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Boonesborough before, so I assume you are newly arrived here.”
    “Aye, I am. Just a few minutes ago. But I already received directions to my destination. I thank ye just the same,” she said.
    “Are you from Scotland?” he asked.
    “Aye, from the Highlands, though I have lived in Virginia these past seven years.”
    “My adopted brother is from the Highlands, so I recognized your charming accent. I’m William Wyllie, Sheriff of Boonesborough, at your service.”
    “I am pleased to make yer acquaintance sheriff. My name is Artis MacKay.”
    “That’s a strange coincidence; my adopted brother is Daniel MacKee.”
    “’Tis the same clan, but a different sept—one from across the Loch.”
    “If I can help you in any way, Miss MacKay, my office is just inside the fort, on the right side of the enclosure.”
    “I thank ye for yer kind offer, Sir,” she said. “I may need help securin’ a horse and a weapon later. Perhaps ye could advise me as to the best place to purchase both.”
    “Indeed I would be delighted to do so. And my lovely wife, Kelly can offer suggestions for where to purchase clothing or other items you may need.”
    “Do you think I look like I need new clothes?” she said, irked at his comment. She smoothed her dusty skirt with her free hand.
    “I didn’t mean to imply that at all,” the sheriff insisted. “I just wanted you to know that I have a wife about your age who could be of assistance to you.”
    “Do ye have an inn here in Boonesborough?” she asked. She felt tired and achy from the long journey on rough roads in the bumpy wagon and it seemed to be making her irritable. She would need to rest soon. Perhaps she just needed to eat something.
    “Indeed we do, but it is small and always kept full. I’ll be glad when someone builds this town another.”
    She let out a heavy sigh. “Well where do new arrivals stay?”
    “Anywhere and everywhere. Some camp by the fort in oilcloth tents, as you no doubt noticed on your way into town. But most camp on the outskirts in their own wagons. That’s what my family did when we first arrived here two years ago. But I would not advise that if you are alone. Are you?”
    “Aye, I am. I traveled with some settlers to get here, but they all have large families and have too many mouths to feed as it is. They continued on through Boonesborough to find a place to camp.”
    “Where are you headed now?”
    “To the Land Office. I have a deed to register. In fact, I must be goin’.”
    “Miss MacKay, I would be happy to escort you to see Commissioner Simmons,” Sheriff Wyllie offered.
    “Ye are most kind, but I can find it myself. I’m told it is just down the street on the left.”
    “That’s correct. When you’re through, come see me and either my deputy or I will help you find a horse and assist with locating your land.”
    “Do ye do that for other settlers?” she asked, curious as to why he was being so helpful.
    “Only the single women who have no one else to help them. I will not allow young ladies to come to harm in my town. It’s my sworn duty to protect you and anyone else who needs protection.”
    The sheriff’s words seemed particularly adamant and Artis wondered if there could be a deeper reason for his resolute insistence on protecting women. Perhaps his wife had once been threatened.
    “Well, my thanks for yer kindness, Sir. I must be on my way. Good day,” Artis said, and turned away.

    Bear left for Fort Boonesborough on his own, having no desire to travel with a large noisy group, especially one that included six chattering women. The men and women from St. Elspeth’s who were travelling to the party hosted by the Governor and his wife would follow the next day.
    With his stops to let Camel rest and water, it took him all day to cover the roughly forty-five mile distance from Fort Logan to Fort Boonesborough.
    He spent the majority of the morning wondering if he was doing the right thing by agreeing to serve as a