my eyes on the mountains and the sun drawing to a close over them.
“You have probably guessed where you are—Bryceton. Corrine’s place. But you have not guessed, and cannot know, what her place really is. I might as well tell you. You will see it soon enough.
“Bryceton used to belong to Corrine’s folks. Seeing as how she was the onliest, when they died, the estate fell to her. I guess you know by now Corrine ain’t what she seem. Oh, she is Virginia, through and through. But by cause of what she seen right here, and some knowledge acquired up North, she takes, shall we say, a different view of the slavery question. And her view, which is my view, and my brother’s view, is quarrelsome and wrathy.”
Here Amy laughed lightly and paused for a moment and said, “I should not laugh. It is not funny, except when it is. Which I must say is all the time to me. It is a blessing to be here, to be at war with them. We are an outpost in that army that you now know as the Underground. Everyone living here is part of that army, though we can give no tell of such things. If you walked with me now, you would see what anyone would expect—orchards blooming, fields all lush. And if we were entertaining, you’d see us all at work, singing and happy. But understand that every single one of those you would see singing and working here are with us, and have dedicated themselves to extending the light of freedom into Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, and even into Tennessee.
“They’re all agents, though they work in different ways. Some of them work from the house. They are read, as you are, and have put that skill to use. Paper is important in this—freedom papers, wills and testaments. It’s the house, I know, but believe me they are a wild bunch. The house agents always got an ear to the ground. They study. They know the gossip. They know the journals. They know everyone of influence in their region, but no one in the region really knows them. And then there are others.”
Amy paused here, and when I looked over, I saw a half smile had crawled up the corner of her mouth. She was now looking out to the mountains herself, watching as they consumed the last morsel of sun.
“You see that there?” she asked. I did not answer. “That there is what it is. Sitting here watching the sun set on your own time, with nothing over you and no one to command you or threaten a seven and nine. It was not always this way, for me. I was, with my brother, tied to the meanest man in the world and that man married Corrine and, well, that man is not with us anymore and I am here with you able to enjoy small natural things such as this.
“But there are others who cannot be remanded to a house, for they feel the walls pushing in. They are the ones who remember the first time they ran, and it was so glorious to them, to be in defiance against everything they had ever been told. It is the most free they ever felt, and they are left in chase of that freedom. That is the field agent. The field agents are different. They go into plantations and lead the Tasked up off of them. The field agents are daring. The hounds make them feel alive. The swamp, the river, the bramble, the abandoned stead, the loft, the old barn, the moss, the North Star—that’s the field agent.
“And we need each other. We work together. Same army, Hiram. Same army.”
She went quiet again at that. And we sat there looking at the evening sky and the stars peeking out.
“And what are you?” I asked.
“Hmmm?”
“House or field?” I said. “What are you?”
She looked at me, snorted, laughed, and said, “I’m a field agent, of course.”
Then she looked back toward the mountains, which were now just dark blue hulks in the distance. “Hiram, I could run right now, even free as I am, run from nothing, run right past them mountains, past all the rivers, through every prairie, sleeping in swamps, feeding off roots, and then after all that, I could run some more.”
* * *
—
So I was trained to be an agent, trained in the mountains at Bryceton, Corrine’s family stead, along with other new agents