Abducted Innocence (Emily Etcitty)

by Sandra Bolton

  She eased herself down on the stump near the fire pit and reached into the bundle of branches until she had a handful of dry twigs and needles. After placing them in a small pile inside the pit but within her reach, she searched for anything she might use to create enough friction to spark and make an ember. Beside the pit, she spotted a flat piece of wood with a V-shaped notch and a small depression. A smooth, rounded two-foot-long stick lay on top of the wood.

  This must be what Chipeta used to start fires, Emily thought, and silently thanked her for leaving it behind.

  She put the notched piece of wood near her nest of tinder and inserted the spindle stick in the groove. Putting as much pressure on the wood as possible, Emily swiftly rolled the rod back and forth with her hands. After several minutes, no spark had been produced, and her arms ached from the effort. She rested, catching her breath, but tried again after a few moments.

  Don’t give up. This fire is your only hope.

  Emily continued rolling until blisters formed on her palms. Finally, after a long, agonizing time, she saw the glow of a small ember in the nest of dry straw and twigs—only to see it die out before it caught. The blisters on her hands broke open and began to bleed, but Emily knew she couldn’t quit. After several more agonizing minutes, another spark glowed, followed by another. A curl of smoke arose, and she fanned it lightly with her hand until the twigs ignited. She settled back with a sigh of relief, almost smiling when small flames appeared. The fire was a major accomplishment, but there wasn’t time to waste basking in her success. Tending the fire and making sure it did not go out was an immediate concern. As the tinder burned, she gradually added larger sticks and branches until she could smell and feel the welcome warmth of a piñon fire.

  Chipeta had left her water in an earthen pot. Emily heated it on the coals and soon was warmed inside by a steaming cup of Navajo tea and deer jerky. Feeling stronger and more hopeful, she gathered up her makeshift crutches and hopped to the outer edge of the cave. The fog had burned off, for the most part, leaving patches of blue sky and bright sun. Still, she knew she couldn’t walk down the steep, slippery slope of the canyon wall.

  Fearful she might run out of firewood before anyone spotted her smoke, Emily looked around for more branches and dead limbs—anything that could burn—but the sandstone base was nearly devoid of vegetation. She would have to watch her wood carefully. She returned to the fire pit and put a green branch of juniper on the flames, letting it smolder, watching the thick, gray smoke rise. While the wood slowly burned, Emily practiced walking with her crutches, resting when she became too tired or the pain was too unbearable. Emily knew that once she ran out of wood and had not been spotted by searchers, starvation or frostbite would be her fate.

  I need to build up my strength, she thought, grimacing and pulling herself to her feet once again. Whether I walk or have to drag my body, I’ll have to find a way to get down this mountain.

  Will laid out an arrow of branches and stones indicating to Mark Newman they were following along the canyon wall from the left side. They clambered over clusters of large boulders that had broken and fallen from the sides of the wall as they made a gradual ascent to the base. The vertical wall appeared inaccessible from their position, as it shot straight up a few hundred feet. Abe took a pair of binoculars out of his pack and studied the top of the mesa. He focused on something—clinging fog, clouds, or smoke?

  “Will!” Abe said, grabbing his friend’s shoulder, “look up there. What do you make of it?”

  Squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight, Will took the proffered binoculars and looked in the direction Abe pointed.

  “It’s smoke from a campfire,” Will said, excitement in his voice. “Hosteen, I think we’ve found something.”

  Abe licked his dry lips, his heart pounding. He wanted to yell Emily’s name at the top of his lungs but thought of the other woman who might still be with her.

  As the three men studied the canyon crest, the smoke thickened, rising high in the now-pristine sky. “It has to be Emily, or the Ute woman—or both,” Hosteen said. “We’ve got to figure out how to get up there without being seen.”

  “We’ll find a way,” Will said. “If someone else could get up there and make a fire, there has to be a trail. Come on. Keep looking.”

  They picked up the pace, not knowing what lay ahead, but feeling they had found their best indication as to Emily’s whereabouts.

  The fog burned away, allowing an unobstructed view of the surrounding cliffs. The top of the mountain appeared to be a broad flat stretch of land—a mesa with sandstone and shale outcroppings. As the three men approached the back side of the tabletop mountain, the slope became more gradual and the undergrowth denser. Shrubby rabbitbrush and mountain mahogany pricked at their skin—daggerlike yucca leaves jabbed their shins.

  “How could Emily, or anyone, have made it to the top of this mesa with all this brush?” Abe asked as he bushwhacked through the dense growth. “There’s no sign of a trail, and before we reach the top, it’ll turn into a straight-sided cliff again.” He had his eyes trained on the crown, searching for the gray stream of smoke he had seen before, but a single cloud of fog hugged the mesa top, obscuring his view.

  Will stopped to sweep his gaze out over the land. As the snow melted, steam rose from the warmed earth and rocks. The men’s pants and shoes were soaked through and caked with claylike mud. “See that patch of scrub oak?” Will pointed. “I think there’s a definite break in the brush. Might be a deer trail or something.”

  Lifting his arms shoulder high to keep from being stabbed by the yucca spines, Will led them to the spot he had seen. It was indeed a trail that gradually made its way to the top. By the time they finished the climb, the position of the sun indicated it was between noon and two o’clock. Abe took off his ball cap and wiped sweat from his forehead. The plume of smoke was clearly in view, but not its source. It appeared to come from a lower point on the far opposite side. “There’s a campfire on the back side. I’m headed that way,” he said. Will took off right behind him. Abe glanced back to see Hosteen try his radio, then shake his head. They were out of range. Hosteen hurried to catch up with the other two.

  Feeling exhausted and defeated, Emily slumped on the stool and held her head in both hands. There were only a few remaining branches, and the errant fog had obliterated most of her smoke. Worry had caused her to pace the length of the cave until she was on the verge of collapse. If smoke failed to draw the attention of searchers, she knew she could die. But, before that happened, she would attempt to climb down herself—at whatever cost. She placed her only remaining branch on the flame and prayed to all her grandmother’s gods that someone would come for her. Once the last limb was smoldering and emitting a stream of smoke, she laid down on her makeshift bed on the travois and closed her eyes.

  I may never see my family or Abe again. I’m going to die on this mesa top, alone.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she recalled a Navajo prayer taught to her by her grandmother, and silently mouthed the words:

  Grieve for me, for I would grieve for you.

  Then brush away the sorrow and the tears.

  Life is not over but begins anew.

  With courage, you must greet the coming years.

  Her energy spent, she intended to rest awhile before looking for more limbs, but when her eyes closed, she fell asleep.

  When the three men were approximately a hundred yards from the source of the faint wisps of smoke, Hosteen raised his hand for Abe and Will to stop, cautioning them not to make any noise. They hunkered down behind a large boulder while he gave them instructions. “Get your guns out, and be ready,” he whispered. “We need to take a look at what’s down there without drawing attention. There must be an access trail to the campsite. We’ll split up. Abe, you take the left, Will, the middle. I’ll be on the right. Reconnoiter the area, but don’t go after anyone on your own. We’ll meet back here in about an hour.”

  “What if I
see Emily and she’s alone?” Abe asked in a tight voice.

  “Don’t do anything. You won’t know if Emily’s alone or who made that fire. If the Ute woman is there, Emily could be in danger. Got it, Freeman?”

  Abe nodded, tense and steely-eyed. He took the short-barreled shotgun from the shoulder case looped over his shoulder and inserted two shells into the loading flap, one into the chamber. He clicked off the safety and hoped like hell he wouldn’t have to use it.

  Will loaded ammo into his grandfather’s pistol. His eyes gleamed with excited anticipation and hope, erasing the worry lines on his burn-scarred face.

  He thinks we’ve found her, Abe thought. God, I hope he’s right.

  Abe felt it, too, and although he was no lover of guns and had no training in their use, he was ready to use one. He licked his dry lips, crouching low, and held the shotgun in front of him as he ran a zigzag pattern to the next large boulder. Movies were all he had to go on, and instinct, plus the desire to reach Emily.

  Freeman, he told himself, fuck it. If you have to shoot a crazy killer to get Emily back, do it.

  29

  Monday, April 16, 1990

  Chipeta Longtooth’s Camp

  Colorado Backcountry

  Abe dropped to his stomach in a washed-out gully at the edge of the mesa top. He listened carefully for sounds coming from the area where the diminishing streams of smoke were visible, but all he could hear was the cackling of crows and the thunderous beating of his heart. He looked to the right to check the location of Will and Hosteen, then belly-crawled to the rim. Cautiously peering over the edge, Abe noticed that the vertical cliff flattened after about fifty feet onto a rock shelf. He caught a whiff of smoke. He knew no one could scale a solid wall without rock-climbing gear. There had to be a trail.

  He crept along the rim of the mesa, looking for an opening, trying not to make a sound. Something ahead caught his attention. Mesquite and snake brush clustered around what appeared to be a fissure on the solid surface. The break was nearly three feet wide and led down the cliff with a series of natural rock steps. Abe signaled to Will to follow him and moved forward. He could not see Hosteen.

  “Should we call Hosteen?” Will asked.

  “The hell with Hosteen.” He was nowhere in sight, and Abe didn’t want to waste time looking for the lawman. Will agreed, and using hand signals to communicate, the two men crept down the mountainside. The path was well used and smooth for the most part, with occasional scratches on the sandstone surface. Goat and donkey scat dotted the trail. It appeared to Abe that someone had recently dragged a heavy object along the surface.

  Will put a finger to his lips and pushed back with his palm, urging Abe to go slow and remain quiet.

  They inched down the path until reaching a flat outcropping of smooth sandstone that ended in the broad overhang of a natural cave. Abe felt his body tighten and his pulse quicken as he pushed his back flat against the wall of rock. Both men remained as still as death, barely breathing while they listened for any sign of movement inside the cave. Will held his pistol in the ready position and nodded for Abe to do the same. The smell of burned wood hung in the air, and a soft moan came from the dark entrance—accompanied by the sound of something thumping on the rocky surface.

  Will raised three fingers. On the count of three, the two men burst into the entrance of the cave with their guns cocked and ready to fire.

  “Put your hands behind your head and step forward!” Abe shouted.

  Then he heard a shriek and looked on, stunned, as Emily let go of her crutches and fell to the floor.

  “Emily?” Will said, dropping to his knees. “ˋAdeezhi, my little sister, I was afraid we would never find you.”

  Abe ran toward her, calling her name. “Emily, Em! My God, it’s really you.” He looked at her leg encased in the makeshift cast, dropped to his knees, and brushed the hair from her tearstained face. “You’re hurt, baby. What happened?”

  Emily sobbed and clutched at both Abe and Will.

  “Sister,” Will whispered, “who brought you here? The Ute woman, Chipeta Longtooth?”

  Emily nodded.

  “Where is she now?” asked Abe, looking around the cave, noticing the barely smoldering wood in the fire pit, the pot of water, and the crutches.

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. “She left sometime during the night. Abe, I fell and broke my leg. She found me, took care of me, put this cast on my leg, gave me food and tea and firewood. I had almost given up. How did you find me? Did you see the smoke?”

  Abe looked at her braided hair, tanned buckskin dress, and soot-smudged face, and shook his head in wonder. “We saw the smoke, Em, but it wasn’t easy to find the trail. It’s unbelievable she managed to bring you here. Let me help you up. There’s so much I want to know, but first we have to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

  “What about the girls?”

  “They’re still searching, sweetheart,” Abe said. “The FBI, state police, and local agencies are tearing the ranch apart and questioning all the cult members. They’ll find the girls, but the so-called Prophet skipped out—took off in a private aircraft.” No one wanted to cause Emily any more pain by mentioning Lina’s diabetes.

  Emily’s mouth turned down. “I wish I could go after him myself. If I hadn’t run away, maybe he wouldn’t have fled. Someone might have found the girls. He was probably afraid I’d make it back and lead the authorities to him—and I would have if I hadn’t broken my damn leg.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. You were trying to save them,” Abe said. He picked her up and carried her to the stool, knelt, and held her in his arms.

  Will had turned toward the eastern sky and was chanting a prayer, his voice breaking at times. He clutched the medicine bag, the jish he always carried across his shoulder, and extracted a small handful of white corn pollen. After scattering it to the east, he concluded his prayer and turned back to gaze at Emily and Abe.

  “They say the Ute woman killed two men,” Will said.

  “She had her reasons for killing those men,” Emily said in Chipeta’s defense. “She’s gone now, vanished in the night.”

  “Joe Hosteen is with us,” Abe said. “We have to let him know we found you so he can radio for a rescue chopper. A Colorado state trooper on horseback is tracking us. He should be here soon with more help.”

  “I want to stay here with my sister, Abe. Find Hosteen.”

  Abe hated leaving Emily, but seeing Will’s face, he reluctantly agreed. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, softly brushing at a smudge on her cheekbone. He kissed her forehead and hurried toward the path.

  When he emerged at the crest, Abe saw no reason to remain silent, so he whistled several times, hoping to get Hosteen’s attention. “Joe Hosteen, we found Emily!” he shouted. After getting no response, he headed in the direction where he had last spotted the Navajo cop. “Hosteen! Where the hell are you?”

  The sound of a groan led him to a narrow opening between a split in an immense boulder. Six feet inside, he nearly stumbled over Hosteen’s protruding legs. The cop sat on the ground holding a hand to the back of his head. Blood oozed between his fingers.

  Abe knelt beside Hosteen. “Jesus. What happened to you?”

  “It had to be Chipeta Longtooth. I saw some moccasin prints in the snow and followed them. She hit me from behind with something heavy; the murdering bitch knocked me out. Oh, man.”

  “We found Emily. She said the Ute woman left sometime during the night. Emily has a broken leg. Can you stand, Joe?”

  “Yeah, give me a hand. Where is she? Thank God the Ute woman didn’t kill her.”

  “I’ll take you there,” Abe said, helping Hosteen to his feet. “Are you sure you can walk?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” Hosteen staggered, leaning against Abe to steady himself.

  “When we get out in the open, try your radio, Joe. We need a helicopter to get Emily out of here and to a hospital. Someone should look at the cut on y
our head, too.”

  By the time Abe and Hosteen reached the level plateau on the mountain, Mark Newman and three more men on horseback were cresting the ridge. “Over here!” Abe shouted, waving his arms. Newman turned his sorrel packhorse at the sound of Abe’s voice, and the four riders, led by the search dog, rode to meet him.

  “We found her,” Abe said. “We’ve got Emily.”

  “Is she okay?” Newman asked.

  Abe nodded in affirmation, panting to catch his breath. “She has a broken leg, but otherwise seems okay. Can you call in a chopper?”

  “No service,” Newman said. “I’ve been trying to make contact with you all morning.” His eyes lingered on Hosteen’s bloodied head. “What happened, Officer?”

  “She found me,” said Hosteen. “And I don’t mean Emily. I didn’t get a look at her. I heard a noise like a donkey braying and followed it. She hit me from behind. Must have been Chipeta Longtooth. Guess I got too close. I’ll be all right—lucky she didn’t kill me. Abe and Will found Emily,” he said with a droll expression. “I’m some cop. You ready to take us to her, Abe?”

  Relieved that help had arrived, Abe could hardly wait to get back to Emily. “Behind those bushes,” he said, pointing in the direction of a clump of scrubby, wind-twisted trees. “A hidden path leads down to a cave. Emily’s there with Will. Follow me.”

  “Hold on just a second.” Mark Newman pulled out his handheld and tried to reach the compound headquarters. After receiving nothing but static, he handed it to one of the men on horseback. “Take my radio and ride back until you can get reception. Call control center and give them our 10-20. Let them know we found Emily Etcitty and need a medic and chopper up here on the mesa top ASAP. And you might mention Officer Hosteen had a recent encounter with Chipeta Longtooth.”