Concert In The Cookhouse by Shara Bueler-Repka

I stomped the cold from my feet and rubbed my hands together, feeling warmth creep into them. Fog billowed from my breath and my horse’s nose. The temperature hadn’t risen out of the teens in the high country.

Our friend, Bo, a seasoned Nevada buckaroo, invited my husband, Bruce, to this fall roundup. Hundreds of cattle grazed across thousands of acres in these rugged, unforgiving mountains of northern Nevada. Several volunteers, stockholders, and hired buckaroos worked together to gather these cattle for shipment to their winter-feeding grounds.

Bruce and I sing Christian Country music and travel full time on the road with our two horses. God had given us this awesome opportunity to ride with these folks, and we jumped at the chance. However, He saw an even bigger picture than volunteering to help with the cows.

Saddles creaked and horses champed their bits as we waited for the foreman to assign groups of riders to their sections of land. The goal was to drive or “sweep” the cattle from the high country and meet at the bottom pasturelands at the same time… or nearly. Most of these cows are as wild as the country they run in, and this type of gathering keeps them moving forward.

I gazed across the haphazard landscape, grateful for the instruction we had received from Bo about the cattle and country. I realized we were living examples of Hebrews 10:24-25 (NIV): “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Bruce and I were strangers to this place, but the Lord had prepared us for this job through Bo. Receiving our section assignment, we spread out to cover our area.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!” flew from my mouth as my horse and I plunged down the side of a steep draw to gather cattle at the bottom. At the same time, “Whoohooohoooohoooo!” echoed across the mountains as the buckaroos revealed their location. I urged my horse around the cattle and drove my mini-herd through the small canyon.

We rode narrow mountainside trails that appeared to be carved by a goat and skirted bogs and boulders to keep the herd tight. I picked grit out of my teeth and blew a breath of relief when I saw Bo with his cows at the meeting point. We joined Bruce farther down the mountain.

As the three of us rode with our cows, the foreman raced by us on his horse. “You’re late!” he bellowed as he thundered past and disappeared down the prairie.

Startled and staring at his retreating dust, we figured we were being blamed for something out of our control. Our blood boiled. Angry words churned: “We did nothing wrong!” We rode in an indignant fog for about a mile. Then, like cold water on a hot flame, the Holy Spirit’s still, small voice impressed, “Let it go.”

We realized it was foolish for us to ride in offense, recognizing Satan’s temptation to tear down the relationships we had already built. Swallowing our pricked pride, we decided not to take the bait and continued to focus on the job at hand.

It was a good thing we “let it go.” Later that day, the bigger picture unfolded—a stockholder asked if we would give a concert in their cookhouse.

The next evening, as we set up our sound system next to the kitchen counter, we thanked the Lord that we had overcome the challenges from the previous days. This was the ultimate reason God sent us here.

One by one, the entire crew filed into the warm cookhouse while the smell of fresh coffee and homemade cookies drifted through the air. They took their places at the picnic-style tables or lounge chairs along the wall. One old cowboy even relaxed in his own recliner. We began with our lively hymn medley and continued through a list of songs as the Holy Spirit led. The demeanor of the more hardened ranch hands softened, their toes tapping to the beat.

One rambunctious buckaroo had wanted us to sing one of his favorite country songs as we rode with him through the aspens the previous day. We didn’t know the song but, when the concert was scheduled, we determined to learn it. We sang it that night and dedicated it to him. He couldn’t believe it. His eyes brightened, and his heart opened to God’s message in the other songs we sang.

We watched in awe as the Holy Spirit moved through that bunch. Alcohol was passed from one to another, but one by one, weather-worn hands waved it away. We hadn’t said a thing—we just sang.

Stomping, clapping, and laughter rocked the cookhouse.

As we tried to wrap up the concert in respect of the crew’s early morning call, shouts of “Encore! Encore!” resounded around the room. A buckaroo’s girlfriend slowly raised her hand. “Can you sing Amazing Grace?” she requested. “Absolutely,” we replied.

As the words and melody wound through the crowd, the peace of the Holy Spirit wrapped around troubled souls like a warm comforter. Tears streamed down faces; eyes stared off in deep thought; heads bowed, and some nodded. God’s grace and power were palpable in that old building.

We finished the last song, and no one wanted to leave. Groups of two and three gathered here and there talking, laughing, eating cookies, and sipping coffee. The ranch foreman hailed us as we loaded our music gear into our truck. “Thank you,” he said. “We needed this. It gets really tense here around this time.” He smiled. “And, hey, you can ride with us anytime, and you’re more than welcome to sing here next year, too.”

We are honored to answer God’s call to face the challenging tasks that introduce us to the ones living along the trails-less traveled. No one is too far from God’s gracious hand. As Acts 13:47 (NIV) encourages:

“For this is what the Lord has commanded us: “‘I have made you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.’”

Those stockholders, buckaroos, and volunteers never forgot the love of God they experienced in that old 1800s cookhouse on a lonely road on Nevada’s high plains.

Bringing 'Em In

Trailing Off The Rdige

Shara and Bruce singing in the cookhouse

Shara Bueler-Repka is enjoying life as a singer/songwriter/recording artist, freelance writer, and award-winning author. She and her husband, Bruce, live in their living quarters horse trailer and call “home” wherever their rig is parked. Their mail-base, however, is Hallettsville, Texas. She loves sharing God’s Word through music with her husband, riding their horses (aka The Boys) in the backcountry, and writing about God’s grace in their various adventures on the trail less traveled.

Shara Bueler-Repka