Can't be Justice of the Peace; another Kansas man's got that.

As to them two girls--man! The camp's got on its best clothes right this instant, don't you neglect to think.

Both good lookers.

Youngest's a peach.
I'm goin' to marry _her_." Curly turned aggressively in his saddle and looked me squarely in the eye, his hat pushed back from his tightly curling red hair.
"That's all right, Curly," said I, mildly.

"You have my consent.