Free High Impact by Kim Baldwin Page A

insight about why this Pasha had been so flustered during their interaction, and why the woman seemed almost to recognize her.
    “Pash?” The inquiry seemed to surprise Bryson. “Very capable. Bright. Funny. Why you asking?”
    “Just curious about her. We had an odd…chat.”
    “We’ll likely most all be back at the Den having dinner tonight. Around six. You’re welcome to join us and I’ll introduce you around.”
    “I’d like that.”
    They soared over a massive lake, and Bryson dropped low over a cabin on the shoreline and dipped her wings right and left as if in greeting. As she banked around in a circle, Emery saw a woman holding a child emerge onto the porch to wave back. “Maggie Rasmussen and her baby, Karson,” Bryson explained as she wagged her wings again and continued north. “You’ll meet her husband Lars for sure—he’s an Eidson guide, too. Out right now with Dita on a trip. They’re my extended family, you could say. Maggie is Karla’s sister, and they’re our nearest neighbors.”
    Beyond the lake the valley narrowed again and the river forked. Bryson turned the Cub sharply left, following the smaller tributary, and shot through a canyon where the cliffs seemed mere feet from their wingtips. The adrenaline pouring through Emery’s veins intoxicated her so much she could barely keep her camera steady. “I love this.”
    “Gonna dump out in a wide valley soon,” Bryson told her. “Keep an eye on the hillside to your right for Dall sheep.”
    As predicted, Emery spotted a dozen of the beasts dotting the rocky slope, their white coats starkly contrasted against the brown-and-green backdrop. She could make out the distinctive circular horns on the rams and the game trails snaking through the area. With her telephoto lens and a fast aperture, she could take great close-ups. “Very cool. Think I’ll see any grizzlies while I’m here?”
    “Might see one in the next couple hours where we’re going.” Bryson negotiated her way through another maze of river valleys until Emery lost all sense of direction. “Coming up on our main drop-off point for river-rafting trips.” The plane descended over another wide, whitewater river and slowed. “You signed up for any of those?”
    “Yes. The first ten-day trip.”
    “Got some debris on my strip, I see. But not too bad. Hang on.”
    Almost before Emery realized it, they landed on a short gravel bar dotted with logs and other detritus. Bryson artfully maneuvered through the obstacle course, the high wings of the Cub scooting over some of the larger pieces, until the plane stopped just a few feet shy of the water. “Ready for lunch?” Bryson asked as she cut the engine.
    Emery’s heart hammered from the abrupt and exhilarating touchdown, but she tried to keep her voice steady. “Sure thing.”
    They found a large rock a few feet from the water’s edge to serve as their bench and picnic table, the surface smooth and warm from the sun. Emery snapped photos in between bites of her sandwich. In every direction, majestic peaks, most still tipped with snow, dominated the landscape. “They all look so much alike. And so endless,” she said as she adjusted her settings to take a panoramic shot of the vast range. “I haven’t seen you consult a map or even use your GPS. How do you keep from losing your way?”
    “We’re still in my backyard. Very little around here I don’t know, I’ve crisscrossed it so long.”
    “You said you’d been flying for more than twenty-five years? You don’t seem old enough.”
    Bryson grinned. “Learned to fly before I learned to drive. Dad taught me—never a better pilot or teacher than him.”
    “Is he glad you’re following in his footsteps or does he worry about you?”
    Bryson’s smile faded as she stared off to the north. “He worried,” she finally said in a soft voice. “But he was proud I shared his passion for flying.”
    “I’m sorry if I hit a nerve.”
    “All good. Miss him, that’s