Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1966
Page 13
Someone else was coming to join the group. Mark recognized his uncle Mace, and with him a plump, swift-stepping man in a green riding coat and stout, shiny boots. Beneath his smartly cocked hat, his hair showed neatly queued and powdered.
“Hugh,” Hollon said as he came close, “I bring you Mr. James Tisford, just ridden in from Pine Fort to speak with you.”
James Tisford tramped across the dooryard and offered his plump red hand to Hugh Jarrett. “Your servant, Squire, and happy I am to see you sound and safe after all this fighting,” he said, like one coming at once to the point. “You’re a justice of the peace, as I know from records at our court house back to eastward.”
“Aye, the governor so honored me a few months back,” said Jarrett, rising to shake hands. “We’re such a distance away from Pine Fort that we keep only haphazard acquaintance there, I grieve to say.” “ ’Tis a goodly distance, even with the road so well improved,” agreed James Tisford heavily. “I had a two-day ride of it, on my bay horse Valiant who can travel as far in a day as any nag in these parts. ’Tis this very distance that makes it my errand, to come and talk here.”
“And how can we serve you, Mr. Tisford?” Jarrett asked him.
“You can serve the whole State of North Carolina passing well, as I hope,” Tisford said, with every word impressively weighted. “Again I say, distances are far, and homesteaders more numerous with each passing week. I am head of the Court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions, and I am empowered to tell you that a move is afoot for a vote to cut our vast county into smaller counties. And here,” Tisford let his voice ring out, “in the place where your homes are at the center of the area, a new county will be voted and formed if so be you approve.”
“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.