To the Wild Country

"To the Wild Country"
Lyrics and Music by John Denver

(I changed Alaska to Oregon, to fit in with the story.)

There are times I fear I lose myself, I don't know who I am,
I get caught up in the struggle and the strain.

With my back against a stone wall, my finger in the dam,
I'm losing strength and going down again.

When I take a look around me, my eyes can't find the sun,
there's nothing wild as far as I can see.

Then my heart turns to Oregon and freedom on the run,
I can hear her spirit calling me.

To the mountains, I can rest there. To the rivers, I will be strong.
To the forests, I'll find peace there. To the wild country, where I belong.

Oh, I know sometimes I worry on worldly ways and means
and I can see the future killing me.

On a misbegotten highway of prophesies and dreams,
a road to nowhere and eternity.

And I know it's just changes and mankind marching on,
I know we can't live in yesterday.

But compared to what we're losing and what it means to me,
I'd give my life and throw the rest away.

To the mountains, I can rest there. To the rivers, I will be strong.
To the forests, I'll find peace there. To the wild country, where I belong.

Chapter Three.

"Oh God, Bill," was all Pam could say. She knew how he felt about that area of the lovely state of Oregon, she knew he hoped to retire there some day. To think all that beautiful land was about to be snatched by big corporations, surely first for clear-cutting the forests then turning it into developed real estate, pained Pam; she could only imagine how it was impacting her friend Bill Maxwell.

Bill appreciated her sympathy. "Pam, we've got to DO something!"

The simple fact that he'd called her Pam, something he rarely did, made her realize that her petty gripes with Ralph were irrelevant to the personal Hell he was going through.

Pam motioned to Bill to get up front, and she went around to the driver's side. He was too upset to drive; she'd calmed down enough to manage the busy LAX throughways.

"Here, get up here and we'll go somewhere and hammer out a scenario," she said. He chuckled in response, as she'd expected, enjoying her using his favorite word.

He sighed as he threw the paper in back. "Okay, how 'bout the airport lookout? You know how to get there, don't you?"

"Yeah, we'll talk there, see if we can figure something out."

It didn't take long to drive around the perimeter of the airport, and Pam parked the station wagon facing the busy runways. The parking lot was empty, being Sunday morning.

"We shoulda stopped for some cokes or somethin'," Bill said, as he leaned back more into the seat. The two sat quietly, enjoying the solitude, watching planes landing and taking off for a few moments.

Pam wondered if one of them had been Ralph going on his week-long trip with that Kathryn person, and the earlier anger and jealousy crept back to her conscious thoughts.

"Yeah," she said curtly.

Bill turned to her, and asked, "So what were you pissed about when you came back to the car, any way? I was so engrossed in that article I forgot to ask ya."

"Ralph."

Bill sighed in exasperation. "Oh God, what'd he do now?"

Pam remained silent for a few moments, then said, "Well... okay, nothing, really. It's just...." She couldn't finish.

"Just?" Bill prompted.

"I don't know, this attitude I'm picking up from him, about this trip. Then this blonde bimbo is practically oozing all over him, and he introduces me as his FRIEND of all things, and... and...."

"And he's being a typical guy, right?"

Pam smiled, turning to face Bill. He was always surprising her when he made these astute observations. "Yes, he's being a typical guy, you're right, Bill."

"'Course I'm right. Don't worry your pretty little head about him, Counselor."

Ah, he's back to Counselor, Pam thought. Good, he must've calmed down a bit.

Pam reached behind her for the paper Bill had tossed, and found the article from Oregon. Bill watched her as she quickly read it, the frown on her face deepening as she went. By the time she was finished, she too was indignantly angry as Bill had been.

"This... this is CRIMINAL, Bill, they can't do this!"

"Sure they can, Pam, that's the problem! Look at that: Department of the Interior has released the acreage for sale to the highest bidders. That son of a bitch Watts, it's HIM! I mean, I respect our President, I voted for old Ronnie and all, but sometimes, sometimes...."

Pam finished the thought for him: "Sometimes you wonder if your loyalties are a little misplaced, don't you, Bill?"

"Well, yeah. That's the beauty of our country: I have the right to disagree, and dammit, I'm disagreeing! We've gotta do something, Davidson!"

Pam set the paper in her lap, and frowned. She was gazing off into the middle distance, so Bill didn't bother her. He could practically hear the legal gears grinding in Pam's brain as she pondered several avenues they could explore in trying to stop this land deal.

Finally, she said, "We can't do anything down here, Bill. We'll have to go to Oregon, deal directly with all parties involved. Land sales such as this are available for viewing by the public. Legally, all aspects of the sale, from start to finish, HAVE to be there for all to see. How 'bout we head up there, Tuesday evening, and Wednesday morning we can start snooping around."

"We can't leave sooner, like TODAY?"

Pam sighed. "No, I can't, Bill. That's one of the things Ralph and I were fighting about. I have a case that's closing on Tuesday, so there's no way I could go sooner. If I could get away, I'd be on that plane with Ralph, whether he liked it or not."

"Boy, you two are really fighting, huh?" he asked with concern.

"HE didn't want me to come along, didn't want me to join him later this week. And I am left behind while he's having fun and 'team building' with that blonde dingbat!"

"Whoa, calm down, Counselor. Let's focus on this during the week, and when Ralph comes back, you two can kiss and make up if you have to. 'Kay? In the meantime, though, while you're working on your case, I'm gonna pull some favors owed me to switch around my scheduled vacation time. By Tuesday, I'll be packed and ready to go. Want me to handle the flight arrangements?"

She handed him one of her credit cards. "Sure, if you can, Bill! You're going to be MY third-string back-up utility man this week, while I play mouthpiece for the Earth?"

He laughed out loud at that one, happy that he had Pam Davidson in his corner for this fight. "You bet, Counselor, but don't breathe a WORD of this to Ralph, he'll never let me live it down! ME making travel arrangements for YOU!"

"Well, I trust my secretary Bill with my credit card, I guess I can trust my third-string back-up FBI agent Bill with it too."

Bill scowled, which of course had no effect on Pam. "All right, Davidson, don't lose yourself in the moment. You get your case done, and Tuesday afternoon we can ship out. Make sure you've got your wilderness clothes and fishing gear ready. We may be going up there to deal with these bozos, but I figgered we can get some good fishin' and campin' in too. You won't believe this place, Pam, you really won't!"

By early Tuesday afternoon, Pam had wrapped up her case. She looked at her watch and smiled. Cool, with three hours to spare! She picked up her phone to call Bill.

"Maxwell," came the response.

She whispered into the phone, "You ready, Maxwell? Operation: McKenzie is underway!"

He laughed and whispered back, "Shhhh, you'll have them thinking this is a REAL gov'ment operation, Davidson!"

She answered, again whispering, "Have you made all the arrangements?"

"Yes, ma'am, all ready to go. Let's meet for a quick dinner and get to the airport."

Pam looked at her watch. "All right, Robinson, let's synchronize our watches, on my mark... it'll be 2:34 exactly.... 3, 2, 1, MARK!"

"Got it, Scotty! I'll meet you at your place, 19 minutes!"

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" she yelled into the phone, then slammed down the handset, grabbed her bag and ran out the door. She paused long enough to tell Bill, her secretary, that she was going to be gone the rest of the week, she'd already cleared it with the senior partners, and he only had time to wave at her retreating back.

Pam busted out laughing as she approached her house; Bill's Dodge Diplomat was approaching from the opposite direction. The two drove directly toward one another, as if they were playing Chicken, and at the last second they both slammed on the brakes, pulling alongside the curb. Their cars stopped with mere inches to spare.

"Rotten egg, Robinson!" Pam yelled as she was the first one to get out of the car.

Bill laughed as he climbed out on the street side. "No fair, Scotty, you've got the homefield advantage!"

She went to him, putting her arm around his back. He put his arm over her shoulder, and she turned to him, smiling. "You know, it's weird, but you DO look like Robinson!"

"And you don't look ANYTHING like Scotty!" he laughed, smiling down at her. "You can be as funny as Scotty sometimes, though, Counselor."

He followed her into the house after she'd unlocked the door, and looked around. "Aren't you packed yet, Scotty?"

She went to her closet and pulled out a suitcase and backpack. "Are those going to be our codenames, Robinson, while we're on this little operation?"

He laughed and said, "You know, that might not be such a bad idea. You being a lawyer, you probably know I can't OFFICIALLY get involved with this! If I go up there and start making waves, and they learn I'm a Fed, I'm in deep doo-doo, you know that."

"True, true," she said, getting another chuckle out of Bill.

Pam looked him up and down critically, frowning.

"What?"

"I think you need to lose the suit, Robinson. It screams, 'Hey, I'm a Federal agent!' all over."

"Darn, I left my tennis whites at the dry cleaners!"

They both laughed, picturing Bill Maxwell in a tennis outfit. Like that'd ever happen.

"You've got your stuff in the car, right? Change into a t-shirt and jeans. Wear an overshirt to cover up the holster, like you do when it's hot out and you don't want to wear a jacket."

Bill went to the door, and motioned to Pam to get packing while he changed into something more casual and less obvious. By the time he returned from the bathroom, she'd thrown all her gear into the suitcase and backpack.

"Ready, Kell?" she asked.

"Ah, the wonderfulness of your spontaneity, Scotty," Bill said.

"I watched WAY too much of that show as a kid, Kell! Sounds like you did, too," Pam said as she hefted her backpack. Bill took the suitcase and they went to his Dodge.

"I did, but I wasn't a kid. C'mon, I'll drive to the airport so it doesn't look like your house has been abandoned, Counselor."

"Sounds good. Where do you wanna eat? When's our flight?"

"My usual burger place. 6:35."

"Right. Let's rock!"

Bill loaded her luggage, then remembered something. "Where's your fishin' gear, Counselor?"

"Oh, hang on a minute!" She ran back to the house, grabbed her favorite fishing hat, pole and tackle box, and returned quickly. "Whew, sure don't want to forget this, if the fishing there is as great as you said!"

Bill rearranged all their gear so they could get through Security at the airport, and the two were on their way.

They arrived at LAX after their quick dinner, and Bill secured his firearm and holster into the luggage to be checked. The two were continuing their game of "I Spy," laughing and quoting snippets of the show, as they made their way to the gate.

Even though their purpose for going to Oregon was serious, Pam and Bill were both enjoying one another's company, something they'd rarely had a chance to do without Ralph around. Sure, they both loved Ralph in their own ways, but this was proving to be a good bonding time for two-thirds of the Team with the Suit.

Once they'd settled into their seats, Pam took the article they'd read on Sunday out of her pocket and re-read it.

"Do we have a battle plan, Scotty?"

"Sure do, Robinson. Tomorrow morning, I go to the county records office and ask to see the public documents. They'll hem and haw and stall with me, I know, so I'm going to be ready. I've done this route before, when working on closing real estate cases for clients, so I know how to handle it. What YOU can do is nose around the town, here," she pointed to the map she'd brought of the 68-mile McKenzie River corridor. "Walterville. Seems to be the major 'city' for the McKenzie area."

He leaned closer, peering over her shoulder somewhat. "Yeah, that's the biggest town."

He turned to look at her, startled by the twinkle in her grey eyes. God, she's gorgeous, he couldn't help thinking. As he often did. He cleared his throat and sat up straight, facing forward into the seat before him.

Bill leaned a bit to his left, so he could whisper to Pam, "I was thinking, you wanna camp and fish, instead of finding a hotel or cabins? We could get a rental truck, load up at the local Mom & Pop, go rent some gear and get a feel for what we're trying to save there. I bet we'll find some others doing the same as we are, going there to fight this land deal."

Pam leaned too, almost touching Bill's ear with her mouth, and said, "If I didn't know any better, Robinson, I'd swear you were going hippie on me!"

He turned abruptly, facing her once more, not caring that their mouths were mere centimeters apart. Pam got the response she wanted: righteous indignity.

"HIPPIE?" he asked in a stage whisper. "You don't need to be insulting, Scotty!"

Pam's heart banged in her ribcage as she looked deep into Bill's brown eyes, his indignation not disguising the sparkle of humor he was really feeling. He's enjoying this, she realized, a LOT! Our little I Spy game, and me calling him a hippie.

"Well, look, Kell," she began, ticking off several points on her fingers. "You're worried about the environment. You want to go camp in the wild, getting back to Momma Nature as it were. You want to find other PROTESTORS who are fighting THE MAN on this deal. What does that sound like to you?"

Bill flopped back in his seat, stunned. "Holy crap, you're right. I sound like a damned HIPPIE!" He turned in desperation, back to Pam. "Scotty, you gotta understand. Okay, I hate hippies, you know that. But I love that river, I love those trees and those mountains. And I hate what the GOVERNMENT is allowing to be done to it. All right, those are all hippiesque qualities, I freely admit it. But DO NOT, under any circumstances, call me a hippie!"

"Peacenik? Tree hugger? Pagan?"

"Lawsey," Bill said in defeat. "Okay, have it your way: I'm Robinson the Hippie this week, you satisfied? Maybe if I'm traveling incognito, I can even fool myself."

Pam leaned over the seat arm, separating the two of them, and whispered, "You be Kell, and I'll be, um... Pam?"

Jesus, what's going on here? Bill thought, stunned. It's almost as if she's FLIRTING with me!

He said, in a deep quiet voice, "All right...." and he paused dramatically, "Pam."

Pam smiled, and looked between Bill's eyes and mouth, back and forth, and said, "Long as we're doing this little clandestine operation, why not play a little spy game, after all? Kinda like when I said that about playing cops & robbers, Kell, now it's spies and the Man."

"Would you stop calling us that?"

"'Us?' What do you mean 'us,' Robinson?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Bill said. He was still a bit flustered from Pam's closeness. Having her dark thick hair rubbing along his shoulder and neck wasn't helping, either.

The two of them relaxed back into their seats. Pam, having the window seat, turned to look out at the ocean. Bill closed his eyes, running what had just transpired through his mind. Naw, I'm picking up wrong signals, he thought, wondering if Pam had indeed been flirting. It felt almost like that time in her boss's beach home, when they were escorting Starlett Wilde to Los Angeles and talking about Ralph.

Bill gave his head a quick shake, and Pam turned to look at him. He stayed relaxed back, eyes closed still, so he didn't see her staring at him. She was also wondering what had happened, why she'd suddenly spoken in such a sultry fashion to her friend, why her heart thumped so startlingly in her chest when he turned to face her, his brown eyes filling her vision.

A thought came to her, unbidden, He's got the most gorgeous mouth. What the hell? Where'd that come from? She had to fight the urge to reach out and touch that mouth with her fingertips, but she couldn't draw her gaze away. Pam looked up and down the length of Bill, from his tousled grayish-brown hair to his big feet. The seats were a bit cramped for a man of his height, and his legs were sprawled before him, his left leg leaning into her as he relaxed into sleep. The black t-shirt, now with overshirt removed, was snug, as were the matching black jeans. He looks so good in black, she couldn't help thinking. Very good.

And those jeans. And legs.

Dammit, Davidson, she scolded herself, STOP IT! She collapsed dramatically back into her seat, the motion shaking the leg Bill was leaning against her. He jumped awake, and tried to straighten out his long legs. He only managed to jam his knee into the tray table before him.

"Ouch, what?" he asked, confused. He looked at Pam.

"Sorry, Kell, I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

He smiled, remembering their little game-turned-Operation: McKenzie. "Oh yeah, Robinson, right."

They both, again, relaxed back into their seats, this time truly dozing until they heard the announcement of final approach.

They quickly located a rental agency at the Portland airport, got a rugged Jeep and started the journey to Walterville. Once there, it didn't take long to load up on camping gear, groceries and other necessities for camping in the woods, by the river that Bill loved so much.

They parked their Jeep at the campsite they'd chosen and began to unload all their gear. One of the first things Bill did, of course, was don his holster and firearm.

"Robinson, you sure that's a good idea?" Pam asked as they dragged the equipment to the perfect spot.

"Always, Scotty. Oops, Pam."

He surveyed the area, and pointed to two likely spots for their tents.

"There and there, pick the spot you want. Both will be near enough to the campfire at night. Before we go into town to start Operation: McKenzie, maybe we can get some fishin' in, come daybreak?"

"That'll be great, Bill! Here, help me get this set up, and get a fire going. I'm going to go change and get ready for bed, I'm beat!"

Within the hour, two tents were set up, side-by-side, and a fire was roaring in the stone ring in the center of their little campsite. The sun was settling behind a nearby hill. Soon after, the dusk rolled in, stopping by for a short time, and was gone.

The sounds of the night, the crackling of the fire, the brilliance of the starlight, all filled the eyes and ears of Bill and Pam. They'd sat on a log in front of their respective tents, shoulder-to-shoulder, poking at the fire with long sturdy sticks.

The silence between the two was getting unbearable. Both were wondering if they should ask the other: What happened earlier? Pam was reluctant to mention it. Bill was most certainly not going to! He was sure he'd misinterpreted what had happened, being unaware of Pam's scrutiny of his form while he slept.

Pam, unable to remain without saying SOMETHING, finally broke the silence. She bumped her shoulder against Bill's, and said, "Okay, Bill, I'm turning in." She deliberately broke from their little game of I Spy. That seemed to be impacting her too much, the way she was viewing and reacting to this man. Calling him something other than "Bill" was making it seem almost like it was all right, that this was fantasy, imagination, not that she had a boyfriend in Las Vegas, a boyfriend who was unaware that she was alone, in the woods, with his handsome best friend.

Guilt drove her to her tent and sleeping bag, but it sure wasn't going to drive what was going through her thoughts away. Bill's reply of "Good night, Davidson" rang in her ears. She shed her outer clothes, the night being too warm for them, and crawled into her sleeping bag. Her last thoughts and visions, as she settled into slumber, were of a tall, slender Bill Maxwell, wearing tennis whites and powerfully slamming a serve to her on a clay tennis court.