The marshal looked at the cane where it lay, then at Evelyn. He lifted his right boot and brought it down on the cane, not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to shove it off the curb and into the gutter. Muddy water from last night’s rain splashed up around the handle.
Evelyn stood very still. Her left wrist felt bare where the ribbon had been. The skin there was red from the pin and the yank.
Three people in the front row of folding chairs had their phones up now. A man in a John Deere cap was filming openly. A woman in a fleece vest whispered something to the person beside her. The toddler the young mother was holding started to cry.
