Remembering Old Meat-In-The-Pot

When my late husband George and I first married, he owned two guns. One was a .30-30 Winchester rifle he had been given when he was a boy, a reward from a man whom George had guided on a hunt.

George kept the rifle all his life and lovingly called it "Old Meat-in-the-Pot." It brought home many bucks over the years and it became a precious memento.

Once, on a vacation trip, we saw a gun exactly like it in a Montana museum's exhibit case. It was a real thrill. I peered into the case and was able to copy the gun's serial number.

When we returned home, I found the museum gun's serial number wasn't far from the number on Old Meat-in-the-Pot. We knew then that, as well as being a good memento, Old Meat-in-the-Pot was also a potential museum piece.

Today, the rifle is retired. It shot its last buck many years ago. When George passed, the rifle went to our oldest son.

Eventually, it is to go to our grandson, a real family memento to pass down to future generations.

The second gun was an old single-action .32-20 Bisley Colt, built on a .44 frame. We called it "Betsy," - it was big, heavy, and impressive.

It made a big impression one day during the Depression. Desperate men had been stopping and robbing cars on Highway 99 in the valley.

George told of being stopped one day.

As the man walked up to George's car, he laid Betsy across his wrist and asked, "Did you want something?"

"No, I guess not," the man said before walking away.

We took it everywhere with us and often shot it. We couldn't find .32-20 cartridges, so we used .32-20 rifle cartridges.

One day, along a back road, a coyote crossed the roadway, then stopped and looked back at us.

George stopped the car. The coyote was on my side of the vehicle, so he handed me the pistol. I laid my fist on the door, steadied the pistol on top of it and fired.

The coyote ran. I jerked back with a fist full of powder burns.

Years later, George told me that he had sold Betsy for a pitifully low price to an old fellow who had admired it. I was very unhappy about that sale, and over the years became even sadder.

That old Bisley Colt he sold for two figures would, at today's prices, fetch some four figures.