay waited for Grey Wolf to get around to the reason for this meeting. The entrance flap opened and two of Grey Wolf's three wives entered, bringing food and drink for the two men. When they were again alone, the chief told McKay to eat.

It is not good for men to discuss important things on an empty stomach.

From his years spent trading with Indian tribes, the Mountain Man knew that beyond a certain amount of genuine politeness, much of this could be considered similar to the rhetoric one might hear from a horse trader, as he tried to set the stage for a big deal. There was no point in trying to speed matters up. Grey Wolf would pick his own time to get down to business.

When they finished eating, Grey Wolf said, As you noticed when you rode into our village, we have lost many people.

When the chief didn't continue speaking, Morgan McKay recognized Grey Wolf was waiting to hear him speak. The Arapaho people have long been my friends, he replied. What happened here?

Four white trappers came into our village, asking for help. They had a woman with them. The woman and one of the men were sick. The leader of the trappers asked if we would give shelter to the two sick people, until they were well enough to leave. I did not like the looks of these white men, but as you know, we have tried to avoid trouble with your people. For that reason, I agreed to take their sick ones in. The other three trappers left our village that night. The sick white man died three suns later. The white woman didn't die.

He paused for several seconds, then continued his explanation. The sickness went through my people like a river rushing down a canyon. We lost more than half of our people, including women, children, old people, and some of our strongest warriors and best hunters.

While McKay tried to decide on the proper response, the chief turned his head to face the tepee entrance, and barked a command. In a matter of seconds, the chief's third wife entered, escorting a white woman. Pointing to the woman, Grey Wolf said, "This