596
1901
Grace unscrewed the braces from Sugar’s legs as slowly as she could – delaying the torture. The middle Georgia sun glistened off the perspiration in the hollows where the metal had held Sugar’s shriveled legs stiff.
“Stand her up,” Phinizy shouted at Grace. “Let her go!”
Phinizy turned his wrath toward his daughter. “Walk, Sugar. Walk! If you don’t walk now you’ll be a cripple for life!”
Sugar took one step and fell in the grass near a large hill of red ants.
Phinizy slapped the peach switch across her legs. “Walk, I tell you! I will not have a cripple.”