The Bohms had gone. The last load of furniture, upon which old Bohm perched like an ill-omened bird, had disappeared through the gate on the top of the hill. At last, after six months of vexation and trouble, Owen and I could live our own life and run the ranch without interference.
Bohm had tried to wriggle out of every clause in his contract. He had delayed gathering and turning over the stock by every means and had invented a thousand excuses for staying on from week to week. It had made it very difficult and had exasperated Owen. If he hadn’t been wise and patient beyond words, Bohm’s bones long before would have mingled with those of his reputed victims in the old root cellar. I had a different end planned for him each day, but none seemed really fitting. Owen had gone on in his own way, however, insisting upon every part of the contract being fulfilled and reducing Bohm to impotent rage by his quiet firmness.
Mrs. Bohm had recovered from her “fainting spells” and her husband was furious to think he had sold the ranch. In desperation he finally sent to San Francisco for his brother, who was a lawyer, to see if there was any possibility of getting out of the contract. The “Judge” was a nice old chap, who looked like an amiable Mormon with a long beard. He soon settled the question.
“Why, Jim, you wanted to sell out, you signed the contract and you have your money. You’ll have to stay with your bargain now, whether you like it or not.”
We always remembered him kindly for this and for a story he told. We had been discussing the Chinese as servants and he said:
“Well, I had one for two years, but I don’t want any more. I want to know what I’m eating and with those heathen you are never sure.
“It had been raining very hard one day when Wong came to me in the afternoon and said:
“‘Judge, him laining outside, me gottee no meat for dinner.’
“I told him that we would do without meat for it was raining too hard for anyone to go out who didn’t have to. Wong looked dejected for he liked meat. He turned to go out of the room, when his eyes fell on the cat. His face brightened with a sudden inspiration.
“‘Have meat for dinner! Kill’em cat!’