Millie would be the second on the cowgirl program, and the first contestant rode out to do her stuff. Millie cinched her horse, which did not need it, and only half heard the Oklahoma Kid as he came closer, having observed Curly’s gesture toward the stand as well as she, and suggested:
“Let’s you and me do a show or something in town tonight. Huh? Whatya say, Miss Wayne? Let’s.”
Nothing in the world was farther from Millie’s mind than going to a show or anywhere else with Jack Marling, but she was angry and her pride was hurt. She and Curly Bratton were not engaged, but everybody expected them to be. His attention had been solely for her in half a dozen Western rodeos and chance had again brought them together at this, one of the first real rodeos, and not a wild-West show, ever given on the Atlantic seaboard outside New York.
For the first day, Curly had been as attentive to her as ever—and then he had met that handsome, sophisticated girl of the red hat.
“Huh?” urged the Oklahoma Kid.
“Whatya say, Miss Wayne? A show and some good eats, somewheres.”
That was precisely what she had promised to do, that night, with Curly. Promised it on the opening day of the show, before he had seen the Florrine girl. Millie was conscious, as she straightened, that Curly was approaching now, on his way to the dressing tents. Just as he arrived within hearing, “Red” Peeks, the clown, came riding on his donkey and stopped to pass Curly a .45 caliber pistol.
“Thanky kindly,” the clown said. “No more shootin’ for today and I won’t need it tomorrow. My own’ll be fixed.”
Dressed for bulldogging and hence with no holster, Curly held the weapon in his hand as he stopped beside Millie and the Oklahoma Kid. Curly did not like the Kid, but, more, he did not like to see him talking to Millie. That he himself was thinking less of her, these days, than of the girl whose bright headdress set off her olive skin, did not alter this feeling; man in such matters is not consistent.