"I 'on't wanna fight, Raylan. I just don't wanna have to go down there to pick you up and bury you if shit goes sideways." Maybe it's cowardly. Maybe it's selfish. Maybe Raylan won't be happy for the next day or three. Doc doesn't give a shit. He doesn't want to go down there, full stop. And maybe he can live with trying to help Malcolm on his own - Malcolm who will probably get worse if they have to recite some bullshit Psalms over a mound of dirt covering Raylan up - but that won't stop him from running circles around the town, pacing around the porch drinking four bottles of moonshine freezing his balls off praying to a God he doesn't believe in anymore waiting for a white hat to emerge from the horizon of snow. He doesn't want either of them to see him after four bottles of moonshine.

"What're we doin'? Holding one side and letting it fall slowly?"