"You'd get along with Boyd Crowder. He was our dynamite man. Took to yellin' Fire in the hole anytime he blew up a church. Never got enough in blowin' holes in mountains."

Following over, Raylan pushed his hat up on his forehead with his thumb and looked up and down the tree. "I won't ask why, I suppose that's not necessary but.." He nodded. "I'll remember. Do you do anything to it once you've got the bark? Pre..washin' or somethin'? Malcolm said he put it into hot water."

They had plenty to talk about when the darkness fell again and the two men found themselves cloistered in the living room that night with a few bottles. Raylan knew that's when they'd get around to anything tender on their list of topics, wives, Malcolm, each other, when they're at least half a bottle in. Raylan almost welcomed it; the subtle back and forth dance of them pushing each other's lines. It wasn't the same kind of banter he got with Boyd or anyone else but it was.. just as deep, if he allowed himself to be sentimental about it.