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His quiet way was a kind way

What had first appeared as a small wrinkle in the harsh terrain of northern New Mexico was growing larger and more ominous as the setting sun back lit the peaks of the Sangre de Cristo mountains stretching toward the suddenly tiny twin-engine aircraft in which Ed Browning, paramedic Kyle Nevius and I were flying.

Squinting into the sun, Browning made a minute adjustment on the autopilot and said, "We need a little more rate of climb to get over those mountains."

"That's not a problem, is it?" I asked.

"Probably not," Browning said casually, "but if it is, we'll at least be on the evening weather report."

"Weather report?" I gulped.

"Yeah," said Browning, with a broad let's-torment-the-tenderfoot grin "the part where it says, "cumulo granite followed by aluminum showers.' "

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