White Sheep Black Wool: Finding Your Flock

By Jenna Scott

In Her Journey Of Self-Discovery And Acceptance, Jenna Scott's Captivating Narrative Explores The Struggles Of Fitting In, The Power Of Embracing Individuality, And The Beauty Of Finding Your Place In The World.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amazon kdp Publishing
• Release date: Jun 6, 2025
• ISBN: 9798349400520

Book preview

White Sheep, Black Wool

Finding Your Flock

A novel by

Jenna Scott

Copyright © 2024

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

To Jack: I wish you were still here

to share the joy of our story:

Your kindness when I was pulled away from you

Your love and unwavering support when I returned

Dandling me on your knee while you sang

This is the way the farmer rides

Your patience through endless puppet shows

Cheez Whiz and bacon sandwiches

Time on the farm with your animals

Endless visits to the library

Riding in the back of your pickup truck

Letting me be me

To Ike: I wish you were still here

to share the joy of our story:

Your welcoming acceptance from the day we met

Your love of music

Your protection of my secrets

Your sense of adventure whenever I pushed you

Letting me be me

To Barbara: I rejoice that you are still here

to share the joy of my story:

Your hours of patience

Your incredible generosity

Your undying faith in this book

Your tender eyes and sweet smile

The hope and respect you have given me

Letting me be me

And the incredible love that, before you,

I never dreamed could exist

To Mary (Delight) and Coleman: I learned so much from you, yet never knew your last name.

To James Sweet Evening Breeze Herndon: Your bravery and determination paved the way for those of us who followed.

Acknowledgment

To My Wonderful Book Club: Kendi, Liz, Marla, Denise, Holly, Patty,

Lolly, Ellen and our beloved Carole: Yippee! I did it!

To My Big Brother, David: You have always been my hero.

To My Amazing wife, Barbara: Your patience is only exceeded by your

beauty and wonderful sense of humor.

To Mrs. H.: The truest mother I’ve ever known.

To Ike: You were my harbor in many storms.

To Glasgow Linda: You were my first love and a grand adventure.

And lastly, to my father, Jack, who shared his love of knowledge and books with me. (Look, Dad! I have an ISBN#!)

About the Author

Jenna Scott has been a storyteller her entire life. Whether writing stories

or bending a stranger’s ear, her love of words has always been her

favorite addiction. When she was young, she discovered "the gift of

gab." As a matter of fact, she has a faint memory of pushing her way out

of the birth canal because she had something she wanted to say.

Contents

Dedication .............................................................. iii

Acknowledgment ..................................................... v

About the Author .................................................... vi

Miss Piffle ................................................................ 6

Biscuit Salvation .................................................... 25

Chorus of Chains ................................................... 50

The Cotton Pony .................................................... 64

Ashes to Asses ....................................................... 73

Three Rights Make a Left ...................................... 84

Kentucky Wonders .............................................. 100

Stumped ............................................................... 110

Peek-a-Boo Jesus ................................................. 124

Bourbon and Branch ............................................ 143

Marshall’s Fields ................................................. 163

My Fair Lady ....................................................... 175

And They’re Off .................................................. 196

The Mason-Dixon Line ........................................ 220

Crazy Talk ........................................................... 231

Moses’s Floodgates ............................................. 246

Bone Pies ............................................................. 255

Amberlance .......................................................... 267

Sleepin’ in the Choir Loft .................................... 292

Capistrano Bay ..................................................... 314

The Show Pony and the Mule .............................. 346

The Bard of Fried Chicken .................................. 362

Tis Summer… ...................................................... 385

White Sheep

Ike

Me at Tower of London (age 16)

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Old Baldie

Duncan Hines Cookbook

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My Mother On Right

V. Greenhow's Home

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The Portrait of Grandmere (Age 9) by Paul Sawyer

The Judge's Watch Fob

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One of Aunt Virginia's recipes in Duncan Hines cookbook

My Father, 1922

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Miss Piffle

May 6, 1955

Delight stared out the big window above the kitchen sink,

pretending to scrub potatoes. Usually, when her gnarled hands freed clumps of dark soil from the potato’s white skin, it felt like the Lord’s work. But not today.

Dear Lord, what was I thinkin’? Why did I pick today as the time

to commit my sin? Tomorrow’s Derby Day. So, all week, ever’body eatin', drinkin’ and celerbratin’ the Run for the Roses. But this year, with Miss Dolly’s three young’uns all here for their birthday on Derby Day, it is extra crazy in this house. But with two painters, a plumber, an extra maid, and two cooks scurryin’ ’bout Miss Virginia’s house, I figure, nary a soul will pay ‘ttention to my comin’ and goin’."

Cocking an eye towards her younger sister, Delight cleared her

throat. Ahem, Miss Maisie, sit that book down and hop off’n my stool. We got much to do afore tomorra’. And I don’ think you studyin’ a book will feed a passel of dinner guests. She pulled a dishtowel off her shoulder and wiped her brow. I din’ talk Miss Virginia into hirin’ you so you ken sit for two days. Besides, I need to run to the store, and I was hopin’ you might give me a little breathin’ room. A’ight?

Hold your horses. Maisie placed a tattered recipe card into the

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book’s binding. I had to peek at this book your boss keeps crowing about. It must be a real honor to be in a cookbook by Duncan Hines. As Maisie flipped through the pages, she chuckled, "Too bad Betty Crocker didn’t send Miss Virginia a shiny trophy."

Shutting off the water and leaning her hip against the granite sink,

Delight glanced again through the kitchen window. She turned and gave her sister the evil eye. "Are you tellin’ me you think Betty Crocker is for real? You’re nine an’a half years younger’n me. But you ken’t be that much of a babe in the woods."

Maisie winked at her older sister. "Just pulling your leg, Sister

Dee. I didn’t believe Duncan Hines was for real until I heard about this cookbook. So, I’m curious, which one of Virginia’s recipes is in here. Maisie wiped her hands on her apron and continued to flip through the cookbook. I don’t see anything familiar. What kind of dish did Miss G. offer up to Mr. Hines?"

"Well, it was her blue-ribbon pickles that first catch his eye. But

Mister Hines also ask for somethin’ to serve for supper. So, she gave him ‘nother receipt. Delight reached for the yellow book. You don’ find her name? I think ever’thin’ be listed by typ’a food and the cook’s name."

Maisie lifted the book out of her sister’s reach. "Hold on a second.

Here’s a fancy French dish with Miss Greenhow’s name. But it looks like your recipe. It’s called Croquettes de Crème Volaille. You’ve made croquettes for Miss Greenhow for years. Crème means cream, but darned

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if I know what ‘de Volaille’ means."

"I figgered with all you fancy schoolin’ you’d know highfalutin’

Frenchy words. Delight dried her hands and untied her apron. Read me the perticulars. Maybe I ken ‘member what dish it might be."

"Well, it begins with 1 spring chicken, 2 pounds of pork. 1 pound

of salt pork. Then you add…."

Thrusting her hands in front of her sister like a crosswalk guard,

Delight whispered, Stop! Hold it right there. Next, you gonna spy 1 pound butter, 6 eggs, 1 pint of milk and ….

Maisie nodded, "Yep. Followed by 1 onion, chopped. One

tablespoon parsley, chopped and…."

They looked at each other and shouted, "Crumbs from one loaf of

bread!"

Delight slapped her sister’s shoulder. "I be darned tootin’! Miss

Virginia use my cookin’ to git herself in a fancy cookbook. And I reckon she leave out the chicken brains ‘cos it the secret to how tender they be. Then she names it some fancy gobblygook. Jamming her apron onto the brass hook by the stove, she hooted, I never, in my whole life, made somethin’ called Voodoolay! Looking up at the ceiling, she huffed, Well, knock me over with a feather!"

Are you going to say something to her? Maisie closed the book

and whispered, I think you should.

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Delight gulped a deep breath and was chewing on an answer when,

out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hallie Duvall creeping past the kitchen window and into the side yard. Hold onto your thinkin’, Maisie. We ken talk later. Right now, I need to skedaddle.

Grabbing her hat and shopping bag, Delight headed for the back

porch. As she scurried out the kitchen door, she shouted, I scotch-taped a list of things to do on the pie safe in the pantry. Git to it! I’ll be back dierectly.

Maisie shouted, "Don’t forget to buy the ingredients for Cream of

Voodoolay."

Pausing to make a stink face at her sister, Delight hurried out the

back door.

As she washed her hands in the granite sink, Maisie watched

Delight trot across the yard while she pinned her hat to her head. Looks like my sister’s hot on the trail of Miss Greenhow’s cousin. But what could Delight want from Hallie? That old woman is nuttier than a five-pound Georgia fruitcake.

Maisie found Delight’s scribbled list on the pierced tin door of the

pie safe, scanned it, and frowned. Delight never leaves her kitchen when a fancy dinner is on the horizon. As her sister rounded the corner by Noonan’s grocery, Maisie whispered, What’s she up to?

Feeling light-headed, Delight stopped and leaned on the grocery

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wall to stay upright. Lying always make me feel faint. And the bigger the lie, the lighter my brain. Today, my noggin’s like a balloon lifting me over treetops. ’Cause last week, I told my boss a whopper.

Delight had found Virginia Greenhow propped up in her usual

armchair in the parlor. She began to grease her boss’s wheels by saying, Miss Virginia, you planned an amazin’ dinner to celerbrate the birthday of Miss Dolly’s three young’uns. And now that Mr. Duncan Hines and his wife be joinin’ the party, I want everthin’ to be per’fit. She paused, letting her boss consider the upcoming meal’s importance to her reputation. Maybe I could have he’p in the kitchen?

I did not budget for two cooks for this party. Virginia Greenhow

held up each finger as she counted, There will be my niece, Dolly, and her three little ones, all under the age of eight. Plus, me and Mister and Missus Hines. Holding seven fingers in front of her cook’s face, she sneered, If you could do the math, you’d realize that equals two cooks for every three and one-half people. She chuckled, pulled her handkerchief out of her belt, and honked into it.

Yes’m, that’s right. Delight nodded and averted her eyes. "But

you ’member my sister, Maisie? She’s Belle Stewart’s cook. Now, Mizriz Stewart’s famous all over the bluegrass for her ‘angels on horseback.’ So, if’n Maisie cooks for your dinner party, I might git her receipt for them ‘angels.’ And you ken serve’em at your party comin’ up in June. She grinned from ear to ear and looked deep into her boss’ eyes. Whaddya

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think?"

Virginia Greenhow coughed out the lung load of cigarette smoke

she had just inhaled. Her sallow cheeks flushed, and tears filled her pale blue eyes. To catch her breath, she sipped from ‘Old Baldie,’ the crystal rocks glass decorated with a gilded eagle, reserved for her finest bourbon. Clearing her throat, Miss Virginia tootled into her hankie again and said, "It might cost me a little bit for an extra cook. But well worth it to watch Belle Beaufort Stewart bite into my appetizer and choke on the fact that I’ve got her recipe!"

Delight curtsied and clapped her hands. "Praise the Lord! I'll tell

Maisie so she ken help me make this a per’fit meal."

On the bus ride home, Delight had prayed for forgiveness: "Lord,

have mercy ‘pon me. I lie straight to my boss! But I not ‘shamed ‘bout why I fooled her. Amen!"

***

That evening, while clearing supper dishes, Delight asked

Coleman, Do you know where Miss Hallie go ever’ day? She held her breath, worried about her husband’s reply. Silence. Last week, I ask Miss Virginia the very same question, and she got her tail in a big ole knot. She git all uppity and say, ‘I don’t believe it any of your bidness what my cousin doin’.’

Coleman looked up from his newspaper and cleared his throat.

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When I do butler work for her fancy parties, Miss Virginia can act awful, yelling at me and telling me to do three things at once. Just last week, while I was cleaning the parlor windows, she fussed at me because I hadn’t fixed her toilet. But she’d never told me it was broken!

Delight shook her head in mock disgust. "Poor man. She don’

know what a saint you be."

Thank you, sweet wife. Coleman chuckled and lit his pipe. "But,

in this case, I believe Virginia is right about Miss Hallie. I’ve told you many times before, white folks don’t answer to black servants. Unless the servant’s question is, ‘What else do you want me to do?’ He blew smoke rings into the air. Almost ninety years have passed since the last shot was fired, but the Civil War is fresh in the bones of many white people."

Well, how ken I find out what Miss Virginia’s cousin be up to?

Delight threw herself on the couch like a petulant child ripe for a hissy fit. Miss Hallie, go off and spend hours doin’ who knows what. Then, that old spinster come home with a couple of pitiful parcels she hides in her room ’til I go home. I find wilted veg’ables squirreled away with her books and chunks of stale bread tucked ’neath her pillow. T’other day, she took my best canning jar—one of the bright blue Sapphire Sisters—out’a the pantry and ate all the green beans with an old rusty spoon that I find ‘neath her bed. Slapping her hands together, she growled, And she dumps the bean liquor, the tastiest part, into the tir’let! Delight stood and began to pace. "Miss Hallie don’ sit for supper with Miss Virginia. And she nary

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put clothes in the laundry hamper for me to warsh. She must smell like a scared polecat."

You want to smell Miss Hallie? Coleman pinched his nose tight.

I hab been downwind ob her ’nough times to know dat it is not somepin I eber want to do again.

Coleman’s nasal talks tickled Delight. She ran to his chair and

kissed him hard. I loves you, Old Man. Their laughter chased away the squabble between them.

But it did not stop the scheme hatching in Delight’s mind.

***

A week later, Delight met Coleman at their front door, bouncing

around like a June bug whose husband was a bright porch light. Welcome home! You was sorely missed. And there things I need to tell you!

Coleman patted her cheek and kissed her forehead. "Can it wait

until after supper? Three days of cutting and hauling load after load of hay for Mr. Pettit has done me in. He rubbed his shoulder and groaned, I’m tired to the bone."

After changing from his flannel shirt and overalls into soft slacks

and a sweater, Coleman walked into the kitchen and kissed his wife’s forehead. I’ll set the table if you’d like.

"Take a load off and sit a spell, Old Man. I ken do everythin’

myself."

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Coleman settled into his rocking chair, but before the cushion

could warm, he heard Delight moan, I ken’t stand it no more. I did it today, and I seen things I ken never unsee.

Folding his newspaper and placing it across his lap, Coleman

chuckled. I’m guessing you didn’t qualify for a post position in the Kentucky Derby. He propped his glasses on the top of his bald head and scratched the scruff of his beard. I believe you finally followed Miss Hallie, didn’t you?

Delight leaned into the room and grinned.

Coleman growled, Young lady, you could get both of us fired!

Standing in the doorway, twisting a dishcloth, she nodded. "Course

I unnerstand. But I think you’ll admire what I learnt."

"Well, give it to me, Miss Dee. All the gory details and juicy

tidbits. Coleman tipped his head back and sighed. Let me have it before you explode."

Ken I sit a’fore you while I tell my tale? Before he could reply,

Delight pulled up Coleman’s footstool, scooched in close, and folded like a spider in a web. She kissed him on the nose, then pulled back to study his eyes–searching for the tenderness always there when she needed it.

He smiled a tight smile. "Please fill me in on the case of the

Wandering White Lady."

"Well, let me tell’ya, that old lady ken walk fast. She scurry from

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place to place like the church mouse I ‘magine her bein’. And she look over her shoulder ’bout ever’ ten steps. But since I a negress, she din’ pay no ‘ttention to me. Delight crossed her arms. I learnt a long time ago, bein’ a negro makes you easy to spot for people with hate in their heart. But them who don’ hate, don’ see you so easy."

Coleman nodded. Wise words from an often-wise woman. He

swept his hand before her and bowed. Proceed.

Smacking her lips, Delight began. "Well, Miss Hallie’s first stop

be at the A&P. I go there least once a week for Miss Virginia’s Ovaltine and smoked oysters. Miss V. eat ’em late at night to cure what I call the bourbon blues. She grimaced at the thought of shellfish and bourbon sloshing around in her mouth, Anyway, Hallie make a beeline to the back, cornering Pete, the greengrocer. She says more to him in two minutes than I hear her say in a month! Pete pat her arm and hold up a finger like he tellin’ a dog ‘sit and stay.’ A coupl’a minutes later, he come back with a paper poke full of who knows what. She stuffs the poke into her shoppin’ bag and squeeze out a teeny smile. And that lady not known for her smilability."

Coleman murmured, You got that right, darlin’.

Delight stood and began to pace. "Next thing, Miss Hallie stop and

talk with Maggie, the fella what wrangles the stray shoppin’ carts all day. She gives him an old cabbage she got from Pete. And Maggie act like it’s his Christmas present!"

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Coleman reached out and pulled Delight onto his lap. "You don’t

miss a thing, do you?"

"I try to keep up with what’s goin’ on ’round me– ‘specially when

spyin’ on a lady like Hallie Duvall. Delight wiggled out of his arms. Then she head towards the Singin’ Bridge in her flimsy blue polka dot dress and broke-down shoes. She stop at the top of the bridge and throw bits of veg’ables inta the river, leanin’ over the rail and watchin’ ‘em fall inta the water. Then, she shrug and move on to downtown."

Delight whispered, "When she stop at the Sears Roebuck to study

shoes in the winder, I hang back, thinkin’ she gonna buy herself some garloshes afore the next rain. But nope, she turn and head to Main Street."

Coleman chuckled. "So far, sounds like you were doing some solid

work. What else did you learn, Detective Dee?"

"Next stop, Mucci’s res’raunt. Miss Hallie walk in and I figure this

where she eatin’ her main meal ever’day. God knows she’s not gitting’ much succor at Miss Virginia’s. Anyways, I ken’t go inside, ‘cos ever’body wonder why a negress walk in the front door of a white folks’ res’raunt.. She dried her top lip with the dishcloth on her shoulder. So, I make do with pacin’ to and fro out front, peekin’ ‘tween the gold letters on the front winder, tryin’ to see inside."

"A little discretion is wise when a darkie follows a white lady

through downtown Frankfort. Coleman chuckled, leaned back in his rocking chair, and closed his eyes. Tell me more. This is getting

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interesting."

"Well, Miss Hallie greeted by a young girl who touch her arm and

smile deep inta her eyes. It seems like she knowed her, so’s I figure Miss Hallie must be a reg’lar. She sits down at the marble counter and look hard at her fingers, pokin’ through tattery gloves. Her naked legs was the same gray as the counter. And her veins look like them dark streaks what runs through marble. Shaking her head, Delight sighed. If I didn’ feel so bad for Miss Hallie, I would’a laughed."

Delight, you never miss the little details that make a story sing.

Coleman burped and patted his belly. But I’d starve if all you produced were stories. He yawned and settled deeper into his chair, So, what happened next?

"Well, the counter girl come over and pour Miss Hallie a cup’a hot

water. She lay down a heap of saltine crackers, pat the old lady’s hand and turn away, givin’ her space. Hallie pick up a bottle of cat’sup and shake a big fat dollop inta her cup. Delight unfolded her dishtowel, laid it on her husband’s knee, and traced its pattern with a gnarled finger. She stir it like she a whirlin’ dervish and blow on it like the North Wind. Then, she spoon it up like soup. Soon ‘nuf, the counter girl pours that old lady more hot water, And Hallie dun the same thing ag’in!"

Shaking her head, Delight sighed. "That counter girl lookin’ at

Miss Hallie like she the poorest pauper in the pauper patch."

Coleman caressed his wife’s cheek, "This must be hard for you,

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Darlin’ Dee. Do you need something to drink?"

Delight chuckled, Maybe a big ole glass’a hooch! The old

teetotalers snickered, then kissed.

"When Miss Hallie finish her meal, she pulls a coin from her

raggedy purse, set it on the counter, and walk out. That counter girl shake her head and prob’ly think, ‘Thank the Lord I ain’t that poor.’"

They sat in silence.

Delight sniffled and cleared her throat. "Coalie, don’ you think it

amazin’ that ever’body in this town watch Miss Hallie come and go in her raggedy dress and broke down shoes. And they think the same as that counter girl. Delight ran her fingers through her grey ponytail and gazed into the coal stove. Nobody know that her daddy be the much-loved Judge Duvall."

She shook her head and tsked loudly. Townsfolk call Hallie Miss

Piffle ‘cause they think she not worth nothin’. I wish I could tell them diff’ernt, but I’m jest a negress cook. No one listen to me. She patted her husband’s hand. ‘Ceptin’ you.

And I’m listening right now. Coleman closed his eyes and began

to rock. ‘Is there more to this story? Or is it time to chew on supper instead of gossip?"

Hopping up and clapping her hands, Delight yelped, "Oh, my

Lord! I got so tied up in my tale, I forgot about feedin’ you!" She scurried

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towards the kitchen, dodging her husband’s eyes. He ken read me like a baby’s first book. And I never want him to know my part in Hallie’s story.

Humming a familiar hymn, Delight pulled supper from the icebox,

not hearing her husband’s next words. Then, when he spoke again, she pretended to be deaf. But the third time, his words and the anger that filled them came clearly to her.

What is this about?

Delight heard paper crumple as Coleman stood and strode towards

the kitchen. Did you know about this? He held the newspaper before her, then threw it to the floor. You need to explain this. Right now!

Looking up into his soft brown eyes, Delight saw a fire she had

never seen before. She whispered, You know I ken’t read. Why do you shame me with such a question?

Let me help you! Coleman scooped up the crumpled newspaper

and held it away from him as if covered with putrid words. He pulled glasses from the top of his head, inhaled to calm himself, and stepped towards Delight. This is the top headline from today’s Frankfort Roundabout. ‘Judge Alvin Duvall’s distinguished dynasty ended this week with the passing of the venerable judge’s youngest child, Hallie Rodman Duvall. Following a memorial service at the Episcopal Church, the last of the honorable judge’s eight children will be interred with him in the Frankfort Cemetery.

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"Oh, my Lord! I should have stayed and helped her! Why did I

leave her to die!"

What are you saying? Coleman gasped, "Did you have

something to do with Hallie’s death?"

Delight slapped her chest so hard that Coleman flinched. "You

know me to my bones, Coleman Oliver! I had nothin’ to do with her passin’! She fell against her husband and whispered into his chest, But I did run and leave her. No other way to be safe."

"What could possibly make you leave that old lady in such

distress? Coleman stroked his wife’s face and kissed her brow. Tell me the truth. And we’ll get through this."

Staring at the floor, Delight sighed, "So, I need to git back to Miss

Virginia’s afore she know I’d skedaddled. I made a last stop at Noonan’s to pick up iced cream for Miss Dolly’s chil’ren. When her twin boys and baby girl are in town, their birthday is a big to-do. Delight shook her head and frowned. So, I grab my parcels and scurry back to the house, makin’ a list in my noggin of things I need to do afore supper. When I pass inta the garden, Miss Hallie trottin’ along in front of me like she headin’ back to the barn after a long day in the field."

Tiptoeing around the room like the frail old lady, she said, "She

stop and smell the gardenias that you plant for her. Then she digs her fingers inta the soft dirt and push it up the sides of that plant, humming some strange tune. I hold back so’s she ken have time with her flowers.

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From the tomater patch, I hear them twin boys hollerin’. Delight cupped her hand to her mouth and singsonged, Hallie. Hallie. Come and see. We got a special su’prise for you."

Running her hands over her eyes, Delight sighed. "Well, Miss

Hallie scurry over to find what her nephews done got for her. She probably hopin’ for new gloves. Or jest a kiss from them boys. She shook her head and pursed her lips. Onest she in sight, one of them boys—I never can tell which ’cause they look so alike— one of them boys start wavin’ for her to git closer."

As the memory overtook her, Delight shivered. "While she was

totterin’ towards them boys, one be sneakin’ up a wit’ a garden hose. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. And I’m watchin’ like in a movin’ pitcher show. Bad is creepin' up on Miss Hallie, but I say nary a word. Delight shook her head and moaned, She need warnin’ and savin’, but I don’ do nothin’." Wiping her eyes with her dish