Rodeo was talking to one of his men nearby Gray's tent when he noticed Maizie breaking away from the crowd. He knows she must be afraid-- Gray is her father, and judging from the sort of man he is, Rodeo imagines he's been a strong and sure presence in the girl's life. Rodeo can't help thinking of Adelaide, who was no older than Maizie when she sat in the back of a courtroom and waited to hear a judge sentence her brother to die in prison. Maizie looks so small and stoic just like little Addie had and Rodeo's heart takes a knockout punch. He excuses himself from the conversation and heads off to the storage hangars, guilt and sorrow eating him up as he scours the shelves for something, anything that might buy Maizie a little comfort. He always babied Addie, so he doesn't second guess himself when he grabs something from the section of one of the hangars housing toys for the children in the Dog Park. He doesn't realize that Maizie is probably too old for stuffed animals. He signs out with the resource clerk and heads back to where he saw Maizie last, finding her still at the edge of the crowd.
"Hey, darlin'," Rodeo says, stopping in front of her. There is a giant stuffed wolf tucked under his arm, and he pulls it out and holds it out to Maizie by the scruff of its neck. "Found this ol' dog just wanderin' around out back, don't reckon you'd wanna take him home, do ya?"