My Story by Chris Stewart, Elizabeth Smart Page B

padlocked to the longer cable anchored between the trees. He pulled out the key that he kept on a string around his neck and unlocked my cable. Holding tightly, he gave it a brutal tug to remind me that I was still under his control. I didn’t care. I was overjoyed at the prospect of getting out of the camp. And I hadn’t entirely given up on the idea of trying to get away. I knew there might be an opportunity to run.
    And I had another secret plan.
    I used to read Louis L’Amour Westerns all the time. It seemed the old trackers could track a rattlesnake across a rock. I suspected there would be mud around the spring and I intended to leave as many footprints as I could. If I could leave some trace behind, the searchers might track me back to the camp. At least, that was my hope. It wasn’t a lot, I know that, but when you don’t have a lot to cling to, you hang on tight to what you have.
    We started down the side of the mountain. There was no trail and we had to cut our way back and forth between the scrub oaks and pines. It was steep and difficult to travel. The weeds were high; thistle, dyer’s-weed, June grass, an occasional patch of dying sunflowers. Mitchell held the cable and walked in front of me, Barzee always just a few steps behind. Whenever we were about to break out of the cover of the trees and move into the open, Mitchell would stop and take a look around, listening and looking, his head cocked to the wind. Standing on the edge of the trees, he always pulled the cable short, forcing me to stand beside him. We’d stand there until he was satisfied, then he’d continue to lead me down the mountain.
    Halfway down, he turned to cut across the mountain at an angle instead of heading straight down.
    A small meadow spread before us, and for the first time I had a chance to really look around. I realized that we were in one of the canyons that cut east of my house. Looking west, way down to where the sides of the canyon came together, I could see a small portion of the Salt Lake Valley. I was startled for a moment. We weren’t that far from my home! Looking down on the valley, I could see the dark outlines of tall buildings, roads, and freeways. Though all of the details were lost in the distance, the city didn’t seem that far away. I looked up at the blue sky. Not a hint of clouds or rain. The sides of the mountains were mostly dry now, though there were occasional patches of weeds that dotted the canyon with spots of green. The south face of the canyon—the one opposite me—was scattered with trees and outcroppings of rock.
    Looking at the rocky slope that lay below us, I realized a couple of things. First, it was going to be very hard to climb back up the mountain, for it was steep and hard-going. Second, Mitchell had been very smart in where he had placed his camp. Because it was halfway up the side of the canyon, there was no easy way to get to it from either the top or the canyon floor. And it was high enough up in the mountains that no one was going to stumble upon it unless they knew exactly where it was.
    Turning, I looked back toward our camp, but it was completely hidden among the trees. In fact, I saw no trace of any human passing, for Mitchell had been careful not to ever walk the same path so as not to make a trail.
    I only had a minute to look around before Mitchell tugged on my cable to get me moving again. We continued down the mountain. The ground turned bare and started to get very rocky as the terrain became steeper and more exposed. We continued at an angle, the slope far too steep to hike straight down. After a while, we had to use our hands to keep from sliding. It was treacherous and we were going very slowly. Eventually, it got so steep that Mitchell had to let go of my cable. He wasn’t worried. It was obvious I could not escape, and he needed both hands to keep from sliding. Afraid that I would trip on my cable, I coiled it up and held it in my left hand, using my right to keep