McDermott was a hardened man.

So thought everyone who worked with him, so thought the townspeople who had to deal with him. When he made a deal, there was rarely room for negotiations. He walked into the saloon, the patrons got out of his way, even if they didn't know him. Towering over most of them at six feet, three inches, his gray hair gave him a naturally distinguished air. But his blue eyes were as cold as a mountain winter, and a perpetual frown painted a face that, though pocked, would have been quite handsome had he smiled. There was no appealing to his heart when you got on his bad side; most questioned if he had a good side.

Then one day Paiutes came into town to buy food. They never had enough money, McDermott thought disgustedly. But today, they bought, and bought, and bought, from all of his stores. Finally, he decided he had to find out, and sent one of his more "trusted" (and with him, that was a relative term) hangers-on to find out.

"There's gonna be a weddin' in the Indian camp!" was the report he brought back. "A bunch of braves, and the bride came in to buy things."

McDermott's eyebrows shot up. The women never came into town. "Are they still in town?"

"Yessir, Mr. McDermott."

Without a word, McDermott headed outside, and saw the Indians loading up from the last store. His eyes scanned the group. It was the usual party of braves that came in. 'But he said the bride was with them,' he mused.

His next glance at the doorway…and the bride walked through the door. He was grateful no one was looking at him, because they would have seen something the likes of which they never would have expected. Those cold blue eyes melted into a deep sea.

WHY did it have to be an Indian woman? He hated what their kind had done to this town – HIS town, for all intents and purposes. He owned every business and half the homes. Yet, he was faced with the vision of a dark-skinned angel. He licked his full lips and exhaled through them as he focused on the curve of her face, and the considerable curves of her body. Something stirred in him, and he realized with a start that it was something that hadn't stirred in him since the Apache took his wife. He silently cursed the brave that was going to have this exquisite woman for his wife.

He called to the same one that had found out why they were here. "I want to know her," he told him tersely. "Everything you can find."

"Yessir." With that, McDermott retreated to the back room of his office. He sat in his chair, closing his eyes and savoring the visage of beauty. And he smiled.

James Callahan was back at the camp. He was fighting desperately the urge to drink. He knew what this wedding was going to do. He would be an outcast for embracing the culture of the Indians by marrying one. But she loved him so. He'd been working while she was away, when she would go out to work with the other women. He was painting her portrait, as a wedding present. This would be his last chance to make any changes before he would have to hide it. But his hands were shaking. He didn't know if he could do it.

"CALLAHAN!!" McDermott had not only been shaken out of his reverie, he'd been shaken into action. "She's going to marry Callahan?" By this time, he was speaking rhetorically, up and pacing the floor. "Foolish Indians, foolish girl! He's nothing but a drunk!"

"That's what I heard," his messenger told him. "Her name is Esther. He came to paint pictures of the tribe, and they fell in love." He paused for a moment. "Why so interested in the Indian woman, McDermott?"

McDermott couldn't shake the image of putting his thumb under her chin to turn that angelic face toward his. He whirled. "None of your business!" he roared. "When is the wedding?"

"They wouldn't tell me exactly when, but I'd guess if they're buying supplies like this, it's gonna be in the next couple of days."

McDermott looked up toward the ceiling. He had to control his raging feelings, alternating between hate and an overwhelming lust to be near her. His angel had a name now…Esther. He took a deep breath. "Callahan wasn't with them?"

"No, they said he was back at the camp."

"Well, Daniel," he replied, finally addressing him by his name, "you're gonna try to stop that wedding."

Daniel took a deep breath. To go against McDermott would be as good as committing suicide. It seemed to him that the meanest man he'd ever known…had fallen in love. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get up a raiding party and disrupt that wedding if you must, but…maybe you can get Callahan into town long enough to get him too drunk to get married."

Daniel realized McDermott, who got whatever he wanted, now had his sights set on the woman Esther. "All right," he nodded.

"Oh, one more thing." McDermott's blue eyes were hard as ice again. "You say one word to anyone about why you're stopping this wedding, you're a dead man."

Daniel nodded, and walked out the door to his horse. It was getting toward dusk. If Callahan had been in the camp all day, he might not have a lot of time.

Callahan embraced Esther as soon as she was off her horse. "Were you able to get everything we needed?"

She nodded happily. It was good to see her husband-to-be sober this late in the day. "James…will we be able to marry tonight?"

"Yes." He held her hands in his own. "We'll marry tonight. It doesn't matter what the white people think. We'll be happy together, and I can help your people."

Her eyes grew sad. "But only if you can stay away from the demon drink, James."

"Oh, Esther…" Callahan's voice grew soft. "I know you worry about me. Maybe I can find another place to sell my paintings and I won't have to go into town and look at that saloon."

The thought of him staying away from the saloon made her smile. "We will hope. Now, let us prepare for the wedding." She left him with a kiss to his cheek.

McDermott tried to settle into his bed that night, but sleep would not come easily. He wondered if Daniel would be able to stop that wedding. He couldn't let her spend her life with someone like Callahan. Yes, he did have talent as a painter, but he was as hopeless a drunk as he'd ever seen. But if, for some reason, Daniel did not get to their village in time to stop the wedding, he needed a plan. He needed to show he cared. He had to get to Esther, even if she were married. He had an idea, and finally, blessedly, drifted off to sleep.

Since Callahan had no one in the tribe, the chief and his family took the responsibility of acting as his "family" for the wedding. They made sure he was ceremonially washed and dressed correctly. They made sure he knew what to say, even if they'd have to tell him in the ceremony, since he did not speak the Paiute language.

Esther was also preparing. She hadn't admitted to a soul how she longed to give herself to her husband….at least when he wasn't drunk. She loved how tenderly he would caress her cheek those times. Allowing herself to go off into her dream world, she forgot herself until her mother called. "Come, daughter, it is time."

Daniel and several friends watched closely. All were chosen because they could strike fast if needed.

As soon as Daniel saw that many of the community were gathering, he spoke. "This is it, the wedding is tonight," he told them. "As soon as they begin, we ride in and run them off. Grab Callahan, bring him back to town and do what you have to, to get him drunk."

One smugly grunted, "Yeah, and let McDermott deal with him. Callahan must have done something to make him want to do this." Daniel stayed silent. Only he knew that McDermott was not doing this for Callahan, but for the woman he longed for.

The drums in the village went silent. Daniel flashed a look at his fellow raiders, green eyes sharp with anticipation. "Go!" he commanded.

The horses galloped into the camp, the men yelling and whooping, their guns drawn. Esther's family quickly grabbed her and ran back to their place. The Paiute men fled equally fast. Only Callahan remained, dumbfounded, as they rode up to him.

"Come on, Callahan, you're going with us!" Daniel snarled against all instincts to tell him what was going on.

"Git up here!" another demanded.

James silently thanked God he was sober. "I'm not going!" he retorted, in a voice loud enough for Esther to hear.

Guns cocked. "You're going…" Daniel fired back. "McDermott wants to see ya."

At the mere mention of his name, Callahan knew he had no choice but to give in. He climbed on the back of the horse, and they rode off.

Esther was devastated. "He'll be drunk when they bring him back," she sighed wearily. "No wedding night…"

McDermott startled awake. Daniel and whoever he'd gotten to go with him had not returned. He hoped the reason was they were all in the saloon. His ideal plan was for Callahan to still be in town in the morning. He'd deal with him not while he was drunk, but during the pain of being hung over. Give him a drink only when he's agreed to the plan…He drifted off again.

His thumb traced across her lips before he took her hand, putting it aside his cheek. He gazed down at her in a way he'd never gazed at a woman before. "Esther," he pleaded in a soft voice that he barely recognized as his. "Don't marry him. He'll never amount to anything. If you want to help your people, stay with me."

His gaze was met with a look of pure suspicion, followed by a slap of the hand he'd put next to his face. "Never! I would betray my people!"

His face stung. He'd been punched, kicked, even shot and stabbed. But nothing had ever hurt him like that slap in the face. Yet, rather than grow angry at her, he remained undaunted. "You would betray your people by marrying Callahan."

"But I love James!" she protested loudly. "I know he drinks too much, but I love him."

The desperation of body and mind was growing. "Esther, please…give me a chance before you marry him. I'll treat you good, I'll treat your people good."

At the mention of her people, Esther's face softened. In that moment, the ugliness she'd seen on McDermott's face was gone. She saw love in his blue eyes. "But…you've hated my people for so long, McDermott…"

"Seth," he corrected her gently. "I almost never tell my given name, but you should know it."

"Very well…Seth." She continued. "You have hated my people for so long…why would you help them now?"

"Because I love you, Esther. I want you, I want you to be with me."

"Seth, I don't know…" Esther was genuinely puzzled at his change of heart.

"I don't expect you to fall in love with me right now," he told her, "I'm just askin' for a chance before you marry Callahan."

She appealed to her people's well-known reverence for tradition. "You know my people…once an arrangement for marriage is made, it cannot be broken."

"You're not married yet," he tried to reassure her, daring to move an inch or two closer. "Go to your chief, tell him you've changed your mind."

Esther, beginning to realize McDermott was being sincere, again protested. "My people have no way to call off a marriage like that."

McDermott sighed. "Esther, then before you get married….let me hold you in my arms. Once."

Esther nodded. Against all of her instincts, she moved toward him. She knew she could fall for him, but…one embrace wouldn't hurt.

Taking a deep breath, he stilled as Esther hesitantly put her arms around his waist. He drew her toward his broad chest, laying his head on hers…

A pound on the door. McDermott, annoyed, went to answer it. It was Daniel. "We got him back into town, and he's pretty well drunk now. What do you want us to do with him?"

"Find him a place to stay for the night, I don't want him going back to the village, it would incite a raid, as if we haven't already done that. I'll talk to him in the morning." With that, he shut the door and went back to sleep. The dream did not come back.

Esther's tears finally dried with the rising of the sun. She was sure McDermott was behind the raid, but had no way to prove it. There was no guessing what those men would do. But she would wait for him, drunk or not. She would be a faithful wife, though she was not yet even married.

"Here's the deal….I'll buy your paintings, trade them for food for the Paiutes. If you're gonna insist on making a mess of their lives and making an outcast of yourself."

"No," Callahan muttered for the seventeenth time that morning. "I'm not gonna sell you my paintings."

"No more drinks for him, then, Bartender," McDermott yelled.

The bartender bristled. "I'll serve 'em drinks as long as they've got money!" he snapped.

"You won't serve HIM any more!" McDermott shouted, banging the table and giving Callahan even more of a headache than he already had.

McDermott turned back to Callahan. "So do we have a deal?"

"NO!" Callahan yelled, his fist pounding the table even harder.

"All right…then your new people will starve."

Callahan was brought home on a wagon, as Esther knew he would be. They'd gotten him drunk again. She prepared his bed, to allow him to sleep it off. When he was sober, they would marry. They would keep their promises.

After they were married, Callahan seemed happier. He was painting more and not going into town to get drunk as much. Esther hoped she might have a baby one day soon. 'That will keep him home,' she thought. James' paintings were selling, and there was food enough for the village.

McDermott dreamed again of his dark-skinned angel. She was a married woman, but he would never stop wanting her. For her sake, he bought Callahan's paintings. He dreamed of her for weeks on end. He waited to hear any news of her, anything anyone could find out at all. When someone did bring news, there were more dreams. They were the only time Seth McDermott ever smiled.

end