Kane said, “I don’t want to see Stringfellow hang. I’m done with him.”
The old judge registered surprise with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.
“All the others are dead,” Kane said.
“By your hand?”
“Most of them.”
Parker nodded, his tired eyes thoughtful. “You can give me a full report when you get on your feet again.” He stepped to Kane and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “We have a difficult job to do here in the Territory, Marshal Kane, and when men die, good and bad, we must live with the consequences.” The old man smiled. “I will not allow myself to judge you too harshly.”
“Lorraine,” Kane said.
The woman walked to the door where Kane’s holstered Colt hung. His badge was pinned to the cartridge belt. “Give it to the judge,” he said.
Parker took the gun belt from Lorraine, his face puzzled.
“I’m turning in my star,” Kane said. “The Colt belongs to a dead man, but maybe another marshal will need it sometime.”
Judge Isaac Parker was an intelligent man and he knew it was pointless to argue. “Mr. Kane,” he said, using his civilian title for the first time ever, “this will stay in my desk drawer. If you ever want it back, you know where it is.”
Kane smiled. “Thank you, Judge.”
“Where will you go?”
“Back to Texas.”
“Then all I can say is good luck.” He bowed to Lorraine. “I’m a thoughtless old man and I’ve imposed on both of you long enough. Dear lady, I wish you good day.”
After the old man left, Lorraine plumped Kane’s pillows. He reached out, took her in his arms and kissed her long and passionately. When she broke free of him, the woman said, “Later, Logan. The doctor will be here any minute, though all he’ll say is that you’re as tough as an old boot and healing well.”
“Lorraine,” Kane said, grinning, “let’s get married before we leave for Texas.”
The woman smiled. “Of course, Mr. Kane. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Historical Note
New Orleans was the first home of the Sicilian Mafia and its roots went all the way back to the War Between the States. By 1881 the Provenzano family, made wealthy and powerful by its control of the docks, pretty much ran the entire New Orleans underworld. (In The Convict Trail I slightly changed the spelling of the clan name to protect the guilty.)
Around 1886 the Provenzanos lost control of the docks to the powerful Matranga family and by 1891 had ceased to be a major influence on organized crime in the Crescent City.
Ralph Compton The Convict Trail Page 22