Pawn Shop Circuit: Paw's Model 10-8

I have been, over the past several days, making rounds on rural patients when I spotted this sign that was just too tempting to resist. When I first pulled over to take a look, the door was locked, with a penciled sign posted that read "Back in 5 Minnetes (sic)". I waited 20 minutes that day, until I figured that 5 minnetes had passed, and I left. Yesterday, I had the opportunity to stop again. Maw was bent over weeding the dandelion patch outside and Paw was watching Judge Judy under a ceiling fan as I pulled into their gravel parking lot.

Where most pawn shops have a rack of shotguns, Paw had a rack of fishing poles. This place was, after all, near the Mississippi River. In Paw's glass case, he had an assortment of tackle boxes open on display. He never took his eyes off the redhaired woman on TV. Then I spotted a Model 10 heavy barrel beside a Plano tackle box. I asked to see it.

Paw cocked an eyebrow at me and bellowed "Woman! Git in here! This boy wants to see the gun!"

Maw came waddling inside from her dandelion patch, the screen door banging behind her. She knew instantly the gun I wanted to see, it was the only one in the case. She pulled out an old Model 10-8 with diamond magnas and more holster wear than most guns ever see before refinishing. The wear was honest though, and I swung the cylinder out to verify it was unloaded (Maw had failed to do so). I asked if I could dry fire it, and Paw snarled, "We don't let nobody shoot no guns in here boy!".

I have been keeping an eye open for a Model 10 heavy barrel with some wear on it. I want a basic shooter gun that I would not worry about the finish on. I want a heavy barrel simply because my others are all pencil barreled, and it would round out the collection. This old Model 10-8, in many ways would be just the ticket to meet those criteria. I held a piece of paper against the recoil plate to reflect light up through the rifling. The bore looked good. The barrel was pinned, and chances are the grips were original.

"How much?" I asked.

Maw did not speak, but glanced over at Paw. His eyes never left Judge Judy.

"$425," said Paw.

I suppose I should not have been so surprised. I silently handed the gun back to Maw, and she placed it back in the case. She asked if there was anything else I would like to see. It was a hot Louisiana day, so I took a chance. "How much are your Cokes?" I asked.

Maw pulled a glass bottled Coca-Cola from the cooler and said fifty cents. I scraped two quarters from my pocket and passed them across the counter. As I turned to leave, Paw said "You know, that judge lady there is a Jew."

I smiled, and said "Yep." I pushed open the screen door and walked across the gravel to my dusty vehicle.