AUSTIN, Texas – When you drop your child off at summer camp, it’s a hard goodbye—but it shouldn’t be your final goodbye.

That’s the kind of sentence that lingers in the back of a parent’s mind when headlines of Camp Mystic made national news. Because on July 4, 2025, for dozens of Texas families, that fear became heartbreakingly real.

Camp Mystic, nestled along the Guadalupe River in Kerr County, had long been a place of bunk beds and Bible verses, late-night giggles and lifelong friendships. That morning, it became a disaster zone.

A slow-moving storm dumped weeks' worth of rain in hours, turning the Guadalupe into a monster. The river rose nearly 30 feet. Roads were gone. Cabins were swept away. Communications failed. And at the camp, nearly 200 children and staff were trapped—no way out, no help in sight.

Except for the sky.

From hundreds of miles away, the call went out. The U.S. Coast Guard launched helicopters from Corpus Christi, flying straight into the worst of the storm. Onboard one of those aircrafts was a rookie rescue swimmer—just 26 years old. A former accountant from New Jersey. A man who had graduated from swimmer school less than a year before.

His name was Petty Officer 3rd Class Scott Ruskan. And this was his very first mission.

Facing violent winds and torrential rain, the aircrew pushed through the worst conditions imaginable. Aircraft commander Lt. Ian Hopper, co-pilot Lt. Blair Ogujiofor, and flight mechanic AMT3 Seth Reeves delivered Ruskan to a collapsing Camp Mystic. He was still learning the ropes, but as the chopper hovered over Camp Mystic and weather conditions deteriorated, the crew made a call: someone needed to stay behind to coordinate the evacuation from the ground.

Ruskan volunteered.

No hesitation. No drama. Just one brave sentence:

“Sweet. I’ll be more helpful on the ground.”

And just like that, the helicopter lifted off—leaving him behind.

Alone.

No radio signal. No backup. No working phone. Just one man, standing in the wreckage, face to face with nearly 200 terrified girls and staff members—soaking wet, barefoot, some still in pajamas from their frantic escape.

It was a calculated team decision that allowed the crew to airlift 15 more children to safety at another evacuation site.

But for the next three hours, Scott Ruskan was the only first responder on site. And what he did in those three hours has already become historic.

He became the medic. The counselor. The lifeline.

He bandaged wounds and wiped tears. He carried children across jagged terrain, guiding them barefoot through the flood zone to safe helicopter landing points. He organized extractions, one wave at a time—youngest first. When counselors wept over missing friends, he held their shoulders and steadied their panic.

He told the children they would be okay. And they believed him.

By the time the last helicopter rose from the archery field, 165 lives had been saved because of his coordination, his composure and his compassion.

But not everyone made it out.

Twenty-seven souls were lost that day—including longtime camp director Dick Eastman, who died trying to protect the very children he’d dedicated his life to. Eleven more are still missing. And Scott Ruskan carries them with him. Every day.

When the media hailed him a hero, when Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem publicly praised his selfless courage, Ruskan deflected every ounce of recognition.

“Honestly, I’m mostly just a dude,” he told the New York Post. “I’m just doing a job. This is what I signed up for, and I think that any single Coast Guard rescue swimmer or any single Coast Guard pilot, flight mechanic, whoever it may be, would have done the exact same thing in our situation.” 

And this past Saturday night in Austin, just 102 miles from that riverbank where he made the decision to stay, the PBR community made sure that moment was never forgotten.

No last-second ride brought fans to their feet the way they rose for Scott Ruskan. As the lights dimmed, Horse Soldier Bourbon co-founder Will Summers—a retired Green Beret and one of the original “12 Strong”—stepped into the spotlight and began telling Ruskan’s story… and the arena fell silent.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the building.

Fans didn’t rise for an 8-second ride.
They rose for a three-hour act of courage that saved lives.

The ovation wasn’t for how long he held on.
It was for how long he stood strong—alone, soaked, and unshakable.

Scott Ruskan didn’t wear a hat or a buckle that day in Kerr County.
But make no mistake.
He was a cowboy.

From all of us at PBR and Horse Soldier Bourbon, thank you, Petty Officer 3rd Class Scott Ruskan, for reminding us what it truly means to Be Cowboy.

Stay tuned after each PBR Camping World Team Series stop as we continue to spotlight the local heroes and changemakers who inspire us.

Photo courtesy of Bull Stock Media