Passing through Northern Minnesota, is usually a bone chilling journey, but summers are sweltering. In this instance, it was mid-July 2012, 100% humidity, 95 degrees, and haying season was coming to an end (we only get one cutting per year). Finished product was being shipped to local barns and equipment greased for next years' service. We had to travel between many small fields scattered around the swampy and heavily wooded Norhtland. A very labor intensive process. As the day cooled off, we were all looking forward to the end of season party! Big get together including whole pig rotisserie, deviled eggs, and crack your teeth cold Premium Grainbelt! When I say "we," I mean two families that have helped each other for many years caring for animals and the community. My family, and pal, Tyrel's family are synonymous in cultivating the crop, but he is much more prominent as a local business owner. His awesome display of persuasion is explained on the last day of harvest.
Finally, our concluding trip with the destination, PARTY! Our three quarter ton pickup hauling a 22 foot goose-neck trailer loaded with round and square bales, and a tired out 1950 tractor lumbered down the road. We were dog tired, not saying much, but a white sign stuck out of the ditch. That is odd in this country. It said MTA Timber Hall Convention. MTA? "Oh," Ty says. "This is the Minnesota Trappers Association Convention." "We should swing in for a quick look. They may have some scents, beaver castor or guns. What are you looking for Dave?" I said, "The only thing I'm looking for right now are a few Smith, in particular, a 5 screw pre-29 4 inch. Don't have one of those yet. And probably won't see one of those on a table for a long time." Holy! I would eat those words!!! We stopped the caravan at the Timber Hall, and it is dead. Dealers are talking to each other and some have relinquished themselves back to their campers. About 6 tables are still rolling, and on the last table out the door, there is a black case, S&W logo, and DO NOT TOUCH sign!
"Um, can I see that?" Craig, the dealer, looked unappreciative down his wide brimmed hat at my deplorable condition. "I suppose," he says. The case opens, and queue angelic music. Five Screw Four Inch Pre-29! Oh, yeah, BTW Jinks letter had to be peeled off the top of the gun. I wanted it!!! Whew! Then Ty says, "Hey! That's what you've been looking for!" Busted. "Yes, Ty, I know." "Excuse me, may I confer with my friend." Craig waffles, "why, by all means. You sound like you know your S&W's"
"Ty! I have to get this revolver! He wants $2250. I do not have the skrilla on me, and 1600 on Saturday, we cannot get it!" Ty smiles, he knows something… He says, "Brenda (Ty's mother) is horseback riding with the bank manager right now. Let me give them a call. You go back and deal on the revolver." Really, the bank manager of the Credit Union! Oh, happy day! "Craig, cash, right now, what is the price?" Craig, "$2000." Me, "One hour, done!" Of course, the how much are you going to put down is thrown out there. And I kid you not, I reached in my pocket to pull out three sweaty $20 bills stuck with hay seeds. But he took them!
The bank was not far away, half mile at most. Caravan parked out front, we sat on the green treated steps. Not far off in the distance, there were two horses bellies swinging back and forth. The riders side by side, laughing and pointing in our direction. When they arrived, it was something that would only occur in a small town. "Come on in," as the bank manager swings open the safe door. "How much do you need?" she inquires. "Uh, $2K." I say. Well, how else do you grovel for money!? "Here! That should do! Pay me back next week." She says. Seriously!
Back to the MTA Show! Cash in hand, caravan, and now a couple of horses. Solo, I walk in and approach Craig, "Well, you got it." Money on the table. "Incredible…" He was disappointed, and I was elated! "Well," he says, "you better take this too." He throws a gorgeous vintage leather holster on the table. "It came with it." I came out of the Timber Hall just glowing. Gun in holster with case in hand. Brenda says, "Hey! Give me that! It is mine for the ride home!" Brenda strapped the holster and 5 screw on her hip, gave a Wahoo! And full gallop off to the party!
Here is the piece with holster - I have a picture with Brenda, holster, horse et al. but she has not given consent to post it here, yet
After cleaning it up, I purchased a set of Patrick Grasshorn's finest and sometime later, I found a period correct box. So here she is:
