"You guys are full of crap," Flynn said. "I haven't been scared since I was in diapers."

"Let's see," Junior mused. "That would make it… last week?"

Flynn doubled his fists and started toward Junior.

Normally Michael wouldn't have stepped in, because he liked to keep to himself. Instead he was up and between Flynn and Junior in a heartbeat. Tiller had gotten to his feet as well, but he would have been too late.

Flynn glared at Michael. "You want some of this, Guerin?"

Michael kept his own hands up, fingers outstretched in a nonthreatening way, but he knew he could use his forearms to block anything Flynn tried to throw. "Me?" He shook his head.

"Then get out of my way."

"Can't do that," Michael said.

Flynn set himself, ready to punch.

"Think about it," Michael said. "You guys fight, maybe we lose the job. I don't know about you, but I can use the money we're getting paid." He eyed Flynn levelly.

Flynn glanced at the tent where Kurt Bulmer still labored.

"What about it, Flynn?" Michael asked. "You think maybe a good payday means you can put up with Junior another couple days?"

Flynn shot a harsh glance over Michael's shoulder. "Still gonna kick your butt after we get back to town."

Junior laid back, his hands clasped behind his head like the threat was nothing.

"I'm thinking ghost story," Michael said, not taking his eyes from Flynn. "What about you, Tiller?"

"Sure. I got half a bag of marshmallows left."

"Perry," Michael said, "you want to tell the first one?"

"Sure," Perry said, rifling his deck of cards. "I got a good one. I call it 'The Head-Eater.'"

"Terrific. Sounds like a winner." Michael stared up at Flynn. "We okay here?"