Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1966 (16 page)

 
          
“Approve?”
echoed Seth Ramsey. “Who is to vote for this new county, Squire Tisford?”

 
          
“Why,
who but those who will live in it?” replied Tisford. “And by their will, the
county will be formed. We want your help, friends,
your
guidance, as to where the boundary lines will be surveyed and drawn. How now,
sirs, do you not want a county of your own, and a town of your own for the seat
of the county?”

 
          
“A
town,” echoed Mark dreamily. They had just spoken of a town, for some distant
future time.

 
          
“Aye, young sir, a town that doubtless will stand here where we
speak.”
Tisford flung out his thick arms in a wide gesture. “I see it
now. A court
house,
and officers to sit within it. And
a strong jail, as a warning to evildoers. You, Squire Jarrett, may well be
chairman of the new Court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions, with other justices
meeting at your summons.”

 
          
Mark
stared at the corn cribs. He looked at the circling trees. “A town,” he said
again.

 
          
“Name
your town Bear Paw, for this gap,” went on Tisford, as though the buildings had
already risen. “You who live here must build it and example it. You must have a
board of county commissioners—”

 
          
Mark
seemed to see houses around him, where only thickets and clearings were. He saw
streets and shop signs. The houses were tall houses made of brick, with
pillared porches, not rough, simple cabins of logs.

 
          
“A sheriff, a high sheriff for your new county—” Tisford proclaimed
grandly.

 
          
Mark
got up from where he sat. He stood beside Celia’s bench and looked fixedly at
her bandaged arm.

 
          
“And
a clerk of the court, and a county attorney,” Tisford lectured them. “Have you
a lawyer among you? No? Well, no matter for that, a new county will find
lawyers settling at once, wise men of the law.
And a register
of deeds, too, and for the town a mayor.”

 
          
“When
will all this happen, Squire Tisford?” wondered Mrs. Jarrett. “How will the
election be held, and where will the boundaries run? There seems a deal for us
to do. Is that not so, Mark?”

 
          
Mark
had taken Celia’s hand, very gently, so as not to hurt her wounded arm. He
looked into her blue eyes, and she looked back at him, proudly, happily, as
though the town of
Bear Paw
had already sprung into being.

 
          
“Aye,
Mother, a vast
deal
to do,” Mark agreed quietly.