Eleanor Rose Jackson

She was the prettiest thing he had seen and not just south of the border. His charismatic charm soon won him the right to warm her bed.

Maria Hernandez was just a poor village girl with not much to offer except her smile that was as sweet as honey, a touch as gentle as summer rain and a heart as golden as a setting sun on the prairie. She smelt of the red earth that reminded Hank Jackson of home. Her embrace and laugh could melt the heart of any man yet she had a fiery spirit with a temper to match. When she was in a mood she was not to be messed with and her word was final.

It was the sound of her honey voice and the warm comfort of her arms that drew him back each time. No woman or whore had what she had. He was infatuated with her and had insatiable thirst for her touch. He was never gone for long, just long enough to run the horses across the river and deep into Texas. Long enough to make sure the boys where keeping the ranch running smoothly. Long enough to visit the sheriff in town and keep him happy with a handsome sum that kept the sheriff’s belly full of whiskey and his wife in the latest fashions straight from Chicago. A nice big home, an education for the children and some very fine horses, ensured the sheriff and authorities were always in his back pocket.

With a woman who loved him unconditionally, a ranch filled with the best horses in Texas, and a bank account that would see him almost as rich as an oil barron, Hank Jackson was more powerful then any up and coming politician.

It all changed that fateful night……the screams made his blood run cold as sweat ran down his brow. His hat crumpling in his hands as he clutched for dear life , praying to the good Lord to spare her the pain…..the Lord answered his prays…..the deathly silence echoed into the crisp night air as a ghostly full moon lit the river like diamonds floating in the still of darkness….. the tiny cry of a baby girl fractured the silence like a knife. It was then he noticed he had been holding his breath…

Why could he no longer hear her screams?

Another scream, this time of sobs and heartache soon took over the moment of silence and drowned out the baby’s cry. Dashing inside the blood looked like Maria had been massacred.

The fresh, crisp, clean white sheets of the bed they once made passionate love in shone a velvety red in the pale moon light as her body lay lifeless and just as pale as the sheets.

It was then they say the ruthless Mr Jackson lost any feeling of love or compassion. It was then that Mr Jackson became not only the richest and most powerful man in Texas but more ruthless and savage then any outlaw or heathen .

He never looked upon his daughter and took the body of his beloved Maria Rose Hernandez and buried her with his own hands that very night.

Eleanor Rose Hernandez grew never knowing her mother but her beloved grandma told her stories of her beauty and heart of gold. Eleanor was told stories about how her mother loved to smile, loved to laugh and dance. The way she sung as she cooked the evening meal or collected eggs from the chickens. The way she would brush her long chestnut hair every night before bed. Eleanor would fall asleep at night listening to her grandma tell her stories of her mother. Most nights she fell asleep with a smile on her face but a heaviness in her heart. If only she could have met her.

It was around the time Eleanor was 7 that her grandma fell ill with pneumonia. Eleanor stood over the grave site of the only mother she had known. A grave that lay next to the mother she never knew.

Eleanor never cried….her grandma told her to be strong like her mother would have been, for her grandma knew she would need that strength to survive the life she would lead. Luckily for Eleanor she had inherited not just her mothers beuty but her wild spirit and strength.

3 months later Eleanor stood , trunk by her side as the horse drawn coach pulled away with a snap of the reins. It was the house keeper, Aunt Meg, that greeted her and the ranch hands that had gathered around. Hank Jackson , The man she would call father, was in town visiting the local saloon. It wasn’t untill almost a week later that he finally came home.

Elesnor grew up with Aunt Meg as the closest thing to a mother she would ever get. She ran a tight household and made sure the other three house hands kept in line. (They often disappeared returning with hay in their hair or buttons undone) There would be hell for both them and the boys if they got caught.

The house was kept immaculate and the ranch ran like clockwork.

Eleanor was given a tutor for most of her young life and soon could read, write and do maths better then any teacher.
The cowboys, in particular Sam and Curly, were Eleanors guides, her brothers, the only family she knew from that time on. The men looked out for her like she was their little sister. At a young age she followed them around the ranch wanting to know everything about them, about the work they did, how to shoe a horse, how to saddle one, feed them, and of course ride a horse. She wanted to work like them and soon she became one of them……she even started wearing pants and a hat like the men.

As Eleanor grew she became so much like her mother, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way her eyes frowned when she was angrt. Except instead of rich earth and herbs, Eleanor smelt of Lavender and her eyes were a rich emerald green. But Eleanor was not Maria. It was a love hate relationship Hank had with Eleanor. He hated her because of how she took his Maria away from him, he blamed her for Maria’s death. But the resemblance made him want to protect her and love his daughter.

Frustration, pain and heartache drove his actions. That was when the bruises began to appear. The men could never speak out. One did once….he soon had a bullet to his head and it was a warning to the rest.

Eleanor was Hanks daughter and they were to remember it. At the tender age of 18 her father decided it was time to expand.

Montana had the promise of free land and lush green pastures. He needed more hands…more men….a notice went out to every paper. The biggest horse merchant needed hands. Hands to run the ranch and to drive horses and cattle to Montana. It promised a large pay with future employment opportunities. Despite his ruthlessness and unlawful practices it was the employment opportunity of a life time. Mr Jackson didn’t care who you were or what you were as long as you worked hard and played hard. It was also an opportunity for any outlaw to be protected from their crimes and warrants.

Eleanors future was uncertain….