A Tale of Conflict and Peace at the B Bar Ranch

By Kirk Blackard

After Mr. and Mrs. B leave everything they have ever known and purchase a ranch on a worn-out cotton farm in Texas, they have great hope for a life of peace. But the relationship between the ranch’s menagerie of animals is anything but peaceful, and Mr. B worries continuously about how he can stop the conflict. He finally turns everything over to the animals in the hope they will work together to make the B-Bar Ranch a success.

The resident animals—cows, equines, pigs, chickens, and a big semi-trained cow dog—are thinking, talking creatures that see themselves and others as objects or farm animals and often demonstrate the worst characteristics of people in conflict. But when a sheep mysteriously appears and teaches them to regard one another like human beings who know God; have their own special hopes, needs, cares, and fears; and can choose to act of their own volition, they begin to realize peace on earth—and the ranch.

This tale for all ages demonstrates that when people regard themselves and others as human beings, rather than objects or animals, they move from conflict toward shalom in their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973669616

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Copyright © 2019 Kirk Blackard.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-9736-6962-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-6963-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-6961-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019910643

WestBow Press rev. date: 8/7/2019

To my parents, Winell and Fred Blackard.

They built the B Bar Ranch. They were incredible models of peace and shalom.

Contents

Author’s Note

Part I: The Ranch

Prologue

Chapter 1   The Takeover

Chapter 2   The Growing Conflict

Chapter 3   A New Strategy

Chapter 4   Deteriorating Relationships

Chapter 5   Aristotle’s Appearance

Part II: Instruments of Peace

Chapter 6   Shalom

Chapter 7   Regard for One Another

Chapter 8   Discernment

Chapter 9   Empathy

Chapter 10   Forgiveness

Chapter 11   Reconciliation

Part III: The Journey

Chapter 12   Change

Chapter 13   B Bar Principles for Shalom

Epilogue

Resources

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Author’s Note

Conflict seems to be everywhere these days. Think of those close to you, such as your family members, coworkers, and friends—and maybe even yourself—who disregard others’ feelings and beliefs, and say or do things that hurt one another. Consider all the acquaintances and strangers who do similar things and deal with similar problems. Remember the incidents of cyberbullying, road rage, fights at youth sporting events, and other conflicts that are so difficult to understand. And perhaps the most ubiquitous of all, don’t forget the public figures who can’t get along, whose lack of civility and outright fighting stagnate our government, thwart the democratic process, and degrade society.

The examples seem never to end. While most of us do not directly experience dramatic confrontations that receive great attention—strikes, wars, mass shootings, and such—nearly all of us are affected by the smaller cases. These are characterized by a lack of civil discourse, charges and countercharges, lingering resentments, long-held grudges, estrangements, or other life situations that cause our lives to lack the love and consideration that can build communion among people and with God.

A Tale of Conflict and Peace at the B Bar Ranch focuses on minimizing and dealing with such day-to-day conflict. It is a story of fictional animals who adopt human characteristics and deal with human conflicts that hopefully will provide an entertaining insight about why conflict occurs among people and foster problem-solving and cooperation in dealing with it.

I actually knew several of the animals in the story. I grew up on a ranch—we called it the B Bar Ranch because it sounded better than farm—just outside a little town in northeast Texas. It was a converted cotton farm, covered mainly with crabgrass, weeds, a few patches of Bermuda grass, and several large stands of post oak and wild persimmon trees. We typically maintained a small herd of animals, many of which often acted like humans: a big old horse who typically wanted his way, a cow that refused to follow the rules and jumped all the fences, a group of hogs that always fought over the available food, a big ol’ mutt of a dog that was a little on the mean side, and others that demonstrated the human foibles that lead to conflict. More important for the story, the animals weren’t influenced by a higher power or thoughtful discernment of right and wrong, and they were not able to empathize, forgive, or exhibit other feelings that human beings have as they deal with difficult life situations.

Dealing with conflict has been a major emphasis in my life. I have had the privilege of serving at various times in a number of areas often steeped in conflict: first and foremost as a brother, husband, father, grandfather, and member of two extended families, and also as a lawyer, labor relations and human resources manager, company president, negotiator, mediator, arbitrator, and chairman of the board of a large faith-based restorative justice ministry that focuses on reconciling victims of crime with those who are incarcerated for their crimes. I have written nine books about conflict or related subjects. Through it all, I have been exposed to numerous conflicts. Hopefully, I have helped minimize or resolve many of them. I certainly have learned a great deal from the experiences, and I will try to pass these learnings on through words and actions attributed to the animals.

The tale reflects a Christian perspective. I am a lifelong Christian, and I have concluded that the Bible contains the best advice I have encountered for fostering civility and for minimizing and dealing with conflict. While this tale is not overtly religious, it is not surprising that the residents of B Bar Ranch seem to have stumbled to similar conclusions and have included a number of biblical references in their conversations. They do not intend to try to convert you to a particular religious view. They do hope you will benefit from the teaching of scripture as you deal with incivility and conflict in your life.

May your life be a journey of peace.

Kirk Blackard

Houston, Texas

PART I

The Ranch

Prologue

M r. B slept almost not at all. When the rays of the rising sun plunged through the open window of the farmhouse bedroom, he was still thinking about the reports that told him his ranch was going down the tubes because it was a huge mess of conflicts, hard feelings, and occasional fights. However, they didn’t offer a clue as to the cause of the problems, why they were having such effect, or what to do about them. His head continued to alternate between trying to figure out what to do and deep worry that nothing seemed likely to work.

Mr. B had dreamed for years of his little place, called the B Bar Ranch because of the B brand stamped on the right hip of each of its cows. He had grown up with his parents in a large city, but his best memories were of the peace and tranquility that seemed to exist when they visited his grandparents’ farm. After graduating from college and marrying Mrs. B, he worked for several years among the hectic activity of a large corporation in a large city, while always remembering the gentle lowing of the cows, the wonderful taste of vine-ripened tomatoes, the rhythmic clop-clop of a gently trotting horse, and the other sensory experiences that made rural life seem so idyllic. So, he and Mrs. B cashed out their 401(k)s, used a balloon loan to borrow all the money the banks would loan them, and purchased the farm that became the B Bar Ranch—a couple of hundred acres of grass and weeds interspaced with scrubby woodlands on a worn-out cotton farm. It was populated by an aging one-story ranch house with a low-pitched roof, a big picture window in the front room, a big pole barn that had been used mainly for storing hay, and a small, wood-plank corral with a chute for working cattle or loading them into a trailer.

The B Bar Ranch had been a disappointment, anything but peaceful and tranquil. The relationship among the ranch’s menagerie of animals that Mr. B acquired—cows, equines, pigs, chickens, and a big semi-trained cow dog—seemed tenser than the wires of a good barbed-wire fence. They argued and fought rather than working together to make the place a success. Mr. B worried continuously about stopping the conflict and making the monthly payments and the big final balloon payment that was scheduled to pay off the loan used to purchase the ranch.

Just last week, Mr. B was awakened around daybreak by the noise of two bulls preparing for battle, exchanging deep, guttural sounds from deep within their big bellies. Lucifer was a thoroughbred Hereford, roughly a ton of muscle and bone with a red coat, and a white face, stockings, and underbelly. His curved horns were at least a foot long. He was facing off against Skillet, a slightly smaller, equally muscular, definitely meaner Black Angus. Both were pawing and kicking the ground and scattering dirt like mown grass in a whirlwind. After a time of circling, slipping, and parrying while taking the measure of each other, Lucifer charged violently. Skillet dodged, lost his balance, and catapulted through a barbed-wire fence, flattening a bois d’arc post and breaking several wires before limping to a nearby pasture.

And just a few days before that, as Mr. B was making his rounds, he found Dolly the cow grazing in a patch of bitterweeds. Her milk had become slightly sour, and her calf Bubba refused to nurse. This caused her to have a swollen, tender udder for several days and then lose her milk.

Bubba started losing weight.

Lucifer, in a way that only a bull can do, made fun of Bubba and commented on Dolly’s swollen udder, which led to a shouting match laced with profanity.

As usual, Mr. B couldn’t find Madonna. This thirty-month-old polled Hereford with shiny red hair, a slim body, and long legs with white stockings, had been a continuing problem. Soon after her first birthday, she jumped the pasture fence, connected with the young bull on the ranch next door, and got pregnant on that first encounter. There were even rumors that she had been seen grazing in someone’s secret cannabis patch. At first, everyone thought it was just an adolescent phase, but things never got better. She often grazed alone, and she sometimes tore through or jumped over barbed-wire fences and hid out on other ranches. Mr. B had to ride Big Mac, the larger of the horses, to find her, rope her, and drag her home. She would be kicking and fighting all the way. Mr. B had considered selling her at the auction barn, but he just hadn’t done it yet.

Mr. B located Elvira and her kids, as usual, in their pigsty: a smallish pasture that was mostly dirt, enclosed by a net-wire fence with a small stream running through it from a nearby spring. Elvira, a big red Duroc sow with nine piglets and eight working teats, spent most of her time lounging in the sty’s small shed, which had a tin roof and one open side, waiting for Mr. B to arrive with his daily bucket of slop. The pigs seemed to fight constantly for a place at the table, and one, Runt, always seemed to lose.

Mr. B thought, Runt doesn’t get enough milk—no matter how he tries—and seems to be weaker yet more belligerent each day. Another kid, Dopey, is having problems of his own that ripple throughout the litter.

Nipper, a black and white mutt that could win just about any ugly dog contest, accompanied Mr. B as usual on his rounds. He often did more harm than good, as he bit the heels of the equines and cows and scared the dickens of the chickens.

The conflict extended to groups, pitted against one another. The equines chased the cows just for the fun of it, causing them to fall behind in their milk production. The cows dropped their prodigious piles of poop where the equines—several horses and one old mule—were trying to graze and sometimes even peed in their water pond. In addition to the war between the two groups, the chickens weren’t laying as many eggs as scheduled, and they seemed to spend all their time cackling, squawking, and otherwise raising Cain.

Whether as individuals or as groups, no one trusted anyone. Decent communication and cooperation were beyond the pale. The animals either pretended the others didn’t exist, or they argued like jailhouse lawyers. Few, if any, were contributing to a better life on the ranch as they should have. The idea of having individuals or groups working together toward a common purpose or goal seemed out of the question.

It never ends, Mr. B thought. They all act like a bunch of farm animals. He did the best he could to control the problems. A while back, he sold several offenders at the auction barn, not knowing where they went from there. He built several barbed-wire fences in an effort to keep the various groups separated from one another. He yelled, scolded, and imposed discipline in an effort to get them to do what needed to be done. Nothing seemed to work. All the conflict was causing him to be depressed and emotionally detached, and it was even hurting his relationship with Mrs. B. He continued to worry about the next call from the bankers and whether he would be able to make the big balloon payment when it came due.

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Mr. B consulted agricultural experts at the state university and animal psychologists—also called animal behaviorists—at the veterinary school. They pontificated like pompous politicians, but they didn’t provide any proper advice he could understand or do anything with. As a last resort, although he was not particularly religious and was long past the days of his youth and his parent’s religion, he began reading a Bible that somehow had made it to his house. He prayed for divine help in solving the problems.

In his effort to deal with all the conflict, Mr. B read other books as well: Principle Centered Leadership, Thriving on Chaos, several books on listening and conflict management, and even How to Win Friends and Influence People, among others. Nothing seemed helpful for managing a ranch run amuck by continuing friction, incivility between the equines and the cows, and outright feuding among individual residents.

He stumbled onto Leading Self-Directed Work Teams and a couple of other books on self-managing work groups. On the surface, it sounded too good to be true: a group of individuals working together toward a common purpose or goal without anyone controlling them or telling them what to do. It seemed to him that individuals working together on their own initiative would not engage in bickering and fighting, and they would be civil to one another. Maybe that was a way of dealing with the conflict.

Thinking of turning the B Bar Ranch over to the cows and horses and other animals that populated it put Mr. B in mind of a trite old saying: turning the asylum over to the inmates. He doubted the animals could possibly manage their own lives, reduce the conflict, and keep the ranch afloat, and he really didn’t want to give up control—if he, in fact, really had any. He had been quite unsuccessful in forcing the animals to change. Could they do it on their own? If they did, they would show that all his efforts to deal with the conflict had been as worthless as teats on a boar hog, but his real objective would be accomplished.

After several days of reflection, discussions with Mrs. B, more sleepless nights, and a few relatively insincere prayers, Mr. B concluded that having no decent choice made the choice easier. Turning the ranch over to the animals probably wouldn’t work, but it wouldn’t be less likely to work than any of the other options he had tried or could think of. And if he turned the ranch over to the animals, he would be away from the incivility, bickering, and fighting for as long as he wanted to be. He and Mrs. B could move to a condo owned by her parents in Hawaii, their dream retirement destination, and return at a future date to either take charge of the ranch or just pack it up and send the animals to the auction barn. That is what he decided to do.

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Mr. B concluded that he couldn’t just walk away and turn the ranch over to the animals with no notice at all of what they should expect. At a minimum, he had to advise them