Lena Schultz lived in a tar paper shack just outside St. Cloud, Minn. She had no friends. Her neighbors considered her homely. Her dresses hung on her gangly frame like on a scarecrow, several teeth were missing, and her face and arms often bore bruises from the nights her husband returned home in a drunken stupor.
The rest of this article is only available to subscribers.
© 2016 Augsburg Fortress, Publishers