*
The morning of July 24 finally came. Mitchell spent the day preparing for his crime. He packed his two green packs and tied them together with the same piece of dirty cloth that he had used on the night he came to get me. Although he didn’t show me the deadly knife, I knew he had it with him. He ate and then rested, knowing he had a long, hard night ahead of him. First he had to hike down into the city. Then he’d take a bus to the southeastern section of the valley. After kidnapping Olivia, he’d have to climb up Big Cottonwood Canyon, a canyon that leads to some of Utah’s most aggressive ski terrain. Big Cottonwood is also famous among mountain climbers for its steep granite walls. The canyon is rimmed with so many sheer granite cliffs that in most places it would be impossible to climb. And he’d have to do it with a terrified prisoner in tow. Olivia would be thinking of me. She would think I had been killed. Armed with that information, surely she would be more aggressive in trying to escape.
Once they made it to the top of the mountain, Mitchell would have to drag Olivia north across the ridgelines for … I didn’t know … ten or fifteen miles. I knew how exhausting and time consuming all of this was going to be.
All morning, Mitchell tried to act as if a terrible burden had been placed upon his shoulders. God has commanded me. I must obey. But it is so difficult. So difficult. Not what I want to do at all. But I must pass another test of faith, for I am the prophet of the Lord.
But I knew it was all an act. And he was acting it very poorly. He couldn’t keep the lusty smile from his face. It was obvious that he was keyed up and full of anxious energy. He was going to get another child. Another wife. Another toy. And as I watched him, I realized that he would never be satisfied. The evil that was inside him would always make him lust for more.
My heart raced as I watched him pick up the two sacks and throw them across his back. Olivia, I’m so sorry! I was crying in my head. Please, God, please protect her! Please, God, make him fail in this thing. I will do anything if You will spare her from what I am living through every day.
*
All day long I waited. Too sick to eat, I sat on my bucket and prayed. I begged and cried and pleaded with God to protect my cousin. If Barzee was concerned, she didn’t show it, though she did seem a little more terse than normal. She went about her daily routine, then sat and read and sewed and prepared a small meal. The day passed more slowly than any day in my life, the afternoon sun dragging across the gray sky. Afternoon passed, and then the evening. Night came. We waited. Barzee was getting nervous now. It grew late. Still no Mitchell. We waited. We went to bed. I didn’t sleep. Midnight. The moonlight lit the trees around us in a pale, white light. Early morning came. We were in our tent. He’s not coming back! I thought. He didn’t get Olivia! He’s been captured. He’s is prison right now.
Lifting up on one elbow, I looked across the tent at Barzee, feeling suddenly terrified while imagining what might have happened. He got caught. But he isn’t going to tell them about us. He isn’t going to betray his wife. He’ll be silent. He’ll give her time to escape. He’ll give her time to get out of town, to get on a bus and leave the state. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. And he certainly won’t tell the police about me! No way he’ll volunteer the fact that he has me cabled up here in the trees.
And he has the key to my steel cable around his neck!
I almost panicked. Barzee would leave me here to die.
I lay my head back on the pillow and tried to go to sleep.
Early the next morning, I heard the snap of branches and the crunch of footsteps on dry leaves. Then I heard the soft sound of Mitchell singing as he walked up the hidden trail toward our camp.
My heart sank. He sounded much too happy. I slowly closed my eyes.
*
Mitchell sat on a bucket to tell us what had happened. He was alone. No Olivia. I wanted to cry with gratitude.
“She is not the one the Lord has chosen to be my next wife,” he announced.
Barzee stared at him without reacting. I lifted my hand to hide my smile. Not the one the Lord had chosen. Okay. So he ran into a problem. Guess the Lord had changed His mind.
Mitchell went over and poured a long drink of warm water from one of the plastic containers, then settled down to tell his story. And because he liked to talk, he told it in great detail.