Life has taught me that almost every soul crushing tragedy, every dreamscape that became scorched earth has a tiny but vibrant rose blooming in the middle of darkness and chaos.
From the dawn of Beutler & Son Rodeo Company nearly 100 years ago, the Beutler family has defined excellence in professional rodeo. Since Elra Beutler founded the company, thousands of good horses and countless cattle have lived, thrived and died of natural causes. With them, the excruciatingly beautiful highs and devastating lows have come around regularly.
From time immemorial, all horsemen have said ‘it’s part of it’ when tragedy strikes. It’s a phrase that bears the weight of all sorrow and the gritty determination to learn, survive and carry on.
If in the history of rodeo an epic loss of life like the B/S is suffering now has ever happened, I don’t know about it. Most horse loving people have never stood the same ground with a herd of horses as large as the Beutler’s lost to one bad, bulk load of custom mixed feed, much less helplessly tried to save them to only be able to watch them die and bury them.
That’s a grace we usually don’t think to be thankful for. Over the last week, we’ve all looked over our horses with new eyes and a prayer breathed for the Beutler family for comfort in their massive loss.
Today, there is scorched earth on the family ranch – an Oklahoma panhandle homestead so heavy with a sorrow the newly dug graves can’t begin to hold. But that rose? This time? That rose stands quietly on four solid hooves that carry far more than an outstanding two year old colt’s healthy body ever has.
The colt is a son of the late Killer Bee. Her first, her last and maybe her restitution to the B/S crew that worked relentlessly to save the champion mare after she was orphaned as a suckling filly.
When the other horses buried their soft muzzles in the Rumensin tainted grain mix that would kill them all, Killer Bee’s unnamed colt turned his nose up and walked away. He lives. A survivor like his mama.
The earth Elra Beutler and a good handful of fine horses built a dynasty on has become hallowed, sacred ground and will be for eternity. The fresh scars of the mass burial will heal over time. The scars on the hearts of the people who loved those horses will always be there.
Officially, Killer Bee’s two year old is unnamed, but he’s Genesis – the beginning of the next era. He’s Phoenix, arising in majesty from the ashes of pain. But most of all, he’s that vibrant, single rose of Hope, a place to look to when the rest is too much. He’s a reminder that in every catastrophic tragedy, our Creator protects some one thing and offers it as a gift to survival.
