Cindy Ervin Huff
Kansas, 1882
“My ma can get the stain out.” Nine-year-old Thad hid the ink bottle behind a tree and nodded toward seven-year-old Annabelle.
“My pa is gonna be so mad that I got ink on my new dress.” Annabelle sniffed back tears. “Granny sent it all the way from Indiana.”
“We gotta do this.”
“I know . . . but my dress.” Annabelle’s anguish made him feel like a lowdown, dirty dog.
“I’m sorry.” Thad patted her shoulder. “But there ain’t no other way to get our folks together.”
“I hope this works. My pa is the worst cook, and if he sees this dress before I ask him to let your ma wash it, he’ll throw it away.”
Thad took her hand. “I’ll go with you and do all the talking. It’s gotta work ‘cause my ma don’t know how to raise a boy. She won’t even let me climb a tree. And I want to be a blacksmith like your pa when I grow up.”
Thad went to the blacksmith shop with Annabelle. “Mr. Wright.” Thad gulped as the muscular man turned from the forge and stood to his full height. “I’m awful sorry.”
“What are you talking about, boy?” He stared first at the children before quickly squatting before Annabelle. “Honey, did he hurt you?”
She sniffled, but before she could answer, Thad spoke up. “No sir, it was an accident, pure and simple. I knocked my ink bottle over and spilled it on her dress.”
Mr. Wright stared at the dress and scratched his head. “Reckon that’ll go into the trash barrel.”
“No, Pa. Granny made it. Thad says his ma can get stains out of most anything. Let her try, Pa, please.” She turned her pleading puppy eyes on her father.
He raked his hands through his hair. “That true?”
“Yes, sir.” Thad stood tall and looked the man in the eyes. “My ma’s laundry customers swear she can. I’m sure she’ll be happy to do it.” He hoped that was true. After his father died, Ma’d taken in laundry to keep food on the table. It was wearing his sweet mother out, she needed a husband.
“Can we go ask her now?” Annabelle rose on the balls of her feet in anticipation of her father’s yes.
“I need to finish this order, then we’ll go.” He nodded toward Thad and pulled his daughter in for a hug.
Thad raced home to prepare his mother. “Please, Lord.”
“Thad Marcus, why are you running?” He slowed his pace toward her. “You could trip and knock my clean clothes off the lines. Lord knows I don’t have time to rewash them.”
“Ma, I need your help.”
“What did you do now?” She pushed a stray hair off her forehead, then crossed her arms.
“I spilled ink on Annabelle Wright’s new dress. She was cryin’ and carryin’ on. I promised her pa you could get the stain out.”
“You shouldn’t have made that promise.” She gathered the last of the clothes off the line. “Ink can be tricky. I suppose I’ll have to do it for free.” She sighed. “You will be helping, young man. It’s about time you learned how hard it is to get stains out.”
Thad groaned. “I will. Could you maybe invite them to dinner? They’re bringing the dress over today.”
“Oh Thad, all I have is stew on the stove.” She patted his shoulder. “Perhaps a good meal will soften him up in case I can’t get the stain out. The man can barely cook.” A smile crossed her face. “I’m done for the day. Put out the fire under the vat and dump the wash water on the garden, I’ll make a pie.”
By the time Thad had done his mother’s bidding and changed his clothes, an apple pie was in the oven, and Ma wore her Sunday best. As he finished setting the table, she answered the door.
“William, I mean Mr. Wright.” Was that a blush on her cheeks? “I heard about your daughter’s accident.” She escorted them into the kitchen. The blacksmith had changed into clean clothes and Annabelle had on her Sunday frock. She handed the dress to Ma.
She examined the garment. “This isn’t too bad.”
“You think you can get it out, Agnes—Mrs. Marcus?” His ears reddened. “My mother made the dress for Annabelle.” The blacksmith’s usual confidence seemed to fly out the window in Ma’s presence.
“I’ll do my best.” Ma blushed and dipped her head. “If you haven’t eaten, we’d love to share our dinner, as a way of apology for the stain.” She stuttered the last part.
“We’d be delighted.” The man’s grin made his whole face shine, giving Thad hope.
The smile Ma returned was encouraging, too. Thad glanced at Annabelle and nodded.
Mr. Wright had three helpings, delighting Ma. “Forgive me, but that was the best stew I’ve had since my wife died. You’re a fine cook, Mrs. Marcus.”
“Call me Agnes, and I’ve apple pie for dessert.” She patted a stray hair back in place.
“Agnes, I love apple pie. And please call me William.” He offered a wink.
Thad and Annabelle grinned, then scooted into the parlor to play while their parents spent a few hours getting to know each other.
“Well, I might get me a new pa after all,” Thad whispered.
“I’d love having your ma as mine.” Annabelle’s eyes shone.
The children peeked into the kitchen.
“William, I’m so glad Thad chose you,” Agnes sighed.
“Especially when I’d already chosen you.” William took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Now we can stop sneaking out for picnics and such when they’re in school.” Then he kissed her full on the mouth.
Annabelle giggled, then covered her mouth. Thad bumped her shoulder, then put his thumbs under his suspenders. “Told ya it’d work.”
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