At least, that’s what I was told. I never saw them. As Grandpa got older he ranched less and farmed more, until one day he stopped farming. He had no need for horses, so he sold the ones that had value and set the rest loose. They multiplied, and by the time I was born there was a whole herd of wild horses on the mountain.
至少我是这么听说的。我从没见过那些马。随着爷爷年纪越来越大，放牧的范围小了，种的地多了，直到有一天他连地也不种了。他不再需要马，所以将值钱的马卖掉，其余的都放了。它们成倍繁衍，等我出生时，山上已有了一群野马。
Richard called them dog-food horses. Once a year, Luke, Richard and I would help Grandpa round up a dozen or so to take to the auction in town, where they’d be sold for slaughter. Some years Grandpa would look out over the small, frightened herd bound for the meat grinder, at the young stallions pacing, coming to terms with their first captivity, and a hunger would appear in his eyes. Then he’d point to one and say, “Don’t load that ‘un. That ‘un we’ll break.”
理查德称它们“狗粮马”。每年，我、理查德和卢克都会帮爷爷围赶十几匹马，带去镇上的拍卖会，将它们卖掉屠宰。有那么几个年头，爷爷的目光会越过那些即将被赶上绞肉机的体弱受惊的马，望着那些年轻的种马踱着步、坦然接受首次被囚禁的命运，眼中流露出一种渴望。然后他会指着其中一匹马说：“别装上那匹马，我们将驯服它。”
When Grandpa-down-the-hill was a young man, there’d been herds of livestock spread across the mountain, and they were tended on horseback. Grandpa’s ranching horses were the stuff of legend. Seasoned as old leather, they moved their burly bodies delicately, as if guided by the rider’s thoughts.
山下爷爷还年轻时，常骑在马背上，去照看放养在山上的成群的牲畜。爷爷的牧马可谓传奇。它们像旧皮革一样老练，优雅地移动着结实的身体，仿佛受骑手思想的指引。
We tried not to name them, these beasts we hoped to tame, but we had to refer to them somehow. The names we chose were descriptive, not sentimental: Big Red, Black Mare, White Giant. I was thrown from dozens of these horses as they bucked, reared, rolled or leapt. I hit the dirt in a hundred sprawling postures, each time righting myself in an instant and skittering to the safety of a tree, tractor or fence, in case the horse was feeling vengeful.
我们尽量不给那些要被驯服的野兽起名字，但我们总得用某种方式提及它们。我们选择的都是具有描述性、不带情感色彩的名字：大红、黑母马、白巨人。这些马在弓背跃起、扬起前腿直立、翻滚或跳跃时，有十几次把我从它们身上甩了下来。我以百种姿势四仰八叉摔倒在地，每次都立刻爬起来，飞快地跑到安全的树上、拖拉机上或篱笆上，以防这些马报复。
But feral horses don’t yield easily, not even to a man like Grandpa. My brothers and I would spend days, even weeks, earning the horse’s trust, just so we could touch it. Then we would stroke its long face and gradually, over more weeks, work our hands around its wide neck and down its muscular body. After a month of this we’d bring out the saddle, and the horse would toss its head suddenly and with such violence that the halter would snap or the rope break. Once a large copper stallion busted the corral fence, smashed through it as if it weren’t there, and came out the other side bloody and bruised.
但野马不易驯服，即使对爷爷这样的人来说也是如此。我和哥哥们会花几天甚至几周时间先赢得这匹马的信任，这样我们才能碰它。接着我们轻抚它的长脸，循序渐进，再过几周用手环住它宽大的脖子和肌肉发达的身体。这样过了一个月，我们便拿来马鞍。马会突然把头一扬，用力之猛差点折断笼头或挣断缰绳。有一次，一匹古铜色的大种马当畜栏不存在一样将它撞穿，然后自己从另一头钻出来，浑身是血，伤痕累累。
We never triumphed; our strength of will faltered long before theirs. We got some so they wouldn’t buck when they saw the saddle, and a few who’d tolerate a human on their back for jaunts around the corral, but not even Grandpa dared ride them on the mountain. Their natures hadn’t changed. They were pitiless, powerful avatars from another world. To mount them was to surrender your footing, to move into their domain. To risk being borne away.
我们从未成功；我们的意志力先于它们动摇。有些马一看到马鞍便弓背跃起，也有些马允许人骑在它们背上在畜栏里跑，但就连爷爷也不敢骑它们上山。它们的天性没变。它们是来自另一个世界的无情又强大的化身。骑上它们就是放弃自己的立足点，进入它们的领地，冒着一去不回的危险。
The first domesticated horse I ever saw was a bay gelding, and it was standing next to the corral, nibbling sugar cubes from Shawn’s hand. It was spring, and I was fourteen. It had been many years since I’d touched a horse.
我见过的第一匹被驯服的马是一匹枣色骟马。那时它正站在畜栏旁边，从肖恩的手里咬方糖。那是一个春天，我十四岁。我已经多年没碰过马了。
The gelding was mine, a gift from a great-uncle on my mother’s side. I approached warily, certain that as I moved closer the horse would buck, or rear, or charge. Instead it sniffed my shirt, leaving a long, wet stain. Shawn tossed me a cube. The horse smelled the sugar, and the prickles from his chin tickled my fingers until I opened my palm.
这匹骟马属于我，是一位舅姥爷送给我的礼物。我小心翼翼地走近它，深信我靠得越近，它便会跃起、尥蹶子或冲过来。但它只是闻了闻我的衬衫，留下一道长长的湿漉漉的污渍。肖恩扔给我一块方糖。马闻到了糖的味道，用下巴摩挲我的手指，弄得我痒痒的，直到我伸开手掌。
“Wanna break him?” Shawn said.
“想驯他[16]吗？”肖恩说道。【注：[16]译文中指代马的“他”“她”“它”，均依照原文用词一一对应。】
I refused to name the horse, so we called him the Yearling. The Yearling was already broke to a halter and lead, so Shawn brought out the saddle that first day. The Yearling pawed the dirt nervously when he saw it; Shawn moved slowly, letting him smell the stirrups and nibble curiously at the horn. Then Shawn rubbed the smooth leather across his broad chest, moving steadily but without hurry.
我不想给这匹马起名字，所以我们只是叫他“一岁”。“一岁”已经接受了缰绳和笼头，于是肖恩第一次拿出了马鞍。“一岁”看到马鞍便紧张地用蹄子刨土；肖恩慢慢走近，让他好奇地闻闻马镫，咬咬鞍头。接着肖恩摩挲他宽阔的胸膛上光滑的皮毛，动作平稳，不慌不忙。
An hour later the saddle was cinched. Shawn said it was time to mount, and I climbed onto the barn roof, sure the corral would descend into violence. But when Shawn hoisted himself into the saddle, the Yearling merely skittered. His front hooves raised a few inches off the dirt, as if he’d pondered rearing but thought better of it, then he dropped his head and his paws stilled. In the space of a moment, he had accepted our claim to ride him, to his being ridden. He had accepted the world as it was, in which he was an owned thing. He had never been feral, so he could not hear the maddening call of that other world, on the mountain, in which he could not be owned, could not be ridden.
一个小时后，马鞍被套紧了。肖恩说可以上马了，而我爬上谷仓屋顶，确信畜栏会被撞碎。但肖恩爬上马鞍时，“一岁”仅仅跳了一下。他微微抬起前蹄离地几英寸，像是打算扬起前腿直立起来，但想想还是算了，于是又低下头，放下了蹄子。不一会儿，他就接受了我们要骑他的要求，接受了自己被骑的命运。他接受了这个世界的本来面目，在其中，他是别人的所属物。他从没有过野性，所以听不到来自另一个世界大山的狂野召唤——在那里，他既不能被拥有，也不能被人骑。
I did not. I was terrified of horses, or I was terrified of what I thought horses were — that is, thousand-pound devils whose ambition was to dash brains against rock. I told Shawn he could break the horse. I would watch from the fence.
我可不想。我很怕马，或者说是被我想象出来的马吓坏了——它们是重达几千磅的恶魔，野心勃勃，敢用脑袋撞石头。我对肖恩说他可以去驯马，我会隔着篱笆观看。
“Horses don’t like things where they can’t see ’em,” Shawn said. “Best to get him used to the saddle in front. Then when he’s real comfortable with it, with the way it smells and feels, we can move it around back.”
“马不喜欢没见过的东西，”肖恩说，“最好先把马鞍放到前面让他适应。等他对马鞍的气味和感觉真正熟悉了，我们再将它套到他背上。”
Shawn said he wanted out of his old life, and that the first step was to stay away from his friends. Suddenly he was home every evening, looking for something to do. He began to drive me to my rehearsals at Worm Creek. When it was just the two of us floating down the highway, he was mellow, lighthearted. He joked and teased, and he sometimes gave me advice, which was mostly “Don’t do what I did.” But when we arrived at the theater, he would change.
肖恩说他想摆脱过去的生活，第一步便是要远离以前的狐朋狗友。忽然间，他每天晚上都回家，找点儿事做。他开始开车送我去虫溪剧场排练。高速公路上只有我们俩在漂流时，他情绪平和、轻松愉悦。他会开玩笑打趣，有时也会给我提建议，主要是“别学我过去那样”。但一到剧场，他就变了个样。
I named him Bud. Every night for a week I watched Shawn and Bud gallop through the corral in the gray haze of dusk. Then, on a soft summer evening, I stood next to Bud, grasping the reins while Shawn held the halter steady, and stepped into the saddle.
我还是给他起名“巴德”。一个星期以来，我每天晚上都看着肖恩和巴德在苍茫的暮色中穿过畜栏。终于，在一个柔和的夏日傍晚，我站在巴德旁边，在肖恩稳稳按住笼头时抓起缰绳，跨上了马鞍。
At first he watched the younger boys with wary concentration, then he began to bait them. It wasn’t obvious aggression, just small provocations. He might flick off a boy’s hat or knock a soda can from his hand and laugh as the stain spread over the boy’s jeans. If he was challenged — and he usually wasn’t — he would play the part of the ruffian, a hardened “Whatcha gonna do about it?” expression disguising his face. But after, when it was just the two of us, the mask lowered, the bravado peeled off like a breastplate, and he was my brother.
起初他只是警惕地盯着那些比他小的男孩，不久就开始找他们的茬。不是故意欺负，只是小小的挑衅。他会把一个男孩的帽子弹掉，或者将对方手中的汽水罐打翻，对着蔓延在男孩牛仔裤上的污渍哈哈大笑。如果有人对他提出挑战——通常不会有人这么做——他会表现出一副流氓相，一副“看你有种”的冷酷模样。但之后，只有我们俩时，他的面具卸掉了，那种虚张声势就像胸甲一样脱落，他还是我的哥哥。
It was his smile I loved best. His upper canines had never grown in, and the string of holistic dentists my parents had taken him to as a child had failed to notice until it was too late. By the time he was twenty-three, and he got himself to an oral surgeon, they had rotated sideways inside his gums and were ejecting themselves through the tissue under his nose. The surgeon who removed them told Shawn to preserve his baby teeth for as long as possible, then when they rotted out, he’d be given posts. But they never rotted out. They stayed, stubborn relics of a misplaced childhood, reminding anyone who witnessed his pointless, endless, feckless belligerence, that this man was once a boy.
我最喜欢他的微笑。他的上犬齿没有长出来，小时候父母带他去看了很多整体自然疗法的牙医都没注意到，等到发现为时已晚。二十三岁时，他自己找了一位口腔外科医生，此时牙齿已从侧面钻进了牙龈，一直穿透鼻下组织。外科医生拔除了这些牙，并让肖恩尽量保护好乳牙，等乳牙全部烂掉，医生就会给牙齿打桩。但他的乳牙从未烂掉，而是留存下来，成了错位童年的顽固遗物，提醒那些目睹他毫无意义、无休无止、不负责任的好斗行为的人，这个男人曾经也是个孩子。
It was a hazy summer evening, a month before I turned fifteen. The sun had dipped below Buck’s Peak but the sky still held a few hours of light. Shawn and I were in the corral. After breaking Bud that spring, Shawn had taken up horses in a serious way. All summer he’d been buying horses, Thoroughbreds and Paso Finos, most of them unbroken because he could pick them up cheap. We were still working with Bud. We’d taken him on a dozen rides through the open pasture, but he was inexperienced, skittish, unpredictable.
那是一个雾蒙蒙的夏夜，再过一个月我就十五岁了。太阳已经落到巴克峰后，但还有几小时天才会完全黑下来。我和肖恩来到畜栏。那年春天驯服巴德后，肖恩便对马很上心。整个夏天他都在购买纯种马和帕索菲诺斯马。他挑的大部分都是未驯化的野马，因为价钱便宜。我们还在训练巴德，已多次骑着他穿过空旷的牧场。但他仍经验不足，容易受惊，捉摸不定。
That evening, Shawn saddled a new horse, a copper-coated mare, for the first time. She was ready for a short ride, Shawn said, so we mounted, him on the mare, me on Bud. We made it about half a mile up the mountain, moving deliberately so as not to frighten the horses, winding our way through the wheat fields. Then I did something foolish. I got too close to the mare. She didn’t like having the gelding behind her, and with no warning she leapt forward, thrusting her weight onto her front legs, and with her hind legs kicked Bud full in the chest.
那天晚上，肖恩第一次骑那匹新买的古铜色母马。肖恩说，她已经为短途骑行做好了准备。于是我们跨上坐骑，他骑母马，我骑巴德。我们往山上走了大约半英里，小心翼翼地蜿蜒穿过麦田，以免马儿受惊。然后我做了一件傻事：我离母马太近了。她不喜欢有匹骟马紧跟其后，毫无预兆地向前一跃而起，前腿支撑身体，后腿高高抬起，蹶子踢在巴德的胸膛上。
Bud went berserk.
巴德发狂了。
I’d been tying a knot in my reins to make them more secure and didn’t have a firm hold. Bud gave a tremendous jolt, then began to buck, throwing his body in tight circles. The reins flew over his head. I gripped the saddle horn and squeezed my thighs together, curving my legs around his bulging belly. Before I could get my bearings, Bud took off at a dead run straight up a ravine, bucking now and then but running, always running. My foot slipped through a stirrup up to my calf.
我总是在缰绳上打一个结，让它们更结实，但没有牢固的抓手。巴德猛地一颠，然后弓背跃起，一波波甩动着身体。缰绳跃过他头上飞起。我拼命抓着马鞍角，弯曲大腿，紧紧夹住它鼓鼓的肚子。没等我看清方向，巴德便死命朝峡谷直冲而去，时不时跳跃，但一直狂奔。我的脚从马镫上滑了下去，小腿卡在里面。
Shawn couldn’t help me, not on that unbroken mare. Hysteria in one horse causes hysteria in others, especially in the young and spirited. Of all Shawn’s horses, there was only one — a seven-year-old buckskin named Apollo — who might have been old enough, and calm enough, to do it: to explode in furious speed, a nostril-flapping gallop, then coolly navigate while the rider detached his body, lifting one leg out of the stirrup and reaching to the ground to catch the reins of another horse wild with fright. But Apollo was in the corral, half a mile down the mountain.
肖恩骑着那匹未驯服的母马，帮不了我。一匹马要是歇斯底里，另一匹马也会跟着发疯，尤其是年轻的和精力充沛的马。肖恩所有的马中，只有一匹七岁的、名叫阿波罗的鹿皮花纹马足够年长冷静，能担此重任：当他鼻翼扇动，全速飞奔时，如果骑手一条腿离开马镫，探身去够另一匹受惊的马掉在地上的缰绳，他仍能冷静地配合。但是阿波罗还在山下半英里远的畜栏里。
All those summers breaking horses with Grandpa, and the only advice I remembered him giving was, “Whate’er you do, don’t git your foot caught in the stirrup.” I didn’t need him to explain. I knew that as long as I came off clean, I’d likely be fine. At least I’d be on the ground. But if my foot got caught, I’d be dragged until my head split on a rock.
那么多年夏天和爷爷一起驯马，我只记得一条他给过的忠告：“不管发生什么，千万不能让脚被马镫绊住。”无须解释，我知道，只要脚没被绊住，我很可能就没事，顶多摔在地上。但是如果脚被套住，我会被拖着，直到头碰上岩石撞开花。
My instincts told me to let go of the saddle horn — the only thing keeping me on the horse. If I let go I’d fall, but I’d have a precious moment to reach for the flapping reins or try to yank my calf from the stirrup. Make a play for it, my instincts screamed.
直觉告诉我松开马鞍角——这是唯一不让我从马身上翻下来的抓手。如果松手我会摔落，但我会有宝贵的时机抓住快速移动的缰绳，或者试着从马镫上抽出小腿。我的直觉在呐喊：抓紧行动。
Shawn would catch up, even on that unbroken mare. He’d pull off a miracle. The mare wouldn’t even understand the command when he shouted, “Giddy-yap!”; at the jab of his boot in her gut, which she’d never felt before, she would rear, twisting wildly. But he would yank her head down, and as soon as her hooves touched the dirt, kick her a second time, harder, knowing she would rear again. He would do this until she leapt into a run, then he would drive her forward, welcoming her wild acceleration, somehow guiding her even though she’d not yet learned the strange dance of movements that, over time, becomes a kind of language between horse and rider. All this would happen in seconds, a year of training reduced to a single, desperate moment.
即便骑着那匹未被驯服的母马，肖恩也会追上来。他会创造奇迹。母马甚至听不懂他喊“驾——”的命令。他便用靴子戳她的肚子。她之前从未有过这种体验，于是后腿直立，疯狂地扭来扭去。但是待她蹄子一落地，他便往下拽她的头，又更用力地踢她一脚，因为他知道她还会再次立起。他会一直这样做，直到她跑起来，接着他驾着她向前冲，任她疯狂加速，以某种方式引导她，尽管她还未领会这些奇怪的舞蹈动作，但随着时间的推移，这些动作将成为马与骑手间的一种语言。所有这一切会在几秒内发生，本该花费一年时间的训练缩减为一个危急时刻。
Those instincts were my guardians. They had saved me before, guiding my movements on a dozen bucking horses, telling me when to cling to the saddle and when to pitch myself clear of pounding hooves. They were the same instincts that, years before, had prompted me to hoist myself from the scrap bin when Dad was dumping it, because they had understood, even if I had not, that it was better to fall from that great height rather than hope Dad would intervene. All my life those instincts had been instructing me in this single doctrine — that the odds are better if you rely only on yourself.
那些直觉是我的守护神。以前它们救过我，在我骑着跃起的马时多次指导我何时抓紧马鞍，何时避开马蹄的撞击。多年前，当爸爸倾倒废料箱时，也是这些直觉促使我吊在箱上。因为它们比我还清楚，从高处摔下来也比指望爸爸插手强。我这一生中，这些直觉一直在教导我一个道理——只有依靠自己，胜算才更大。
Bud reared, thrusting his head so high I thought he might tumble backward. He landed hard and bucked. I tightened my grip on the horn, making a decision, based on another kind of instinct, not to surrender my hold.
巴德直立起来，头抬得如此之高，我都担心他向后倒去。他重重放下前蹄，猛地一跃。我抓紧马鞍角，下定决心，出于另一种直觉，我绝不放手。
I was so disoriented that I felt, rather than saw, the powerful penny-toned mare moving into place beside me. Shawn lifted his body from the saddle and tilted himself toward the ground, holding his reins tightly in one hand while, with the other, he snatched Bud’s reins from the weeds. The leather straps pulled taut; the bit forced Bud’s head up and forward. With his head raised, Bud could no longer buck and he entered a smooth, rhythmic gallop. Shawn yanked hard on his own reins, pulling the mare’s head toward his knee, forcing her to run in a circle. He pulled her head tighter on every pass, wrapping the strap around his forearm, shrinking the circle until it was so small, the pounding hooves stood still. I slid from the saddle and lay in the wheat, the itchy stalks poking through my shirt. Above my head the horses panted, their bellies swelling and collapsing, their hooves pawing at the dirt.
我失去了方向感，以至于我不是看到，而是感觉到母马健壮的古铜色身躯来到我身旁。肖恩从马鞍上抬起身体，向地面倾身，一只手紧握缰绳，另一只手从草丛中捡起巴德的缰绳。缰绳拉紧，迫使巴德的头向前抬起。头被提着，巴德就不能弓背跃起了，于是他平稳而有节奏地跑了起来。肖恩用力拉住自己的缰绳，将母马的头拉向他的膝盖，迫使她绕着圈跑。每跑一圈，他便把马头拉得更紧，把缰绳缠在自己的前臂上，让圈缩得越来越小，直到砰砰作响的马蹄停了下来。我从马鞍上滑下来，躺在小麦里，痒痒的麦秆刺进我的衬衫。在我头顶上方，两匹马都气喘吁吁，它们的肚皮一吸一鼓，蹄子落在泥土上。
I knew it was impossible. I knew it even as I imagined it. But I kept hold of the saddle horn.
我知道这是不可能的。甚至在想象之时我就知道。但我一直紧抓着马鞍。
Bud had worked himself into a frenzy. He leapt wildly, arching his back as he shot upward, then tossing his head as he smashed his hooves to the ground. My eyes could barely unscramble what they saw. Golden wheat flew in every direction, while the blue sky and the mountain lurched absurdly.
巴德陷入疯狂。他一边向上冲一边弓起背猛地跃起，然后甩着头将蹄子摔在地上。我的眼睛几乎看不清眼前的事物，只见金黄的小麦四处飞溅，蔚蓝的天空和大山出奇地晃动。
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