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Show 7^ tough ranching and returned without even unloading his boxcar. I wondered aloud how it would have been to be an heiress of land instead of doctrines. How would it have been to inherit money instead of spiritual wealth? "Probably boring," Brian commented. I thought to myself that I had perhaps even lost this, strong the right to claim my^bloodline, my heritage of noble ideas and moral action. We spent a day traversing Washington, taking our time, nearing the Oregon border. "Where do you want to camp?" Brian asked. as though the name had "Eagle Creek," I saidA the name jumped off the map and into my mouth. We found it at dusk, a tiny river with a single campground. The trees seemed tall as redwoods, ramrod thin, gaining height rather than breadth in the close forest. Like my family, I thought. There never was much room for horizontal growth, so we grew up or not at all. We stayed the night with the echo of owls slurring in the trees and the shrill cry of nighthawks ricocheting off the pines The wilderness felt more comfortable than home, yet there was an undercurrent of perpetual motion, as though we followed a prearranged course or followed a path already beaten. Brian must have felt it, too, for as we lay awake, listening to the forest speak, he whispered, T Hnn't know where "I'm not worried about tomorrow. I don x we're going, but I know that we'll get there." I nodded and he slipped his arm beneath my neck and drew »e to him. His breath was clean ahd sharp as the evergreen «.U around us. As we made love, enveloped in the rustling sleeping-bag, I felt clean and light, as though the shadows |