To the Wild Country

Chapter Seven.

Bill and Pam crawled out of their respective tents at about the same time the following day, the early morning Sun beaming directly on them.

Neither spoke for a time. Bill automatically set to making the coffee, and Pam rummaged through their groceries, stored in the Jeep, for the pack of Danishes they'd bought the previous morning. To hell with fishing for breakfast, they'd both decided. They weren't QUITE hungover, but it was a close call.

"Here," Pam said, handing him her leftover coke. "It'll chase away the cobwebs, like my grandma used to say. It's still cold, from being in the Jeep all night."

"Thanks," Bill mumbled in appreciation, taking a long swig off it.

She took it from him and swigged it herself. Both sat quietly, not talking, until the coffee began sputtering, announcing it was finished.

"God, I love coffee," Pam muttered as she took her first sip.

"I had so much yesterday, I'm surprised I slept at all!" Bill told her.

Pam didn't say anything for a moment, then quietly asked, "Bill, um... did anything happen last night?"

"Anything?"

"Yeah, uh... you know, ANYthing?"

Bill smiled over his metal coffee mug. "No, sweetheart, nothin' at all. I gave you a good massage, that's all. I went to use the tree, came back and you'd crawled into bed. I climbed in behind you and lay beside you for a time, to be sure you were okay, gave you a little kiss good night on your forehead, and went back to my tent. That's all."

"Whew, okay. I should've known you'd be a gentleman, Bill! It's just that I, um.... I had some really weird dreams!"

"Such as?"

Pam blushed, not being sure how much she should say. How much had she told Bill last night, about those pre-teen fantasies she'd have about her favorite TV character? Her memories were confusing; some seemed real, some seemed to be from her dreams. "I, uh....I can't really talk about it, Kel-- I mean, Bill."

Bill didn't miss her near-slip of the tongue, but chose not to point it out. Let her wonder, he thought, what was real and what wasn't.

"It's okay, Counselor, tell me or not."

"It's just that some memories from last night seem so REAL to me, yet you said all you did was what, give me a massage and kiss me on the forehead good night?"

"We talked a lot too, about your favorite 60's TV show."

Pam laughed out loud, "Oh, okay. So I DID talk to you about Kelly, right?"

"You sure did. So while I gave you a massage, I was talking to you about it, telling you some of the good parts and funny bits I remember. I figgered being older than you, I'd remember more."

"So no harm done, okay. C'mon, let's grab the coffee and Danishes, and head to town. You've got a protest march to join, and I've got to delve deeper into those public records. I was finding stuff that didn't quite jibe yesterday."

They got their valuables and other items they'd need for the day, secured them in the Jeep and climbed in. Pam took the driver's seat again.

"What kinda stuff, Pam?"

"Well, I won't bore you with the details. It's all very dry reading, but some of the dates and signatures, things like that, they're not adding up right. Wish I had my legal aide here to help me, but she wouldn't have time to get up here. This thing's going to wrap up soon, that's why the paper said, 'Is It Too Late?'"

"So you'll be doing that, while I'm at the protest? Wish I could help, but like I said, I'd be in deep doo-doo if I get caught."

"You sure? Don't you have the right to peacefully assemble and the freedom of speech too?"

"Yeah, but if this gets outta hand, I could be busted along with the rest of 'em, badge or not."

"Just make sure it doesn't."

Fortunately it didn't take long to get into town. Pam again dropped Bill at the coffeehouse, already crowded with protesters gathering for the scheduled march.

"God, Bill, if only your friends at the Bureau could see you now!"

"Funny, Davidson! We'll be around; follow the crowd if you need to find me!"

Bill watched her drive off, then went into the little restaurant. Airhead was at his table, as if he'd not left it the day before.

"Mocha, Robinson?" Rabbit asked from the counter.

"Yeah, thanks, man," Bill said, smiling first at the young man, then at the older Airhead. He hooked a chair to him with his foot and sat down.

"Airhead, I was wondering if we could clarify a few things."

"Sure, Robinson. What's up?"

"This march today, it's legit, right? Permits, the whole works?"

"Sure is, we've been doing it all by the book, so the Man has no reason to come in and start cracking skulls and lobbing tear gas. How come?"

Bill cleared his throat a moment, looking embarrassed. "Well, um, I've had some, uh... TIE-INS with the law before, if you know what I mean. Wanted to stay off their radar."

"I dig. When'd that happen?"

"UC, Berkeley, 69. Got kinda outta hand. Gave up the scene for a while, left my bong and my lovebeads behind. When I saw this going down, in the Seattle Times, I had to do something. My old man and I used to come fishin' up here when I was a kid, and I love this area and that river too much to let it go."

"Right on. How come you didn't tell me this yesterday?" Airhead asked, as Rabbit delivered Bill's mocha.

"Had to get a feel for you guys and what yer plannin', that's all, to be sure you were serious."

"Oh, we're very serious, Robinson!" Rabbit said.

"Good, then I should tell you somethin' else, somethin' you can't noise about, it's gotta stay on the QT."

The two men leaned in as Bill whispered, "My ladyfriend, Pam? She's an attorney, and she's on our side too."

"What?" Airhead exclaimed, not believing their good fortune.

"Shhhhh, shhhhh! She's at the public records building now, going over more of the documents on the whole deal. She told me this morning that there was something fishy going on, if you'll pardon the pun; something to do with dates, signatures, things like that. She didn't go into the whole legalese of it, but she's good, the best! If there's something wrong, she'll nail it on the head!"

"So she'll work on that while we're distracting the Man with our march?"

"Yeah, that's what she told me to do. She knows how to work these guys over for the information that's SUPPOSED to be available for public viewing. She'll know if they're giving her the runaround or not, she's aces."

"We haven't had the funds to hire a lawyer to look it over from OUR point of view, and we couldn't find anyone to do it free. Almost like they were afraid of what would come down on them or something. And she's doing this, free of charge?"

"She sure is! It's a cause that's very important to her, and to the law firm she works for. She told the senior partners where she'd be going this week, and they gave her the green light to do it. So it's all legit from her end."

"Wow," was all Airhead and Rabbit could say. "That is SO COOL, Robinson, thanks!"

Within a couple of hours, the restaurant's clientele had poured out into the street. Bill was keeping an eye on it all, making sure everyone was behaving and they weren't crowding the small building. That's all we need, the fire department showing up to shut it down! But Airhead had appointed sergeants-at-arms to keep the crowd managed, and everyone was in high spirits (and not THAT kind of "high," Bill was happy to note), jockeying for position with their protest signs.

"You've got 'em well handled, Airhead, I'm impressed!"

The three of them had gone outside, the Summer heat beating down on them and the dusty main road through town.

"We've stressed to them repeatedly how important it is that everyone be on their best behavior, so the government doesn't have to come in and bust us up."

Airhead checked his watch, then climbed up on an old battered Ford pickup truck. He put his fingers to his mouth, whistling, to get the crowd's attention.

"All right, folks, settle down. You all know where you're supposed to go, right?" The nods from the crowd assured him they knew what to do. "Okay, I just learned we've got some GREAT outside help, working in the background on this. I can't give you any details right now, but trust me: it's awesome news for our cause and for our forests and river. My man Robinson here, he's going to be marching with Rabbit and me. He's down here from Seattle...." A smattering of applause, apparently other Seattleites, interrupted him. "Yes, yes, it's gratifying to know others around the region and the country are here to fight for our pristine forests and river. Now, let's be sure we're all behaving ourselves, right? We're Americans, we have the RIGHT to assemble, we have the RIGHT to free speech, and we're going to use it, RIGHT?"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically, some yelling "RIGHT!" "Hell yeah!" "America!" "USA USA USA!"

"And remember one more thing: It's the right to PEACEFULLY assemble; let's KEEP IT THAT WAY, all RIGHT? Let's not give the MAN any reason to bust us, or bust us up!"

The crowd answered with claps, cheers, hoots and hollers. Bill was impressed. Sure, most of them were hippies, but Airhead had brought up some great points about his beloved America. These guys DO love our country, he thought. It startled him that after all was said and done, he had more in common with hippies than he thought. A famous line came to mind: I may not agree with what you say, but I'll fight to the death for your right to say it! These people, mostly kids to Bill, were simply exercising their Constitutional rights. Nothin' wrong with that, he thought as he took up the position behind Rabbit and Airhead.

Pam's comment earlier swept through Bill's mind, as he joined the throng, accepting a sign from a young woman: If only the folks at the Bureau could see me now!

Pam spent the morning poring over the documents she'd FINALLY managed to extract from the surly clerks in the hot County Records Office. They'd tried their best to intimidate her into leaving, offering curt answers to her inquiries. She wouldn't be dissuaded, of course; she'd eat clerks like this for lunch at the Los Angeles County Records Office. She felt it prudent not to point that out to them, however. She was not barred in the State of Oregon, and was there as a private citizen of the United States. She, along with any other citizen, had the right to review these documents, and the clerks knew this.

They reluctantly pointed her to a big empty table on which she could spread all of the long, boring paperwork. Pam again wished her legal aide could have joined them, but changed that desire to a test of her own abilities and experience in such a role. She'd served as a legal aide herself, of course, during her Law externship. She just had to dredge up all that knowledge, tenacity and patience from those earlier days of her career.

The sound emerging from the main drag through town penetrated her concentration. She looked out the window, and saw Airhead standing on an old Ford, addressing the crowd. Squinting against the sun's glare, she saw Bill and Rabbit near the man, who appeared to be the leader of this march. She smiled when she saw the expression on Bill's face: he was actually enjoying this moment! Pam was afraid that for all Bill's desire to save the river and surrounding forests, he'd let that antipathy to hippies leak through. From what she could see on his face, nothing could be further from the truth. She saw him smile at the protesters as they cheered and hollered; she was surprised as he blended in with the crowd, behind Airhead and alongside Rabbit. When she saw him take up a protest sign, handed to him by a pretty young woman, Pam wished she had a camera to capture the moment.

Naw, he'd kill me if I did, she realized. No public record of this, is what he'd want.

As the crowd moved down the street, out of sight, Pam turned back to the paperwork, and something almost leaped off the page into her mind.

"Oh my God," she whispered, as she compared the information with something she'd read earlier. The little break of gazing outside had cleared her mind, and this new datum fairly lit up to her.

Ruffling through the documents, she pulled the key ones out, comparing additional information. She had it: she was going to nail these bastards to the wall!

She took the relevant documents, that had the damning information in them, and fastened them with a paperclip. She blended them in with the remainder, and went back to the Clerk's desk.

"Do you have a copier I can use?"

"It'll cost ya," the man said acerbically.

"No problem, I've got a pocketful of change."

Not saying a word, he pointed to the alcove holding the various office machines for public use.

"Thank you," Pam smiled cheerily at him. He frowned at her retreating back as she began to pick through the key documents. He couldn't discern, from his point of view, what had interested her so much or which documents she was copying, and which she was keeping back.

When she finished, she put her copies into her briefcase, and returned to the Clerk's desk with the originals. She set them in the appropriate basket, marked "Filing," and turned to the man once more.

"May I please speak to your supervisor?"

"Why?" he asked.

"I needed to ask him or her something."

The Clerk buzzed the intercom, and a few minutes later an older man came out.

"You needed to see me, miss?"

"Yes, I was wondering if I could use your office phone."

The man pointed down the road, toward the payphone she'd used earlier to try to call Ralph. "There's a payphone, knock yourself out."

"Oh, well, I needed quiet. I'll be happy to reverse the charges to my credit card, Mr. uh..." she leaned forward, looking at his nametag, "Timothy Broderick."

He was startled with the close examination of his name.

"Might I ask what this is about, miss?"

"Certainly, why don't you join me? This might concern you, too, and your oh-so-courteous Clerk here."

The light, jovial expression on Pam's face suddenly disappeared, and she put on her "hard as nails attorney" face. "You're not going to enjoy this, Mr. Broderick. Please, lead the way."

The man, Pam and the desk Clerk retreated to the main inner office. Pam picked up the phone, dialed the Operator and gave her the credit card information to reverse the charges. Once that was set up, Pam said, "Yes, please give me the office of the Oregon State Attorney General."

Over the next couple of hours, Bill found himself enjoying the march more and more. He was still scanning the crowd, still looking for any trouble, it being so much a part of his nature and training, and he was pleased to see everyone was behaving themselves. It was getting scorchingly hot, even for Bill (who was used to L.A.), and it was obvious people were getting tired. Some would drop out for a time, then regroup to join the main body of the march.

The crowd, several hundred-strong by now, was approaching a bend in the main road out of Walterville, that went to one of the forests the Federal government wanted to sell off. As Airhead, Bill and Rabbit led their merry and boisterous band around the bend, they stopped dead in their tracks. There before them were about twenty State and County patrol cars.

"Whoa, whoa!" Airhead said, and the crowd fairly bounced back, the ones in front pushing back to stop the ones still coming. Soon everyone was still.

A State trooper approached, hand on his gun. He seemed to sense that Airhead, Rabbit and Bill were the primary leaders of the march, and went to them.

Bill was wearing his own firearm, but didn't move a muscle toward it, as his instinct told him to. His right hand twitched, as if saying, PLEASE? He wasn't going to say a word; he knew they'd done nothing wrong. Maybe he was going to get a small taste of what police brutality looked like to the average American this day.

Airhead stepped forward, looking the trooper right in the eye, not shying away. "Is there a problem, Officer?"

"Yeah, there's a problem. Lemme see your permit."

Airhead had it ready in his hand, and handed it to the officer. The trooper looked it over, scowling, as if he didn't believe it was legitimate. He handed it back to Airhead, and said, "It's time you went home, time to end this."

Before Airhead could object, the trooper, obviously in charge of the cops blocking their way, began to motion to his men and women to come forward. Airhead raised his voice above the din that was beginning, as the protesters realized the cops were trying to break them up.

"Hold it, man, you've got no RIGHT!" Rabbit yelled at a cop approaching him and Airhead. Bill was standing to the side of the two younger men, watching it all, taking in every detail of the incident that he suspected was about to blossom into a all-out war.

"SHUT UP!" one female cop yelled, reaching for her nightstick.

"NO, we're perfectly legit here!" Rabbit yelled. "We've got a permit that says till EIGHT O'CLOCK TONIGHT! Tell her, Airhead!"

"That's right, look at that, Officer!" Airhead said loudly, pointing out the time on the permit.

The words were coming fast and furious now; Bill was getting increasingly nervous as the cops were nervously touching their nightsticks and firearms, the crowd starting to surge forward angrily. He had to do something, and he had to do it. Now.

Raising his voice, and he knew he could be VERY loud when he wanted to, he stepped forward, putting his hand into his pocket to retrieve his FBI badge and ID.

"Hold it, hold it!" he yelled. When the cop near him saw him reach into his pocket, she swung her nightstick at him. Bill reacted instantly and ducked.

"GUN, PARTNER!" she screeched, drawing the attention of five officers around her.

Bill froze, hands in the air, realizing his stupid mistake. He turned into a statue as five guns turned on him.

"All right, that was dumb." He leaned his left hip forward, indicating his pocket and holster. "There, left back pocket, my BADGE and FBI ID! And on the left shoulder is my FIREARM!"

The female officer's male partner stepped forward while she kept her firearm trained on Bill, and retrieved badge and pistol. Once he showed the officer in charge, who nodded, he returned it all to Bill.

"What the hell is the FBI doing here at a protest march??"

"I'm HERE as a private citizen, that's what! It was all going perfectly fine till you goons showed up and started harrassing these people! They're RIGHT, you've got no right to stop this, and if you do, I'll be sure to talk to YOUR superiors and my own at the Bureau. I've been with this march since before it began, and everything has been by the book! Are you here to deny these citizens their Constitutional rights?"

"They'd better not be," Bill heard behind him. Startled, he turned to see Pam Davidson pushing her way through the crowd.

"Oh yeah, ladies and gentlemen of the State of Oregon Patrol, this is my friend and attorney, Pam Davidson. She'll be sure you'll be doing your duty and allowing these fine men and women to exercise their rights to peacefully assemble and speech, won't you, Davidson?"

"I certainly will be!" Pam looked closely at the officer in charge. "Officer, you might want to contact your office. Something incredible has just been called in to the State Attorney General; you might want to hear it from your supervisors."

The older officer had the feeling things were falling apart: not from the protesters end, but from his own. He motioned for his men and women to fall back, and the crowd cheered at the State patrol's retreat.

All this time, Airhead and Rabbit were stunned into silence, amazed that something on the brink of disaster had been turned around so abruptly by the emergence of this Federal agent, who'd actually been WORKING with them, as a regular guy!

After the police cars had retreated, clearing the road for the march to continue, Pam quickly asked Airhead to keep the people where they were for a moment, so they could talk.

She, Bill, Rabbit and Airhead went into a huddle. The people nearby tried crowding in, to hear what was going on.

"WHAT?" they heard Airhead exclaim. "WE WON?"

A spontaneous cheer went up and around, weaving through the crowd as more and more people reported what their leader had exclaimed.

Pam explained quickly what happened, so Airhead could spread the news. All the crowd cared about was that they'd won, they did it!

"I'm going to write a statement, Airhead, for the news. The papers and news crews are already on their way here from Portland. When I dredged up this information, and called the Attorney General, I thought that Mr. Broderick was going to have a coronary! It's all been publically disclosed, courtesy of two snoops from Los Angeles."

Airhead turned to Bill. "FBI? From Los Angeles? What's your real name, Robinson?"

"I hadn't planned on coming forward at all, Airhead. I really am here in the capacity of a private citizen, but when those goons began pushing Rabbit here around, and you, I saw it all coming crashing down. Had to do SOMETHING, didn't I?"

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"I really can't. If you wanna, call me Kelly."

Airhead looked at Bill, startled, as he made the connection: Kelly Robinson? He leaned in to look closer. "Well I will be damned," he said, and he busted up laughing. "My GOD, you DO look like him!"

That sufficed to distract Airhead from any further probing questions, and Bill led Pam away from the crowd, which was beginning to wander back to town. The marchers, young and old alike, started singing folk songs, chanting poems and protests, and having a helluva good time. Their forests and river had been saved. At least for now.

(A/N: Okay, I'm not a legal aide, I'm not an attorney. I hope I did the "legal" aspect of this in a feasible manner. If not, forgive me; I think I got the basic gist across.)