(Again... in first person point of view) Watching carefully as the people moved throughout the new building, I do not know which women it is that will set me free. But the three that seemed to be some what together caught my eye. The first, a shorter women with dirty blond hair and a kind country flair about her. Her brown eyes full of a young womens interest and wonder. Dressed in a blue plaid shirt, blue Levi jeans wrapped with silver hearts of some kind around her waist, a belt perhaps, topped off with a pair of boots on her feet. The next female, another short women with blond hair, slender and sleek. With concerned green eyes at every turn, aware and alert. But it was not these two that seemed to make what little soul I have left wither with hope. The one who appeared to be there leader. A women in uniform blue, bearing a beautiful face with high cheek bones and a strong round jaw, stern if it need be, but so tender it seemed. Her blue eyes I noticed could shimmer from a warm welcoming sky blue to a northern winter ice with a moments notice. Her hair... it was her hair that seemed almost familiar, like I could feel its length and natural curl as I ran my fingers through it. Feathered around her face so beautifully, a face so welcoming... I growled at myself and tore my eyes from them for a shadow so much like myself, a firey shadow lingered close to all three women. A modern day cowboy, a wrangler perhaps, but a very strong souled being, every ounce of him a fighter with dark eerie eyes that did not match. A man larger then my once natural self, tall, but built like a bull, solid and feirce. By the looks of the thin line of his set lips and the scars on his face, he'd be quick to hook you with a horn and pound your guts into the ground. I smirked to myself, he would not make himself a problem in my path to these women that will set me free or he will join me. I curled my hand into a fist tightly, I had to see to it that these three somehow were to book rooms at the hotel. The drawing...yes... the drawing. They are all friends, if one were to win they would invite the others, but what were there names? The small one with dirty blond hair, I knew her name, the great great grand daughter of Jeeter Davenport from my day and life time. A good man, a good women, her name would be the one. So I waited, lingering near the drawing box, unseen by all the living. I found her name entry and when it came time for the Sheriff to draw, I saw to it that her ticket fell into his hand. (Cue anyone...)