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Del Dalveaux, 1909
Del Dalveaux，1909 年
Also by Jess Walter
同样由 Jess Walter 提供
Map copyright © Springer Cartographics
地图版权归 Springer Cartographics 所有 ©
To my father, Bruce, and my brother, Ralph
致我的父亲 Bruce 和我的兄弟 Ralph
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Del Dalveaux, 1909
Del Dalveaux，1909 年
Also by Jess Walter
同样由 Jess Walter 提供
DARKNESS CAME on that town like a candle being snuffed. This was my wife’s primary complaint about Spokane after two years of me copping there, what Rebecca called the “drastic dark” of autumn. We’d come from Sioux City, a town she still called home, and where I’d walked an easier beat. I found Spokane in a land-spec ad, but the piece I bought turned out to be cliff-face basalt and not arable, so we took four rooms in a brick apartment north of the river, and I got on with that roughneck police force. These were hard years, ’08 and ’09, everything about Spokane hard, bringing to mind Rebecca’s word, drastic. Steep hills, deep canyons, cold winters, hot summers, and those dark autumn evenings that made her so melancholy, when five felt like midnight.
DARKNESS 像熄灭的蜡烛一样来到那个小镇。这是我妻子对斯波坎的主要抱怨，因为我在那里度过了两年，丽贝卡称之为秋天的“剧烈黑暗”。我们来自苏城，一个她仍然称之为家的小镇，我在那里走得更轻松。我在一则土地规格的广告中找到了斯波坎，但我买的那块是悬崖面的玄武岩，不是可耕地的，所以我们在河北的一间砖砌公寓里租了四个房间，然后我就和那个粗鲁的警察部队相处了。08 年和 09 年是艰难的岁月，斯波坎的一切都很艰难，让人想起丽贝卡的话， 剧烈 。陡峭的山丘，深邃的峡谷，寒冷的冬天，炎热的夏天，还有那些让她如此忧郁的黑暗秋夜，当五点感觉像午夜时分。
It was one of those nights Chief Sullivan pulled me aside. A burglar was prowling the big houses on Cannon Hill, and he needed good, sober cops on it. Nothing got up the mayor’s ass like someone prying south-side windows, stealing candlesticks from the Victorians on the hill, the mayor quick to remind Sullivan that he was acting police chief and his act was to make the moneyed wives of those mining millionaires feel safe. Sullivan assigned me and two other cops to patrol the lower South Hill and catch this master burglar.
那是沙利文局长把我拉到一边的那个夜晚。一个窃贼在坎农山的大房子里徘徊，他需要优秀、清醒的警察来监视它。没有什么比有人撬开南边的窗户，偷山上维多利亚时代的烛台更让市长感到不安的了，市长很快提醒沙利文，他是代理警察局长，他的行为是让那些矿业百万富翁的有钱妻子感到安全。沙利文指派我和另外两名警察在南山下游巡逻，抓住这个窃贼大师。
It was vagrant season. “So all’s you’ll miss is bum harvest,” Chief Sullivan said. Good by me, as I preferred real police work to the endless roust-and-run of tramps anyway.
那是流浪的季节。“所以你只会错过流浪汉收割，”沙利文酋长说。对我来说很好，因为无论如何，我更喜欢真正的警察工作，而不是无休止的流浪汉。
Sullivan talked up this South Hill window-crawler like he was the dastardly demon of hell himself. One of the silver barons had threatened to bring in a Pinkerton, and nothing ate at Sullivan like someone hiring private. There were six detective agencies in Spokane, three nationals—Pinkerton, Thiel, and Allied—and three local thug shops used by the mining companies for union busting. The national detectives treated us city cops like horse clods, fine for running bums and whores but about as helpful solving crime as a blind ranch dog. I thought this perception not entirely unfair, and had complained more than once about the laziness and graft of the old brute cops. I’d even considered putting in papers with the privates myself.
沙利文说起这个南山爬窗的人，就好像他自己就是地狱的卑鄙恶魔一样。其中一位白银大亨威胁要引进一架平克顿，沙利文没有什么比雇佣二等兵更让沙利文吃东西了。斯波坎有六家侦探社，三家国民——平克顿、蒂尔和联合公司——以及三家被矿业公司用来破坏工会的当地流氓商店。国家侦探把我们城市警察当成马屌，对流浪汉和妓女没问题，但破案就像一只盲人牧场狗一样有用。我认为这种看法并非完全不公平，而且我不止一次抱怨过老野蛮警察的懒惰和贪污。我甚至考虑过自己和二等兵们交文件。
If I stayed a cop, it would be for John Sullivan, for I admired the man. Sully was honest and affable, off-the-boat County Kerry, six-four and 220, five of those pounds brush mustache. He’d come on the force just after the Great Fire of ’89, with brutes like Shannon and Clegg, and to hear them tell it, those three had singlehandedly driven out the last of the Indians and tamed the whole frontier town.
如果我继续当警察，那将是约翰·沙利文 （John Sullivan） 的事，因为我钦佩这个人。萨利诚实而和蔼可亲，离船的凯里县，6 岁 4 岁，220 磅，其中 5 磅刷胡子。他在 89 年大火之后加入了部队，与香农和克莱格等野蛮人在一起，听他们说，这三个人单枪匹马赶走了最后的印第安人，驯服了整个边境小镇。
But unlike those others, Sullivan wasn’t only brute. He was brave. Savvy. In ’01 two holdup men set up shop on the north end of Howard Bridge, like fairy tale ogres, robbing every wagon that crossed. When Sullivan came to arrest them, one man pulled a pistol and squeezed off a couple before big John could knock the gun from his hand. As he was beating the robbers, Sully realized his boot was filling with blood. The ogre had shot him in the leg, below the groin. He dragged both outlaws to jail, then rode his horse to the hospital, where he promptly underwent surgery, met a nurse half his age, and married her.
但与其他人不同的是，沙利文不仅仅是野蛮的。他很勇敢。精明。01 年，两个劫持者在霍华德桥的北端开了一家店，就像童话故事中的食人魔一样，抢劫了每辆过境的马车。当沙利文来逮捕他们时，一名男子掏出手枪，在大约翰从他手中打掉枪之前挤掉了一对。当他殴打劫匪时，萨利意识到他的靴子里满是血。食人魔开枪打中了他的腿部，腹股沟下方。他把两个亡命之徒都拖进了监狱，然后骑马去了医院，在那里他很快就接受了手术，遇到了一位比他大一半的护士，并娶了她。
How could you not want to work for such a man?
你怎么能不想为这样的男人工作呢？
Sully could grow nostalgic for the rough old days, but he was also clear: the old Klondike town had grown into a proper city and the time was up for a brute like Clegg, who saw his job as hassling tramps and whores into paying him for protection, and was not above running a girl himself if she came up short. “Nah, it’s the last shift for them old boys,” Sullivan said when I complained about Clegg taking booze from the evidence room.
萨利可能会怀念过去的艰难岁月，但他也很清楚：古老的克朗代克小镇已经发展成为一个像样的城市，像克莱格这样的野蛮人是时候了，他把自己的工作看作是骚扰流浪汉和妓女，让他付钱保护自己，如果一个女孩儿儿“不，这是他们这些老男孩的最后一班，”当我抱怨克莱格从证据室拿酒时，沙利文说。
He made a point of promoting cops like Hage and Roff and me, for our brains and our rectitude, I guess, but also because we didn’t care if Bill Shannon could throw a keg through a window, or that Hub Clegg once rode a patrol horse through a burning tavern to rescue a favored sporting girl.
他特意提拔像 Hage 和 Roff 这样的警察，我猜是为了我们的头脑和正直，但也因为我们不在乎 Bill Shannon 能否从窗户扔出一个小桶，或者 Hub Clegg 曾经骑着巡逻马穿过燃烧的小酒馆，营救一个受人喜爱的运动女孩。
That’s why he put us three on the Cannon Hill burglar. But three men was a big commitment during vagrant season, with the east end full of floaters and union men coming from all over to agitate the Stevens Street job agencies. I was not unsympathetic to their cause, for there was no denying the corruption of those employment agents, who charged the poorest men a dollar for suspect job leads. But the IWW protested by filling the town with stinking foreign rabble, and this brought out the tavern girls, opium and faro boys, mystics, seers, and pickpockets, a cloud of vice that swarmed the tenderloin like mayflies over a putrid stream.
这就是为什么他让我们三个人对付 Cannon Hill 窃贼。但在流浪季节，三个男人是一个很大的承诺，东区到处都是漂浮者和工会成员，他们从四面八方赶来搅动史蒂文斯街的职业介绍所。我并非对他们的事业没有同情，因为不可否认的是，那些职业介绍所的腐败行为，他们向最贫穷的人收取一美元的费用，以获得可疑的就业机会。但是 IWW 通过让镇上充满臭气熏天的外国乌合之众来抗议，这带来了酒馆女孩、鸦片和法罗男孩、神秘主义者、先知和扒手，一团恶习云像蜉蝣一样在腐烂的溪流上蜂拥而至。
“Take this window thief down fast, boys,” Sullivan told us, “for we’ll need your batons the other side of it.”
“快把这个窗户贼干掉，伙计们，”沙利文告诉我们，“因为我们需要你们的警棍在它的另一边。
And so, Hage and Roff and I ventured out into that cold dark evening. We took an empty trolley up the South Hill, got off at the first stop. We were in plainclothes and overcoats, with fur hats for warmth and so my bald head wouldn’t reflect the streetlights. The plan was for Hage to amble the alleys while I walked the street in front and Roff the street behind. We’d square each block this way, work our way up the hill starting at Seventh. There was a low ceiling of chimney smoke, and the streetlights cast shadows long and eerie. As I walked, I peered past split curtains into grand houses that burned gold with wood fire and candlelight, and I missed my own home fire, Rebecca and the kids, the night so cold and quiet I doubted our thief could be afoot.
就这样，Hage 和 Roff 和我冒险进入了那个寒冷黑暗的夜晚。我们乘坐一辆空手推车上南山，在第一站下车。我们穿着便衣和大衣，戴着毛皮帽子保暖，所以我的光头不会反射路灯。计划是让 Hage 在小巷里闲逛，而我在前面的街道上走，Roff 在后面的街道上。我们以这种方式将每个街区呈方形，从 Seventh 开始上山。烟囱烟雾的天花板很低，路灯投下长长而诡异的阴影。走着走着，我透过分开的窗帘，凝视着用柴火和烛光燃烧着黄金的宏伟房屋，我想念我自己家的火，想念丽贝卡和孩子们，那个夜晚是如此寒冷和安静，我怀疑我们的小偷可能已经走了。
After Seventh, Hage and I met on Adams, at the alley entrance, where Roff had stopped to piss on the knuckled root of a maple.
第七次之后，哈格和我在亚当斯的小巷入口处相遇，罗夫在那里停下来在一棵枫树的指节根上撒尿。
“I don’t like it,” Hage said.
“我不喜欢这样，”哈格说。
“Roff pissing on trees?”
“罗夫在树上撒尿？”
“I don’t like that, either, but I mean walking up this hill hoping to bump into some ace burglar on the job.”
“我也不喜欢那样，但我的意思是走上这座山，希望在工作中碰到一些王牌窃贼。”
“Well, we won’t find him rousting bums downtown with Clegg.”
“嗯，我们不会发现他和 Clegg 一起在市中心闲逛。”
“We will if he’s a bum.”
“如果他是个流浪汉，我们会的。”
“Fancy work for a bum.”
“适合流浪汉的花哨工作。”
“I suppose so.”
“我想是的。”
Roff had finished pissing. We turned the next block and split up again at Ninth, where I was admiring the pillared porches of the big houses and paused to light my pipe. I wondered then if Rebecca’s feelings about Spokane might change if I could ever get us off poverty flats and into one of these grand houses on the hillside.
Roff 已经尿完了。我们转过下一个街区，在第九街再次分头，我在那里欣赏着大房子的柱子门廊，停下来点燃了我的烟斗。我当时在想，如果我能带我们离开贫困公寓，住进山坡上的豪宅之一，丽贝卡对斯波坎的感觉是否会改变。
Wasn’t likely on a cop’s salary; Chief Sullivan himself lived in the flats. Anyway, I didn’t think even these grand houses could make my wife happy. Not anymore. Not here. What was it about these steep, western, water-locked cities—Seattle, Spokane, San Francisco? All three I’d visited, and in all three, the money flowed straight uphill. It made me think of something I’d heard about the Orient, that water drained the opposite way there. Who wanted to live in a place where water spun backward or money flowed uphill? These towns that had no business being towns, straddling islands and bays and cliffs and canyons and waterfalls.
不太可能拿着警察的薪水;沙利文酋长本人住在这些公寓里。无论如何，我不认为这些宏伟的房子也能让我的妻子开心。现在不是了。不在这里。这些陡峭、西部、水雾交加的城市——西雅图、斯波坎、旧金山——是什么？我去过这三个地方，而且在这三个地方，钱都直接流向了山坡。这让我想起了我听说的关于东方的事情，那里的水流向相反的方向。谁愿意住在一个水倒转或金钱上流的地方？这些与生意无关的城镇是城镇，横跨岛屿、海湾、悬崖、峡谷和瀑布。
I fell deeper into this somber mood and was thinking Rebecca’s word, drastic, when Roff stepped from the shadows.
我陷入了这种忧郁的情绪中，正在思考丽贝卡的话， 当罗夫从阴影中走出来时 ，我激动了。
“You got something?” I asked. “Or—”
“你有什么东西吗？”我问。“或者——”
I couldn’t say what came next: the crack, me yelling, “Stop,” or the flash, or realizing this wasn’t Roff. As to what came last, I have no doubts, for I doubled over and held my flaming, open guts. There was another order that made sense (not Roff, “Stop,” flash, crack, doubled over, flaming guts), but I couldn’t place it—
我说不清接下来发生了什么：噼啪声，我大喊“停”，或者闪光灯，或者意识到这不是 Roff。至于最后发生的事情，我毫不怀疑，因为我弯下腰来，捂住了我燃烧的、张开的胆子。还有另一个顺序是合理的（ 不是 Roff、“Stop”、flash、crack、doubled over、flaming guts），但我无法放置它——
The man who was not Roff was running away, his long black coat flapping, his shoes clicking on cobblestone, and I thought of Sullivan taking a gunshot to the leg and still bringing in his man, and I managed to get my revolver and squeeze four off, but I fired wildly and the man ducked between two houses down the block.
那个不是罗夫的男人正在逃跑，他的黑色长外套拍打着，他的鞋子在鹅卵石上发出咔哒声，我想到沙利文的腿上中了一枪，但仍然带着他的人进来，我设法拿出我的左轮手枪，把四把枪挤出来，但我疯狂地开枪，那个男人躲在街区的两栋房子之间。
I was folded in half, pitched forward on my knees in gravel, my guts a sinkhole, and I cried out, to my shame—
我被折成两半，跪在碎石上向前倾，我的内脏像个天坑，我羞愧地喊道——
Hage was first to me, saying my name over and over, “Alfred, Alfred, Alfred.”
Hage 首先对我说，一遍又一遍地说我的名字，“Alfred，Alfred，Alfred。
“He shot me!” What grave disappointment, my lack of imagination. When I think of all the things a man could say. Shakespeare or Greek or even the Bible. Proper last words. But all I could manage was “He shot me.”
“他开枪打我！”多么严重的失望，我缺乏想象力。当我想到一个男人可以说的所有事情时。莎士比亚或希腊，甚至圣经。恰当的遗言。但我能做的只有“他开枪打死了我”。
“I know, Alfred,” Hage said. “I’m sorry.”
“我知道，阿尔弗雷德，”哈格说。“对不起。”
Hage reached into my coat, around to my back. “Roff!” he yelled. I could hear in his voice that there was no exit hole. The bullet was inside. They would have to go for it.
Hage 把手伸进我的外套里，绕到我的背上。“罗夫！”我从他的声音中可以听到没有出口孔。子弹在里面。他们必须去争取。
I’d heard from the old cops that a mortal wound did not hurt as much, but this, like everything about the brutes, every word out of their fat mouths, was a fairy tale, a justification, a pernicious lie.
我从老警察那里听说，致命的伤口并没有那么痛，但这，就像那些野蛮人的一切，从他们肥大的嘴里说出的每一个字，都是一个童话，一个辩解，一个有害的谎言。
“Roff!” Hage yelled. “Waterbury’s shot!”
“罗夫！”哈格大喊。“沃特伯里开枪了！”
“How could they know?” I said.
“他们怎么知道的？”我说过。
“What?”
“什么？”
“How could they know what a mortal wound feels like?” Even to my ear the words were garbled, like I was talking underwater. My thoughts, too, leaked out: A gut shot could take hours, days, but the result was the same: agony and—
“他们怎么知道致命伤是什么感觉？”甚至在我看来，这些话都是乱七八糟的，就像我在水下说话一样。我的想法也泄露了出来：一针内脏注射可能需要几个小时、几天，但结果是一样的：痛苦和——
Other thoughts crowded: Had I eaten dinner? Was that to be my last meal? Who would tell Rebecca? Would she mend this shirt? Maybe she could sell my clothes and make a little money. I reached down to feel if the bullet had gone through my coat.
其他想法挤满了人：我吃晚饭了吗？那是我的最后一顿饭吗？谁会告诉丽贝卡呢？她会修补这件衬衫吗？也许她可以卖掉我的衣服，赚点钱。我伸手去摸子弹是不是穿过了我的外套。
“Coat’s fine,” I said, but my voice sounded far off.
“外套没事，”我说，但我的声音听起来很远。
“Roff!” Hage yelled again. “He shot Alfred!”
“罗夫！”哈格再次吼道。“他向阿尔弗雷德开枪！”
“Lay me down,” I said, and Hage helped me onto my side.
“把我放下，”我说，Hage 扶着我侧身。
“Roff!” Hage yelled again.
“罗夫！”哈格再次吼道。
“Rebecca,” I said, but it was bubbles in water. I wanted to make sure that she knew—what? I could not think. “Rebecca,” I said again, clearer this time. And even if I had memorized all of Shakespeare and the Bible, I suppose this is what I would have wanted to say at the end, Rebecca on my lips, Rebecca, Rebecca, over and over, into the dark.
“丽贝卡，”我说，但那只是水中的气泡。我想确保她知道——什么？我无法思考。“丽贝卡，”我又说了一遍，这次更清晰了。即使我已经记住了莎士比亚和圣经的全部内容，我想这就是我最后想说的话， 丽贝卡在我嘴边， 丽贝卡 ， 丽贝卡 ，一遍又一遍，进入黑暗。
. . . we love most what we must have but can never have; and so on we go, west and then west.
. . .我们最爱的是我们必须拥有但永远无法拥有的东西;以此类推，我们向西走，然后向西走。
—Brian Doyle, The Plover
—Brian Doyle，The Plover 乐队
They woke on a ball field—bums, tramps, hobos, stiffs. Two dozen of them spread out on bedrolls and blankets in a narrow floodplain just below the skid, past taverns, tanners, and tents, shotgun shacks hung like hounds’ tongues over the Spokane River. Seasonal work over, they floated in from mines and farms and log camps, filled every flop and boardinghouse, slept in parks and alleys and the pavilions of traveling preachers and, on the night just past, this abandoned ball field, its infield littered with itinerants, vagrants, floaters, Americans.
他们在球场上醒来——流浪汉、流浪汉、流浪汉、僵硬的人。他们中的二十几人摊在滑道下方的狭窄洪泛区，铺着床单和毯子，经过小酒馆、制革商和帐篷，猎枪棚屋像猎犬的舌头一样挂在斯波坎河上。季节性工作结束了，他们从矿井、农场和原木营地飘进来，挤满了每一个小屋和寄宿公寓，睡在公园、小巷和旅行传教士的亭子里，在刚刚过去的夜晚，这个废弃的球场，它的内场到处都是流浪者、流浪者、漂浮者、美国人。
The sun was just beginning to edge the mountains when Rye Dolan sat up, halfway down the first-base line. He looked across a field of sleeping humps, his older brother, Gig, beside him, curled a few feet from the pitcher’s mound.
当 Rye Dolan 在一垒线的一半处坐起来时，太阳刚刚开始越过群山。他望着一片沉睡的驼峰，他的哥哥吉格在他身边，蜷缩在离投手丘几英尺的地方。
Rye turned back to watch the sunrise over the Selkirks—a smoky red gash where someone had set a fire to get a job fighting it. Last year, Rye might have paid to get a shovel on that blaze, but Gig had gone and joined the IWW, the union fighting the corrupt employment agents who charged a buck for job leads.
Rye 转过身来，看着 Selkirks 上的日出——一个烟雾缭绕的红色裂缝，有人在那里放火来找一份灭火的工作。去年，Rye 可能花钱买了一把铲子来扑灭那场大火，但 Gig 已经去了并加入了 IWW，该工会与腐败的就业中介作斗争，这些中介为就业机会收取一美元的费用。
Left untended, that same dollar could bring his older brother plenty of trouble. Like last night.
如果不加以照顾，同样的美元可能会给他的哥哥带来很多麻烦。就像昨晚一样。
Pay in pocket, Gig Dolan liked to bounce from Dutch Jake’s to Jimmy Durkin’s until the money ran out. And while caring for Rye the past year had half tamed him, they were coming off three weeks apart—Rye picking up a late harvest near Rockford, Gig getting on a skid crew at a Springdale log camp. Fired for union agitating, Gig came back to booze it up with his east-end labor pals and hawk daywork at the city’s vaudeville theaters, and it was there, among the freaks and jugglers, the variety houses and leg shows, that he happened to meet an actress, name of Ursula—Rye back in Spokane less than an hour before his brother was showing him a newspaper review of her show. “And therein,” Gig said.
Gig Dolan 自掏腰包，喜欢从 Dutch Jake's 跳到 Jimmy Durkin's，直到钱用完。虽然过去一年照顾 Rye 已经驯服了一半，但他们相隔三周才结束——Rye 在罗克福德附近收割晚收，Gig 在 Springdale 原木营地参加滑行小组。Gig 因煽动工会而被解雇，他回来与他在东区的工人朋友一起喝酒，并在该市的杂耍剧院工作中喝酒，正是在那里，在怪胎和杂耍演员、综艺屋和腿部表演中，他碰巧在斯波坎遇到了一位名叫 Ursula-Rye 的女演员，就在他哥哥给他看她的节目的报纸评论之前不到一个小时。“就在那儿，”吉格说。
“I’m at the Comique Theater last week hauling lumber for the carpenter when this red-haired vision emerges from her dressing room and says, ‘Well, who are you?’ and I say, ‘Why, the hero, of course,’ and she says, ‘Then you must get the damsel,’ and I say, ‘Every night. Twice on Saturdays.’ And she says, ‘I’ll bet that second performance really suffers.’ And I smile back and say, ‘Oh, I don’t know. Goes on longer, but what’s lost in zeal gets made up in familiarity.’ ”
“上周我在喜剧剧院为木匠拖木材，这时这个红头发的景象从她的更衣室里出现，说，'嗯，你是谁？'我说，'哎呀，当然是英雄，'她说，'那你得把那个姑娘找来，'我说，'每天晚上。周六两次。'她说，'我敢打赌，第二次表演真的会很糟糕。'我回以微笑说，'哦，我不知道。持续的时间更长，但在热情中失去的东西会被熟悉所弥补。”
She went by the name Ursula the Great, the Spokesman-Review referring to her as “a spectacle of indecency” and “the last of four acts of increasing depravity.” Gig talked Rye into using their sock money on a shared public bath—older brother taking the suitor’s hot, Rye settling for warm flotsam—and they got haircuts and nickel shaves, though a scrape was hardly needed on Rye’s baby face, and instead of boiling clothes over a cook fire, they paid for proper clean-and-folds in the Chinese Quarter. All gentlemanned up, they got fifty-cent seats at the Comique and settled in for some mild depravity—blind accordion player, Bavarian juggler, wrestling match between armless and legless men (always bet legs)—until the curtain split for the finale, depravity number four, and the smoky stage lights revealed the source of Gig’s infatuation, Rye wondering what pinch-hearted critic came up with a word like depraved upon first glimpsing the flame-haired beauty who strode into the lights in front of a big iron cage—
她的名字叫乌苏拉大帝（Ursula the Great），《 发言人评论》（Spokesman-Review）称她为“猥亵的奇观”和“四次日益堕落的行为中的最后一次”。Gig 说服 Rye 用他们的袜子钱去共用公共浴池——哥哥拿着求婚者的热气，Rye 安顿下来吃热的漂浮物——他们理发和剃镍，尽管几乎不需要刮伤 Rye 的娃娃脸，他们没有在炉火上煮衣服，而是花钱在华人区买了适当的清洁和折叠。他们都绅士地站起来，在喜剧展上得到了 50 美分的座位，并安顿下来享受一些轻微的堕落——盲人手风琴手、巴伐利亚杂耍者、无臂和无腿男人之间的摔跤比赛（总是赌腿）——直到结局的帷幕裂开，第四个堕落，烟雾缭绕的舞台灯光揭示了 Gig 迷恋的根源，Rye 想知道是什么捏心捏捏的评论家想出了一个像堕落这样的词第一眼看到那个大步走进大铁笼前灯光的火发美女——
For inside was a full-grown cougar! Pacing and snarling while the band played a hurdy-gurdy and the big cat stalked and Ursula danced around it singing a few numbers and slow-stripping to nothing but corset and stockings, kicking those long legs higher and higher, leaning her backside against the cage until all went black and the spotlight came up and the whole theater held its breath as Ursula unlatched the cage door and the big cat lowered its head, hissed, and spat—and brave Ursula ambled in as if going to her pantry for butter, closed the cage door behind her, and serenaded the beast, holding an ungodly high note as she ripped off the corset, and oh! the flash of flesh, of narrow waist and pale back, and the fury of that mountain lion as it made to pounce at her bare breasts—which Rye could only imagine, as she was facing away—and that was when Ursula tossed the corset at the cat, who tore into it in lieu of her fair skin, and drowned out by cheers and whistles, she took a silk robe from the back of the cage, slipped it on, tied the belt, and, still singing over the roar of cat and crowd, Ursula the Great walked out of that cage in one lovely piece.
因为里面是一只成年的美洲狮！乐队演奏手风琴时，乌苏拉踱步咆哮，大猫跟踪，乌苏拉围着它跳舞，唱了几首歌，然后慢慢地脱光衣服，只剩下紧身胸衣和丝袜，把那双长腿踢得越来越高，把她的背靠在笼子上，直到一切都变黑了，聚光灯亮起来，当乌苏拉打开笼子的门，大猫低下头时，整个剧院都屏住了呼吸。 嘶嘶作响，啐了一口啐——勇敢的乌苏拉蹒跚地走了进来，仿佛要去她的储藏室买黄油一样，关上了她身后的笼门，为这只野兽唱了一首小夜曲，一边扯下紧身胸衣，一边拿着不敬虔的高音，哦！肉体的闪光，狭窄的腰身和苍白的背部，以及那只美洲狮扑向她裸露的乳房时的愤怒——当她背对着她时，莱伊只能想象——就在这时，乌苏拉将紧身胸衣扔向猫，猫撕扯着它代替了她白皙的皮肤， 她被欢呼声和口哨声淹没了，从笼子后面拿出一件丝绸长袍，穿上它，系上腰带，在猫和人群的咆哮声中，乌苏拉大帝仍然唱着歌，穿着一件可爱的衣服走出了笼子。
Rye had to agree: This Ursula was the real thing. Made the blind accordion player seem like . . . a blind accordion player. Afterward, Rye ran the aisles for leftover food, but Gig was smitten, and when Gig was smitten, by cause or by woman, there was no sense in him, and he dragged them out of that warm theater and down the alley to the stage door.
Rye 不得不同意：这个 Ursula 是真的。使盲人手风琴演奏者看起来像 . . .一个盲人手风琴演奏者。之后，Rye 在过道上跑来跑去寻找剩菜，但 Gig 被迷住了，当 Gig 被迷住时，无论是因为原因还是女人，他都没有理智，他把他们拖出那个温暖的剧院，沿着小巷走到舞台门口。
A thick doorman was manning that post, and even with the brothers’ freshly shaved faces and laundered shirts, he wasn’t about to let such worn boots in to see the talent. Gig pleaded, but the doorman explained: Ursula was otherwise engaged, and for two bits he said how, entertaining a gentleman, and for two bits more, who, a wealthy mining man named Lemuel Brand. The Dolans had been sharked by enough of Lem Brand’s operations to know it didn’t matter how charming and handsome Gig was, a skid-rower like him was no match for a man of means like Brand, so they started back up the alley, Rye saying, “I hope the cougar wins next time,” when a call came from the stage door—“Gregory!”—and Ursula, still in the robe, emerged into flickering gaslight. “Gregory,” she called again, like she hadn’t hit the note the first time, and he ran down the alley to her. Gig listened as Miss Great explained, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets at the bad news, Ursula touching his chest, Gig nodding, turning and leaving her at the stage door, returning to Rye at the end of the alley. She watched him go, hand on heart, Gig refusing her the satisfaction of looking back.
那个岗位上站着一个粗壮的门卫，即使兄弟俩的脸上刚刮过胡子，衬衫也洗过了，他也不打算让这些破旧的靴子进来看到这位天才。吉格恳求，但门卫解释说：乌苏拉另有约定，他谈了两会儿，招待了一位绅士，又说了两句，他是一位名叫莱米尔·布兰德的富有矿工。多兰一家已经被莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 的足够多的行动所吸引，他们知道无论吉格多么迷人和英俊，像他这样的滑行者都无法与布兰德这样有钱人相提并论，所以他们开始沿着小巷往回走，莱伊说：“我希望美洲狮下次能赢，”这时舞台门口传来了一个电话——“格雷戈里！——乌苏拉仍然穿着长袍，出现在摇曳的煤气灯下。“Gregory，”她又喊了一声，就像她第一次没有敲响那个音符一样，然后他沿着小巷跑向她。Gig 听着 Miss Great 的解释，听到这个坏消息，他的手插在裤兜里，Ursula 摸着他的胸膛，Gig 点点头，转身把她留在舞台门口，回到小巷尽头的 Rye 身边。她看着他离去，手牵着心，Gig 拒绝了她回头看的满足感。
“Well?”
“嗯？”
“She swears she won’t bed the man,” said Gig, “but he owns the theater, so—”
“她发誓她不会和那个男人上床，”吉格说，“但他拥有剧院，所以——”
And with no words on the other side of that so, they ventured back onto the street to salve Gig’s wounded soul.
而另一边却没有言语，所以他们冒险回到街上，为吉格受伤的灵魂打药。
Two hundred fifty taverns in Spokane and last night every one of them hummed on high, like a pot before boil, street cops looking for drunks to rake and the tenderloin packed with the end of harvest, the closing of log camps and the coming union action, downtown whipped up like a wind-fed blaze. A week earlier, a union speaker had gotten arrested and word went out in the Industrial Worker newspaper for floaters to come for the Spokane Free Speech Fight, bums dropping like apples from boxcars and rail trusses—humps from Chicago, Denver, Seattle: white, black, Indian, Chinese, Cossack, Irish, Italian, Finn—barstools and benches bent with their backs, Rye marveling at the endless babble of Celestial-Russo-Flemy-Serb-Salish-Spanish.
斯波坎的 250 家小酒馆，昨晚每家小酒馆都嗡嗡作响，就像一罐未煮沸的锅，街头警察寻找醉汉耙耙，里脊肉挤满了收获的结束，原木营地的关闭和即将到来的工会行动，市中心像风吹拂的火焰一样鞭打。一周前，一名工会发言人被捕，《 产业工人报》（Industrial Worker）上传出消息 ，呼吁漂浮者前来参加斯波坎言论自由斗争（Spokane Free Speech Fight），流浪汉像苹果一样从棚车和铁路桁架上掉下来——来自芝加哥、丹佛、西雅图的驼峰：白人、黑人、印度人、中国人、哥萨克人、爱尔兰人、意大利人、芬兰人——高脚凳和长凳背弯着， Rye 惊叹于天体-俄罗斯-弗莱米-塞尔维亚-萨利什-西班牙人无休止的喋喋不休。
The Dolans ran into a couple of Gig’s labor friends coming from the big IWW hall on Front Street—gregarious James Walsh, sent from Chicago to run the Spokane labor action, and an intense Montanan named Frank Little, who Walsh introduced as “part Indian and the rest trouble.”
多兰夫妇遇到了几个来自前街 IWW 大厅的 Gig 的劳工朋友——善于交际的詹姆斯·沃尔什 （James Walsh），他从芝加哥被派来负责斯波坎的劳工行动，还有一个名叫弗兰克·利特尔 （Frank Little） 的激烈蒙大拿人，沃尔什介绍他为“部分印第安人和其他麻烦”。
Rye didn’t like it when Gig ran with these union types; he thought their revolutionary banter half foolish and half dangerous and was never quite sure which was which. He couldn’t keep up with the boozing and sporting and jawing about wage slavery, and all things equal, he preferred the peace of Mrs. Ricci’s boardinghouse across the river in Little Italy. A warm soup, a hard cot, an early rise to get first crack at a good job.
Rye 不喜欢 Gig 与这些工会类型一起竞选;他认为他们的革命玩笑一半是愚蠢的，一半是危险的，而且从来没有完全确定哪个是哪个。他跟不上那些酗酒、运动和对工资奴隶制的喋喋不休，在所有条件相同的情况下，他更喜欢小意大利河对岸的里奇夫人的寄宿公寓的宁静。一碗温汤，一张硬床，早起，在一份好工作中率先一试。
But last night, in sympathy with Gig’s heartache, Rye let himself get pulled in the wake of the union men, who sneaked Rye into Jimmy Durkin’s big beer hall under a sign that read, “IF YOUR CHILDREN NEED SHOES, DON’T BUY BOOZE.” They toasted Rye’s hand-me-down boots and told rich stories of sharks and foremen, and soon Rye was nodding, laughing, singing along.
但昨晚，为了同情 Gig 的心痛，Rye 让自己被工会成员拖拽，他们偷偷溜进了 Jimmy Durkin 的大啤酒馆，上面写着：“ 如果你的孩子需要鞋子，不要买酒。“他们为莱伊的旧靴子敬酒，讲述关于鲨鱼和工头的丰富故事，很快，莱伊就点头、大笑、一起唱歌。
It’s quite a thing when the world is upside down to hear someone say it don’t have to be—that a man could be paid enough to feed and house himself. Two beers in, Rye felt lifted by a sense of hope.
当世界颠倒时，听到有人说不必如此——一个人可以得到足够的报酬来养活自己，这是一件很了不起的事情。喝了两杯啤酒，Rye 感到被一种希望所鼓舞。
James Walsh was a musician and mining man who had once rounded up twenty toughs, dressed them in red, and taken them cross-country on cattle cars to shake up the 1906 IWW convention in Chicago, stopping to sing in work camps along the way. He called it the Overalls Brigade and said it was “to remind the dandies in suits and spectacles arguing over amendments and articles that this is about the goddamn rights of goddamn men.” That night in a packed Durkin’s, he opened the taps on his charm, calling Rye “boyo” and Gig “the esteemed Senator Dolan,” buying round after round until Rye was drunk for the first time in his life, arm over shoulder with the labor men, warbling along to Frank Little’s IWW songbook:
詹姆斯·沃尔什 （James Walsh） 是一位音乐家和矿工，他曾经召集了 20 名强壮的人，给他们穿上红色的衣服，然后带着他们骑着运牛车穿越全国，以改变 1906 年在芝加哥举行的 IWW 大会，沿途在工作营地停下来唱歌。他称它为工作服旅，并说这是“为了提醒那些穿着西装、戴着眼镜、为修正案和文章争论的花花公子，这是关于该死的男人的该死的权利。那天晚上，在一家挤满了人的 Durkin 酒吧里，他打开了自己的魅力水龙头，称 Rye 为“boyo”，称 Gig 为“受人尊敬的参议员 Dolan”，一轮又一轮地购买，直到 Rye 有生以来第一次喝醉，与工人手挽手，随着 Frank Little 的 IWW 歌集叽叽喳喳：
Oh, why don’t you work like the other men do?
哦，你为什么不像其他男人那样工作呢？
How in hell can I work when there’s no work to do?
当没有工作可做时，我怎么能工作呢？
Hallelujah, I’m a bum
哈利路亚，我是个流浪汉
Hallelujah, bum again—
哈利路亚，又是流浪汉——
Then the beer ran out, as beer will do, and whiskey, clocks, and nickels, too, and the union men left and it was just Gig and Rye, on a full-blown now, ducking the vagrant patrols and singing their ire in the street, a bitter tune their father taught them—Here’s a memory to all the boys, that are gone, boys—gone!—too bent for Mrs. Ricci, the boardinghouse widow who did not abide Gig’s drinking, and that was when older brother told younger about this overgrown ball field, and the big cook fire on the pitcher’s mound, although by the time they staggered down the hill into Peaceful Valley the fire was dying, the diamond dotted with bedrolls. Their own packs back on Mrs. Ricci’s porch, Rye and Gig curled on their coats on the dirt infield, not for lack of outfield ambitions but because if you were tempted by that soft center-field grass, you might wake in dew and catch your death—
然后啤酒用完了，就像啤酒一样，威士忌、钟表和五分钱也用完了，工会的人也走了，只剩下 Gig 和 Rye，现在正处于成熟的状态，躲避着流浪的巡逻队，在街上唱着他们的愤怒，这是他们父亲教给他们的苦涩曲调—— 这是给所有男孩的回忆， 那些都走了，男孩们——走了！——对里奇太太来说，这个寄宿公寓的寡妇太过屈服了，她不忍受吉格的喝酒，就在那时，哥哥告诉弟弟这个杂草丛生的球场，以及投手丘上的大厨师大火，尽管当他们踉踉跄跄地走下山坡进入和平谷时，火势已经熄灭了，钻石上点缀着床单。他们自己的背包回到了 Ricci 夫人的门廊上，Rye 和 Gig 蜷缩在内场泥土上的外套上，不是因为没有外场野心，而是因为如果你被那柔软的中场草地所诱惑，你可能会在露水中醒来并死去——
Catch your death. Now, there was a thought. As he watched the smoke-red sun rise in the sky, Ryan Dolan recalled his mother saying it when he was a boy and used to wander outside without coat and shoes. Well, he’d got to know death pretty well in the interim, was practically on a first-name basis, and from what he could see, it was death generally did the catching.
抓住你的死亡。 现在，有了一个想法。当他看着烟红色的太阳从天空中升起时，Ryan Dolan 回忆起他小时候母亲说过这句话，他经常不穿外套和鞋子在外面闲逛。嗯，在这期间，他对死亡已经非常了解了，几乎是以名字为基础的，而且从他所看到的，通常是死亡来捕捉的。
Rye nudged his brother: “Hey Gig, let’s see if that doorman at the Empire will pay us two bits to carry his trash to the river.”
Rye 轻推了他的兄弟：“嘿，Gig，让我们看看帝国的那个门卫会不会付我们两块钱，让我们把他的垃圾运到河边。
Gig sat up and yawned. He patted himself for paper and tobacco, neither of which he had. “You go on, Rye-boy,” he said. “I’m going to the hall today.”
Gig 坐起来，打了个哈欠。他拍拍自己要纸和烟草，但他都没有。“你继续说吧，黑麦男孩，”他说。“我今天要去大厅。”
Here was Rye’s chief complaint about Gig’s involvement with the Industrial Workers of the World, the one big union that took anyone as a member: Finnish logger, Negro seamstress, Indian ranch hand, even floater like them. What good was a union meant to help them find work if Gig spent so much time there that he couldn’t work?
这是 Rye 对 Gig 参与世界产业工人协会的主要抱怨，这个大工会接纳任何人都为会员：芬兰伐木工、黑人女裁缝、印度牧场工人，甚至像他们这样的漂浮者。如果 Gig 在那里呆了太多时间以至于无法工作，那么工会帮助他们找到工作有什么用呢？
Gregory Dolan was a man of squares—shoulders, jaw, thick brown hair over arch blue eyes. Smart, too, about books, though less about work, which was more Rye’s area. Gig had made it to grade eleven, three years beyond any other Dolan, and was his own schooling after that. He always carried a book in his bindle and read as if he expected an exam. Rye could read fine, well enough to make out a pay sheet or a flyer for a brush job, but he never much saw the point in studying economics to hoe a field for sixty cents a day.
格雷戈里·多兰（Gregory Dolan）是个方方正正的人——肩膀、下巴、浓密的棕色头发和拱形的蓝眼睛。斯马特也喜欢读书，但不太喜欢工作，这更像是 Rye 的领域。Gig 已经读到了 11 年级，比其他任何 Dolan 都高出三年，之后他自己上学了。他总是把书装在手里，读起来就像在期待考试一样。Rye 能读得很好，足以看清工资单或刷毛工作的传单，但他从来没有看出学习经济学的意义，每天能赚 60 美分。
The other difference between them had to do with the fairer sex. Rye Dolan was tall enough to fool a job agent, but up close he was boy-faced and pin-shouldered, with ears like the handles of a vase. But even ladies in automobiles cast long glances when Gig strolled the street. And among variety girls, sport ladies, tavern hags, and soiled doves, no vagrant in history got more half-offs and free rolls than his big sweet brother, Rye suspected.
他们之间的另一个区别与更公平的性别有关。Rye Dolan 的身高足以骗过求职中介，但近距离看，他却是男孩脸，肩膀细长，耳朵像花瓶的把手。但是，当 Gig 在街上漫步时，即使是开车的女士们也投来了长长的目光。在各种各样的女孩、运动女士、酒馆女巫和脏鸽子中，历史上没有哪个流浪汉比他可爱的大哥哥 Rye 怀疑获得更多的半价和免费卷。
“Just come with me to the Empire,” Rye said. “We’ll go to the hall after.”
“跟我去帝国吧，”Rye 说。“我们之后再去大厅。”
“Nah.” Gig’s smile spread to a yawn. “I think I’ll lie here and reflect some more on the nature of man.”
“没有。”Gig 的笑容变成了打哈欠。“我想我会躺在这里，更多地思考一下人的本性。”
“Well, I ain’t going without you,” said Rye. His whole world was on that ball field: Gig and Rye Dolan, last of the Whitehall Dolans—sister Lace dead at sixteen bringing forth a cold baby in a Butte hospital, brother Danny a pond monkey in an Oregon timber camp until he side-spiked a rain-slick log boom, lost his balance, and drowned in a river of trees. Then there was their father-who-aren’t-in-heaven, that cursed old mine muck Dan Senior, so long to the dirt that the brothers could barely conjure his face, though they could recall his sadder songs and every inch of the back of his hand.
“嗯，我不会没有你，”莱伊说。他的整个世界都在那个球场上：吉格和莱伊·多兰，白厅多兰家族的最后一位成员——姐姐莱斯 （Lace） 在 16 岁时在比尤特医院生下了一个寒冷的婴儿，哥哥丹尼 （Danny） 在俄勒冈州的一个木材营地里养了一只池塘猴子，直到他撞上了雨水滑溜的圆木围栏，失去了平衡，淹死在了一条树河中。然后是他们的父亲，他不在天堂，那个被诅咒的老矿渣 Dan Senior，在泥土上呆了这么久，以至于兄弟们几乎无法想象他的脸，尽管他们能回忆起他更悲伤的歌声和他手背的每一寸。
Their ma was the last to go, from TB. The only kid still at home, Rye helped her to Mass and picked up enough work for a pasty-and-turnip dinner. He wetted scarves for her to breathe through and whispered a thousand lies to the woman, promised to write her sister in Galway and said Da was waiting in heaven with Lace and Danny, and, oh yeah, Gregory was on his way home with a sweet Catholic girl—so many lies Rye told in that room he was surprised Christ Himself didn’t appear to smite his bony back. Ma died feverish, unable to afford a hospital, coughing knots of blood, bruises rising from nothing but the idea of them, joints swollen with tumor, moaning and yelling and praying and wailing, and, alone at fifteen, Rye thought the devil had come into her until the parish priest came to last-rite the poor woman and said, “That’s just dying, Ryan.” Christ forgive him, Rye felt delivered when she finally stopped gurgling and left her wretched banty body, the undertaker carting her off like rubbish. A day later, Rye pawned his parents’ wedding rings and, dirt still wet above his mother’s moldering corpse, he became the last Dolan to walk out of Whitehall, Montana—off to find his long-lost brother, Gregory.
他们的马是最后一个离开的，来自结核病。Rye 是唯一一个还在家里的孩子，她帮她做弥撒，并捡了足够的工作来吃一顿馅饼和萝卜晚餐。他弄湿了围巾让她呼吸，对那个女人低声说了一千个谎言，答应写信给她在戈尔韦的姐姐，说达和蕾丝和丹尼在天堂等着，哦，对了，格雷戈里和一个可爱的天主教女孩在回家的路上——莱伊在那个房间里说了这么多谎言，他很惊讶基督本人似乎没有打他瘦骨嶙峋的背。马死于发烧，负担不起医院的费用，咳血结块，瘀伤只从他们的想法中升起，关节肿胀有肿瘤，呻吟，大喊大叫，祈祷和哀号，十五岁时，莱伊以为魔鬼已经进入了她，直到教区牧师来为这个可怜的女人做最后的仪式，说： “那真是快要死了，Ryan。”基督原谅他，当 Rye 终于停止咕噜咕噜的声音并离开她可怜的 banty 身体时，她感到被解脱了，殡葬师像垃圾一样把她运走了。一天后，Rye 典当了他父母的结婚戒指，他母亲发霉的尸体上仍然湿漉漉的泥土，他成为最后一个走出蒙大拿州白厅的多兰——去寻找他失散多年的弟弟格雷戈里。
And find him Rye did, two weeks later, sacked in a crib this side of Spokane with a hard piece of trouble. He stepped into that room with its dusky-whiskey-smoky smells and said, “Gig, our ma’s dead,” his big brother staring as if he didn’t recognize this long-armed kid. Then Gig made a noise like the air was pressed out of him, and turned and wept into his girl’s rashy bosom. This made Rye cry, too, the only tears he shed during the matter, standing in a dank flop watching his big brother sob on this girl’s chest. Next day Gig sent the girl back to the house of trouble where he’d found her, and the brothers lit out—
两周后，Rye 找到了他，他被解雇在斯波坎这边的婴儿床上，遇到了很大的麻烦。他走进那个散发着昏暗威士忌烟熏味的房间，说：“吉格，我们的马死了，”他的大哥瞪着眼睛，好像他没有认出这个长臂孩子。这时，吉格发出了一声声音，就像空气被挤出来一样，转过身来，在他女孩轻率的怀里哭泣。这也让 Rye 哭了，这是他在这件事上流下的唯一一滴眼泪，他站在潮湿的翻滚中，看着他的哥哥在这个女孩的胸口哭泣。第二天，吉格把那个女孩送回了他找到她的麻烦屋，兄弟们大声疾呼——
For a year they moved, barely pausing for breath. They walked twenty miles some days, and ran down freight on the slow edges of towns, hopped boxcars and crouched on the blinds between mail cars. Gig showed Rye his favorite way to travel—in the open, on flat cars and lumber racks: “flying,” he called it, wind in his face, sun on his arms. They flew and floated this way, job to job, week to week, farm to farm, Washington to Oregon to Idaho, until they landed a gyppo logging crew on the St. Joe River, Gig talking his way onto one end of a two-man misery whip, Rye ladling water and pounding wedges in the kerfs to keep the saws from binding. But they got run from that job, too, replaced by the foreman’s nephews. They followed rumors to interior farms and staggered harvests, bushed wheat and picked huckleberries. The Panic of ’07 had run the banks, and it was rare to find a boxcar or a barn without a vagrant in it. Most days they’d wait hours in line at the job sharks’ only to be told there was nothing for them. They huddled under burlap on boxcars, drank from streams, and ate squirrel meat over jungle cook fires, boiled up their clothes and slept beneath stars, ducked train gangs and rail bulls, and if it wasn’t an easy life, Rye would be lying if he didn’t admit some adventure in it.
一年来，他们搬家了，几乎没有停下来喘口气。他们有几天走了二十英里，在城镇缓慢的边缘运货，跳上棚车，蹲在邮车之间的百叶窗上。Gig 向 Rye 展示了他最喜欢的旅行方式——在空旷的地方，在平板车和木材架上：“飞翔”，他称之为“飞行”，风吹在他的脸上，阳光照在他的手臂上。他们就这样飞着，从工作到工作，周复一周，从一个农场到另一个农场，从华盛顿到俄勒冈州再到爱达荷州，直到他们在圣乔河上登陆一个石膏伐木队，吉格在两人痛苦的鞭子的一端说话，黑麦舀水并敲打切口上的楔子，以防止锯子卡住。但他们也被赶走了，取而代之的是工头的侄子。他们循着谣言来到内陆农场，错开收成，采摘小麦和采摘越橘。07 年的恐慌已经蔓延了银行，很少能找到没有流浪汉的棚车或谷仓。大多数时候，他们会在 job sharks' 排几个小时的队，却被告知没有什么适合他们。他们蜷缩在棚车上的粗麻布下，从溪流中喝水，在丛林炊火上吃松鼠肉，煮衣服，睡在星空下，躲避火车帮派和铁路公牛，如果生活不轻松，如果 Rye 不承认其中的一些冒险，他就是在撒谎。
Spokane was base for five thousand floating workers, and the brothers put on their best shirts and queued at some of the thirty employment agencies lining Stevens Street, beneath bunk signs promising work for GOOD MEN! $1! JOBS FOR ALL! INQUIRE WITHIN!
斯波坎是 5000 名流动工人的基地，兄弟俩穿上他们最好的衬衫，在史蒂文斯街两旁的 30 家职业介绍所中的一些机构排队，在承诺为 GOOD MEN 工作的铺位标志下 ！1 美元！适合所有人的工作！询问内部！
A hard season for men, but lying was having a banner year.
对男人来说，这是一个艰难的赛季，但撒谎是辉煌的一年。
Rye acted older, Gig sober, and they forked a dollar for the pleasure of a twelve-hour workday, knowing full well the shark was likely to split their buck with the straw boss and pull the job after two weeks for another crew (at a dollar-a-man), churning them like water in a paddle wheel, so no man could get a foothold. The Bunker Hill Mine rotated three thousand hungry muckers through fifty jobs that summer—three grand in fees split with the bosses, the sharks bleeding them other ways, too, subtracting two bits for doctoring, for stale bread, for a straw mattress. Then, harvest over, they recast the migrants as worthless bums and had security men knock their heads and drive them from town.
Rye 表现得年纪大了，Gig 清醒了，他们花了一美元来享受 12 小时工作的乐趣，他们很清楚鲨鱼很可能会与稻草老板分钱，并在两周后为另一个船员（以每人一美元的价格）分钱，像桨轮中的水一样搅动他们，这样就没有人能站稳脚跟。那个夏天，邦克山矿区让 3000 名饥饿的捣蛋鬼轮流从事 50 份工作——其中三笔费用与老板分摊，鲨鱼也以其他方式让他们流血，减去两块用于医生、陈旧面包和稻草床垫。然后，收割结束了，他们把移民改写成毫无价值的流浪汉，让保安敲他们的头，把他们赶出镇上。
This was the call of the IWW, the Wobblies, whose nickname came from a Chinese rail hump asking for the “Eye-Wobble-Wobble.” The whole operation had started in Chicago in 1905, and it landed hard in Spokane, where seven freight and passenger lines converged in the busiest terminal west of Chicago, a kind of Tramp Central Station. A thousand signed up in Spokane for IWW red cards, one of them Gregory Dolan, who dragged Rye downtown to hear Walsh call for nonviolent action, to peaceably gather in the streets to protest the sharks. And if the cops wanted to arrest them for speaking out, fine: they’d pack the jails, clog the courts. The union action cooled that spring of ’09, when the floaters went back to work, and Gig and Rye caught on at an apple orchard, made enough to sock-bank twelve bucks each to give to the widow Mrs. Ricci, so they might winter at her house in Little Italy.
这是 IWW 的号召，Wobblies，他们的昵称来自中国铁路驼峰，要求“Eye-Wobble-Wobble”。整个运营于 1905 年在芝加哥开始，并在斯波坎艰难降落，那里的七条货运和客运线路在芝加哥西部最繁忙的终点站——一种流浪汉中央车站汇合。1000 人在斯波坎报名领取 IWW 红卡，其中一位是格雷戈里·多兰 （Gregory Dolan），他拖着莱伊去市中心听沃尔什呼吁非暴力行动，和平聚集在街头抗议鲨鱼。如果警察想因为她们直言不讳而逮捕她们，那很好：他们会挤满监狱，堵塞法院。工会行动在 09 年春天降温，当漂浮物们回到工作岗位上时，吉格和莱伊在一个苹果园里流行起来，他们每人赚了十二美元，给了寡妇里奇夫人，这样他们就可以在她在小意大利的家里过冬了。
It was Gig’s favorite place on earth, Spokane, “theater capital of the west,” he always said, by which he meant “actress capital,” since every brothel and crib girl listed herself in the city directory as “actress.” And while Rye didn’t share his brother’s affection for Spokane’s unrulier side, the city had begun to feel like his home, too, after Mrs. Ricci rented them her enclosed porch for half what a proper boardinghouse charged, and even offered to sell the brothers the orchard behind her house, where they might build their own place. “Our porch should have posts like that,” Rye would say as they walked through a neighborhood, or: “What about a rainwater cistern, Gig?”
这是吉格在地球上最喜欢的地方，斯波坎，他总是说，“西部的戏剧之都”，他的意思是“女演员之都”，因为每个妓院和婴儿床女孩在城市名录中都把自己列为“女演员”。虽然莱伊并不像他哥哥那样喜欢斯波坎不守规矩的一面，但在 利玛窦夫人以普通寄宿公寓的一半价格租下了她的封闭式门廊后，这座城市也开始感觉像他的家，甚至提出把她房子后面的果园卖给兄弟俩，让他们可以在那里建造自己的房子。“我们的门廊应该有这样的柱子，”Rye 会在他们穿过社区时说，或者：“Gig，雨水蓄水池怎么样？
Rye could see them settling in Spokane for good—so long as they found regular work and Gig went easy on the booze, so long as they camped outside on warmer and drunker nights, so long as a saw didn’t slip, or a hay pile fall, so long as they didn’t fall from a train or get killed by company thugs or rail bulls. So long so long so long—so long as Gregory and Ryan Dolan continued to draw breath—that cool fall day in the Year of the Lord nineteen hundred and nine.
Rye 可以看到他们在斯波坎永远安顿下来——只要他们找到固定的工作，Gig 不喝酒，只要他们在温暖和醉酒的夜晚在外面露营，只要锯子不滑落，干草堆不掉下来，只要他们不从火车上掉下来，或者被公司的暴徒或铁路公牛杀死。这么久，这么久，这么久——只要格雷戈里和瑞安·多兰继续喘口气——那天主年一九零九年那个凉爽的秋日。
Gig was twenty-three and Rye not quite seventeen.
Gig 当时 23 岁，Rye 还不到 17 岁。
And lying there, Rye had an insight that felt like a reverie, that, man or woman, Catholic or Prod, Chinese, Irish, or African, Finn or Indian, rich or poor or poor or poor, the world is built to eat you alive, but before you go down the gullet, the bastards can’t stop you from looking around. And he doubted that any magnate in a San Francisco mansion ever woke to a better view than he and his brother had that morning, staring at a red slash of sky from the crisp dirt infield of a weedy baseball diamond.
躺在那里，Rye 有一种感觉像遐想的洞察力，无论是男人还是女人，天主教徒还是 Prod，中国人、爱尔兰人还是非洲人，芬兰人还是印度人，富人或穷人或穷人，世界就是为了活生生地吃掉你而建造的，但在你进入食道之前，这些混蛋无法阻止你环顾四周。他怀疑旧金山豪宅里有没有哪个大亨醒来时看到的景色比他和他的兄弟那天早上更好，他们凝视着从杂草丛生的棒球钻石的清脆泥土内场划出的红色天空。
“Sorry about Ursula,” Rye said.
“对不起乌苏拉，”莱伊说。
Gig leaned over, his wide, open face spreading into a grin. He shrugged. “Ah, nothing to do about that,” he said, “but play ball.”
Gig 俯下身，他宽阔、张开的脸上露出了笑容。他耸耸肩。“啊，没什么可做的，”他说，“但要打球。
Rye laughed and was about to make a joke about forming tramp teams and going nine when a commotion rose on the road behind them.
Rye 笑了起来，正要开个玩笑说要组建流浪汉团队，然后九岁，这时他们身后的道路上传来了骚动。
This was no smoke on the horizon, no reverie, but a gang of men descending the hill above the quiet diamond. Around them, stiffs leaped up, packed bindles and pulled on boots, grabbed pans and worn spoons, but there was no time. The mob bled onto the field and, as easily as if they were threshing wheat, began swinging at men’s heads.
地平线上没有烟雾，没有遐想，而是一群人从安静的钻石上方的山坡上下来。在他们周围，僵硬的人跳起来，收拾着束缚，穿上靴子，抓住平底锅和破旧的勺子，但没有时间了。暴徒流血洒在田野上，就像脱麦子一样轻而易举地开始向人们的头挥舞。
They were off-clock cops and mining agents, security guards and private citizens, coats off, shirtsleeves rolled, boots kicking up dust. They swung billies and bats and the handles of axes, hoes, and shovels. They were on their third hobo nest of the morning, having given up all pretense of finding the murdered cop Waterbury’s killer.
他们是下班的警察和采矿代理人，是保安和普通公民，脱掉了外套，卷起了衬衫袖子，靴子扬起了灰尘。他们挥舞着比利和球棒，以及斧头、锄头和铁锹的手柄。他们今天早上的第三个流浪汉窝里，已经放弃了找到被谋杀的警察沃特伯里凶手的所有伪装。
Gig and Rye were up and running toward left field when they passed a boy wiggling into his boots, and Rye recalled the boy’s name—Diego—and that he’d been turned down by the job agents after his left foot got mangled in a baler. Just as Rye remembered that, Diego took a rake handle to the back.
当 Gig 和 Rye 经过一个在靴子里扭动身体的男孩时，他们起身向左外野跑去，Rye 想起了那个男孩的名字——迭戈——而且在他的左脚被打捆机撞伤后，他被工作中介拒绝了。就在 Rye 想起这件事时，Diego 把耙柄带到了后面。
“Goddamn tramps!” someone yelled, and “Move on, bums!” They’d been rousted and run from jungles before, but this felt different to Rye. These men wanted to bury them.
“该死的流浪汉！”有人大喊，“继续，流浪汉！他们以前曾被困住并从丛林中逃跑，但这感觉与 Rye 不同。这些人想埋葬他们。
The brothers jumped the low left-field fence and skidded down an embankment toward the river, the more zealous of the stick-wielders following. A row of two-post houses lined the river road, and from a wood-piled porch, a woman in a yellow dress sipped from a tin coffee cup and watched the chase like it was a play at the Pantages.
兄弟俩跳过了低矮的左外野栅栏，沿着堤坝滑向河边，更热心的挥舞棍子的人紧随其后。河道两旁是一排两柱式房屋，一个穿着黄色连衣裙的女人从木头堆积的门廊上啜饮着锡制咖啡杯，看着这场追逐，就像在潘特吉斯上演一场戏一样。
Only then did Rye see that two other tramps were running with them. One was his friend Jules, an old Spokane and Palus Indian he’d met at Billy Sunday’s tent revival. Jules had been on his crew in Rockford, and was a tireless worker despite being sixty, a former cowhand with a bent back and weathered face, black hair like spilt oil. He was a tireless talker, too, a cook-fire storyteller who switched midtale from English to French, and whose booming laugh was, he said, “the only Salish I still speak.”
这时，Rye 才看到另外两个流浪汉正和他们一起跑。一个是他的朋友朱尔斯，他是在比利·桑德（Billy Sunday）的帐篷复兴中认识的一位斯波坎和帕卢斯的老印第安人。朱尔斯曾在罗克福德的船员中工作，尽管已经 60 岁了，但他仍然是一个不知疲倦的工人，以前是一名牛仔，背部弯曲，脸上饱经风霜，黑发像洒出的油一样。他也是一个不知疲倦的健谈者，他会把故事的中途从英语换成法语，他说，他那洪亮的笑声是“我唯一还在说的萨利希语”。
Rye didn’t know the other man running with them. He was thin and pale, in a worn coat and a hat that retained little of its original form. His mustache was graying, but otherwise the man’s age was a complete mystery: he could be thirty as easily as he could be fifty.
Rye 不认识与他们一起跑步的另一个人。他瘦削而苍白，穿着一件破旧的外套，戴着一顶几乎不保留原来形状的帽子。他的胡子已经灰白了，但除此之外，这个男人的年龄完全是一个谜：他可以像五十岁一样轻松地成为三十岁。
The four of them scrabbled to a ledge just over the rushing river, but here they ran out of path and had to turn back—four tramps faced up with six armed men on a narrow slab of dirt.
他们四个人爬到湍急河流上方的岩架上，但在这里他们跑出了路，不得不折返——四个流浪汉和六个武装男子在一块狭窄的泥土上面对。
The mob leader stepped forward: “Looks like you’re at a crossroads.” He was tall and thick, with slate hair like a fresh-tarred road. Rye figured him for an off-clock cop and imagined his police mack on a doorknob back at one of those Spokane clapboards, bread cooking, wife tending babies while he went to take tramps’ teeth.
黑帮头目走上前：“看来你正处在十字路口。他又高又粗，一头石板色的头发，就像一条刚铺过柏油的道路。Rye 认为他是一名下班的警察，并想象他的警察在斯波坎的一个隔板后面的门把手上吵架，做面包，妻子照顾婴儿，而他则去捡流浪汉的牙齿。
Gig stepped forward, too—he and the cop out like chess pieces. “What’s this about?” Gig asked in his citizen voice.
Gig 也向前走了——他和警察像棋子一样走了出去。“这是怎么回事？”Gig 用他公民的声音问道。
Rye had seen Gig do this before with the police: play it casual, like he’d sat up suddenly in a barber chair. Once they were camped in a rail yard when two cops came through to clear the line for Taft’s traveling train. Gig started in over whether Taft had the votes to pass the Payne-Aldrich Tariff Act, and by the time the train car rumbled past, draped in bunting and flags, Gig had one of the cops believing William Jennings Bryan would’ve made a better president.
Rye 以前见过 Gig 对警察这样做：随意行事，就像他突然在理发椅上坐起来一样。有一次，他们在铁路站场扎营，这时两名警察过来为塔夫脱的火车清理线路。吉格开始讨论塔夫脱是否拥有通过佩恩-奥尔德里奇关税法案的选票，当火车车厢隆隆驶过时，挂满了彩旗和旗帜，吉格让其中一名警察相信威廉·詹宁斯·布莱恩会成为更好的总统。
But this one wanted no part of Gig’s charm: “You anarchist Wobs ain’t welcome here,” he said.
但这个人不想成为吉格的魅力之一：“你们这些无政府主义的沃布斯在这里不受欢迎，”他说。
“Well, then it’s your lucky day,” Gig said, “for there are no anarchists here. And while I am a member of the Industrial Workers of the World, I don’t believe that to be against the law.”
“嗯，那今天是你的幸运日，”吉格说，“因为这里没有无政府主义者。虽然我是世界产业工人协会（Industrial Workers of the World）的成员，但我不认为这是违法的。
“It is to me,” the slate-haired man said. He smacked his hand with his baton. “So what do you stinking bums want first? A beating or a bath?”
“对我来说，”那个灰发男人说。他用警棍砸了一下自己的手。“所以你们这些臭流浪汉首先想要什么？殴打还是洗澡？
Rye made eye contact with Jules, and they both looked over their shoulder. The river, then? But the Spokane was no bath, no gentle dip or quaint Montana fish stream. This was a Pacific-bound rager, a drowner, a freezer, a cold, rocky white-water deluge draining the whole of the Coeur d’Alenes from the big lake to the massive Columbia.
Rye 与 Jules 进行了眼神交流，他们都回头看了看。那么，河流呢？但斯波坎没有浴缸，没有平缓的浸泡或古朴的蒙大拿州鱼溪。这是一场太平洋的狂暴、溺水者、冰柜、冰冷的岩石白水洪水，将整个科达伦斯河从大湖排到巨大的哥伦比亚河。
Gig was still playing lawyer. “Why don’t you tell us first what law we’ve broke.”
Gig 仍然扮演律师。“你为什么不先告诉我们我们违反了什么法律。”
“The anti-agitating law,” Slate Hair said. “No more than three men can gather for public speaking or organizing.”
“反煽动法，”斯莱特·海尔说。“不超过三个男人可以聚集在一起进行公开演讲或组织。”
“And what were we organizing?” Gig asked. “A union of sleepy ballplayers?”
“那我们在组织什么？”吉格问道。“一个昏昏欲睡的球员的联盟？”
Even the civilians grinned at this, and Jules gave one of his big-throated laughs. Their fourth, the thin man in the worn suit, stayed quiet, hands in his pockets, head forward, Sunday slant to his hat.
就连平民也对此咧嘴一笑，朱尔斯大嗓门地笑了起来。他们的第四个，那个穿着破旧西装的瘦子，保持沉默，双手插在口袋里，头向前，星期天斜着帽子。
“A policeman got shot two nights ago,” said Slate Hair.
“两天前晚上，一名警察被枪杀了，”Slate Hair 说。
This quieted even Gig, who cleared his throat. “You don’t think one of us had something to do with that.”
这甚至让 Gig 安静了下来，他清了清嗓子。“你不认为我们中的任何一个人与那件事有关。”
“No,” Slate Hair admitted. “I don’t. But if it gives me reason to roust a hobo camp, I’ll take it.” He took another step forward with his nightstick.
“不，”Slate Hair 承认。“我不知道。但是，如果它让我有理由去找个流浪汉营地，我就去做。他拿着夜棍又向前走了一步。
That was when the fourth man did the strangest thing. Without a word, he walked to the other side like he’d just remembered an appointment. Maybe it was his thin, hunched shoulders or his sad-sack face, but the civilians didn’t seem concerned in the least when he strolled up, calm as a man approaching a bank window, toward a young man to the right of Old Slate Hair, standing with his own smaller blackjack, a junior version of the mob leader’s club.
就在那时，第四个人做了最奇怪的事情。他一言不发地走到另一边，就像他刚刚想起了一个约会一样。也许是他瘦弱、驼背的肩膀，或者是他那张愁眉苦脸的脸，但当他走过来时，平民们似乎一点也不关心，他像一个走近银行窗户的男人一样平静地走向老石板头发右边的一个年轻人，他手里拿着他自己的小二十一点，这是黑帮老大俱乐部的初级版本。
The thin tramp was relaxed, smiling, leaning forward, hands in his trouser pockets, so the civilian didn’t even flinch when he reached out and yanked the man’s club away—like a parent taking a stick from a child. He must have planned the move while Gig talked, because he didn’t hit the smaller man; instead, he stepped once to his left and swung the club matter-of-factly at the pumpkin head of Slate Hair, as if he were still at that bank window—I would like to deposit . . . your skull
这个瘦弱的流浪汉很放松，面带微笑，身体前倾，双手插在裤兜里，所以当他伸手把男人的棍子拽开时，平民甚至没有退缩——就像父母从孩子身上拿走棍子一样。他一定是在 Gig 说话的时候计划了这次行动，因为他没有打中那个小个子;相反，他向左走了一步，毫不犹豫地将球杆挥向石板头发的南瓜头，仿佛他还在银行的窗户前——我想存款......你的头骨.
The blow caught the big man with a sideways stroke across his thick jowl, Slate Hair’s jaw cracking like dry sticks under boots, Rye nearly retching at the sound, almost sorry for the big man. Men on both sides took a step back, as natural as a shotgun’s recoil, Slate Hair staggering, the thin man swinging again.
这一击打中了那个大个子，他粗壮的下巴被侧身抚摸着，石板发的下巴像靴子下的干棍一样裂开，Rye 几乎被这个声音干呕，几乎为这个大个子感到抱歉。双方的男人都后退了一步，就像霰弹枪的后坐力一样自然，石板发踉踉跄跄，瘦小的男人再次摆动。
And down went Slate Hair.
然后 Slate Hair 走了。
One of the civilians ran at the thin man, but Gig caught him square in the chest with a thick shoulder and the man went sprawling onto the dirt, scrambled to his feet, turned, and ran. Seeing one man flee was contagious, and the other four ran up the hill for help as Slate Hair scratched at the ground for his teeth.
其中一个平民向那个瘦子跑去，但吉格用一个粗壮的肩膀正好打在他的胸口，那个男人瘫倒在泥地上，慌忙站起来，转身跑。看到一个人逃跑是会传染的，其他四个人跑上山寻求帮助，而石板头发则在地上抓挠他的牙齿。
Gig, Rye, and the other two turned and ran the opposite direction down the trail, and were a quarter mile away before Gig paused to ask the thin man his name.
吉格、莱伊和另外两个人转身沿着小路向相反的方向跑去，走了四分之一英里，吉格停下来问那个瘦子叫什么名字。
“Early Reston,” he said.
“早期的雷斯顿，”他说。
“Well, Early Reston, I’m Gregory Dolan, and while I appreciate what you did back there, as long as you’re traveling with us, I’d ask that you abide the IWW’s code of nonviolence.”
“嗯，Early Reston，我是 Gregory Dolan，虽然我很感激你在那里所做的一切，但只要你和我们一起旅行，我就要求你遵守 IWW 的非暴力准则。”
“Nonviolence?” Reston stopped and gave a winking half-smile. “When a mob intends to throw you in a river?”
“非暴力？”雷斯顿停了下来，露出一个半笑半笑的眨眼。“当暴徒打算把你扔进河里时？”
“Especially then,” Gig said.
“尤其是那时，”吉格说。
Reston laughed—a rusty sound like an old gate swinging open. “Good God,” he said, and tossed the club he’d been carrying. “I’ve fallen in with idealists.”
雷斯顿笑了起来——生锈的声音就像一扇老门打开了。“天哪，”他说，然后扔掉了他一直拿着的棍子。“我和理想主义者混在一起。”
“You think a tramp killed that policeman?” Rye asked as they circled back along the river trail toward town. They were moving quickly, in case the mob re-formed—single file, Gig in front, then Early, Rye, and Jules.
“你觉得那个警察是流浪汉杀的吗？”Rye 问道，他们沿着河边的小路绕回镇上。他们移动得很快，以防暴徒重新形成——单列，Gig 在前，然后是 Early、Rye 和 Jules。
“Not a chance,” Gig said.
“不可能，”吉格说。
Early Reston agreed: “If a bum did it, they wouldn’t wait a day to raid the camp.”
Early Reston 同意：“如果是一个流浪汉干的，他们不会等一天就突袭营地。
Jules said, “And they’d come with more than sticks.”
朱尔斯说，“他们来的不仅仅是棍棒。
“Then what’s it mean,” Rye said, “them rousting us like that?”
“那是什么意思，”Rye 说，“他们就这样欺负我们？
“Means the bosses know we plan to shake off the yoke of slavery,” said Gig in his jawsmithing voice. “To wit, they aim to lay us low before Monday.”
“意味着老板们知道我们打算摆脱奴隶制的枷锁，”Gig 用他令人瞠目结舌的声音说。“也就是说，他们的目标是在周一之前让我们失望。”
Early laughed. “To what now?”
Early 笑了起来。“ 现在做什么 ？”
Gig said Monday was the IWW’s Free Speech Day. And that the police were hoping to intimidate them into not doing it. “You should stick around,” he told Early.
吉格说，周一是 IWW 的言论自由日。警察希望恐吓他们不要这样做。“你应该留下来，”他告诉 Early。
“And give those cops another shot? I don’t think so.”
“然后再给那些警察一枪？我不这么认为。
“Well, that might be for the best anyway,” Gig said, “if you can’t refrain from that kind of thing back there.”
“嗯，反正那可能是最好的，”吉格说，“如果你不能克制那种事情的话。
“Oh, I can refrain from having men throw me in a river.”
“噢，我可以不让男人把我扔进河里。”
Gig smiled. “I meant your reaction.”
吉格笑了。“我是说你的反应。”
“I know what you meant.” Early covered his eyes against the sun. “So, Gregory Dolan, are you a big man for these Wobblies?”
“我知道你的意思。”Early 遮住了眼睛，挡住了太阳。“那么，Gregory Dolan，你是这些 Wobblies 的大人物吗？”
“Nah.” Gig seemed both embarrassed and pleased at being taken for a union leader. He was on the free speech committee, he said, but was not an elected officer. “I simply share the belief that since all wealth comes from labor, labor ought to share in the wealth it produces and not merely be its fuel—”
“没有。”Gig 似乎对被当作工会领袖感到既尴尬又高兴。他说，他是言论自由委员会的成员，但不是民选官员。“我只是同意这样一个信念，既然所有的财富都来自劳动，那么劳动应该分享它产生的财富，而不仅仅是成为它的燃料——”
Early Reston grinned. “And do you have opinions that John Locke didn’t write first?”
Early Reston 咧嘴一笑。“你有什么看法认为约翰·洛克不是先写的吗？”
“Maybe.” Gig stopped and could barely contain his own smile. “Tell me, what kind of student of bum economics are you?”
“也许吧。”Gig 停了下来，几乎无法抑制自己的笑容。“告诉我，你是什么样的流浪汉经济学学生？”
So Early Reston told his whole story: he grew up in Shelbyville, Illinois, studied mining engineering at Purdue College, and went to work on the front range of the Rockies, where he met and married a Colorado City girl. Though not a union man himself, he walked out in sympathy with the Western Federation of Miners’ strike in ’03. When the National Guard was sent in, he was arrested with the strikers and spent three weeks in a detention camp. Released, he went home to find his pregnant wife dead on the kitchen floor, “our stillborn son half out of her.”
因此，Early Reston 讲述了他的整个故事：他在伊利诺伊州的谢尔比维尔长大，在普渡大学学习采矿工程，然后去落基山脉的前线工作，在那里他遇到了科罗拉多城的一个女孩并结婚了。虽然他自己不是工会成员，但他走出来同情 03 年西部矿工联合会的罢工。当国民警卫队被派进来时，他和罢工者一起被捕，并在拘留营度过了三个星期。获释后，他回到家发现怀孕的妻子死在厨房地板上，“我们死产的儿子半死不活”。
They walked quietly along the river trail awhile.
他们沿着河边的小路静静地走了一会儿。
“That is why,” Early said, “Gregory Dolan of the Irrational Workers of the World, I tend to take a harder view of these things. Doesn’t matter how good your speeches are, if someone comes to knock Early Reston, he’s gonna get knocked back.”
“这就是为什么，”厄利尔说，“世界非理性工人的格雷戈里·多兰（Gregory Dolan），我倾向于对这些事情采取更强硬的看法。不管你的演讲有多好，如果有人来敲打 Early Reston，他就会被击退。
It seemed to Rye that his brother usually had a famous saying at the ready, and as they moved down the trail, he went with an old favorite: “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.”
在莱伊看来，他的哥哥通常都准备好了一句名言，当他们沿着小路前进时，他用了一句老话：“谁与怪物战斗，就应该注意在这个过程中他不会变成怪物。
Early Reston squinted as they walked, the same grin on his face. “Well, go on, you well-read son of a bitch, don’t stop there.”
Early Reston 在他们走路时眯起眼睛，脸上也露出同样的笑容。“好吧，继续说吧，你这个博学多才的婊子，别停在那里。”
“For if you gaze long enough into an abyss—”
“因为如果你凝视深渊足够长的时间——”
“The abyss gazes back,” Early said. “And that’s me, friend. The abyss smiling back.”
“深渊回望着，”Early 说。“那就是我，朋友。深渊也回以微笑。
Rye had never seen anyone compete with Gig in the quoting of famous men. This Early Reston was like Gig meeting his match and his best friend at the same time, and they went back and forth about this fella Nitchee, or that one Marks, or some guy Russo, who Early said believed that “liberty with danger is preferable to peace with slavery.”
Rye 从未见过有人在引用名人时与 Gig 竞争。这个早期的雷斯顿就像吉格同时遇到了他的对手和他最好的朋友，他们来回谈论这个家伙尼奇，或者那个马克斯，或者某个人鲁索，他早期说过，他相信“有危险的自由比有奴隶制的和平更可取”。
“Tommy Russo?” Rye tossed in from behind, thinking of a young Italian they’d picked apples alongside.
“汤米·鲁索？”Rye 从后面扔了进来，想起了他们一起摘苹果的一位年轻的意大利人。
“Jean-Jacques Rousseau,” said Gig over his shoulder, less to educate Rye than to show off for his new friend. “His Discourse on Inequality is basically the Wobbly pitch after a bath and a glass of port.”
“让-雅克·卢梭，”吉格转过头说，与其说是为了教育莱伊，不如说是为了向他的新朋友炫耀。“他的 《论不平等 》 基本上就是洗完澡和喝了一杯波特酒之后的摇摆不定的演讲。”
This caused even Jules to laugh, and Rye felt left out, as he often did when Gig broke out the union talk. He’d been listening to this Wobbly pitch for almost a year, but he’d never been entirely sold. Carpenter, millwright, machinist—plenty of unions Rye could see them joining for steady work and a slice of the pie, but the IWW seemed more tramp church than true labor outfit to him. Gig said this was “small thinking” on Rye’s part. “This is about more than you and me making enough to buy some vacant lot, Rye-boy. It’s about equality. It’s about the worker owning the means of production.”
这甚至让 Jules 都笑了起来，而 Rye 则感到被冷落了，就像 Gig 爆发工会谈话时他经常做的那样。他已经听了将近一年的 Wobbly 演讲，但他从未完全被说服。木匠、磨工、机械师——Rye 可以看到他们加入很多工会，只是为了稳定的工作和分一杯羹，但在他看来，IWW 更像是流浪汉教堂，而不是真正的劳工组织。吉格说，这是 Rye 的“小想法”。“这不仅仅是你我赚到足够的钱来买一些空地，Rye-boy。这是关于平等的。这是关于工人拥有生产资料的问题。
That seemed awfully unlikely to Rye—like a beggar hungry for bread getting the whole bakery. And the idea that you could make men equal just by saying it? Hell, it took only your first day in a Montana flop or standing over your mother’s unmarked grave to know that equal was the one thing all men were not. A few lived like kings, and the rest hugged the dirt until it cracked open and took them home.
这对 Rye 来说似乎不太可能——就像一个渴望面包的乞丐得到整个面包店一样。而你只要说出来就可以让男人平等的想法？的，你只在蒙大拿州的第一天，或者站在你母亲没有标记的坟墓前，就知道平等是所有男人都不是的一件事。少数人像国王一样生活，其余的人拥抱泥土，直到泥土裂开，才带他们回家。
On the trail in front, Early Reston was making a similar point. “To my way of thinking, your one big union goes against human nature and human history.”
在前面的小径上，Early Reston 也提出了类似的观点。“在我看来，你的一个大联盟违背了人性和 人类历史。”
“But it is history,” said Gig, “the coming revolution of the working class.”
“但这是 历史，”吉格说，“即将到来的工人阶级革命。
Early turned back and winked at Jules and Rye. “I think you and I had different history books.”
Early 转过身来，对 Jules 和 Rye 眨了眨眼。“我觉得你和我有不一样的历史书。”
Then Gig smiled back at his little brother, too, as if to say, Ain’t this grand? And it was grand, thought Rye. He imagined everyone had a picture in mind of the word America—flags or eagles or George Washington’s wig—but from that moment on, he thought he’d imagine waking on a ball field with his brother, fighting off a mob, then marching into town in a moving debate of economics and justice.
然后吉格也对他的弟弟微笑，仿佛在说， 这不是很伟大吗？ 而且它很宏伟，Rye 想。他想象着每个人心中都有一幅关于美国这个词的画面 ——国旗、鹰或乔治·华盛顿的假发——但从那一刻起，他认为他会想象自己和哥哥一起在球场上醒来，击退暴徒，然后大步进城，进行一场关于经济和正义的动人辩论。
“What do you think, Jules?” Rye asked.
“你觉得怎么样，朱尔斯？”Rye 问道。
They had fallen back a few steps, the old man glancing over the hillside at the mouth of a stream. Hangman Creek ran through the farm near Rockford where they’d worked together, and Jules had told Rye how it came to be named fifty years earlier, when the valley was filled with nothing but Indian villages. During the Coeur d’Alene War, a Cavalry colonel named George Wright rode along the Spokane River, destroying every village and food cache he found. He also captured eight hundred horses, the full measure of the tribes’ wealth. Twelve miles upriver, Wright ordered them shot. At first, they led each animal out separately and put a bullet in its head, but realizing this could take days, Wright had the soldiers fire directly into the herd, ponies falling in heaps, eight hundred wailing horses shot dead while the Spokanes watched from the foothills. After that, missionaries guaranteed the safety of any chief who would talk peace with Wright, but each time one rode into camp he was arrested. And when a Yakama brave named Qualchan came to plea for his father’s release, he and his party were immediately hanged.
他们已经后退了几步，老人瞥了一眼山坡上的溪流口。刽子手溪流经罗克福德附近的农场，他们在那里一起工作，朱尔斯告诉莱伊它是如何在五十年前命名的，当时山谷里只有印第安村庄。在科达伦战争期间，一位名叫乔治·赖特的骑兵上校沿着斯波坎河骑行，摧毁了他发现的每一个村庄和食物库。他还捕获了 800 匹马，这是部落财富的全部量。在上游 12 英里处，成步堂下令射杀他们。起初，他们分别把每只动物带出去，然后用子弹射中它的头部，但成步堂意识到这可能需要几天时间，于是让士兵直接向马群开枪，小马成群结队地倒下，八百匹哀嚎的马被射死，而斯波坎一家则在山脚下看着。在那之后，传教士保证任何愿意与赖特和平相处的酋长的安全，但每次有人骑马进入营地时，他都会被逮捕。当一位名叫 Qualchan 的 Yakama 勇士前来恳求释放他的父亲时，他和他的队伍立即被绞死。
In Rockford, Jules told Rye the story of these two places, the Horse Slaughter Camp on the east end of town and Hangman Creek to the southwest. He called them Père Blanc et Mère Blanche, and even though it was French, Rye didn’t need a translation: In a city named for the people driven from it, everything called civilization was born of those two parents.
在罗克福德，朱尔斯向莱伊讲述了这两个地方的故事，即城镇东端的马匹屠宰营和西南的刽子手溪。他称它们为 Père Blanc et Mère Blanche，尽管它是法语，但 Rye 不需要翻译：在一个以被赶出这座城市的人们命名的城市里，一切被称为文明的东西都诞生于那两位父母。
“Jules?” Rye said again. “You got thoughts on this union business?”
“朱尔斯？”Rye 又说。“你对这个工会事务有什么想法吗？”
Jules looked up from the stream as they climbed the hill. “When I was a boy,” he said, “before any of this, I worked upriver for the old French ferryman, Plante, at the only crossing for a hundred miles. This was after Wright raided our village, and my mother begged Plante to take me on so she’d have one less child to feed. I had a trapper grandfather on my father’s side, so Plante agreed. He taught me French and English and was the one called me Jules. I slept in a shed behind his cabin and cleaned horseshit off the ferry decks and cleared brush from the shore. I worked for Plante from my sixth year until my fifteenth and was never paid a dime, but I was fed and given a place to sleep.”
当他们爬上山坡时，Jules 从溪流中抬头望去。“当我还是个孩子的时候，”他说，“在此之前，我为上游的老法国摆渡人普兰特（Plante）工作，在方圆一百英里的唯一渡口工作。那是在成步堂突袭我们村之后，我妈妈恳求普兰特收留我，这样她就可以少养活一个孩子了。我父亲那边有个捕猎者祖父，所以普兰特同意了。他教我法语和英语，还叫我 Jules。我睡在他小屋后面的棚子里，清理渡轮甲板上的马屎，清理岸上的灌木丛。我从 6 岁到 15 岁都在 Plante 工作，从来没有得到过一分钱的薪水，但我得到了吃的，还得到了一个睡觉的地方。
Just ahead of them, Gig and Early turned a switchback.
就在他们前面，Gig 和 Early 转了个弯。
“One day,” Jules said, “two men rode up on the far shore. I roped the barge over and loaded the men and their horses. But they were outlaws, and when we got halfway across the river, they threw me off, cut the cable, and stole the barge. I swam to shore and woke Plante, and he and I tracked the barge downriver, but one of them rode it right over the falls. And when we got back to camp, Plante beat me for losing his ferry.”
“有一天，”朱尔斯说，“两个男人骑着马从远处的岸上爬上来。我用绳子把驳船拉过来，把人和他们的马装上车。但他们是亡命之徒，当我们过河的一半时，他们把我扔了下来，剪断了电缆，偷走了驳船。我游到岸边，叫醒了普兰特，他和我追踪着顺流而下的驳船，但其中一艘船正好越过了瀑布。当我们回到营地时，普兰特因为我丢失了他的渡轮而打了我。
In Rockford, Rye had heard Jules answer questions this way, with winding stories that tailed off before their conclusion. He wasn’t sure if it was the Salish way or the French way or Jules’s way, but he suspected the story’s meaning was like an undercurrent beneath the surface, the opposite of how Gig and his union friends told stories, skipping the story part to go straight to collectivism or syndicalism. Jules seemed to want Rye to figure out the ism himself.
在罗克福德，莱伊听到朱尔斯以这种方式回答问题，曲折的故事在结束之前就结束了。他不确定这是萨利什的方式、法国的方式还是朱尔斯的方式，但他怀疑这个故事的意义就像表面之下的暗流，与 Gig 和他的工会朋友讲故事的方式相反，跳过故事部分直接进入集体主义或工团主义。朱尔斯似乎希望莱伊自己弄清楚这种主义。
Finally, Rye could wait no longer. “What’s it mean, Jules?”
终于，Rye 不能再等了。“这是什么意思，朱尔斯？”
Jules gave a laugh. “Un homme dans un bateau.”
朱尔斯笑了起来。“Un homme dans un bateau。”
“Come on,” Rye said, “you know I don’t speak nothing but English.”
“得了吧，”Rye 说，“你知道我不会说英语。
“One man to a boat,” Jules said. “We all go over alone.”
“一个人到一艘船，”朱尔斯说。“我们都是一个人过去。”
They broke over a rise then, and caught up with Gig and Early, the four of them moving toward the stout brick skyline of that smoke-capped city.
然后他们越过了一个高地，追上了 Gig 和 Early，他们四个人朝着那个烟雾缭绕的城市粗壮的砖砌天际线走去。
There was no place like it then, Spokane—such hell and hair on that town. A full day’s ride from anywhere, isolated between mountain ranges on the stair-step deck of waterfalls, it took Rye’s breath away the first time he railed in: basalt cliffs jutting like teeth from pine-covered hills, train bridges latticing the valley, and in the center that big river, which carved a steep, tree-lined canyon that led from the silver mines and forested mountains of Idaho to rich Washington farmland.
那时没有像它这样的地方，斯波坎——那个小镇上有如此地狱般的毛茸茸。从任何地方出发，在瀑布的阶梯式甲板上与世隔绝，经过一整天的车程，Rye 第一次踏入时就惊叹不已：玄武岩悬崖像牙齿一样从松树覆盖的山丘上伸出，火车桥将山谷拱起，在中央有一条大河，它雕刻出一个陡峭的绿树成荫的峡谷，从爱达荷州的银矿和森林覆盖的山脉通向富饶的华盛顿农田。
It was a boomtown that just kept booming, doubling in size every six years, going from a few hundred to a hundred-some thousand in just thirty years, until the only place bigger in the state was that ugly harbor blight Seattle. Spokane felt like the intersection of Frontier and Civilized, the final gasp of a thing before it turned into something else—the Last Rush Town, Gig called it, for the silver rushes in the foothills, but also the rush of railroad and bank, school and merchant, brick, stone, and steel, old-growth timber turned to pillared houses, hammers popping nonstop against the wild, a mad rush to log and pave the whole world.
这是一个不断繁荣的新兴城镇，每六年规模翻一番，在短短 30 年内从几百个增加到十几万个，直到该州唯一更大的地方是那个丑陋的港口荒芜的西雅图。斯波坎感觉像是边疆和文明的交汇点，是事物在变成其他东西之前的最后一口气——吉格称之为最后的匆忙小镇，因为山麓的银流，还有铁路和银行、学校和商人、砖石和钢铁的匆忙，古老的木材变成了柱子房子， 锤子不停地向荒野爆裂，疯狂地冲向伐木并铺设整个世界。
Downtown, the money turned west at Howard Street, to banks, clothiers, clubs, law offices, and gilded hotels, Louis Davenport’s fine restaurant and the Hall of Doges, the marbled Spokane Club, bricked roads leading to grand neighborhoods of mining and timber barons and the men who banked and doctored and lawyered them.
在市中心，钱从霍华德街向西转向银行、服装商、俱乐部、律师事务所和镀金酒店、路易斯·达文波特的高级餐厅和总督大厅、大理石装饰的斯波坎俱乐部、通往采矿和木材大亨以及银行、医生和律师的宏伟社区的砖砌道路。
The eastern half of downtown was all skid and tenderloin, six blocks by six blocks of drink, dance, rent-a-room, liquor-and-chance, opium, garter-bird weekend beds. Gig said that in the years before Rye found him, he had railed from San Francisco to St. Paul and every town in between, and for his money, of which, admittedly, he had none, Spokane was the best city of them all.
市中心的东半部到处都是牛排和里脊肉，6 个街区乘 6 个街区，有饮料、舞蹈、租房、酒和机会、鸦片、吊袜带鸟周末床。吉格说，在莱伊找到他之前的几年里，他从旧金山到圣保罗，以及介于两者之间的每个城镇，为了他的钱，他承认，他一无所有，斯波坎是他们中最好的城市。
It grew on Rye for different reasons: the quiet neighborhoods and the way you could look up brownstone canyons and see, at the end of even the busiest street, a pine-covered hillside. And he liked the idea of one day building their own house among the fruit trees behind Mrs. Ricci’s boardinghouse. But however much the Dolan brothers had grown to like Spokane, the city didn’t exactly return their affections—seeing them as just two more bums in a city thick with them, a point Gig argued this way:
它在 Rye 上生长的原因有很多：安静的社区，以及你可以仰望褐石峡谷的方式，即使是在最繁忙的街道的尽头，也能看到松树覆盖的山坡。他喜欢有一天在 Ricci 夫人寄宿公寓后面的果树上建造自己的房子的想法。但是，无论多兰兄弟多么喜欢斯波坎，这座城市并没有完全回报他们的感情——将他们视为这座城市中的另外两个流浪汉，吉格这样论证了这一点：
A bum wanders and drinks.
一个流浪汉闲逛和喝酒。
A tramp wanders and dreams.
一个流浪汉徘徊和做梦。
A hobo wanders and works.
流浪汉徘徊并工作。
That second part was open for negotiation, but no question, Rye and Gig wandered, out of necessity or character or both. Maybe they’d have stayed in one place if they’d been born wheat farmers or gentlemen grocers and not the sons of a man like Dan Dolan, who came from Ireland, where the family name Dobhail meant unlucky in Gaelic and apparently translated perfectly to America, Dan doing a year in debtor’s jail before finding work as a shovel mucker, at which point he sent word back to County Leitrim that Ahearn Dobhail’s youngest was a budding American silver baron in need of a bride. Neighboring villages pooled money to send their most disagreeable old maid, who was all of twenty-two, and for whom two men had left Ireland rather than engage her. She arrived in Montana after two weeks on boats and trains and wagons to find this played-out convict a decade older than advertised, her first words “I pray there’s enough of you left to make a baby.”
第二部分是可以协商的，但毫无疑问，Rye 和 Gig 徘徊了，出于必要或性格，或者两者兼而有之。如果他们出生在小麦种植者或绅士杂货店，而不是像丹·多兰这样的人的儿子，也许他们会留在一个地方，丹·多兰来自爱尔兰，那里的姓氏 Dobhail 在盖尔语中是不幸的意思，显然可以完美地翻译成美国，丹在债务人的监狱里呆了一年，然后找到了一份铲子清理工作。 这时，他把消息传回了利特里姆郡，说阿赫恩·多巴伊尔最小的是一位崭露头角的美国白银男爵，需要一位新娘。邻近的村庄凑钱送他们最讨厌的老女仆，这个老女仆都二十二岁了，有两个男人为了她离开了爱尔兰，而不是和她订婚。她乘坐轮船、火车和货车两周后抵达蒙大拿州，找到了这个比广告上大十岁的罪犯，她的第一句话是“我祈祷你们还剩下足够生孩子。
“Your mother arrived with grievances,” Dan Dolan used to say, “and plans to send me out with the same.” And so she did after four children, Rye the last, eight years old when his da dropped dead on the steps of a tavern, the very definition of Irish hell: dying walking into a bar. Rye’s mother fell sick not long after and took to her bed—poor Dan this and poor Dan that—in her sickness creating a love for the ages, or maybe that was love: grievance to grieving to grave. With their da dead and their ma sick, the union books closed, mines and railroads sloughing off workers, the Dolan siblings had no choice but to leak away, first doomed Danny, then poor Lacy, and finally, Gig, who couldn’t bear the shame of being a healthy young man not working the mines and walked off one day without a word.
“妈带着委屈来到这里，”丹·多兰（Dan Dolan）常说，“并打算把我带着同样的委屈送出去。她就这样生了四个孩子，最后一个是 Rye，当他的爸爸死在一家小酒馆的台阶上时，她八岁了，这就是爱尔兰地狱的定义：走进酒吧时死去。不久之后，莱伊的母亲病倒在床上—— 可怜的丹这个，可怜的丹那个 ——在她的病中创造了一种永恒的爱，或者也许这就是 爱：从委屈到悲伤到坟墓。随着他们的 da 去世和马生病，工会书籍关闭，矿山和铁路流失工人，多兰兄妹别无选择，只能泄露，首先是注定要失败的丹尼，然后是可怜的莱西，最后是吉格，他无法忍受作为一个健康的年轻人没有在矿山工作的耻辱，有一天一言不发地走了。
Gig always said that in another life he’d have been an actor, and that’s what led him to “the theater capital of the west,” Spokane’s gem, the redbrick Auditorium Theater, encrusted with ornate balconies and barnacled boxes over the Biggest Stage on the Planet, sixty feet wide and forty-six deep. Ten other theaters progressed downward in size and culture, west to east, Pantages to Orpheum to Comique, powdered plays and piano concertos on the west end, European horns and pince-nez monologists in the center, and farthest east the disreputable variety houses showing the likes of Ursula the Great and the Famous Fighting Fitz, who battled five men and then punched a horse to the ground. These spectacles ran up against saloons and gambling houses, faro and opium, shelters for wayward girls, betting halls and drinking halls and sporting halls and social halls, a hall for every vice and veteran of war, Spanish and Civil, and unions, too, do-gooders and service clubbers, Salvation Army and Temperance League and merciful Souls of Mercy—cause and effect, disease and cure all swirled up in the loin, block after block of wretched glorious humanity wandering the east-end streets and alleys, hungry, thirsty, lonely beggars and bums and hands and sawyers and millers and miners and scuffs, broke brothers and failed fathers and godforsaken grandfathers, all languages, religions, and races, crib rats and saloon girls, temperance ladies, nuns and cons and pickpockets and socialists and suffragists, the wicked, broken, and unholy—Americans, them, too, every one.
吉格总是说，如果来世他会成为一名演员，这就是他来到“西部戏剧之都”的原因，斯波坎的瑰宝，红砖礼堂剧院，在地球上最大的舞台上点缀着华丽的阳台和藤壶盒子，宽 60 英尺，深 46 英尺。其他十个剧院的规模和文化从西到东，从潘特吉斯到奥芬再到喜剧，西端是粉状戏剧和钢琴协奏曲，中间是欧洲号角和 pince-nez monologists ，最远的东边是声名狼藉的综艺公司，展示了乌苏拉大帝和著名的战斗菲茨等人，他们与五个人战斗，然后用拳头将一匹马打倒在地。这些奇观与酒吧和赌场、法鲁和鸦片、任性女孩的庇护所、博彩厅和饮酒厅、体育馆和社交厅、每个恶习和退伍军人、西班牙人和民用军人的大厅以及工会、行善者和服务俱乐部成员、救世军和节制联盟以及仁慈的慈悲之魂相抗衡——因果关系， 疾病和治愈都在腰间盘旋，一个又一个的可怜光荣的人性在东端的街道和小巷里徘徊，饥饿、口渴、孤独的乞丐、流浪汉、手、锯木工、磨坊主、矿工和磨损者，破碎的兄弟和失败的父亲和被上帝遗弃的祖父，所有的语言、宗教和种族，婴儿床老鼠和酒吧女孩， 节制的女士、修女、骗子、扒手、社会主义者和女权主义者、邪恶的、破碎的和不圣洁的——美国人，他们也是，每一个人。
But as poor as that side of Spokane was, the other was more than its equal in wealth, Browne’s Addition and the bookshelf boulevards of the South Hill bursting with grand estates, mansions that covered whole blocks, their houses gabled and gilded and turreted and corniced and columned and dormered and portico’d and butlered and drivered and maided, and good God go hungry, a man walking those streets would be crazy not to ponder the Wobbly pitch—hell, why not a union of all men and women, especially in a world like this, where a rich handful lived in the clouds while the rest starved and slaved and slept on dirt only to be rousted from sleep by an angry mob intent on drowning you.
但是，尽管斯波坎的那一边很穷，但另一边的财富却超过了它的同级财富，布朗的扩建和南山的书架林荫大道上到处都是宏伟的庄园，豪宅覆盖了整个街区，他们的房子有山墙、镀金、塔楼、檐口、柱子、天窗、门廊、管家、司机和女仆， 天哪，天哪，饿着肚子走在那些街道上，不去思考 Wobbly 的演讲就疯了——见鬼，为什么不让所有男人和女人联合起来，尤其是在这样的世界里，一小撮富人生活在云层中，而其余的人则挨饿、奴役和睡在泥土上，结果却被一群意图淹死你的愤怒暴徒从睡梦中赶走。
They were on a plateau above the river, in Browne’s Addition, high iron fences fronting estates, hired men watching from gatehouse windows. Early was still jawing with Gig. “I just don’t see how you fight a class war without the war.”
他们在河上的一个高原上，在 Browne's Addition，庄园前有高高的铁栅栏，雇工从门房的窗户看着。Early 仍然对 Gig 咄咄逼人。“我就是看不出没有战争你怎么打阶级战争。”
Three other floaters had fallen in with them as they walked toward the smoky center of downtown and the IWW’s free breakfast. Two of the men were old hands who’d put up hay near Omak with Jules, and they recounted bunkhouse stories that brought out his big laugh again. The third was a young black hotel porter who introduced himself as Everett and told Rye he was paid two thirds what white porters got and wasn’t allowed in their union. “My boss would fire me if I became a Wobbly,” Everett said, “but he can’t stop me from having breakfast.”
另外三名漂浮物在走向烟雾缭绕的市中心和 IWW 的免费早餐时也跟着他们一起走了。其中两个人是老手，他们和朱尔斯一起在 Omak 附近堆干草，他们讲述了工棚的故事，让他再次大笑起来。第三个是一位年轻的黑人酒店搬运工，他介绍自己叫埃弗雷特，并告诉莱伊，他的工资是白人搬运工的三分之二，而他们的工会不允许。“如果我变得摇摆不定，我的老板会解雇我，”埃弗雷特说，“但他无法阻止我吃早餐。
An electric streetcar rumbled by, tracks webbing the city, lines crackling above them like sparking marionette strings. Through the window of the streetcar, Rye saw scowling faces and imagined what they must think of this parade, Gig in the lead like some tramp general.
一辆电动有轨电车隆隆驶过，轨道在城市中穿梭，线路在他们头顶噼啪作响，就像闪闪发光的提线木偶。透过有轨电车的窗户，Rye 看到了皱着眉头的脸，想象着他们一定是怎么看待这次游行，Gig 像什么流浪汉将军一样走在前面。
Across the street, a man in a coat long enough to cover a rifle straightened up as they passed, Rye remembering that a police officer had been killed two nights ago and that every cop, detective, and mining tough would be on the street in the coming days.
街对面，一个穿着足够盖住步枪的外套的男人在他们经过时挺直了身体，Rye 想起了两天前晚上一名警察被杀，未来几天每个警察、侦探和采矿业强硬者都会出现在街上。
The doors had just opened on the big IWW Hall on Front Street, and they lined up at the canteen for breakfast—oatmeal, coffee, and wheat-flour biscuits. They took their food through the double doors into the big meeting hall, and even Gig and Early went quiet as they filled their bellies.
前街 （Front Street） 大型 IWW 大厅的门刚刚打开，他们在食堂排队享用早餐——燕麦片、咖啡和小麦粉饼干。他们把食物从双扇门带到大会议厅，就连 Gig 和 Early 也沉默了，因为他们填饱了肚子。
Rye had just gone back for seconds when the street door flew open and the big police chief, John Sullivan, came in. He looked around like he was thinking of buying the building, stood bow-legged in the anteroom between newsstand and canteen, eyes scraping the pamphlets, posters, and flyers on the walls until they landed on Rye, who was holding a bowl of oatmeal. A scowl rose on the chief’s face, a good two inches behind his brush mustache—facial hair of such heft and dimension that Rye half expected it to part and reveal Ursula the Great singing to a live cougar.
Rye 刚回头走了几秒钟，街门就打开了，大个子警察局长约翰·沙利文 （John Sullivan） 走了进来。他环顾四周，仿佛在考虑买下这栋楼，弓着腿站在报刊亭和食堂之间的前厅，眼睛刮擦着墙上的小册子、海报和传单，直到它们落在拿着一碗燕麦片的 Rye 身上。酋长的脸上皱起了眉头，在他的胡须后面有两英寸长——胡子的胡子是如此的沉重和大小，以至于莱伊半信半疑地认为它会分开，露出乌苏拉大帝对着一只活美洲狮唱歌。
“Walsh,” he rumbled.
“沃尔什，”他咆哮着。
Rye could do nothing but point through the open double doors to the office at the other end of the meeting hall.
Rye 什么也做不了，只能透过敞开的双扇门指向会议厅另一端的办公室。
Sullivan dug in his pocket for a nickel, slapped it on the newsstand, and grabbed a copy of the Industrial Worker. He folded the paper and, with the headline FREE SPEECH DAY peeking out from under his heavy coat, marched through the double doors into the meeting hall. Rye had heard stories about the big chief, but he’d never seen the man up close. He walked with a rolling hitch, like he was mounted on his own hips, and the way his feet pointed out and his eyes bulged, you might think him awkward, but Rye knew the man’s reputation with a stick—you did well to avoid his shadow on the street.
沙利文从口袋里掏出一枚五分钱，拍在报摊上，然后抓起一本 《产业工人》。 他把报纸叠好， 从厚重的外套下露出“ 言论自由日” 的标题，穿过双扇门进入会议厅。Rye 听说过关于大酋长的故事，但他从未近距离见过这个人。他走路时拴着一个滚动的拴子，就像他被骑在自己的臀部上一样，他的脚指向外，眼睛凸出的样子，你可能会觉得他很笨拙，但莱伊知道这个男人的名声——你最好避开他在街上的影子。
In the meeting hall, a dozen pairs of eyes followed Sullivan as he strode down the center aisle until he got to the stage, where another man pointed left, toward the office door. The police chief pivoted and covered the distance in three steps, rapped with a knuckle, and honked again: “Walsh!” The office door opened, Sullivan went inside, the door closed, and a dozen tramps exhaled at the same time.
在会议厅里，十几双眼睛跟着沙利文，他大步沿着中间的过道走，直到他走到舞台上，另一个男人指向左边，指向办公室的门。警察局长转身三步走过了一段距离，用指关节敲了敲，然后再次按喇叭：“沃尔什！办公室的门打开了，沙利文走了进去，门关上了，十几个流浪汉同时呼出一口气。
Rye took a seat between Early and Jules, who were finishing their coffee. The three of them watched as Gig and two other Wobblies stood in the aisle, debating the nature of the police chief. One man said Sullivan showed courage coming in without a bunch of other cops. Another said Sullivan would “smack your ass and drive you from town himself.” Still, he said, he preferred Sullivan to a cop like Hub Clegg, who “knocks you down to go through your pockets.”
Rye 在 Early 和 Jules 之间坐下，他们正在喝完咖啡。他们三个人看着 Gig 和另外两个 Wobblies 站在过道上，争论着警察局长的性质。一名男子说，沙利文在没有其他警察的情况下表现出勇气。另一个人说沙利文会“打你的屁股，然后亲自把你赶出镇子”。不过，他说，他更喜欢沙利文，而不是像哈布·克莱格这样的警察，后者“把你打倒在地，掏你的口袋”。
“Sullivan’s character is beside the point,” Gig said. “He runs that brutal police department, ergo, failing to hold him to account for that outfit’s rank corruption is like believing the snake’s head ignorant of what happens to the rat it swallows.”
“沙利文的性格是无关紧要的，”吉格说。“他管理着那个残酷的警察局，呃，不追究他对那个组织的等级腐败的责任，就像相信蛇头不知道它吞下的老鼠会发生什么一样。”
Early and Jules turned and nodded at each other in appreciation of Gig’s speaking gifts. “Ergo,” Early repeated.
Early 和 Jules 转过身来，互相点头，感谢 Gig 的演讲天赋。“呃，”Early 重复道。
“Snake’s head,” replied Jules.
“蛇头，”朱尔斯回答。
Then Early leaned over to Rye. “Your brother’s going to talk himself right into jail.” He stood. “As for me, I do not want to be here when that big cop comes back out and asks what tramp knocked his boy at the river today.” Then he looked over at Jules. “You’ll be easy to identify, too, you know.”
然后 Early 向 Rye 靠了过来。“你哥哥会把自己骗进监狱的。”他站了起来。“至于我，我不想在那个大警察出来问今天是什么流浪汉在河边撞倒了他的孩子。”然后他看向朱尔斯。“你也很容易认出来，你知道的。”
Jules shrugged. “I think I will stick around and see what happens.”
朱尔斯耸耸肩。“我想我会留下来，看看会发生什么。”
“Suit yourself,” Early said. “It’s been a pleasure, boys.” He offered Jules his hand. “Bonne chance, Jules.”
“适合你自己，”Early 说。“很高兴，伙计们。”他向 Jules 伸出了手。“ 好运气，朱尔斯。”
“Tout le plaisir etait pour moi,” said Jules.
“Tout le plaisir etait pour moi，”Jules 说。
Gig had seen Early stand and he stepped over. “You leaving, Early?”
Gig 看到 Early 站着，他走了过去。“你走了，Early？”
“For now.”
“暂时。”
“Where to?”
“去哪儿？”
Early looked like he hadn’t fully considered this question. “West,” he said. “Seattle, maybe. Although I’ve been known to hole up south of here, in Lind. You know it?” Gig nodded. Lind was a little wheat farming town two hours southeast. “Then again.” Early grinned. “I might not make it past Jimmy Durkin’s place.”
Early 看起来好像还没有完全考虑过这个问题。“西，”他说。“也许是西雅图。虽然我知道我躲在南边的林德。你知道吗？Gig 点点头。林德是一个位于东南方向两小时车程处的小麦种植小镇。“再说一次。”Early 咧嘴一笑。“我可能过不去吉米·杜尔金的住处。”
“I’ll start there,” Gig said.
“我从那里开始，”Gig 说。
They shook hands, and Early clapped Gig on the shoulder. “Be careful with this bullshit.”
他们握了握手，Early 拍了拍 Gig 的肩膀。“小心这狗屁。”
Early was still shaking Gig’s hand when he looked over and smiled. “And Rye, next time your brother won’t shut up about the inherent rights of man, you have my permission to crown him with a shovel.” He put his hat on. “Okay, then. See you princes down the line—” Then he walked out the door and was gone.
当 Early 看过来微笑时，他仍然在握 Gig 的手。“还有莱伊，下次你哥哥不肯对人的固有权利闭口不谈的时候，我允许你用铁锹给他加冕。”他戴上了帽子。“好吧。再见，王子们——“然后他走出门，走了。
It wasn’t five minutes later that the office door flew open and Sullivan exited as boldly as he’d entered, followed by Walsh, Little, and a thin Italian man in a brown suit named Charlie Filigno, the unhappy secretary of the union.
不到五分钟后，办公室的门就打开了，沙利文像进来时一样大胆地走了出来，后面跟着沃尔什、利特尔和一个穿着棕色西装的瘦小意大利男人，名叫查理·菲利尼奥，他是工会的不满秘书。
Wobblies stepped out of Sullivan’s way as the big chief marched up the aisle to where the double doors stood propped open. He turned back to face the room like a stern priest. “I told your man Walsh and I’m telling you. Don’t do this thing you’re planning. One of my cops was killed two nights past—”
当大头目沿着过道走到双扇门敞开的地方时，摇摆不定地挡住了沙利文的去路。他转过身来，像个严肃的牧师一样面对房间。“我告诉过你的人，沃尔什，我也告诉你。不要做你计划的事情。我的一个警察在前两个晚上被杀了——”
Walsh interrupted. “You said yourself, the killer posed as a real estate man. Does that sound like anyone here?”
沃尔什打断了他。“你自己说的，凶手冒充了一个房地产商。这听起来像这里的任何人吗？
“No,” Sullivan admitted dolefully, as if it would be easier if it did. “But it won’t matter. For me boys are in a state. One of them got jumped cleaning out a hobo camp this morning.”
“不，”Sullivan 悲哀地承认，仿佛如果这样做了会更容易。“但这并不重要。对我来说，男孩们处于一种状态。他们中的一个今天早上在清理流浪汉营地时跳了起来。
Rye flinched and Gig shot him a hard glance.
Rye 畏缩了一下，Gig 狠狠地瞪了他一眼。
Sullivan held up the newspaper and slapped the free speech headline. “You do this and you will pay in bone and teeth.”
沙利文举起报纸，打了一巴掌，抨击了言论自由的标题。“你这样做，你会用骨头和牙齿来付出代价。”
He turned on his heel and marched out and a second later the door to the street slammed. In the quiet that followed, Rye looked around the room, at his brother, at Jules, at Walsh and Little, at the porter Everett and the ranch hands, at a half dozen others in threadbare clothes and whiskered faces, this army of the poor and broken, in it together now, but alone, too, each man moving toward the horizon of his own end.
他转身大步走出去，一秒钟后，街道的门砰地一声关上了。在随后的寂静中，莱伊环顾着房间，看着他的哥哥，看着朱尔斯，看着沃尔什和利特尔，看看看门人埃弗雷特和牧场工人，看看其他六个人，他们穿着破烂的衣服，脸上留着胡须，这支穷人和破碎的军队，现在在一起，但也孤身一人，每个人都朝着自己终点的地平线前进。
AFTER BONIN liberated the Scots’ pelts, me and him rode along the lower trail on the south bank till we come to a rocky ford where this Frenchman run the cable ferry that crossed the wild river. But the barge was tied the other side and we saw no sign of the old trapper Plante.
A 在 BONIN 解放了苏格兰人的毛皮后，我和他沿着南岸的较低小径骑行，直到我们来到一个岩石浅滩，这个法国人在那里经营着穿过狂野河流的电缆渡轮。但驳船被绑在另一边，我们没有看到老捕猎者普兰特的踪迹。
Liberate is an awful rich word for what you done, I said to Bonin.
Liberate 是一个非常丰富的词来形容你的所作所为，我对 Bonin 说。
No dust rose behind us on the Mullan Trail and I thought maybe we had not been followed.
在 Mullan Trail 上，我们身后没有扬起尘土，我想也许我们没有被跟踪。
We’d just struck camp that morning to ride north when Bonin come with that thick pelt-pack tied to the cantle of his saddle. He said the Scots made him a bargain, and if we crossed at Plante’s Ferry we could sell the pelts at Fort Colville.
那天早上我们刚扎营向北骑行，这时 Bonin 带着那个绑在马鞍上卷的厚厚的毛皮包来了。他说苏格兰人帮他讨价还价，如果我们在普兰特渡口过河，就可以在科尔维尔堡卖掉毛皮。
But the way he kept looking back I became of a mind that Bonin had stole them pelts. I asked him outright and that’s when he come up with that word liberated. A God-fearing man would’ve rode off and let him take his own lashings, but my own weakness and Bonin’s knowledge of that strange country had my nerve.
但是他一直回头看的方式，我突然觉得 Bonin 偷了他们的毛皮。我直截了当地问他，就在那时他想出了解放这个词。一个敬畏上帝的人会骑马走开，让他自己去鞭打，但我自己的弱点和博宁对那个陌生国家的了解使我感到紧张。
And now Plante’s Ferry lay unmanned and our plan in waste. The ferryman had a cabin the other side of the river but no one appeared about. Even when Bonin put his hands together and called Hallo! across the river, the cabin stayed dark.
现在普兰特的渡轮无人值守，我们的计划付诸东流。摆渡人在河的另一边有个小屋，但周围没有人出现。即使当 Bonin 双手合十并称 Hallo！ 河对岸，小屋一片漆黑。
We could swim the ponies, I said, but Bonin’s cheeks colored as he looked down that powerful river. Snow still shaded the foothills and that river bulged with fierce current.
我们可以游泳，我说，但当博宁望着那条强大的河流时，他的脸颊泛起了颜色。白雪仍然遮蔽着山麓，那条河汹涌澎湃。
Might swamp the furs, he said. I knew the truth that Bonin could not swim more than a thrash or two. And that early in spring, the Spokane River might sop the pelts, pull his little saddler downstream, and dump him in the froth.
可能会淹没毛皮，他说。我知道一个事实，Bonin 不会游超过一两次。早春时节，斯波坎河可能会吸走毛皮，把他的小马鞍拉到下游，把他扔进泡沫里。
Just then a boy appeared from the brush on the other shore, a hundred feet across from us. He was dark and little, maybe twelve years old, with a black knot of hair, from that river band of Indians that Plante lived among.
就在这时，一个男孩从对岸的灌木丛中出现，离我们对面一百英尺。他又黑又小，大概十二岁，留着一头黑发，来自普兰特居住的那群印第安人。
Where’s your Frenchman? Bonin called.
你的法国人在哪儿？博宁喊道。
I can cross you, the boy called back.
我可以越过你，男孩回道。
Do it then, Bonin yelled.
那就动手吧，Bonin 喊道。
The boy started untying his barge.
男孩开始解开他的驳船。
As it was the only crossing of that river, the posted price was high: four dollars a wagon, six bits a man, and four bits per animal. We had no wagon, just us and our horses and that bundle of pelts.
由于这是那条河的唯一渡口，标价很高：一辆马车 4 美元，一个人 6 比特，每只动物 4 比特。我们没有马车，只有我们自己和我们的马，还有那捆毛皮。
The young Indian worked the punt toward us, using a pole to push against the shore. Thick ropes led from both ends of the boat to pulleys on another rope suspended above the river and tied to big trees. Near the middle, the current pulled at the barge, trees straining and the guide rope bent in the center like a hunter pulling a bow.
那个年轻的印第安人用一根杆子推着岸边，把平底船推向我们。粗绳子从船的两端引向另一根绳索上的滑轮，绳索悬挂在河面上，拴在大树上。在靠近中间的地方，水流拉扯着驳船，树木拉紧，导绳在中心弯曲，就像猎人拉弓一样。
Ashore, Bonin gave a yank to his skittish pony’s bit. I wish that boy would hasten, he said. Bonin and I looked together at the trail behind us.
上岸后，Bonin 猛地扯了一下他那匹小马的屁股。我希望那个男孩能快点，他说。Bonin 和我一起看着我们身后的小径。
Finally, the boy settled the barge on the bank and we walked our clomping animals onto the wooden deck. The boy was older in face than his small body and he looked at me like he knew the trouble I was. Bonin paid for him and his horse. You are the cause of this, I said. So he dug out six bits for me, too.
最后，男孩把驳船停在岸边，我们把叮叮当当的动物带到木甲板上。那个男孩的脸比他小小的身体还要老，他看着我，好像他知道我遇到了什么麻烦。Bonin 为他和他的马付了钱。我说，你是造成这一切的原因。所以他也为我挖了六个部分。
As the boy pushed us off the shore and began poling to the other side, I saw something strange on that far bank, a glittering white mound in a clearing above the river. The boy followed my eye. Horse bones, he said.
当男孩把我们推离岸边，开始向另一边划去时，我在那边看到远处的岸边有什么奇怪的东西，河上的空地上有一个闪闪发光的白色土丘。那个男孩跟着我的眼睛。马骨，他说。
Then Bonin straightened and pointed behind us. Dust was rising on that southern road, not a quarter mile back. Riders coming our way. We weren’t half crossed the river when four men rode into view on the south bank.
然后博宁直起身来，指着我们身后。那条南边的路上尘土飞扬，距离我们不到四分之一英里。骑手向我们走来。我们还没过半个河，就有四个男人骑马从南岸进入了我们的视线。
Gimme the pole! Bonin yelled. But the boy would not and they tussled for it. Bonin grabbed the boy by his shirt and breeches and hurled him over the side. He hit the water with barely a ripple. Then Bonin pulled his knife from its scabbard and began cutting the guide ropes.
给我杆子！博宁大喊。但那个男孩不愿意，他们为此争吵不休。Bonin 抓住男孩的衬衫和马裤，把他扔到一边。他撞上水面时几乎没有涟漪。然后，Bonin 从刀鞘中拔出刀，开始切割导绳。
I saw what he meant to do. And I will give Bonin credit. It was likely our only hope. Those riders could ford faster than we could pole. But the current was strong enough that the river would float us downstream at a good pace, and since the trail departed the riverbank, we ought to make a bend or two and find a spot for a proper escape in the grassy fields on the north shore.
我明白了他的意图。我会赞扬 Bonin。这可能是我们唯一的希望。那些骑手可以比我们更快地涉水。但是水流足够强大，河流可以以很好的速度将我们漂向下游，既然小径离开了河岸，我们应该转一两个弯，在北岸的草地上找个合适的避难处。
Even in that cold current, the boy swam to shore with easy strokes. I envied him. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but there was much I was sorry for since Bonin and I first rode out of Kansas.
即使在那股寒冷的洪流中，这个男孩也轻松地游到了岸上。我很羡慕他。我想告诉他我很抱歉，但自从我和 Bonin 第一次骑车离开堪萨斯州以来，我有很多事情感到抱歉。
Bonin had finished cutting the guide ropes and for a moment we spun in the current, then swung free off the pulley and our barge started downstream. I laughed. Well I’ll be damned, I said. That’s how it was with Bonin. Scared and thrilled minute to minute. Horse bones and cantle pelts and suddenly you’re running a river. My own pony stirred but I gripped her bridle and bid her quiet.
Bonin 已经剪断了导绳，我们在水流中旋转了一会儿，然后从滑轮上自由摆动，我们的驳船开始向下游移动。我笑了。好吧，我会被诅咒的，我说。Bonin 就是这样。每时每刻都感到害怕和兴奋。马骨和骸毛皮，突然间你开始流淌一条河流。我自己的小马动了动，但我抓住她的缰绳，让她安静下来。
Looking back, I could see both shores: On the south, the men’s horses were settling in dust, on the north bank, the swimming boy was wading out of the river. He pulled his hands to his mouth and yelled for the ferryman.
回头一看，我可以看到两岸：南岸，男人们的马匹在尘土中沉淀，在北岸，游泳的男孩正在涉水而出。他把手捂在嘴边，大喊着要摆渡人。
Something I ought have told you, Kid, said Bonin.
我应该告诉你的事情，孩子，博宁说。
I looked over at him.
我看着他。
The Scots trapper and I quarreled with knives.
苏格兰捕猎者和我用刀子吵了起来。
Those words were barely free of his mouth when I was yanked by the shoulder and heard the thudding report of a rifle.
这些话刚从他的嘴里出来，我就被拉着肩膀，听到了步枪的砰砰声。
My horse was shot through her neck. She pulled the cheekpiece from my hand and leaped from the barge, breaking the railing and causing the boat to dip and rise and Bonin’s little saddler to stagger and fall off the other side, the other railing going with her, both animals now in the river and swimming to shore, mine with a wound in her neck, Bonin’s with our prize pelts dragging waterlogged behind. My shoulder burned where a piece of the ball that hit my pony had burrowed into my meat and socket.
我的马被子弹射穿了她的脖子。她从我手里扯下脸颊，从驳船上跳下来，打破了栏杆，使船下沉和上升，博宁的小马鞍从另一边踉跄着掉下来，另一个栏杆也跟着她走，两只动物现在都在河里，游到岸边，我的脖子上有伤口。 Bonin 的毛皮拖着后面的积水。我的肩膀在打中我的小马的球钻进我的肉和窝的地方烧伤了。
I’m shot, I said to Bonin. We were both on our stomachs, clinging to the barge. We rounded another bend and I could see the man who shot me tracking us on a trail above the south bank of the river. He’d fired from the saddle, a fancy piece of aim, and now he bore down again. A report cracked and echoed in the rocks. But this one missed and the river raced us past a cluster of boulders that rose between him and us, and the expert shot could not get off another round.
我中枪了，我对博宁说。我们俩都趴着，紧紧抓住驳船。我们绕过另一个弯道，我可以看到向我开枪的男人在河南岸上方的一条小路上跟踪我们。他从马鞍上开了一枪，瞄准得很漂亮，现在他又钻了下来。一则报告在岩石中噼啪作响。但这一次射偏了，河流冲过了他和我们之间升起的一堆巨石，专家的射击无法打出另一轮。
The river was in full churn and we bumped along, rising and falling over rapids and unseen rocks, our raft turning this way and that. The barge pole had gone over with the horses and we had nothing to brake or steer. We held flat to the thrashing vessel. The pain raking my shoulder with each bump.
河水汹涌澎湃，我们颠簸着，在急流和看不见的岩石上起伏，我们的木筏来回转动。驳船杆已经和马一起翻了过去，我们没有什么可以刹车或转向的。我们紧紧抓住那艘猛烈撞击的船只。每一次碰撞都会让我的肩膀感到疼痛。
Next eddy we’ll pull out, Bonin said, though the speed of that current did not bode well for it. And still the dust of those riders trailed us from the south shore.
Bonin 说，下一个我们将拉出漩涡，尽管那股洋流的速度对它来说并不是一个好兆头。那些骑手的尘土仍然从南岸拖着我们。
I called to Bonin, Was the Scots alive after your quarrel?
我向博宁喊道，你们吵架之后，苏格兰人还活着吗？
He didn’t answer. But I knew. I knew the minute he rode into camp with the pelts. Maybe I knew the minute we rode out of Kansas fleeing conscription. I wondered if those men would treat my shoulder before hanging me.
他没有回答。但我知道。我从他带着毛皮骑马进营地的那一刻就知道了。也许在我们逃离征兵役的那一刻，我就知道了。我想知道那些人在吊死我之前会不会处理我的肩膀。
Still the river bucked, like a new colt. Ridges and stands of trees falling away.
河水仍然像一匹新的小马驹一样颠簸。山脊和树林倒下。
I cannot give account of this river except that it was wide and fast, a torrent out of the mountain lake from which it drained, a blast of angry water over hard rock bed, eager to ocean. And even when we emerged in a slower stretch or our boat snagged a tree limb, we could not disembark, for the banks were bouldered or hung with brush and no snag could hold us. The trappers on the south shore had fallen back as the trail departed, and their dust grew faint. Perhaps the speed and harshness of that river might be our salvation after all.
我无法描述这条河，只知道它又宽又快，从高山湖泊中流出，一股愤怒的水流过坚硬的岩床，渴望海洋。即使我们出现在较慢的路段，或者我们的船卡住了树枝，我们也不能下船，因为河岸上有抱石或挂着灌木丛，没有障碍物可以困住我们。随着小径的离开，南岸的捕猎者已经后退了，他们的尘土变得微弱。也许那条河的湍急和湍急终究可能是我们的救赎。
Bonin crawled across the boards and looked at my shoulder.
Bonin 爬过木板，看着我的肩膀。
Is it bad? I asked.
这不好吗？我问。
I don’t think so, he said. But then he crawled back to his side of the barge.
他说，我不这么认为。但随后他又爬回了驳船的一侧。
That’s when I saw the dust of men on horseback on the north side of the river as well.
就在那时，我也看到了河北侧骑马的男人的尘土飞扬。
So now we were being pursued on both shores. Sure enough, two riders emerged at a full gallop on the north river trail, on a rise above us. One was older and bearded and I guessed him to be the French ferryman. The ferry boy was leading him on a smaller mount.
所以现在我们在两岸都被追赶。果然，两名骑手在北河小径上全速驰骋，在我们上方的高地上。一个年纪大了，留着胡子，我猜他是法国摆渡人。摆渡男孩正带领他骑着一个较小的坐骑。
I was our doom, Bonin said.
我是我们的厄运，Bonin 说。
I’ll not quarrel with it, I said.
我说，我不会和它争论的。
The river picked up speed again, rose and fell and twice snaked us through rapids. We clung to our barge and watched behind us, both banks, as our pursuers dropped down to the river and were forced to ride up and circle back on the bluff again, as terrain and brush warranted. I waited for the saddle-aim to try us again, but he could not get a clear shot.
河水又加快了速度，起伏不定，两次将我们蜿蜒穿过急流。我们紧紧抓住我们的驳船，看着我们身后的两岸，我们的追击者掉到河里，被迫骑上去，再次在悬崖上盘旋，这是地形和灌木丛的保证。我等着马鞍瞄准器再次尝试我们，但他无法清楚地射击。
I was aware then of a sapping from my wound, as if I were leaking out of my own skin. I lay with my face on the cold, wet boards and drifted in and out, rising and falling on that river, and I don’t know how much time passed. We slowed once more but the current pulled us away before Bonin could get us to shore. A shoreline willow had reached out a hand for us and Bonin grabbed hold but he was left with nothing but a handful of leaves stripped from bough.
这时我意识到我的伤口有一阵湿漉漉的痕迹，好像我从自己的皮肤里漏出来了。我躺在冰冷潮湿的木板上，在那条河上进进出出，起伏不定，我不知道过去了多少时间。我们再次放慢了速度，但在 Bonin 将我们带到岸上之前，水流将我们拉开了。一棵海岸线的柳树向我们伸出了手，Bonin 抓住了我们，但他只剩下一把从树枝上剥下来的叶子。
I feared I was becoming too weak to swim. The river was high and fast and freezing and the few calm stretches where we might have made shore were also reachable from the two river roads and the men chasing us—trappers on the south side, the boy and Plante on the north.
我担心自己变得太虚弱了，无法游泳。河水很高，湍急，很结冰，从两条河道和追赶我们的人——南边的捕猎者，北边的男孩和普兰特——也可以到达我们可能上岸的几片平静的路段。
So we held tight. And rose and fell, slapped by water, scraped by rocks and limbs, my arm numb like the empty sleeve of a coat.
所以我们紧紧抓住了。起起落落，被水拍打，被石头和四肢刮擦，我的手臂像外套的空袖子一样麻木。
Shame you fell in with me, Kid, said Bonin.
可惜你和我在一起了，孩子，博宁说。
I suspect my own character is at fault, I said.
我说，我怀疑我自己的角色有错。
We talked this way as we clung to that ferry, looking across the wet boards into each other’s eyes. I can tell you, at the end, you marvel at eyes. I thought of my mother’s easy blues and the bark browns of the boy who took us across the river. How many hundreds in between? And how many more I would never see, Bonin’s green demons to be my last.
我们紧紧抓住那艘渡轮，隔着湿漉漉的木板看着彼此的眼睛，这样交谈。我可以告诉你，到最后，你会惊叹于眼睛。我想起了我母亲的轻松忧郁和带我们过河的男孩的树皮棕色。中间有多少个？还有多少我永远不会看到，Bonin 的绿色恶魔将是我最后的。
He seemed to know my gloomy thinking.
他似乎明白我心里的悲观想法。
Listen, he said, I need to tell you about this river. There is a great falls ahead, six or seven steps, the last a rocky drop of forty feet into a canyon. In summer the local Indians gather there to fish, but now, with the river so high with melt— He shook his head.
听着，他说，我需要告诉你关于这条河的事。前方有一座大瀑布，有六七级台阶，最后是四十英尺高的岩石落差，落入峡谷。夏天，当地的印第安人聚集在那里捕鱼，但现在，河水如此高，融化了——他摇了摇头。
Maybe we’ll ride it, I said. Maybe we will be the first men to go over and tell about it. I smiled as I thought of the western adventures we had sought.
也许我们会骑它，我说。也许我们会是第一批走过去讲述这件事的人。我想起我们寻求的西部冒险，我笑了。
Bonin did not answer.
博宁没有回答。
The current finally slowed a bit and the trail on the north shore dipped down to us. The boy and the ferryman descended and rode at a fast trot, the boy almost as close as when we were on the barge. Like we were traveling together, two by road and two by river. I wondered if the boy had a rope to throw.
水流终于慢了一点，北岸的小径向我们倾斜。男孩和摆渡人下来，快步走着，男孩几乎和我们在驳船上时一样近。就像我们一起旅行，两个人走公路，两个人走河。我想知道这个男孩是不是有绳子可以扔。
Forgive me, Bonin said, and at first I thought he was talking to the boy, saying what I was thinking about stealing the barge. But when I turned back Bonin had slid off our punt into the river and was swimming for shore. He made that awful stroke of his, flailing, flapping, his heavy long coat spread like wet wings, the current pulling him alongside the barge. I could see his face until it went under and resurfaced ten feet away, him still trying to make shore. He glanced back my way and our eyes caught again.
原谅我，博宁说，起初我以为他在和那个男孩说话，说出我对偷驳船的想法。但是当我回头时，Bonin 已经从我们的平底船滑入河中，正在向岸边游去。他用那可怕的动作挥舞着，拍打着，他那厚重的长外套像湿漉漉的翅膀一样展开，水流把他拉到驳船旁边。我能看到他的脸，直到它沉入水中，在十英尺外重新浮出水面，他仍然试图上岸。他回头瞥了我一眼，我们的目光再次相遇。
Sure now of his folly, Bonin tried thrashing back to the barge and scrabbled his hands on the side. I tried to pull myself over to help but I was too weak. And the next time I saw Bonin he was just hair floating alongside our barge—and then gone.
博宁现在确信自己很愚蠢，他试图猛烈地回到驳船，并在侧面乱摸摸。我试着把自己拉过来帮忙，但我太虚弱了。当我再次看到 Bonin 时，他只是在我们的驳船旁边漂浮的头发——然后就消失了。
I forgive you, I said. And even though I was the one who come up with that whole Kid nonsense, I wished Bonin had called me once more by my Christian name before he went over, just to hear it again.
我说，我原谅你。即使我是想出那整篇 Kid 废话的人，我还是希望 Bonin 在他走过去之前再叫一次我的基督教名字，只是为了再听到一遍。
I did not see the trappers on the south bank after that, but the Indian on the north shore was a fine rider, and he separated from the ferryman and rode along the bluff ahead, as if to cut me off. Water sloshed the side of the barge and I could taste my blood in it.
从那以后，我就没有看到南岸的捕猎者，但北岸的印第安人是个很好的骑手，他和摆渡人分开，沿着前面的悬崖骑马，仿佛要切断我的去路。水晃动着驳船的侧面，我能尝到我血的味道。
I thought again of my mother and wondered if my sisters had all married. I wished I could see them once more. Perhaps in another world.
我又想起了我的母亲，想知道我的姐妹们是不是都结婚了。我希望我能再见到他们。也许在另一个世界。
Foolish thought. There is no other world. Ahead came a dip, the river carving into two channels, and I wondered if this was the first step of the great falls.
愚蠢的想法。没有其他世界。前方是一个凹陷，河流劈成两条通道，我想知道这是否是大瀑布的第一步。
I thought again of the glory of being the first man to go over alive. And I thought about the ferry boy and the horse bones and his tribe living forever on these banks and what the boy would make of me claiming to be the first over the falls, like the first white man to see some lake or first to cross some mountain pass, naming streams the boy’s people had fished for centuries.
我又想起了成为第一个活着过去的人的光荣。我想到了那个摆渡男孩和马骨，以及他永远生活在这些河岸上的部落，以及那个男孩会如何看待我，声称自己是第一个越过瀑布的人，就像第一个看到某个湖泊或第一个穿越某个山口的白人，命名这个男孩的人们几个世纪以来一直捕鱼的溪流。
Maybe one of them had gone over the falls and lived to tell of it. Maybe they did it all the time, like swinging from a river rope. Maybe the boy had even done it. This thought gave me hope and I sat up to see where the adventure led. I felt dizzy and had the strangest thought—I need to stay awake for this.
也许他们中的一个人越过了瀑布，并活着讲述了它。也许他们一直在这样做，就像从河绳上荡秋千一样。也许是那个男孩干的。这个想法给了我希望，我坐起来，想看看冒险会引向何方。我感到头晕目眩，心里有个奇怪的想法——我得保持清醒。
An island split the river and I could hear the roar of white water ahead of me. The boy and his pony were on a basalt ridge thirty yards downstream, and as I approached, I raised my good arm. He still had that curious look on his face.
一个岛屿将河流分开，我能听到前方白水的咆哮。那个男孩和他的小马在下游三十码外的玄武岩山脊上，当我走近时，我举起了我健壮的手臂。他的脸上仍然带着那种好奇的表情。
Watch! I called out. I cannot say why I yelled this except I imagined that if I were witnessed now, I might continue to exist, even if only as a tale the boy thrilled his children with—the scoundrel who stole a ferry and rode it over the falls.
看！我喊道。我说不出我为什么大喊大叫，但我想象着，如果我现在被目击，我可能会继续存在，即使只是作为一个让他的孩子们兴奋的故事——那个偷了一艘渡轮并骑着它越过瀑布的恶棍。
From the back of his pony, the boy raised his hand as I passed, and he called out to me the way you would to a friend you recognized, three short yelps as my barge passed, a song whose meaning I would never know but which I took to mean: I see you
当我经过时，那个男孩从他的小马背上举起了手，他像对你认识的朋友一样向我喊道，当我的驳船经过时，他发出了三声短促的叫喊，这首歌的含义我永远不知道，但我认为它的意思是：我看到你了.
There is no world but this one. And all we want is to be seen in it.
除了这个世界，没有其他世界。我们想要的只是在其中被看到。
I see you, the boy said. And I was grateful.
我看到你了， 男孩说。我很感激。
Then a crack and a roar and my barge seized up beneath me, front end risen like God Himself had reached down from heaven to save The Kid with His great forgiving thunder of a Hand—
然后，一声噼啪声和咆哮声，我的驳船在我脚下卡住了，前端升起，就像上帝本人从天而降，用他那宽恕的手大雷霆拯救了那个孩子——
But no—
但是没有——
I had run against a boulder, which tore the current and my vessel in two, and I was riven by sin from salvation and tumbled to the smaller end of my broken punt, clinging to its side. I looked back and could scarcely believe what had happened—I had gone over! Fallen ten feet on half a wooden raft and lived to tell it! I looked at the north shore for the boy and tried to make the whooping sound he had made—but I was weak and if this first stair step had been the easiest, what came next would surely be my end.
我撞上了一块巨石，它把水流和我的容器撕成两半，我被救赎的罪孽撕裂，跌落到我破损的平底船的小端，紧贴着它的侧面。我回头一看，几乎不敢相信发生了什么——我已经过去了！在半个木筏上坠落十英尺，活着告诉了它！我望向北岸寻找那个男孩，试图发出他发出的呜呜声——但我很虚弱，如果这第一步是最容易的，那么接下来的台阶肯定就是我的结局。
Behind me, the boy sat atop his pony on that rock ledge—his wide eyes mirroring my own thoughts: Did you see that! He began to raise his hand once more (this the end of the story he would tell his children, As he went over, I waved) and I began to raise my own arm in response, but before either of us could finish, the next step came and I was taken by the cold froth that awaits—
在我身后，那个男孩坐在他的小马背上，坐在那个岩架上——他睁大的眼睛反映了我自己的想法： 你看到了吗！ 他又开始举起手（这是他要告诉他的孩子们的故事的结尾， 当他走过去时，我挥了挥手 ），我开始举起自己的手臂作为回应，但还没等我们中的任何一个人说完，下一步就来了，我被等待着的冰冷泡沫带走了——
Tramps knew Spokane by its rail stations: the big depots downtown and James Hill’s freight yard in Hillyard, a neighborhood of little houses and big saloons, dry goods and feed stores, and so many stray mutts it was known as Dogtown.
流浪汉通过火车站了解斯波坎：市中心的大仓库和希尔亚德的詹姆斯·希尔 （James Hill） 货场，这个街区到处都是小房子和大酒吧、干货店和饲料店，还有许多流浪狗，它被称为狗镇。
Rye was walking to Dogtown to look for his brother on the day he first met Mrs. Ricci, on the hobo highway, a trail that paralleled the tracks along the river. Between downtown and Dogtown was all Catholic—the huge steeple of the new St. Aloysius Church being built on the riverside next to the Jesuits’ Gonzaga College, Holy Names Academy and the Knights of Columbus, a seminary and convents for Dominican and Franciscan nuns, orphanage, asylum, and high school, a vast Vaticanland surrounded by blocks of broad-porched Irish houses and the cottages and bungalows of Little Italy, Paddy taverns, spaghetti houses, groceries, shops, and the ghetto shacks of recent immigrants.
Rye 第一次见到 Ricci 夫人的那天，他正在步行到 Dogtown 寻找他的兄弟，那是在流浪汉高速公路上，这条小路与沿河的铁轨平行。在市中心和狗镇之间到处都是天主教徒——新的圣阿洛伊修斯教堂的巨大尖塔建在河边，毗邻耶稣会士冈萨加学院、圣名学院和哥伦布骑士团、多米尼加和方济各会修女的神学院和修道院、孤儿院、精神病院和高中，广阔的梵蒂冈地区被宽阔的爱尔兰房屋和小意大利的小屋和平房所包围。 稻田小酒馆、意大利面店、杂货店、商店和新移民的贫民窟小屋。
Mrs. Ricci’s boardinghouse lay on the northern edge of Little Italy, at the base of the Lidgerwood hill. It was a one-story farmhouse with an enclosed porch and an empty lot out back where her husband, before his death, had tended three rows of beloved fruit trees. Rye first saw the Ricci place when he noticed ripe plums hanging from two stuffed trees below the hillside, behind the paint-chipped house. He thought about taking a few plums but knocked on the door instead. The woman who answered was ancient, a hunch below five feet, and nearly bald beneath her head scarf. She stuck out her bottom lip and looked Rye up and down before proposing in heavily accented English that he keep a fourth of what he’d picked (“Three me, one you”). Eventually, she let him borrow a stepladder, a bucket, and a pair of gloves, Rye not twenty minutes into emptying the first tree when Mrs. Ricci reappeared with bread, noodles, and a glass of iced tea.
里奇夫人的寄宿公寓位于小意大利的北部边缘，在利德格伍德山脚下。这是一座单层农舍，有一个封闭的门廊和一片空地，她的丈夫在去世前曾在那里照料过三排心爱的果树。Rye 第一次看到 Ricci 的地方是他注意到山坡下两棵标本树上挂着成熟的李子，就在油漆碎裂的房子后面。他想拿几颗李子，但还是敲了敲门。回答的女人很老，驼背不到五英尺，头巾下几乎秃顶。她伸出下嘴唇，上下打量着 Rye，然后用带有浓重口音的英语提议让他保留他挑选的四分之一（“三个我，一个你”）。最后，她让他借了一个梯子、一个水桶和一双手套，莱伊还没清空第一棵树二十分钟，利玛窦太太就带着面包、面条和一杯冰茶回来了。
She had three grown sons, but two of them lived in Idaho with non-Catholic wives who sparked such deep disapproval that the boys rarely came to see their mother. The third son was an imbecile who lived in the asylum six blocks away. Mrs. Ricci walked there to see him every day after Mass.
她有三个成年的儿子，但其中两个与非天主教徒的妻子住在爱达荷州，这引起了如此深的不满，以至于男孩们很少来看他们的母亲。第三个儿子是个低能儿，住在六个街区外的精神病院里。利玛窦夫人每天弥撒后都会走到那里看他。
She took immediately to Rye, and with time, to Gig, her eyes narrowing as if he might be too smooth to trust. The previous December, the Dolans had set up cots on her back porch and opened vents to draw heat from the woodstove. Her enclosed porch became a cheap place to winter so long as they abided Mrs. Ricci’s particular rules: that they not show up drunk or take the Lord’s name and not correct her when she got distracted and accidentally called them by her sons’ names. “Wait, am I Marco or Geno?” Gig would ask before they went into the kitchen for breakfast. “You’re Marco,” Rye would answer. “I’m Geno.”
她立即转向 Rye，随着时间的推移，转向 Gig，她的眼睛眯起，仿佛他可能太圆滑了，无法信任。去年 12 月，多兰夫妇在她的后廊上设置了婴儿床，并打开通风口以从柴火炉中吸收热量。她封闭的门廊变成了一个廉价的过冬场所，只要他们遵守 Ricci 夫人的特殊规定：他们不喝醉出现，也不取主的名字，当她分心不小心叫到她儿子的名字时，不纠正她。“等等，我是 Marco 还是 Geno？”Gig 会在他们进厨房吃早餐之前问道。“你是 Marco，”Rye 会回答。“我是 Geno。”
This would be their second winter on Mrs. Ricci’s porch, and they woke there the morning of the great Free Speech Fight, buried under coats and blankets, the smell of bacon stirring both brothers from their cots.
这将是他们在 Ricci 太太的门廊上度过的第二个冬天，他们在伟大的言论自由斗争的早晨醒来，埋在外套和毯子里，培根的香味从他们的小床上搅动了兄弟俩。
Rye had gone there alone after Gig went out looking for Early Reston at Durkin’s. Rye worried that his brother wouldn’t come home at all, but he’d dragged in just after midnight, smelling of cigars and booze. “I’ll tell you what, Rye-boy,” Gig said as he settled into his cot, “after four whiskeys, Early’s case for making bombs instead of speeches begins to make a little sense.” He hummed a laugh that made Rye jealous. He wasn’t sure what to say about bombs versus speeches (How about neither?) but it didn’t matter: Soon Gig was snoring.
在 Gig 出去在 Durkin's 寻找 Early Reston 后，Rye 独自去了那里。Rye 担心他的兄弟根本不会回家，但他在午夜刚过时就拖进来了，闻起来有雪茄和酒的味道。“我告诉你什么，黑麦男孩，”吉格在他的小床上坐下说，“喝了四杯威士忌之后，Early 制造炸弹而不是演讲的理由开始有点道理了。他哼唱着笑声，让 Rye 嫉妒不已。他不确定该怎么说炸弹和演讲（ 两者都不是怎么样？），但没关系：很快 Gig 就开始打鼾了。
In the morning, Gig rose and used the outhouse first, then Rye, who paused at the door to glance back at what he thought of as his orchard, three rows of fruit trees, apple, plum, and pear. Leaves littered the ground beneath skeletal branches. Mrs. Ricci had agreed to sell them the lot for two hundred dollars, although they had yet to pay more than a few bucks toward it.
早上，吉格起床，先去了外屋，然后是莱伊，他在门口停了下来，回头看了一眼他心目中的 果园，三排果树，苹果、李子和梨。树叶散落在骨架树枝下的地面上。利玛窦太太同意以 200 美元的价格卖给他们这块地，尽管他们还没有付超过几美元。
When Rye came back from the outhouse, Gig was dressed and arranging his things as if he were going on a trip, folding his extra shirt and stacking his three books: Jack London’s White Fang, and Volumes I and III of Count Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Gig had traded a bottle of wine for the first Tolstoy and had found the third for sale at the Salvation Army. There were five total, Gig told Rye, part of a larger twenty-volume set of Tolstoy’s Collected, Gig always on the lookout for the rest of War and Peace, the second, fourth, and fifth volumes. Now he carefully lined his three books next to his cot as if this constituted a library.
当莱伊从外屋回来时，吉格已经穿好衣服，整理他的东西，就像他要去旅行一样，折叠他多余的衬衫，把他的三本书堆起来：杰克·伦敦的《 白牙》和托尔斯泰伯爵的 《 战争与和平 》第一卷和第三卷 。吉格用一瓶葡萄酒换了第一瓶托尔斯泰，并在救世军找到了第三瓶出售。吉格告诉莱伊，总共有五卷，是托尔斯泰的 《全集 》二十卷的一部分，吉格一直在关注 《战争与和平》 的其余部分 ，即第二卷、第四卷和第五卷。现在，他小心翼翼地把他的三本书放在他的小床旁边，仿佛这相当于一个图书馆。
“We leaving before breakfast?” Rye asked. “I thought it started at noon.”
“我们在早餐前走了？”Rye 问道。“我以为是从中午开始的。”
“Committee meeting first.”
“先开委员会会议。”
“Well, give me a minute to get ready, and I’ll go with you.”
“嗯，给我一分钟准备，我跟你一起去。”
“You’re not on the committee.”
“你不是委员会的成员。”
“I’ll come later, then?”
“那我晚点再来？”
Finally, Gig looked up at him. “Rye-boy. You’re not coming.”
最后，Gig 抬头看着他。“麦田男孩。你不会来的。
“Of course I’m coming.”
“我当然来了。”
“No.” Gig explained that he was one of twenty men slated to speak, which meant he would probably get arrested, and he didn’t want Rye getting hurt if things got out of hand with the police.
“不。”吉格解释说，他是预定发言的 20 人之一，这意味着他可能会被逮捕，他不希望如果事情与警方失控，Rye 会受伤。
“I should be there,” Rye said.
“我应该在那儿，”Rye 说。
“No. You stay for breakfast. Then you can rake Mrs. Ricci’s leaves.”
“不。你留下来吃早餐。然后你就可以耙里奇太太的叶子了。
Rye hated when Gig started ordering him around—like he was some kind of authority. “I’ll eat down at the hall,” Rye said. “And rake leaves tomorrow.”
Rye 讨厌 Gig 开始命令他——就像他是某种权威一样。“我会在大厅里吃饭，”Rye 说。“明天耙树叶。”
“No.” Gig smiled. “You’re gonna have breakfast with Mrs. Ricci. Then rake her leaves—” He pulled his coat on. “This isn’t your fight, Rye.” He walked out the door into the backyard, Rye following right behind him.
“不。”吉格笑了。“你要和里奇太太一起吃早餐。然后耙她的叶子——“他拉上外套。“这不是你的战斗，Rye。”他走出门，走进后院，Rye 紧跟在他身后。
“Wait. I spend a year listening to you go on about this business, and now it’s not my fight?”
“等等。我花了一年时间听你讲这件事，现在这不是我的斗争吗？
Gig turned back, face set. “I’m your guardian and I say you’re staying here.”
Gig 转过身来，面色凝固。“我是你的监护人，我说你留在这里。”
“My guardian!” Rye could barely believe the nerve after he’d spent the last year pulling Gig out of saloons. “What are you guarding me from, Gig? Sobriety? A home?”
“我的监护人 ！”Rye 几乎不敢相信，因为他花了一年时间把 Gig 从酒吧里拉出来。“你在保护我免受什么伤害，Gig？清醒？一个家？
It stung the way Rye knew it would. Gig turned and began walking away, muttering. Rye picked up a word here and there: responsibility and bullshit and baby. And the next thing he knew, Rye was on Gig’s back. He didn’t even remember running and he didn’t remember jumping and he certainly didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, hanging off his brother like a pack, arms around his neck.
它以 Rye 知道的方式刺痛了它。Gig 转身开始走开，嘟囔着。Rye 到处捡起一个词： 责任 、 废话和宝贝 。接下来他知道的是，Rye 躺在 Gig 的背上。他甚至不记得跑步，也不记得跳，他当然不知道他希望完成什么，像一群人一样挂在他哥哥身上，双臂搂着他的脖子。
Gig threw him into the dewy grass. “What’s the matter with you?”
吉格把他扔进了露水的草地里。“你怎么了？”
What was the matter? This panic he felt watching his brother walk off—and suddenly, he was back in Whitehall, alone with her. “You can’t just leave!” Rye spat, voice breaking, panting. He pictured their mother’s handkerchief, pink from the blood he could never wash out.
怎么了？看着他的兄弟走开，他感到恐慌——突然间，他回到了白厅，独自一人陪着她。“你不能就这样走！”Rye 啐了一口，嗓子嘶哑，喘着粗气。他想象着他们母亲的手帕，被他永远无法洗掉的血染成了粉红色。
Gig was staring down at him. After a moment, he offered Rye a hand and pulled him to his feet, Rye wiping his nose on his shirtsleeve.
Gig 正低头盯着他。过了一会儿，他伸出手让 Rye 站起来，Rye 用衬衫袖子擦了擦鼻子。
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Gig said. “This thing’s like a show. They’ll haul a few of us to jail and we’ll make a big deal of it and that’s that. The IWW ran this same show in Missoula, and after a week of feeding twenty singing tramps in jail, the city dropped the whole thing.”
“我会在你知道之前回来的，”吉格说。“这就像一场表演。他们会把我们中的一些人拖进监狱，我们会大做文章，仅此而已。IWW 在米苏拉举办了同样的演出，在监狱里喂养了 20 个唱歌的流浪汉一周后，这座城市放弃了整个活动。
Rye pictured the big angry police chief—a good four inches taller than Gig, with that stern brogue—and couldn’t imagine the man just surrendering to a bunch of singing labor men.
Rye 想象着那个愤怒的大个子警察局长——比 Gig 高出四英寸，穿着那件严厉的布洛克鞋——无法想象这个男人就这样向一群唱歌的劳工投降。
“Here,” Gig said, and he handed Rye his work gloves. “Have breakfast. Rake leaves. I’ll see you this afternoon or, at the very worst, in a week or so.”
“给你，”Gig 说，他把他的工作手套递给 Rye。“吃早餐吧。耙叶。我今天下午见，或者最坏的时候，一个星期左右再见。
Rye held the gloves and watched Gig’s broad back recede, the scratchy window in the Whitehall apartment, his big brother always walking away. “Goddamn it, Gig,” he muttered.
Rye 拿着手套，看着 Gig 宽阔的后背后退，看着白厅公寓那扇粗糙的窗户，他的哥哥总是走开。“该死的，吉格，”他咕哝道。
He went inside then, and ate breakfast with Mrs. Ricci, Gig’s plate empty next to his. Rye slurped eggs onto his bread.
然后他进去，和里奇太太一起吃早餐，吉格的盘子在他的旁边是空的。Rye 把鸡蛋啜饮在他的面包上。
“Tu mangi come un cavallo, Geno,” Mrs. Ricci said.
“Tu mangi come un cavallo，热那 ，”利玛窦夫人说。
“Sorry, Mrs. Ricci,” he said. He tried to remember the Italian word for sorry. “Dispatch?”
“对不起，利玛窦太太，”他说。他试着记住意大利语中对不起的词。“调度？”
“Dispiace,” she said. “Si.”
“Dispiace，” 她说。 “嗯。”
“Yeah, that,” Rye said.
“是的，那个，”Rye 说。
Breakfast over, he pulled on his brother’s work gloves and grabbed the rake from the side of the house. The wind swirled the leaves and he worked grimly, got two piles into the burn bin and lit them, but they were wet and smoldered instead of crackling. Rye watched the gray soupy smoke curl into the sky. The wind must’ve been howling above the valley, because the high clouds raced like migrating birds above the smoke, as if the world were flying by. “Goddamn it, Gig,” he said again. And he set the rake against the house.
吃完早餐后，他戴上哥哥的工作手套，从房子的一侧抓起了耙子。风吹拂着树叶，他严肃地工作，把两堆树叶放进燃烧桶里点燃，但它们是湿的，闷烧着，而不是噼啪作响。Rye 看着灰色的浓烟蜿蜒在天空中。风一定在山谷上空呼啸，因为高高的云层像候鸟一样在烟雾中飞翔，仿佛世界正在飞过。“该死的，吉格，”他又说了一遍。“他就把耙子对着房子。
Rye hurried through Little Italy and the Irish neighborhood, kids hanging from porches and running around big leafy yards. Normally, he’d take the river trail along the tracks to downtown, but today he felt like walking the blocks of houses, imagining he belonged, and he crossed Division into rows of brick apartments, then down Howard to the sprawling train station on Havermale Island, which split the river into two channels between the upper and lower falls.
Rye 匆匆穿过小意大利和爱尔兰社区，孩子们挂在门廊上，在绿树成荫的大院子里跑来跑去。通常，他会沿着小路走到市中心，但今天他觉得自己就像走在房子的街区里，想象自己属于这里，他穿过 Division 进入一排排砖砌公寓，然后沿着霍华德到达哈弗马累岛上广阔的火车站，该火车站将河流分成两条通道，位于上下瀑布之间。
There was a trapdoor in the north deck of the Howard Street Bridge, and Rye stood watching a work crew dump a wagonload of tin cans and other garbage straight into the churning river below—a brown city soup of refuse, sewage, and train oil. People usually just threw their trash on the riverbanks, hoping the water would take it away, but by August, when the water got low, the stench was overpowering. So the city put trapdoors in the bridges where crews could dump garbage into the center of the river, easier for the current to flush downstream.
霍华德街大桥的北桥面有一扇活板门，Rye 站在那里看着工作人员将一车车锡罐和其他垃圾直接倒入下面翻腾的河流中——这是一道由垃圾、污水和火车油组成的棕色城市汤。人们通常只是把垃圾扔在河岸上，希望水能把垃圾带走，但到了 8 月，当水位变低时，恶臭已经扑面而来。因此，该市在桥梁上安装了活板门，工作人员可以将垃圾倾倒到河中央，以便水流向下游冲刷。
At the Great Northern depot, Rye crossed four sets of tracks, a big passenger train steaming beneath the 150-foot tower, the four clock faces informing Rye that it was twelve minutes before high noon—the time Gig said the union’s action was set to start. Across the island, on Front Street, Rye didn’t need a clock to tell him something was on. Dozens of people milled outside the union hall, more arriving all the time, from flops, cafés, saloons.
在大北方车站，Rye 穿过四组轨道，一列大型客运列车在 150 英尺高的塔下冒着蒸汽，四个钟面告诉 Rye 现在是正午前 12 分钟——Gig 说工会的行动将开始的时间。在岛对面的 Front Street，Rye 不需要时钟来告诉他有什么事情在开着。数十人在工会大厅外徘徊，更多的人不断涌入，来自酒吧、咖啡馆、酒吧。
In front of the hall, men stood smoking in clusters of four or five, shuffling their feet, talking in low voices and foreign tongues. Most of them wore the faded clothes and work boots of floating workers, but Rye picked out Everett and another black porter, saw high-collared suffragettes and socialist women in hats, saw craggy old men with canes and eye patches—veterans of the mine wars.
在大厅前，男人们四五个一组地站着抽烟，拖着脚，低声说着外国语言。他们中的大多数人穿着漂浮工人褪色的衣服和工作靴，但莱伊挑选了埃弗雷特和另一名黑人搬运工，看到了高领的妇女参政论者和戴着帽子的社会主义妇女，看到了拄着拐杖和眼罩的粗犷老人——他们是矿战的老兵。
He watched from across Front Street, ducking behind a produce wagon as the strike committee emerged from the hall, Walsh and Little in front, and right behind them, Gig, looking as nervous as Rye had ever seen him. Rye’s chest tightened, from fear or pride, he wasn’t sure. “Goddamn it, Gig,” he said again.
他从前街对面看着，躲在一辆农产品车后面，罢工委员会从大厅里出来，Walsh 和 Little 在前面，就在他们后面，Gig，看起来就像 Rye 见过的一样紧张。Rye 的胸口紧绷着，因为恐惧或骄傲，他不确定。“该死的，吉格，”他又说了一遍。
He felt another tug of misgiving when the last person came out of the hall—Jules walking out alone, black hair loose and falling between his shoulder blades.
当最后一个人从大厅里走出来时，他感到又一次的不满——Jules 独自走出来，黑发散落在他的肩胛骨之间。
The men huddled around Walsh as if he were saying a prayer, then dispersed like marbles in every direction, so they couldn’t all be arrested together. Walsh led five or six men down Front Street, Rye following in a pack of onlookers before he realized Gig wasn’t there.
这些人挤在沃尔什身边，就像他在祈祷一样，然后像弹珠一样向四面八方散去，所以他们不能一起被逮捕。Walsh 带领五六个人沿着 Front Street 走，Rye 跟在一群围观者后面，然后他才意识到 Gig 不在那里。
“Fuckin’ Wobs!” said a man next to Rye, but most people just seemed curious. They lined both sidewalks as Walsh walked down the center of the street. He turned up Stevens and walked between streetcar tracks, Jules and a few others behind him.
“他妈的哇！”Rye 旁边的一个男人说，但大多数人似乎只是好奇。当沃尔什走在街道中央时，他们在两条人行道上排成一排。他让史蒂文斯走在有轨电车轨道之间，朱尔斯和其他几个人跟在他身后。
On Stevens, the crowd was thick, the carnival in full swing, a man in a turban offering to “Foresee your shocking future!” next to a barker selling ginger ale and chestnuts. People leaned out of upper-floor windows as if they’d paid for balcony seats, and others pressed in on the street, businessmen from the west side, sporting girls and gamblers from the tenderloin, laborers and barmen, reporters, nurses and uniformed Salvation Army men, hats and coats as far as Rye could see. Wobblies mixed with the crowd, too, and Rye recognized one of the ranch hands Jules knew, muttering the words he must’ve been given to say when it was his turn, “Mah fella workers . . . mah fella workers . . .”
在史蒂文斯街，人群很密集，狂欢节如火如荼，一个戴头巾的男人在一个卖姜汁汽水和栗子的叫卖者旁边说：“预见你令人震惊的未来！人们从楼上的窗户探出头来，仿佛他们已经为阳台座位付了钱，其他人则挤在街上，有来自西侧的商人，来自里脊肉的运动女孩和赌徒，工人和酒保，记者，护士和穿着制服的救世军人，戴着帽子和外套，一直延伸到莱伊能看到的地方。摇摆不定的人也混在人群中，Rye 认出了 Jules 认识的一位牧场工人，喃喃自语着轮到他时必须说的话，“伙计们，工人......mah fella 工人 . . .
As Walsh marched down the middle of this wide street, Rye saw the security men hired by the mining and timber companies; they straightened up from brick walls and light poles, or stood on stoops with their arms crossed, clubs and rifle barrels peeking from beneath their long coats.
当沃尔什走在这条宽阔的街道中间时，莱伊看到了采矿和木材公司雇佣的保安;他们从砖墙和灯杆上站起来，或者双臂交叉站在弯腰上，棍棒和步枪枪管从长外套下探出头来。
At the south end of the block stood another line of men, six uniformed cops led by big John Sullivan. All of them had some lesser version of the chief’s facial hair, bush beards or marmot sideburns, and Rye wondered if they’d chosen the force by sheer whiskers alone. If the chief had looked unhappy the day before, today he looked like he might rip the arms off the first man to speak.
街区的南端站着另一排男人，六名身穿制服的警察，由高大的约翰·沙利文领导。他们都有一些小版本的酋长胡须、灌木胡须或土拨鼠鬓角，Rye 想知道他们是否仅凭纯粹的胡须选择了这支部队。如果说局长前一天看起来不高兴，那么今天他看起来就像要扯掉第一个说话的人的手臂。
That turned out to be Walsh, who took a National Biscuit crate from another man and set it on the street in front of the worst job shop, the notorious Red Line Agency. A buzz went through the crowd: Here it comes
原来是沃尔什，他从另一个人那里拿了一个国家饼干箱，把它放在最糟糕的加工车间——臭名昭著的红线机构（Red Line Agency）前面的街道上。人群中传来一阵嗡嗡声：它来了.
Sullivan was walking even before Walsh started speaking—“Brothers and sisters, fellow wor—!” The labor man stumbled on the box, nearly losing his balance until Frank Little caught him, patted his coat, and pushed him back up, a ripple of laughter passing through the crowd. In that moment, Rye thought Gig might be right about this being like a show at the Comique: The tramps would do their tramp thing and the cops their cop thing and everything could return to what it was, Gig with a good story to tell next time at Jimmy Durkin’s.
沙利文甚至在沃尔什开始说话之前就已经走了——“兄弟姐妹们，同胞们——！那个工人绊倒在箱子上，几乎失去平衡，直到弗兰克·利特尔（Frank Little）抓住了他，拍了拍他的外套，把他推了起来，一阵笑声在人群中传来。在那一刻，Rye 认为 Gig 说这就像喜剧一样：流浪汉会做他们的流浪汉，警察会做他们的警察，一切都可以回到原来的样子，Gig 下次在 Jimmy Durkin 有一个好故事要讲。
On the box, Walsh removed his hat and spread his arms like a preacher: “We are here to stand against injustice,” to cheers and boos, “in peaceful exercise of our right to speak out against the brutal tyranny of this city government and its corrupt bargain with these job agencies—”
在盒子上，沃尔什摘下帽子，像传教士一样张开双臂：“我们在这里反对不公正，”在欢呼和嘘声中，“和平行使我们的权利，公开反对这个市政府的残酷暴政及其与这些职业介绍所的腐败交易——”
Walsh was not a small man, and the crate made him a foot taller, but he seemed like a toy when Chief Sullivan marched up, two thick cops on either side. Rye recognized one of the cops as the bull goon Hub Clegg.
沃尔什不是一个矮个子，板条箱使他高了一英尺，但当沙利文局长走上来时，他看起来就像个玩具，两边各有两个粗壮的警察。Rye 认出其中一名警察是公牛暴徒 Hub Clegg。
Sullivan yanked Walsh off the box and grabbed him by the neck like a chicken he might shake dead. He threw him to the ground and slammed a boot through the biscuit crate, Clegg wrestling Walsh’s arms behind his back.
沙利文把沃尔什从盒子里拽下来，像一只鸡一样抓住他的脖子，就像一只他可能会甩死的鸡一样。他把他扔在地上，用一只靴子砸穿了饼干箱，克莱格在背后摔跤着沃尔什的手臂。
“Disperse!” the chief yelled to the crowd. “Next man steps on a box gets it worse! And worse for each after.”
“散开！”“下一个人踩到一个盒子会变得更糟！之后的每一次都更糟。
No one moved, neither Wobblies nor crowd, and the chief turned and said something to Clegg.
没有人动，摇摆不定的人也没有，酋长转过身来，对克莱格说了些什么。
Then a voice in the crowd called out, “Hold the line!” and that brought a cheer, and more boos, a man calling, “Kill the bums!,” more cheers and chatter, the crowd speaking all at once, drowning out Sullivan—then the people in front of Rye snapped their attention to the left as if a baseball had been lined up the middle, and Rye stood on tiptoes to see over the hats: Another box had appeared in the street, half a block north, and Frank Little was climbing on. This was the union’s plan, after Walsh was arrested, to go up one after the other in different spots, force the cops to scramble one end of downtown to the other, arrest dozens of them, and fill the jail with the only weapon they had, their bodies.
然后人群中有一个声音喊道，“守住阵线！”，这带来了一阵欢呼，更多的嘘声，一个男人喊道，“杀死流浪汉！”，更多的欢呼和喋喋不休，人群同时发言，淹没了沙利文——然后 Rye 前面的人将注意力转向左侧，就像一个棒球在中间排成一排一样， 莱伊踮起脚尖，从帽子那边看：另一个盒子出现在街上，向北半个街区，弗兰克·利特尔正在爬上去。这是工会的计划，在沃尔什被捕后，一个接一个地在不同的地方上去，迫使警察争先恐后地从市中心的一端到另一端，逮捕数十人，并用他们唯一的武器——他们的身体——填满监狱。
“Brothers and sisters,” Little began, but before he could say another word, a cop was on him and threw him to the street. He disappeared in the crowd like someone slipping beneath waves.
“兄弟姐妹们，”利特尔开始说，但还没来得及再说一个字，一个警察就扑上来了，把他扔到了街上。他消失在人群中，就像在海浪下滑倒的人。
“Disperse!” Sullivan yelled again, and the crowd took a few steps back but didn’t leave, Wobblies pressing forward, onlookers straining to see, every window on Stevens Street now full of people sticking their heads out and a man yelling from a second-story window of a lawyer’s office, “This is freedom? You call this freedom?”
“散开！”沙利文再次大喊，人群后退了几步，但没有离开，摇摆不定的人向前推进，围观者努力看清，史蒂文斯街的每个窗户现在都挤满了探出头来的人，一个男人从律师办公室的二楼窗户里大喊，“这就是自由？你叫自由吗？
A few minutes later, the same man appeared in the doorway of the building, face bloodied, pushed into the street by one of the security men, his glasses skittering onto the cobblestone as he cried, “What is my crime? What is my crime!”
几分钟后，同一个人出现在大楼的门口，满脸血迹，被一名保安推到街上，他的眼镜滑到鹅卵石上，一边喊道：“我犯了什么罪？我犯了什么罪！
The crowd rumbled and muttered like it hadn’t chosen which team to root for, heads swinging left and right at signs of action: To the south a young woman in a plain gray smock yelled, “Wake up! Wake up!,” and a cop pulled her down the street, then the crowd swung the other way, to the north end of Stevens, where Frank Little had gone limp and was being dragged by the arms, his legs bumping on the streetcar tracks. His soapbox was still in the street, and a long-bearded man climbed up and began singing with a heavy Slav accent, “Oh, say can you hear,” the first lines of the workingman’s “Star-Spangled Banner,” Coming near and more near—
人群隆隆作响，喃喃自语，仿佛还没有选择为哪支球队加油，头在行动的迹象下左右摆动：在南边，一个穿着普通灰色罩衫的年轻女子大喊：“醒来！醒来！“，一名警察把她拉到街上，然后人群转向另一条路，来到史蒂文斯的北端，弗兰克·利特尔（Frank Little）在那里瘫软了，被手臂拖着，双腿撞在有轨电车的轨道上。他的肥皂盒还在街上，一个长胡子男人爬了上来，开始用浓重的斯拉夫口音唱道，“哦，你听见吗 ” 那个工人的《星条旗》的第一句话， 越来越近——
That man went down, too, pounded by a security goon, but another man was already on the box behind him, and Rye yelled, “Jules!” as if he might warn his friend, who either didn’t know the workers’ anthem or didn’t like it, because he started singing in French: “C’est la lutte finale, groupons-nous et demain!” and a cop standing just a few feet away cocked his head in confusion. But Hub Clegg had no hesitation and stepped in behind Jules with a raised nightstick, Rye reflexively closing his eyes rather than see the blow land—but when someone near him yelled, “Oh!,” Rye opened his eyes and tried to fight through the crowd.
那个人也被一个保安暴徒殴打着倒下了，但另一个人已经在他身后的包厢上，Rye 大喊道：“Jules！”，仿佛他要警告他的朋友，他要么不知道工人的国歌，要么不喜欢它，因为他开始用法语唱：“C'est la lutte finale， groupons-nous et demain！ 站在几英尺远处的一名警察困惑地歪着头。但 Hub Clegg 毫不犹豫地举起了一根夜棍走到 Jules 身后，Rye 条件反射地闭上了眼睛，而不是看到这一击落下——但当他附近的人大喊“哦！”时，Rye 睁开了眼睛，试图穿过人群。
That was when another voice, Chief Sullivan’s, thundered, “Boys!” and a great surge came and this was no longer a show or a baseball game but a full-on riot, cops and bull goons mowing down Stevens, swinging nightsticks to clear the street, and people running, falling, being trampled, Rye swept up in a wave moving north, his last view of Jules a bloodied face and his hands shackled behind his back.
就在这时，另一个声音，沙利文酋长的声音，雷鸣般地响起，“男孩们！”，一股巨大的浪潮来了，这不再是一场表演或棒球比赛，而是一场全面的骚乱，警察和公牛暴徒砍倒史蒂文斯，挥舞夜棍清理街道，人们奔跑、跌倒、被踩踏，黑麦被卷入向北方的浪潮中， 他最后看到的 Jules 是一张血迹斑斑的脸，双手被镣铐在背后。
“Hold the line!” someone shouted, and Rye could hear another man pick up the workingman’s anthem: “Come all ye who labor”— and that voice stopped, and a heavier accent, “The Industrial Band throughout all the land—”
有人喊道，Rye 可以听到另一个男人唱起了工人的国歌：“ 你们所有劳动的人都来吧”—— 然后那个声音停了下来，带着更重的口音，“遍及整个国家的工业乐队——”
But he couldn’t see the action anymore, and there seemed to be nothing left of the Wobbly lines, just a man or two running from the cops, and the crowd heaved forward and pulled back like a living thing, Wobblies scattered to the edges, a new shift of cops running into the melee, fixing suspenders and buttoning coats, a man in a fine suit running down the street with a shotgun.
但他再也看不到这个动作了，摇摆不定的队伍似乎什么都没有留下，只有一两个人从警察身边跑来跑去，人群像活物一样向前和向后拉，摇摆不定的人散落在边缘，新一轮的警察跑进混战中，修理吊带，扣上外套的扣子。 一个穿着华丽西装的男人拿着霰弹枪在街上跑来跑去。
For an hour, the crowd moved back and forth down Stevens to Front, where, amid the bedlam, a man on the corner began to sing: “Come workers unite! ’Tis humanity’s fight!” A brick flew from a third-story window and the man was dropped, then a hail of bricks came and Rye ran with the crowd out of the melee, and how long it went on, Rye couldn’t say, the crowd scattering and flowing like a tide, back and forth, bricks and sticks and winded cops, singers and speakers shackled and hauled off and so much happening Rye couldn’t focus on any one thing.
在一个小时的时间里，人群沿着史蒂文斯（Stevens）来回走到弗兰特（Front），在一片喧嚣中，拐角处的一个男人开始唱道：“ 工人们团结起来吧！这是人类的战斗！ 一块砖头从三楼的窗户飞了下来，那个人被扔了下来，然后一阵砖头冰雹袭来，Rye 和人群一起从混战中跑了出来，它持续了多久，Rye 说不清，人群像潮水一样四散奔逃，来回流动，砖头和棍棒，缠绕的警察，歌手和演讲者被镣铐和拖走，发生了这么多事情，Rye 无法专注于任何一件事。
Until his eyes fell on a small dark-haired man in a bow tie who walked calmly through the throng and climbed on what had to be the IWW’s last crate, for cops were stomping them everywhere, the man producing a mouth harp and blowing a note through it, Rye transfixed as the man took a deep breath and sang—“And the Banner of Labor will surely soon wave”—and for just a moment time seemed to halt, and everyone—cop, workingman, Pinkerton, and suffragist—turned to look—“O’er the land that is free”—for the man’s tenor was glorious—“From the master and the slave”—pure as birdsong—“The blood and the lives of children and wives”—as if God had broken through the melee to allow this song—“Are ground into dollars for parasites’ pleasure”—either that or the Italian was just too short for the cops to see—“The children now slave, ’til they sink in their grave”—for that’s when even God lost interest and the tenor’s face warped sideways, inside out, eyes and nose and lips bursting forth in blood—he’d taken a club to the head and down he went—that harsh music critic Hub Clegg on him like hound to bone.
直到他的目光落在一个戴着领结的黑发小个子男人身上，他平静地穿过人群，爬上了 IWW 的最后一个板条箱，因为警察到处踩着他们，这个男人拿出一把口琴，用一个音符吹过它，当男人深吸一口气唱道——“劳动的旗帜肯定会很快飘扬” 时，Rye 惊呆了——就在那一瞬间，时间似乎停下来，每个人——警察、工人、平克顿和女权主义者——都转过头来看——“哦，自由的土地”—— 因为这个男人的男高音是光荣的——“来自主人和奴隶”—— 像鸟鸣一样纯洁——“孩子和妻子的鲜血和生命”—— 仿佛上帝冲破了混战，允许这首歌——“被磨成美元，供寄生虫取乐”——要么是那个，要么是意大利语太短了，警察看不到——“孩子们现在是奴隶，直到他们沉入坟墓”—— 因为那时连上帝都失去了兴趣，男高音的脸向侧面扭曲，内里外外，眼睛、鼻子和嘴唇鲜血淋漓——他用棍棒打着他的头，然后他就下去了——那个严厉的音乐评论家哈布·克莱格（Hub Clegg）像猎狗一样盯着他。
Another man quickly stepped on the box, and Rye’s first thought was surprise that he hadn’t seen Gig standing there, but there he was, climbing on the Italian’s tiny stage, and Rye calling, “Gig!” and lurching toward him, his brother so small up there, Rye struggling to get upstream though the fleeing people as Gig picked up the tenor’s chorus, “And the banner of labor will surely soon wave—”
另一个男人迅速地踩到了箱子上，Rye 的第一个想法是惊讶，他没有看到 Gig 站在那里，但他就在那里，爬上了意大利人的小舞台，Rye 喊着，“Gig！”，然后蹒跚地向他走来，他的弟弟在那儿这么小，Rye 挣扎着穿过逃跑的人群，而 Gig 则接起了男高音的合唱。 “而且劳工的旗帜肯定很快就会飘扬——”
A security man took Gig off the box, and as he fell, another man swung a rifle stock at him, Rye yelling, “Gig!” And Rye had almost reached his brother when he found himself in front of the empty crate, and then he was on it, his voice thin and frightened as he picked up the song, “O’er the land that is free—”
一名保安将 Gig 从箱子里带走，当他倒下时，另一个男人向他挥舞着步枪枪托，Rye 大喊：“Gig！当 Rye 发现自己站在空板条箱前时，他几乎要接近他的兄弟，然后他就坐在上面，当他拿起这首歌时，他的声音微弱而恐惧，“哦，自由的土地——”
He blocked the first swing with his forearm and yelped the last of the song, “From master and slave!” as his brother yelled, “Rye!” and something hit him in the back and he tumbled to the street, looked for Gig through the scramble of legs and feet, but a kick to the gut took what was left of his breath and Rye Dolan finally gave up and curled into a ball, covered his face with his arms, and waited for what felt like had been coming his whole short sweet life.
他用前臂挡住了第一次挥舞，并大喊了最后一首歌，“来自主人和奴隶！ 当他的兄弟大喊“Rye！”时，有什么东西击中了他的后背，他跌跌撞撞地走到街上，在双腿和双脚的争吵中寻找 Gig，但一脚踢中了他的肚子，夺走了他仅存的呼吸，Rye Dolan 终于放弃了，蜷缩成一个球，用手臂捂住了他的脸， 并等待着他整个短暂而甜蜜的一生。
The day he left Whitehall, Rye pulled himself up into a dark train car for the first time, and when his eyes adjusted, he realized there was an old man in the corner. He was thin and gray, sitting on an old case. His left hand was missing fingers and the eye above it was nothing but a caved-in socket. The man asked Rye where he was headed and Rye said, “West, looking for my brother.”
离开白厅的那天，Rye 第一次把自己拉进了一辆黑暗的火车车厢，当他的眼睛适应后，他发现角落里有一位老人。他瘦弱的，灰白的，坐在一个旧箱子上。他的左手少了手指，上面的眼睛只不过是一个塌陷的眼窝。那个人问 Rye 他要去哪里，Rye 说：“West，找我哥哥。
“Well. Get off before Spokane,” the man said. He’d been arrested in Spokane and said the cops went hard on vagrants there. He was rolled, robbed, and knocked around for a week in a windowless cell, then, without a court hearing, one morning was simply dragged to the edge of town and dumped on the tracks by a cop who said he’d end up in the river if he ever came back. “It’s where I lost this.” He pointed to the scarred, flattened eyelid. “Get off before Spokane,” he said again. “The tracks keep going, but there’s nothing west of dead.”
“嗯。在斯波坎之前下车，“这名男子说。他在斯波坎被捕，他说警察对那里的流浪者很严厉。他在一个没有窗户的牢房里被推倒、抢劫和敲打了一个星期，然后，在没有法庭听证会的情况下，有一天早上，他被一个警察简单地拖到镇边，扔在铁轨上，他说如果他回来，他就会掉进河里。“这是我失去这个的地方。”他指了指那伤痕累累、扁平的眼睑。“在斯波坎之前下车，”他又说了一遍。“铁轨还在继续，但西边什么都没有。”
Rye thought of the old man’s warning as he was shackled and duckwalked toward the Spokane jail. There were six of them in his line and other shackled prisoners sitting in the street or already locked up. Even with his aching back and arms, and the fingers on his right hand swollen and bruised where he’d blocked a blow, Rye had gotten off easy. The Italian singer had it the worst, whistling mists of blood through his battered mouth and nose. “That was good,” Rye said to the singer, remembering Mrs. Ricci at Mass one day, “Bel canto.”
Rye 想起了老人的警告，他被戴上镣铐，向斯波坎监狱走去。他的队伍中有六个人，其他戴着镣铐的囚犯坐在街上或已经被关起来。即使他的背部和手臂酸痛，右手的手指在他挡住一击的地方肿胀和瘀伤，Rye 还是轻松脱身。这位意大利歌手的情况最糟糕，他受伤的嘴巴和鼻子里喷出一团团血雾。“那很好，”Rye 对这位歌手说，他想起有一天在弥撒上 Ricci 夫人，“美声唱法。
“Thank you,” the Italian rasped.
“谢谢你，”意大利人嘶哑地说。
Gig was at the front of the line and kept trying to look back at Rye, but the cop in front rapped his shoulder. “Eyes ahead!” The riot was breaking up behind them, but a few people still catcalled the prisoners as they were led down Stevens.
Gig 站在队伍的最前面，一直试图回头看 Rye，但前面的警察拍了拍他的肩膀。“眼睛向前看！”骚乱在他们身后散去，但当囚犯被带到史蒂文斯时，一些人仍然对他们打电话。
They passed the ornate five-story city hall and saw faces staring down from its towered and arched windows. The jail was just around the corner, along the river, a stone building with barred windows on the first and second floors. Next door, three firemen stood smoking and leaning on a new truck, watching the shackled prisoners waddle past.
他们经过华丽的五层市政厅，看到面孔从高耸的拱形窗户向下凝视着。监狱就在拐角处，沿河，一座石头建筑，一楼和二楼都有铁栅栏窗户。隔壁，三名消防员站在一辆新卡车上抽烟，看着戴着镣铐的囚犯蹒跚而过。
At the jail, they were led into a small booking area, and a harried jailer came from behind the counter to look them over. “Goddamn Wobs,” he said in a brogue that made Sullivan’s sound like the king’s English. Then he went down the line. “Nem?” he said. And “Edge?” When he was done, he gave a jagged smile. “Well, look at what you coonts have done now, fooked your own bloody arseholes.”
在监狱里，他们被带到一个小的预订区，一个匆忙的狱卒从柜台后面走过来检查他们。“该死的 Wobs，”他用一口粗话说，让 Sullivan 的声音听起来像国王的英语。然后他走下了这条线。“嗯？”而“Edge？当他完成后，他露出了一个锯齿状的微笑。“嗯，看看你们这些混蛋现在都做了什么，把你们自己那该死的屁眼搞砸了。”
Rye caught Gig’s eye. His cheek was bruising up a dark purple and he shook his head and frowned. Rye looked away.
Rye 引起了 Gig 的注意。他的脸颊上泛着深紫色的瘀伤，他摇了摇头，皱起了眉头。Rye 移开了视线。
Three more jailers came into the holding area, one of them a man in round eyeglasses who seemed to be in charge. Another unshackled them and patted them down for weapons. He made a pile of belongings: coats and money and paper and pocketknives and cigarettes and any other worthless thing they carried. The Irish one kicked through the swag, picked out a few coins, but shook his head in disappointment at the rest. “Fookin’ rubbish, is it?”
又有三名狱卒走进了拘留区，其中一名是戴着圆眼镜的男人，似乎是负责人。另一个人解开了他们的脚镣，拍打他们拿武器。他做了一堆家当：外套、钱、纸、小刀、香烟，以及他们随身携带的任何其他不值钱的东西。爱尔兰的那个踢了踢赃物，掏出了几枚硬币，但对其余的硬币失望地摇了摇头。“傻瓜垃圾，是吗？”
The head jailer looked down at the list of names and ages and then over the rims of his eyeglasses. “Where’s Gregory Dolan?”
狱卒长低头看了看名单上的名字和年龄，然后又看了看眼镜的边缘。“格雷戈里·多兰呢？”
Gig raised his hand unsteadily.
吉格摇摇晃晃地举起了手。
“This one’s strike committee,” the head jailer said. “C block.”
“这个是打击委员会，”狱卒长说。“C 块。”
“Wait,” Rye said. “Can’t I go with my brother?”
“等等，”Rye 说。“我不能和我哥哥一起去吗？”
This brought laughter from the Irish jailer, who gave Gig a shot in the back with his stick and pushed him through an open door.
这引起了爱尔兰狱卒的笑声，他用棍子在吉格的背后开了一枪，然后把他推了进一扇敞开的门。
When that door closed on his brother’s back, Rye found himself really afraid for the first time: What have I done?
当那扇门在他哥哥的背上关上时，Rye 第一次发现自己真的害怕了： 我做了什么？
The head jailer looked up. “Gentlemen. As our good rooms are taken by your fellow Wobs, you get the pen tonight.”
狱卒长抬起头来。“先生们。既然我们的好房间被你的 Wobs 同伴占用了，你今晚就拿到笔吧。
They were led down a back wooden staircase to a basement with nothing but a single holding cell, something left over from frontier times. There was one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and, next to it, a pipe with an open valve spewing steam down onto what looked like fifteen men already packed into an eight-foot-by-seven-foot cell.
他们被带到一个地下室，里面只有一个牢房，这是边境时代留下来的。天花板上挂着一个灯泡，旁边有一根带打开阀门的管道，蒸汽喷向看起来已经被塞进一个 8 英尺乘 7 英尺的牢房里的 15 个人身上。
“Please! I’m sick!” a man cried out from inside, and then others began yelling, too, for water, to go to the toilet, until the Irish jailor raked his nightstick across the bars, rapping fingers. “Shut your fookin’ traps!”
“求求你了！我病了！“一个男人从里面喊道，然后其他人也开始大喊大叫，要水去上厕所，直到爱尔兰狱卒用他的夜棍划过栏杆，敲打着手指。“关上你的陷阱！”
Rye couldn’t believe it when the jailer with glasses put a key in the cell door and unlocked it. He meant to put them . . . in there? Where? Another jailer jabbed at the wall of bums with his nightstick and gestured at Rye and the others to go in. “You Wobs wanted to pack the jail—here you go.”
当戴眼镜的狱卒将钥匙放入牢房门并打开门时，Rye 简直不敢相信。他打算把他们......在那儿 ？哪里？另一个狱卒用他的夜棍戳了戳流浪汉的墙壁，示意 Rye 和其他人进去。“你们这些 Wobs 想收拾牢房——给你。”
Rye was pushed inside and pressed between three men, the stench bringing tears to his eyes. There were no sounds but breathing and moaning, and minutes seemed to take hours. At some point, three more men were shoved into the cell, and then two more. “Twenty-six,” the jailer said proudly, but inside was a mass fever, the bulb went out and it was windowless basement dark, that pipe hissing steam all night, the smell of vomit and piss, time measured in pain and stench and thirst—then someone would snap and the others would subdue him, for the struggle hurt them all—knees and elbows and fists and rising panic. Then the basement door opened and a bit of stairwell light flooded in, men crying out that they had to piss or were sick, but two cops and two jailers clopped down the stairs, drunk and laughing. “We’re going for the record!” one said, and two more Wobblies were somehow jammed into the cell, cops and jailers throwing their full weight against the door just to get it closed on the crush of men, Rye mashed between stinking flesh and iron bar, and all around him, whimpering and moaning and gulping, as if they were drowning in rotten flesh, and someone near him passed out, but the man just hung there between the bodies, nowhere to fall. “Hold the line!” a man called from somewhere in their rank, and a jailer yelled back: “Fuck your mother.”
Rye 被推入其中，挤在三个男人之间，恶臭让他热泪盈眶。除了呼吸和呻吟之外，没有声音，几分钟似乎需要几个小时。在某个时候，又有三个男人被推进牢房，然后又有两个人。“二十六岁，”狱卒自豪地说，但里面却是一场大烧，灯泡熄灭了，没有窗户的地下室一片漆黑，那根管道整夜嘶嘶作响，呕吐物和尿的气味，用痛苦、恶臭和口渴来衡量时间——然后有人会啪啪作响，其他人会制服他，因为这场斗争伤害了他们所有人——膝盖、肘部、拳头和不断加剧的恐慌。然后地下室的门打开了，一点楼梯间的光线涌进来，男人们大喊着他们必须小便或生病了，但两名警察和两名狱卒从楼梯上哗哗而来，喝醉了，大笑着。“我们要找记录！”一个人说，又有两个摇摆不定的人不知怎么地塞进了牢房，警察和狱卒用他们的全部重量撞门，只是为了在一群男人的羁绊下关上门，黑麦砸在发臭的肉体和铁棒之间，他周围，呜咽着，呻吟着，吞咽着，仿佛他们淹没在腐烂的肉体中， 他身边的某个人昏了过去，但那个人就挂在尸体之间，无处可归。“守住阵线！”一个男人从他们级别的某个地方喊道，一个狱卒也喊道：“操你妈的。
Rye jerked awake at some point in the night, bars pressed against his face, stunned to think he might have slept on his feet, but no idea if it was a minute or an hour. At last the stairwell door opened and light came in, a shift change and a new jailer appeared alongside the one in glasses. He looked at the cell and covered his mouth in disgust. “Jesus, Carl.” Then he turned and spoke to the other one quietly: “Who approved it?” Finally, the door was opened and the prisoners poured out; they wept as they squeezed out the cell door. Rye looked back to see six men still inside, collapsed on the floor, the Italian singer one of them.
Rye 在夜里的某个时刻猛然醒来，铁条压在他的脸上，震惊地想到他可能是用脚睡着的，但不知道是一分钟还是一个小时。终于，楼梯间的门打开了，光线照进来，换班了，一个新的狱卒出现在那个戴眼镜的人旁边。他看着牢房，厌恶地捂住了嘴。“耶稣，卡尔。”然后他转过身来，悄悄地对另一个人说：“谁批准的？最后，门打开了，囚犯们涌了出来;他们挤出牢房门时哭泣。Rye 回头看到里面还有六名男子，瘫倒在地板上，意大利歌手就是其中之一。
They were marched upstairs and into the jail courtyard. Soon other Wobblies from other cell blocks joined them and they lined the four sides of the square. No one looked any good—there were black eyes, cut lips, torn clothing—but Rye’s group had gotten the worst of it, pissed and sweated and bloodstained, and the others looked at them with pity. Rye saw Jules in a line to his right, coughing and breathing heavily, staring at the ground, and Gig across the square, mouthing, You okay? and Rye nodding a lie: Yeah. Gig had been put in with Walsh and Little and the union leaders, segregated to keep them from organizing and agitating. A man next to Rye said there were more than a hundred men in a jail built to hold forty. Three jailers and six private security men with rifles stood guard on the edges.
他们被押上楼，进入监狱庭院。很快，来自其他牢房的其他摇摆者也加入了他们，他们在广场的四个侧面排成一排。没有人看起来有什么好看的——有黑眼睛、割伤的嘴唇、破烂的衣服——但 Rye 的团队已经经历了最糟糕的事情，他们生气、流汗、沾满血迹，其他人则怜悯地看着他们。Rye 看到 Jules 在他的右边排成一排，咳嗽着，呼吸沉重，盯着地面，而 Gig 在广场对面，嘴里说， 你还好吗？ Rye 点头撒谎： 是的 。Gig 被安排与 Walsh 和 Little 以及工会领导人一起隔离，以防止他们组织和煽动。Rye 旁边的一名男子说，一座可容纳 40 人的监狱里有 100 多名男子。三名狱卒和六名拿着步枪的私人保安在边缘站岗。
They were given scratchy jail grays, and they changed quickly in the cold, their old clothes piled in front of them, a jailer poking through them with his nightstick. Then another man came with a biscuit and cup of water for each man. They bounced in place, waiting for their turn, and ate and drank like animals. After the heat of the sweatbox, it was freezing in the courtyard, and even out of his damp clothes in the jail coveralls, Rye couldn’t stop shaking. Men fell and were helped up by those around them.
他们被分到了刺耳的监狱灰色衣服，他们在寒冷中迅速换衣服，旧衣服堆在他们面前，狱卒用他的夜棍探穿他们。然后另一个人来了，每人拿着饼干和杯子水。他们在原地蹦蹦跳跳，等待轮到他们，像动物一样吃喝。在汗箱的热量过后，院子里已经结冰了，即使从监狱工作服里湿漉漉的衣服里出来，Rye 也忍不住发抖。男人倒下了，周围的人扶着他们站起来。
They had been in the dirt courtyard an hour when Hub Clegg came out with another cop, his face bruised purple, and it took a moment for Rye to recognize Old Slate Hair, the bull cop who’d led the attack on their camp, left squirming in the dust by Early Reston.
他们在泥泞的院子里呆了一个小时，这时 Hub Clegg 和另一名警察一起出来，他的脸上瘀伤得发紫，Rye 花了一会儿才认出了 Old Slate Hair，那个领导袭击他们营地的公牛警察，被 Early Reston 留在尘土中蠕动。
Rye and Gig caught eyes.
Rye 和 Gig 引起了注意。
Sergeant Clegg put a hand on Slate Hair’s shoulder and spoke kindly to him. “Ready, Edgar?” Slate Hair nodded and he and Clegg walked the lines, looking from face to dirt-scarred, bloodied face.
克莱格中士把手放在石板头发的肩膀上，和蔼地对他说。“准备好了吗，埃德加？”石板头发点点头，他和克莱格走在队伍中，从脸上看向满是污垢、血迹斑斑的脸。
Rye couldn’t help himself and glanced up as Slate Hair went past, the deep raspberry Early Reston had put on the big cop’s face filling him with a kind of pride.
Rye 忍不住抬头看了一眼 Slate Hair 经过，Reston 给大警察的脸上涂上了深覆盆子的衣服，让他充满了一种自豪。
“I don’t see the one hit me,” Slate Hair said when he’d looked at all of them. “He was thin and older.”
“我没有看到那个击中我，”Slate Hair 在看完他们所有人后说。“他又瘦又老。”
“What about the others?” Clegg asked.
“其他人呢？”克莱格问道。
The big cop pointed at Jules. “That old Indian was there, but he didn’t do nothing but laugh. There was a kid I didn’t get a good look at.” Then he pointed at Gig. “But this is the one did the yapping before the other one jumped me.”
大警察指着 Jules。“那个老印第安人在那儿，但他除了笑之外什么也没做。有一个孩子我没有好好看好。然后他指着 Gig。“但这是那个在另一个跳我之前大喊大叫的那个。”
Clegg walked over to Gig. “That right? You a yapper?” Then Clegg turned to Slate Hair. “He’s not so yappy now.” Then back to Gig. “What’s your name, son?”
Clegg 走到 Gig 身边。“对吧？你是个吵闹的人吗？然后 Clegg 转向 Slate Hair。“他现在没那么好了。”然后回到 Gig。“你叫什么名字，孩子？”
“Gregory Dolan.”
“格雷戈里·多兰。”
“Where you from, Gregory Dolan?”
“你从哪里来的，格雷戈里·多兰？”
“Montana,” Gig said. “Last few years, I lived here.”
“蒙大拿州，”吉格说。“过去几年，我住在这里。”
“Nah, you don’t live here any more than a cockroach does.” Clegg had thick lips and bulging eyes, a face that looked like it was pressed against a window. “Tell me, Gregory Dolan, what Montana town had the good sense to run you off?”
“不，你和蟑螂一样住在这里。”Clegg 有厚厚的嘴唇和凸出的眼睛，一张看起来像是压在窗户上的脸。“告诉我，格雷戈里·多兰，蒙大拿州的哪个镇子有好意识把你赶走？”
“Whitehall.”
“白厅。”
“Your whore mother suck off Irish mine rats there? Or was it coolies?”
“你那个婊子妈妈在那儿吮吸爱尔兰的老鼠？还是苦力？
Gig just stared.
Gig 只是瞪着眼睛。
“You don’t look Chinese, so I’m going with Irish whore. And your da? Whatever man lifted her skirts a Saturday night?”
“你看起来不像中国人，所以我要和爱尔兰妓女一起去。你的爸爸呢？哪个男人在星期六晚上掀起了她的裙子？
He didn’t answer and Clegg got even closer, so that he could’ve taken a bite from Gig’s face if he’d wanted to. “Tell me the name of the man attacked my sergeant, Gregory Dolan of Shitfuck, Montana.”
他没有回答，Clegg 靠得更近了，这样他就可以想的话从 Gig 的脸上咬一口。“告诉我袭击我警长的那个人的名字，蒙大拿州 Shitfuck 的 Gregory Dolan。”
“Your man attacked us,” Gig said.
“你的人袭击了我们，”吉格说。
“That ain’t what I asked,” Clegg said. “Who else was at the river yesterday?”
“那不是我问的，”克莱格说。“昨天还有谁在河边？”
“I don’t know,” Gig said, but Clegg did not like the answer and gave him a quick jab to the gut with his nightstick.
“我不知道，”吉格说，但克莱格不喜欢这个回答，并用他的夜棍快速戳了他的肚子。
“One more time,” Clegg said. “Tell me who was there?”
“再来一次，”克莱格说。“告诉我那儿是谁？”
“I was there,” Rye said, surprised to hear his own voice.
“我在那儿，”Rye 说，他惊讶地听到了自己的声音。
Clegg spun. “Who said that?”
克莱格转过身来。“谁说的？”
“I did.” The men around Rye stepped back slightly, and he spoke in a rush to get it all out: “We were just sleeping when your man attacked us with that mob. We ran away and your man chased us and tried to throw us in the river. The man who hit him, I didn’t know him, and he left right after—” Rye felt clever at his truthfulness: He hadn’t known Early Reston’s name before he beat Slate Hair.
“我做到了。”Rye 周围的人微微后退，他急忙开口，将这一切说了出来：“我们刚刚在睡觉，你的人就带着那群暴徒袭击了我们。我们逃跑了，你的人追着我们，想把我们扔进河里。打他的那个男人，我不认识他，然后他就走了——“Rye 觉得自己的诚实很聪明：在 他打败 Slate Hair 之前，他不知道 Early Reston 的名字。
By this time, Clegg was standing in front of him, his features even worse up close. Black flecks of tobacco spotted his teeth. “What’s your name, son?”
这时，Clegg 已经站在他面前，他的五官在近距离观察甚至更糟。黑色的烟草斑点点缀着他的牙齿。“你叫什么名字，孩子？”
“Ryan Dolan. I’m his brother.”
“瑞恩·多兰。我是他的兄弟。
“So, we got both whoreson Dolan brothers.” Clegg looked back and forth, from Rye to Gig and back to Rye. “I don’t see it. Must’ve been half a poke made this little one.” Then Clegg walked to the line Jules was in. “How about it, Shitting Bull—these Dolan boys telling the truth?”
“所以，我们得到了两个妓女多兰兄弟。”Clegg 来回看了看，从 Rye 到 Gig，再回到 Rye。“我看不出来。这小家伙一定是半戳造的。然后克莱格走到朱尔斯所在的队伍前。“怎么样，狗屎公牛——这些多兰男孩说的是真话？”
Jules nodded without looking up or making eye contact. Clegg gave him a lighter poke, in the side, Jules’s face unchanged.
Jules 点点头，没有抬头，也没有眼神交流。克莱格轻轻地戳了戳他，在侧面，朱尔斯的脸没有变化。
And now Clegg circled back to Gig and stepped up into his face again. “I suspect I could beat and sweat a buck like you for a month and not get anything. So how about I work on your little sister instead. Give him another night in the box. How’s that sound, Gregory Dolan?”
现在 Clegg 转回 Gig 身边，再次走到他的脸上。“我怀疑我能像你一样打败一个月，汗流浃背，却一无所获。那么，我改为你的小妹妹怎么样。让他在禁区里再过一晚。听起来怎么样，格雷戈里·多兰？
Gig swallowed hard, his mouth pinched.
Gig 用力咽了口口水，嘴巴捏住了。
“Unless of course your memory has returned and you’d like to tell me who was at the river with you and attacked my man here.” He got even closer to Gig. “Come on, Gregory, you got a name for me?”
“当然，除非你的记忆已经恢复了，而且你想告诉我是谁和你一起在河边，在这里袭击了我的男人。”他与 Gig 的关系更加密切。“得了吧，Gregory，你给我起个名字了吗？”
“John Rockefeller,” Gig said.
“约翰·洛克菲勒，”吉格说。
The blow to the gut was quick, and harder than the others, and it dropped Gig straight to the ground.
对内脏的打击很快，而且比其他打击更重，它直接将 Gig 击倒在地。
“Cornelius Vanderbilt,” Gig rasped from his knees.
“科尼利厄斯·范德比尔特，”吉格从膝盖上嘶哑地说道。
Clegg scratched his head with his stick. Then he shook his head, and just before he kicked Gig in the face, he laughed. “Goddamn it, I almost like you Dolan boys.”
克莱格用他的棍子挠挠头。然后他摇了摇头，就在他踢了 Gig 的脸之前，他笑了起来。“该死的，我差点就喜欢你们这些多兰小子了。”
The second night in the sweatbox, a Wobbly named Brazier organized the cell. He had them fashion a crude ceiling with their shirts to block the steam, and with so many in the infirmary, there was a little room, and he had two men sit at a time and rest. He spoke with the cadence of a preacher: “Listen, my Fellow Workers, I want to tell you about the three stars. Not the three stars of Bethlehem. The stars of Bethlehem lead only to heaven, which nobody knows about. These are the three IWW stars, of education, organization, and emancipation. They lead to pork chops, which everybody wants.”
在汗箱里的第二个晚上，一个名叫 Brazier 的 Wobbly 组织了这个小组。他让他们用衬衫做一个粗糙的天花板来阻挡蒸汽，医务室里有这么多人，有一个小房间，他让两个人一次坐着休息。他以传道人的节奏说：“听着，我的同工们，我想告诉你们关于三颗星的事。不是伯利恒的三颗星。伯利恒的星星只通向天堂，没有人知道。这是 IWW 的三颗星星，分别是教育、组织和解放。它们导致了每个人都想要的猪排。
Later, Brazier had them sing, and they kept it up all night long—“Up with the masses”—songs from the IWW Songbook—“Down with the classes”—in every flat accent—“Death to the traitor who money can buy”—to piss off the jailers—“Cooperation is the hope of the nation”—and raise their own spirits—“Strike for it now or your liberties die.” Finally, the jailers offered to take them out to use the toilet if they would just stop.
后来，布拉齐尔让他们唱歌，他们整夜不停地唱——“Up with the mass”——IWW Songbook 中的歌曲——“Down with the classes”——用各种平淡的口音——“金钱可以买到的叛徒去死”——惹恼狱卒——“合作是国家的希望”——并振奋他们自己的精神——“现在就为此而战，否则你的自由就会死去。 最后，狱卒提出，如果他们愿意停下来，就可以带他们出去上厕所。
News traveled through the cell: After a hundred were arrested the first day and fifty the second, cops began taking new prisoners to the brig at Fort George Wright. The next morning, Chief Sullivan set up a special rock pile overlooking downtown, and in daylight, lines of shackled prisoners were marched over the bridge to swing sledges for no purpose, the chief wanting both sides to see the hardship, to show the mining bosses he was being tough on the union, and to discourage new men from agitating. But some people on the street called out support to the chain gang, and three suffragists tried to give them food and water and were hauled off to the women’s jail for it. A dozen more Wobblies were arrested downtown, and it might have been three times that number, but Sullivan had firemen open the hoses on anyone who tried to speak while he figured out where to put the extra prisoners.
消息传遍了牢房：第一天逮捕了 100 人，第二天逮捕了 50 人，警察开始将新囚犯带到乔治赖特堡的双桅帆船上。第二天早上，沙利文酋长在俯瞰市中心的地方建立了一个特殊的石堆，白天，一排排戴着镣铐的囚犯在桥上无目的地挥舞雪橇，酋长希望双方都能看到困难，向矿业老板表明他对工会的强硬态度，并阻止新人煽动。但街上有些人大声疾呼支持连锁帮派，三名女权主义者试图给他们食物和水，结果被拖到女子监狱。市中心又逮捕了十几名 Wobblies，可能是这个数字的三倍，但沙利文让消防员打开了任何试图说话的人的水管，同时他想办法把额外的囚犯放在哪里。
Sullivan had separated out the union leaders to keep them from organizing, but word came down that they should refuse to work the rock pile to protest their treatment. So the next day the sledges sat idle, men’s arms at their sides, or they picked up the sledges and laid them down gently on the rock pile, as if patting the stones to sleep. Rye saw Jules on the rock pile that day, coughing like he might have pneumonia, but he winked when he saw Rye. The Italian tenor was there, too, his face stitched like a baseball glove.
沙利文已经将工会领导人分开，以防止他们组织起来，但有消息说他们应该拒绝在石堆上工作以抗议他们的待遇。所以第二天，雪橇闲着坐着，男人的手臂放在身体两侧，或者他们捡起雪橇，轻轻地放在石堆上，仿佛拍打着石头睡觉。那天，Rye 看到 Jules 躺在岩石堆上，咳嗽得像是得了肺炎，但当他看到 Rye 时，他眨了眨眼。意大利男高音也在那里，他的脸像棒球手套一样缝在一起。
Brazier spread news between songs—“You’ve heard this all before, it’s off to the chain gang to hammer rocks some more”—every day new hobos railing in to sing and to give speeches, one man arrested for reading the Declaration of Independence in front of city hall, another for asking a street cop if the free speech protests were still happening.
Brazier 在歌曲之间传播消息——“你以前都听说过，现在轮到连锁帮来敲打石头了”—— 每天都有新的流浪汉进来唱歌和演讲，一名男子因在市政厅前宣读《独立宣言》而被捕，另一名男子因询问街头警察是否仍在进行言论自由抗议活动而被捕。
Sullivan countered their moves with his own, and after the spectacle at the rock pile, he put the prisoners on bread and water rations, and the next morning they were taken to the courtyard and “bathed” with a fire hose. The union leaders responded with a hunger strike to demand humane treatment for people they said were political prisoners. Fine, said Chief Sullivan, if three hundred singing bums wanted to starve themselves, less trouble for him. “Man don’t work,” Sullivan said, “he don’t deserve to eat.”
沙利文用自己的行动反击了他们的行动，在岩石堆的奇观之后，他让囚犯们吃上了面包和水口粮，第二天早上他们被带到院子里，用消防水带“洗澡”。工会领导人以绝食作为回应，要求对他们所说的政治犯给予人道待遇。沙利文局长说，好吧，如果三百个唱歌的流浪汉想饿死自己，对他来说就少麻烦了。“人不工作，”沙利文说，“他不配吃东西。
That particular line was read to them by a jailer who stood outside their cell each day reading from the establishment newspapers, the Chronicle and the Spokesman-Review, to show how public support was against them: “ ‘The petty acts of the men in jail, such as throwing their food upon the floor, breaking the dishes, screaming out silly songs and pouring torrents of abuse upon the law and police department are what sane and orderly minds look for from incorrigible children and men in insane asylums.’ ”
每天站在牢房外阅读建制报纸《 纪事报》（Chronicle） 和《 发言人评论》（Spokesman-Review）的狱卒向他们读了这句话 ，以表明公众是多么支持他们：“'狱卒们的琐碎行为，比如把食物扔在地板上，打碎盘子，大喊愚蠢的歌，向法律和警察部门倾泻大量辱骂，这些都是理智和有秩序的头脑从无可救药的孩子和疯人院里的男人那里找。“
Rye would have shaken his head if he’d had room to do it: crammed into a double-barred cell beneath an open steam vent, beaten with sticks and sprayed with fire hoses—and the prisoners were the ones “pouring abuse” on their captors? Then, on the fifth morning, with the three hundredth protestor arrested, the jail full and the courts backlogged, Rye discovered the latest torture they had devised for him.
如果 Rye 有空间的话，他会摇摇头：挤在一个敞开的蒸汽口下的双杠牢房里，被棍棒殴打，被消防水带喷洒——而囚犯是“ 虐待 ”他们的人 ？然后，在第五天早上，随着第 300 名抗议者被捕，监狱爆满，法院积压，Rye 发现了他们为他设计的最新酷刑。
He was being sent to school.
他被送去上学了。
There was a vacant boarded-up building on Front Street, the old Franklin School, which had been replaced by a high school on the South Hill, and the city was using it as a temporary jail to house the slop-over prisoners until this crisis ended.
前街上有一座空置的木板建筑，即旧的富兰克林学校，已被南山的一所高中所取代，该市将其用作临时监狱，以关押倾斜的囚犯，直到这场危机结束。
It had been three years since Rye stepped foot inside a school. He’d always felt trapped there, saddled and reined, writing numbers on a slate board or reading Bible verses and hearing what an idiot he was for getting both wrong.
Rye 踏入一所学校已经三年了。他总是觉得自己被困在那里，背负着马鞍和缰绳，在石板上写数字或阅读圣经经文，听说自己把这两件事都弄错了，是多么的白痴。
At dawn, Rye and the hardier of the men from the sweatbox were marched along with twenty others down Front Street, the first flakes of snow swirling in the gray sky. They trudged to a dark and imposing three-story brick building, a clock tower rising from the center, the hands stuck at midnight. On the steps, four civilians held rifles, paper stars marking them as deputized emergency jailors.
黎明时分，Rye 和汗箱里最强壮的男人和其他 20 个人一起沿着前街行进，第一片雪花在灰色的天空中盘旋。他们跋涉到一栋黑暗而雄伟的三层砖砌建筑前，一座钟楼从中央拔地而起，双手在午夜时分卡住了。台阶上有四名平民拿着步枪，纸星星标记着他们是临时狱卒。
As the prisoners were led through two heavy wood doors, Rye looked down at the words etched in stone at his feet.
当囚犯们被带过两扇沉重的木门时，Rye 低头看着脚下刻在石头上的文字。
“Sapienta et veritas,” said a tall man with a heavy accent, as if reading Rye’s mind. “Wisdom and truth.”
“Sapienta et veritas，” 一个带着浓重口音的高个子男人说，仿佛读懂了 Rye 的心思。“智慧和真理。”
“Whiskey and trout,” said another, and a laugh went through the line of men.
“威士忌和鳟鱼，”另一个人说，一阵笑声从一排男人中传来。
“Wine and tomatoes,” said another, and more laughter.
“葡萄酒和西红柿，”另一个人说，然后又笑了起来。
“Women and trouble,” said another, and even the guards chuckled at this one.
“女人和麻烦，”另一个人说，就连守卫也对这个人咯咯笑了起来。
“Water and turnips if you bums are lucky,” said a good-natured emergency jailer, who turned out to be a barber and held his rifle by the barrel like a walking stick.
“如果你们这些流浪汉运气好的话，还有水和萝卜，”一位好心的紧急狱卒说，他原来是一名理发师，把步枪像手杖一样放在枪管上。
The school was dark and cold, no furniture, no heat or light, only a single blanket for each prisoner on a hard wood floor—but at least it wasn’t a dungeon sweatbox. Rye got the best night’s sleep he’d had since being arrested. Brazier said they shouldn’t work at the school, either, so when they refused to cut their own firewood, Sullivan said fine, let them freeze, and he cut their rations in half. One cold night, they gave in and burned window sashes and doorframes to keep from freezing. They took the doors off cabinets and closets, and in one, they found a box of old books. They burned the box but not the books, and Rye leafed through them—Pearson’s Latin Prose Composition, the National Compendium for Penmanship, and Epochs in American History, from 1896. He ran his hands over the raised letters on the covers and felt, for the first time in his life, cheated by his lack of schooling. That night he used the thick history book as a pillow and, in the morning, read about the American Revolution in slanting sunlight through a school window.
学校又黑又冷，没有家具，没有暖气或光线，硬木地板上只有一条给每个囚犯的一条毯子——但至少它不是一个地牢的汗箱。Rye 获得了他被捕以来最好的一夜睡眠。Brazier 说他们也不应该在学校工作，所以当他们拒绝自己砍柴时，Sullivan 说好吧，让他们冻死，然后他把他们的口粮切成两半。在一个寒冷的夜晚，他们屈服了，烧毁了窗框和门框，以防止结冰。他们把橱柜和壁橱的门拆开，在一个柜子里，他们发现了一箱旧书。他们烧掉了盒子，但没有烧书，莱伊翻阅了它们—— 皮尔逊的拉丁散文作品 、 全国书法纲要和 1896 年的美国历史纪元 。他用手抚摸着封面上凸起的字母，有生以来第一次觉得自己没有受过教育。那天晚上，他把这本厚厚的历史书当作枕头，早上，在学校窗户的斜射阳光下阅读有关美国独立战争的文章。
The number of IWW men left to arrest was dwindling, but there still seemed to be four or five new men every day—the prosecutor slowly holding arraignments in front of a drunk judge named Mann who told the newspapers his job was to “rid the city of this filth.” The trials always went the same, charges read, objections overruled, Wobbly convicted of disorderly conduct and given thirty days. The leaders were held on disorderly charges but also conspiracy to incite a riot, six months in prison if convicted. The women suffragists and socialists were turned loose with citations, as were the progressive civilians who got caught up, and a few people too old or infirm to do jail time. Some days the drunk judge would feel compassion, and if a union man agreed to leave town, the charges would be dismissed. Most of those rode out on rails, but when one man climbed right back on a soapbox, Judge Mann stopped offering such leniency.
留下来逮捕的 IWW 男子人数正在减少，但似乎每天都有四五个新人——检察官在一位名叫曼恩的醉酒法官面前慢慢地进行传讯，曼恩告诉报纸他的工作是“清除这座城市的污秽”。审判总是一样的，宣读指控，驳回反对意见，Wobbly 被判行为不检，被判处 30 天监禁。这些领导人被指控扰乱秩序，但也被控共谋煽动骚乱，如果被定罪，将被判处六个月的监禁。女性选举权主义者和社会主义者被传票放开，被卷入其中的进步平民也是如此，还有一些年老体弱而无法入狱的人。有时，醉酒的法官会感到同情，如果一个工会成员同意离开这个城市，指控就会被撤销。他们中的大多数人都是在铁轨上骑行的，但当一个人直接爬回肥皂盒时，曼恩法官不再提供这种宽大处理。
On Rye’s fourth day in the school, the Salvation Army came through to assess the prisoners’ treatment, and the guards lined Rye up with a dozen of the healthier-looking men in the school’s old gymnasium. What we called the Starvation Army grandees came in uniforms like a real army, and a man with a red birthmark on his face walked past Rye, then turned back, looking him up and down. “How old are you, son?”
在 Rye 进入学校的第四天，救世军 （Salvation Army） 前来评估囚犯的待遇，警卫将 Rye 与十几名看起来更健康的男人排在学校的旧体育馆里。我们所谓的饥饿军大佬们穿着像真正的军队一样的制服来了，一个脸上有红色胎记的男人从莱伊身边走过，然后转过身来，上下打量着他。“你多大了，孩子？”
Rye didn’t hear the full question, and he said, “Fine, sir.”
Rye 没有听到完整的问题，他说：“好吧，先生。
But the other prisoners all stepped forward in line to look back at Rye. The jailers, too. And the Salvation Army man got red-faced and turned back to the head jailer. “How old is this boy?”
但其他囚犯都排着队向前走，回头看向 Rye。狱卒也是如此。救世军的男人红着脸，转身回到狱卒头上。“ 这个男孩多大了？”
It was quiet a moment, and then the quick-witted barber with the rifle walking stick said, “Rye, if you jump a train in Butte going forty miles an hour toward Spokane—” and he didn’t even finish the joke before the room was laughing.
安静了一会儿，然后那个机智的理发师拿着步枪手杖说，“莱伊，如果你在比尤特跳一列时速四十英里开往斯波坎的火车——”他甚至还没开完这个玩笑，房间里就开始笑了起来。
“How old is this boy!” the flushed Salvation Army man asked again.
“ 这个男孩多大了 ！”那个满脸通红的救世军男子又问道。
“That is, uh . . .” A jailer had the original booking list and he looked for Rye’s name on it. “Dolan, Ryan J. Sixty-one.”
“就是，呃......”一个狱卒有原来的预订清单，他在上面寻找 Rye 的名字。“多兰，瑞安 J. 六十一。”
The laughter was pealing now, and the Salvation Army man turned to Rye and asked more gently, “How old are you, son?”
这时笑声越来越响，救世军的男子转向 Rye，更温和地问道：“孩子，你多大了？
Again Rye hesitated. “What is today?” he asked.
Rye 又一次犹豫了。“今天是什么？”
The man told him it was November tenth.
那个人告诉他，今天是 11 月 10 日。
“Oh,” he said. “Well, in a week, I will be seventeen.”
“哦，”他说。“嗯，再过一个星期，我就十七岁了。”
Rye was put in the back of a wagon with five other shackled prisoners and taken across the river to the new fairy-tale courthouse, light stone walls, high turrets at every corner, and a huge central tower with flags on top. The prisoners were unloaded, unshackled, and climbed an ornate staircase to a dark-wood courtroom, where Rye found out the most remarkable fact of his life to that point.
Rye 和其他五名戴着镣铐的囚犯一起被放在一辆马车的后座上，过河来到新的童话般的法院，那里有浅色的石墙，每个角落都有高高的塔楼，还有一座顶部有旗帜的巨大中央塔楼。囚犯们被卸下，卸下镣铐，爬上一个华丽的楼梯，来到一个深色的木质法庭，在那里，Rye 发现了他一生中最引人注目的事实。
He had a lawyer.
他有个律师。
Ryan J. Dolan of Nothing, Nowhere, having neither house nor bed, nothing a person might call a possession, somehow had a lawyer. Rye wondered if that, more than waking on a ball field or eagles or George Washington’s hair, was what it really meant to be an American.
Nothing， Nowwhere 的 Ryan J. Dolan，既没有房子也没有床，没有一个人可以称之为财产的东西，不知何故有律师。Rye 想知道，这是否比在球场上醒来、老鹰或乔治华盛顿的头发更像是一个美国人的真正意义。
His lawyer’s name was Fred Moore, and the first words out of his mouth confused Rye: “This is a travesty, Mr. Dolan, an obvious violation of habeas corpus.”
他的律师名叫弗雷德·摩尔（Fred Moore），他嘴里说出的第一句话就让莱伊感到困惑：“这是一场嘲讽，多兰先生，明显违反了人身保护令 。
“Oh,” Rye said, hoping he meant the case against him.
“哦，”Rye 说，希望他是认真的。
The IWW’s strategy had been to ask for separate trials, to clog the courts, and to reject lawyers, since representation might give credence to what they saw as an unconstitutional anti-speech law. But then the city began charging the protestors with disorderly conduct instead of the underlying gathering-and-speaking law, and so Fred Moore volunteered to represent the union for free. He seemed only a few years older than Rye and, except for his glasses and tweed, was nothing like Rye would have expected a lawyer to look, but like a boy who had borrowed his father’s suit.
IWW 的策略是要求单独审判，堵塞法院，并拒绝律师，因为代表可能会使他们认为违宪的反言论法可信。但随后该市开始指控抗议者行为不检，而不是基本的集会和演讲法，因此弗雷德·摩尔自愿免费代表工会。他看起来只比莱伊大几岁，除了眼镜和粗花呢之外，他完全不像莱伊所期望的律师的样子，而像一个借了他父亲的西装的男孩。
But he was aces in the courtroom, habeas corpusing again—an actual writ this time—and railing against the city having held in custody “this mere child” for more than a week, “not even putting him in the incorrigible-youth facility but beating and torturing him in a sweatbox full of adult men!”
但他在法庭上是王牌，再次申请人身保护令——这次是真正的令状——并抨击这座城市将“这个孩子”关押了一个多星期，“甚至没有把他关进不可救药的青少年设施，而是在一个装满成年男人的汗水箱里殴打和折磨他！
Judge Mann was sober enough to ask the prosecutor, Pugh, “What of this?” and Pugh, a balding, confident man who did look like a lawyer, said Rye “gave false information during his booking and ought to be charged with that as well. His arrest was a coordinated ploy meant to embarrass the city and further disrupt the judicial system. And I would ask the court, what harm is there in temporarily incarcerating a despicable and shiftless wastrel, likely in better circumstances than his wayward and immoral life on the outside.”
曼恩法官清醒地问检察官皮尤，“这怎么样？”皮尤是一个秃顶、自信的男人 ，看起来确实像个律师，他说莱伊“在预订时提供了虚假信息，也应该被指控。他的逮捕是一个有组织的策略，旨在让这座城市难堪并进一步扰乱司法系统。我想问法院，暂时监禁一个卑鄙和无所事事的 wastrel 有什么害处，可能比他在外面任性、不道德的生活要好。
Rye sat still through all of this, hoping his own lawyer could match Pugh in spewing mouthfuls. And then, like one more pull from the tap, the prosecutor looked right at Rye and said, “And finally, as Mr. Dolan has lived an adult life of criminal vagrancy and broken adult laws willfully, the state recommends that he be tried and treated as an adult by this court.”
Rye 静静地坐着，希望他自己的律师能与 Pugh 一样大口大口地吐槽。然后，就像又一次从水龙头中抽出一样，检察官直视着莱伊说，“最后，由于多兰先生过着犯罪流浪和故意违反成人法律的成年生活，州政府建议本法院将他作为成年人进行审判和对待。
The prosecutor sat, and the judge said, “Mr. Moore?” and Rye turned to his lawyer, who stared at the floor a moment, Rye worried he might be stumped.
检察官坐下，法官说：“摩尔先生？”，Rye 转向他的律师，后者盯着地板看了一会儿，Rye 担心自己会被难住。
Then Mr. Moore said simply, “Sixty-one.” And he took a deep breath. “Mr. Dolan was recorded in the booking sheet as being sixty-one years old, Your Honor. The state would have you believe that a conniving sixteen-year-old looked at his jailers and thought them too stupid to tell the difference between sixteen and sixty-one. While we are prepared to stipulate to the stupidity of Mr. Dolan’s jailers, the idea that Mr. Dolan tried to pass himself off as an old man to embarrass the city is ludicrous on its face, Your Honor.”
然后摩尔先生简单地说，“六十一。他深吸了一口气。“多兰先生在预订单上被记录为六十一岁，法官阁下。国家会让你相信，一个狡猾的 16 岁少年看着他的狱卒，认为他们太愚蠢了，分不清 16 岁和 61 岁。虽然我们准备规定多兰先生的狱卒的愚蠢，但多兰先生试图冒充老人来让这座城市难堪的想法从表面上看是荒谬的，法官大人。
This brought a murmur of laughter and then Mr. Moore was on his feet and every bit Mr. Pugh’s match, railing at the “bastardization of decency and law,” saying that the city would “attempt to retroactively remedy an egregious mistake by blaming an abused child for his own abuse, a poor indigent born under fortune’s darkest cloud, an orphan boy with no home, no parents, nothing of comfort in this hard world.”
这引来了一阵哄堂大笑，然后摩尔站了起来，与皮尤先生完全匹配，抨击“对体面和法律的混蛋化”，说这座城市将“试图追溯性地纠正一个令人发指的错误，将自己的虐待归咎于一个受虐待的孩子，一个出生在命运最黑暗的阴云下的贫穷者。 一个没有家、没有父母、在这个艰难的世界中没有任何安慰的孤儿。
As his lawyer spoke, Rye felt an odd mix of emotions—pride that someone so eloquent was working on his behalf, but embarrassment, too, a painful self-awareness that he was the hobo waif Mr. Moore was describing, and shame at the way he must look and smell, he and the other scraggly shit-souls shackled behind him awaiting their own trials. He looked around the courtroom at the men in fine suits. And he thought of Gig back in jail, every bit this lawyer’s match in intellect but born, as Mr. Moore said, under fortune’s darkest cloud, with no chance at fine suits and fancy courtroom Latin.
当他的律师说话时，Rye 感到一种奇怪的复杂情绪——为有人如此能言善辩地为他工作而感到自豪，但也有尴尬，一种痛苦的自我意识，认为自己是 Moore 先生所描述的流浪汉，以及为他的外表和气味感到羞愧，他和其他邋遢的狗屎灵魂被镣铐束缚在他身后等待着他们自己的审判。他环顾法庭，看着那些穿着精美西装的男人。他想起了坐牢时的吉格，这位律师在智力上完全不相上下，但正如摩尔所说，他出生在命运最黑暗的阴云下，没有机会穿上华丽的西装和华丽的法庭拉丁语。
Rye slumped in his chair as Fred Moore finished speaking. Mistaking Rye’s shame for worry, Mr. Moore patted his arm and said, “It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”
Rye 瘫坐在椅子上，听 Fred Moore 说完。摩尔先生把莱伊的羞愧误认为是担心，拍了拍他的胳膊说，“会没事的，瑞安。
Judge Mann sighed, then flipped through some papers. Finally, he looked down at the prosecutor. “What do you say you toss this fish back?”
曼恩法官叹了口气，然后翻阅了一些文件。最后，他低头看向检察官。“你说你把这条鱼扔回去怎么？”
Then Mr. Pugh smiled as if even he hadn’t believed his own argument, and he turned and winked at Rye as the judge rapped his gavel and said, “Charges dismissed. Mr. Dolan, you are free to go, but I had better not see you back in this courtroom, because I will not be so generous next time.”
然后，皮尤先生笑了，仿佛连他自己都不相信自己的论点，当法官敲响木槌时，他转身对莱伊眨了眨眼，说：“指控被驳回。多兰先生，你可以走了，但我最好不要在这个法庭上看到你，因为下次我不会这么慷慨了。
The words stung Rye: shiftless wastrel and poor indigent, beaten and jailed for eight days and then tossed back? All so the union could make a point, the judge joking about who got the best of it—like some kind of game?
这句话刺痛了莱伊： 无所事事的流浪汉和贫穷的穷人 ，被殴打和监禁八天，然后又被扔回去 ？所有这一切都是为了让工会能提出一个观点，法官开玩笑说谁得到了最好的——就像某种游戏一样？
He was moved to the backbench and watched his five teammates take the field. He felt bad for Mr. Moore, who didn’t have a sixteen-year-old waif and stupid jailers for these cases and tried arguing the illegality of the law against union men gathering on the street, Judge Mann saying he wasn’t prepared to rule on the merits of that—“Only the lawless behavior of anarchist rascals”—and despite Mr. Moore’s energetic ipsos and factos, one by one the other five struck out, were found guilty of disorderly conduct and given their thirty days back at Franklin School.
他被移到后座，看着他的五名队友上场。他为摩尔先生感到难过，因为他没有一个 16 岁的流浪汉和愚蠢的狱卒来处理这些案件，并试图争论法律禁止工会成员在街上聚集是非法的，曼恩法官说他不准备就此是非曲直做出裁决——“只有无政府主义流氓的无法无天的行为”——尽管摩尔先生精力充沛 ，其他五人一个接一个地被判犯有扰乱秩序罪，并被送回富兰克林学校 30 天。
Two jailers came in to shackle the five men—while the other team gathered at the bench in their bow-tied uniforms—and Rye felt again the horror of this game.
两名狱卒进来给这五个人戴上镣铐——而另一支球队则穿着领结制服聚集在替补席上——Rye 再次感受到了这场比赛的恐怖。
“Hold the line,” Rye said as his teammates were led out.
“守住线，”Rye 在他的队友被带出场时说。
“Happy birthday,” one of them said back.
“生日快乐，”其中一人回答道。
THREE YEARS before she died, my mother sent me to live with the French ferryman and said I should not speak anymore. I could talk English or French, since she did not consider them speaking. What she meant was I should leave our language behind. She said it did not belong in the world anymore and would only get me hurt. It was losing your mother and your tongue at once.
在她去世前几年，我妈妈把我送到法国摆渡人那里住，说我不能再说话了。我会说英语或法语，因为她不认为他们是在说 。她的意思是我应该把我们的语言抛在脑后。她说它不再属于这个世界，只会让我受伤。它一下子就失去了你的母亲和你的舌头。
She gave me another warning. Stay out of it.
她又给了我一个警告。远离它。
Out of what? I asked.
从什么？我问。
Everything. Listen. Walk to the side. Keep yourself. Go the other way.
万事。听。走到一边。保持自我。反其道而行之。
And then she warned me about my laugh. I had a great whelping laugh like my father’s, and she said that if I laughed at the wrong people, it would get me killed, as sure as it had got my father killed, as sure as if he’d pulled a knife.
然后她警告我不要笑。我笑得像我父亲一样，她说如果我笑错了人，那会让我死的，就像我爸爸死了一样，就像他拔出了一把刀一样。
He did pull a knife, I said.
我说 ，他确实拔了一把刀。
But that was after he enraged a man by laughing at him, she said. So, if you must laugh, do it with your mouth closed. Through your nose.
但她说，那是在 他嘲笑一个男人激怒他之后。所以，如果你必须笑，就闭着嘴笑。通过你的鼻子。
After I went to live with the ferryman, I tried to stay quiet. I listened, and walked to the side. My mother died and I spoke French and English and no Salish or Sahaptin, although I still sometimes muttered words to myself.
在我去和摆渡人住在一起后，我尽量保持沉默。我听了，走到一边。我母亲去世了，我会说法语和英语，不会说萨利希语或萨哈普丁语，尽管我有时仍然喃喃自语。
But I could no more laugh through my nose than I could see through my ears.
但我不能用鼻子笑，就像我能用耳朵看到一样。
She was right, it did get me in trouble, my laugh, that morning on the river with the Dolan boys and Early Reston, the man who beat the cop. I laughed with them boys and a couple of old hands I’d ranched with, and I followed them all to the union hall, even though I knew better, and we laughed and we ate and listened to speeches and I sang and laughed with the union boys for two days, sang and laughed myself right into the city jail.
她说得对，这确实给我带来了麻烦，我的笑声，那天早上和多兰男孩们以及打警察的男人 Early Reston 一起在河上。我和他们一起笑，和几个我一起牧场的老手，我跟着他们都去了工会大厅，尽管我更了解，我们笑着，我们吃饭，听着演讲，我和工会的男孩们一起唱歌和笑了两天，我自己唱歌和笑着，直接进入了城市监狱。
After the riot, I was put in a crowded cell with seven others, we were cold and hungry, but we still laughed and sang. Then, on my fourth night in jail, a cop pulled me out alone and brought me to the empty courtyard. It was a nothing sky, gray and starless. The cop made me wait. When I was a boy, Plante used to make me wait for his anger to set, and so I hated waiting, shifting foot to foot, wondering when the blow would come. I have always found the waiting worse than the beating. Death comes for everything, but only spiders and men make you wait for it.
骚乱后，我和其他七个人被关在一个拥挤的牢房里，我们又冷又饿，但我们仍然欢笑和唱歌。然后，在我入狱的第四个晚上，一个警察把我单独拉出来，带到空荡荡的院子里。那是一片虚无的天空，灰蒙蒙的，没有星星。警察让我等着。当我还是个孩子的时候，普兰特常常让我等待他的怒气降临，所以我讨厌等待，一步一步地换着脚，想知道打击什么时候会到来。我一直觉得等待比殴打更糟糕。死亡会降临一切，但只有蜘蛛和人会让你等待它。
Eventually, that cop Clegg came out. Our first morning in jail he had come in to ask the Dolan brothers and me what happened that day at the river.
最终，那个警察克莱格出来了。我们进监狱的第一个早晨，他进来问我和多兰兄弟那天在河边发生了什么。
Now I’m here to talk to you alone, Chief, said Clegg. You got no reason to protect them Montana boys. Or the man who hit my sergeant that day. So why don’t you just give me the man’s name and I’ll see to it you’re let go.
现在我在这里单独和你谈谈，酋长，克莱格说。你没有理由保护他们蒙大拿州的男孩。或者那天打我警长的那个男人。所以，你为什么不把那个人的名字告诉我，我会确保你被放走的。
I stayed quiet.
我保持沉默。
This ain’t your fight.
这不是你的战斗。
Stay out. Don’t speak. Keep yourself. Eyes down, walk the sides. But no laughter? When the world is etrange et ridicule?
不要出门。不要说话。保持自我。低头，走两边。但是没有笑声？当世界是 etrange et ridicule？
He whispered: Come on, Chief. Give me a name. Who was it?
他低声说：来吧，长官。给我一个名字。是谁？
I wished I could make a joke like the older Dolan saying John Rockefeller, but the cop wouldn’t take that from me. Still, just thinking it made me laugh.
我希望我能开个玩笑，就像老多兰说约翰·洛克菲勒一样，但警察不会从我这里夺走这一点。尽管如此，光是想想就让我发笑了。
At least no more waiting. Clegg hit me in the stomach and then in the chest with his baton. On the third swing I felt something give, a rib. And I caved in. There was no breath anywhere in that yard.
至少不用再等待了。克莱格用警棍打了我的肚子，然后又打了我的胸部。在第三次挥杆时，我感觉到有什么东西在给他，一根肋骨。我屈服了。那个院子里哪里都没有呼吸。
A jailer dragged me back to the cell and dropped me like an empty shirt. I slept all night on the stone floor.
一个狱卒把我拖回牢房，把我像一件空衬衫一样扔下。我在石地板上睡了一整夜。
In my sleep, I imagined my mother would come, call me by name, and be angry: What did I tell you? Once, when I was a boy, we saw an old French-Canadian skinner fighting with crows over a dead raccoon. You see? my mother said. But I never saw. And remembering her now wasn’t the same as seeing her in my sleep. Maybe old men didn’t get to dream about their mothers anymore.
在睡梦中，我想象着我的母亲会过来，叫我的名字，然后生气： 我告诉你什么？ 有一次，当我还是个孩子的时候，我们看到一个年长的法裔加拿大剥皮匠与乌鸦争夺一只死去的浣熊。 你看？ 我妈妈说。但我从来没有看到。现在想起她和在睡梦中看到她是不一样的。也许老人们再也不能梦到他们的母亲了。
I woke up wheezing in the dark cell. Eight of us taking turns on two hard cots. I’d done vagrant time in the stone blockhouse, but not packed like this. Nothing in our guts but stale bread and dank water. After the beating, and the wheeze in my ribs, I worried this might finally put me in a grave box. We took shifts on the cots. One of them said, Why’s the old Indian get a turn, but the others ignored him and I took to that cot like a sweet wife. They were all decent men in the cell except that one. Not a bad number, one idiot in eight. I had a cousin once who told me kindness lives in the lips, and when I got a good look at the one who questioned my right to the cot, he had only a line where he took in food and put out merde. He was lucky I was not in good health or I’d have put him on the stone floor myself.
我在黑暗的牢房里醒来，喘着粗气。我们八个人轮流坐在两张硬床上。我在石头碉堡里度过了流浪时光，但不是像这样收拾东西。我们的肠子里什么都没有，只有陈旧的面包和潮湿的水。在殴打和肋骨喘息之后，我担心这最终会把我放在一个坟墓里。我们在婴儿床上轮班。其中一个人说，为什么轮到那个老印度人了，但其他人不理他，我像个甜美的妻子一样坐到那张小床上。除了那个人之外，他们都是牢房里正派的人。一个不错的数字，八分之一的白痴。我有一个表弟曾经告诉我，嘴里流淌着善意，当我仔细观察那个质疑我有权使用婴儿床的人时，他只有一句话，他吃了食物，然后放了 merde。 他很幸运，我身体不好，否则我自己就会把他放在石头地板上。
After my beating, I saw Rye once at the rock pile but I was too sick to speak. I’m sorry, he said, but how could I blame him for my own laughter. He was a good kid and I hoped they would not beat the good entirely from him. One night I heard they moved him and some others from the sweatbox to an old school building and I was glad.
在我被打之后，我曾经在石堆上看到过 Rye，但我病得太重了，说不出话来。 他说 ，我很抱歉 ，但我怎么能因为我自己的笑声而责怪他呢。他是个好孩子，我希望他们不要完全打败他的优点。一天晚上，我听说他们把他和其他一些人从汗箱搬到了一座旧校舍，我很高兴。
There was a Finnish sawyer in my cell, a man named Halla, and one night I must’ve muttered in French, because after that, he made jokes in the language whenever they brought us hunks of bread and dirty water. Merci, garçon! he’d chirp, and then stick his lip out in a frown and wave his handkerchief like a fancy tablecloth. Bon appétit! This Halla would sniff the stale bread as if it was the finest cheese and say to the jailer, Mais mon vin, garçon? Deux Côtes du Rhone? I would laugh every time at this, and Halla would wink at me. Once I joined in and said to the guard, Deux steaks du boeuf s’il vous plaît, and Halla clapped my back and said good on me, though my French was chien de champagne. Country-dog French. I laughed at that, too. Laughed and coughed and could not stop. Blood on my hands.
我的牢房里有个芬兰锯木工，名叫哈拉，有一天晚上我一定用法语嘟囔了一句，因为从那以后，每当他们给我们带来大块面包和脏水时，他都会用法语开玩笑。 Merci， garçon！ 他会叽叽喳喳地叫着，然后皱着眉头伸出嘴唇，像花哨的桌布一样挥舞着手帕。 祝你胃口好！ 这个 Halla 会像闻最好的奶酪一样闻着陈旧的面包，然后对狱卒说，Mais mon vin，garçon？Deux Côtes du Rhone？ 每次我都会笑，Halla 也会对我眨眨眼。我一进来就对警卫说，Deux steaks du boeuf s'il vous plaît， 哈拉拍着我的背说好，虽然我的法语是 chien de champagne。 乡下狗法语。我也笑了。大笑，咳嗽，停不下来。我手上沾满了血。
Halla said, We need to get you a doctor, Jules.
Halla 说，我们需要给你找个医生，Jules。
But the jailer said the infirmary was full.
但狱卒说医务室已经满员了。
At night we talked about food and women like men who had experienced neither. Halla told me about the herring his mother used to fry every night for dinner. I asked, Did you get tired of herring? He said, Never. I asked, Are the herring still in the Baltic? He looked at me like I was crazy. Of course, he said.
晚上，我们谈论食物和女人，就像那些两者都没有经历过的男人一样。Halla 告诉我他妈妈每天晚上吃晚饭时都会炸的鲱鱼。我问，你厌倦了鲱鱼吗？他说，从来没有。我问，鲱鱼还在波罗的海吗？他看着我，好像我疯了一样。当然，他说。
I told him our river once ran thick with salmon and steelhead, and at the falls, the fish rose like flies over a pond, and you could swing a drop net and catch dejeuner pour deux. My uncle grew so fat on fish and shade-berries that he became a bear. Fur grew all over his body and his voice became a growl.
我告诉他，我们的河曾经盛产鲑鱼和虹鳟，在瀑布上，鱼儿像苍蝇一样从池塘上飞来，你可以摆动撒网，捕捉 dejeuner pour deux。我叔叔吃鱼和浆果长得很胖，以至于他变成了一只熊。毛皮长满了他的身体，他的声音变成了咆哮。
But our fish are gone now, I said. The dams keep them away. Now our river is shit and trash and wash from the mines. On the ground, they drove all the game away with hammering and sawing, they cleared the hillsides of berries to build more houses—they killed the world and called it progress.
但是我们的鱼现在已经不见了，我说。水坝把他们挡在外面。现在我们的河里是粪便、垃圾和矿井的冲刷。在地面上，他们用锤子和锯子把所有的猎物都赶走了，他们清理了山坡上的浆果，建造了更多的房子——他们杀死了世界，称之为进步。
Halla patted my arm. Rest now, Jules. But I was dreaming and fevered and feared I was going over.
哈拉拍了拍我的手臂。现在休息吧，朱尔斯。但我在做梦，发烧，害怕我会过去。
I was too sick to work the rock pile, but Clegg told the jailers I was holding out on him and they took me to the pile and handed me a pick. I always liked to work, but standing in sleet, watching shackled men not hit rocks, was torture. Twice I fell, and the second time I could not get up. Halla and another man carried me back to our cell. Ne t’an fais pas, Jules, said Halla.
我病得太重了，不能在石头堆上工作，但克莱格告诉狱卒我压在他身上，他们把我带到石头堆前，递给我一个镐子。我一直喜欢工作，但站在雨夹雪中，看着戴着镣铐的男人不撞到石头，是一种折磨。我摔倒了两次，第二次我再也爬不起来了。Halla 和另一个男人把我带回了我们的牢房。Ne t'an fais pas， Jules， Halla 说。
Je ne suis pas inquiet, I said. I wasn’t worried. I wanted to tell Halla about the boy who stole my ferry, but it was so many words, and I wasn’t sure what it would mean this time. People expect a story to always mean the same thing, but I have found that stories change like people do.
Je ne suis pas inquiet， 我说。我并不担心。我想告诉 Halla 那个偷了我渡轮的男孩，但字太多了，我不确定这次意味着什么。人们期望一个故事总是意味着同样的事情，但我发现故事会像人一样变化。
I wasn’t asleep and I wasn’t awake. I missed my shift on the floor and I sat up on one of the cots to see Halla had given up his turn for me. In the morning, my legs felt a mile away. My face burned. Even my cough had no breath behind it.
我没有睡着，也没有醒着。我错过了在地板上的班次，我在其中一张婴儿床上坐起来，看到 Halla 已经放弃了对我的轮到。早上，我的双腿感觉离我有一英里远。我的脸灼热。就连我的咳嗽也没有呼吸。
Winter fever, said a jailer.
冬天发烧，一个狱卒说。
Another listened to my chest. Ague, he said.
另一个人听我的胸膛。阿格，他说。
Sleep. Sunlight in dreams I did not want to leave. I looked for my mother to put her face against my fevered cheek, to use my name, to chide me, anything, but still she did not come.
睡。梦中的阳光我不想离开。我找我妈妈把脸贴在我发炎的脸颊上，用我的名字，责备我，什么都不要，但她还是没有来。
Halla told me I was talking in my sleep in a language he couldn’t understand. He tried to repeat what I’d said but I told him that it sounded like he was speaking horse. I said, Come closer. Halla bent down so his ear was near my mouth: I was ordering us two steaks.
Halla 告诉我，我在睡梦中用他听不懂的语言说话。他试图重复我说的话，但我告诉他，这听起来像是在说马。我说，靠近一点。Halla 弯下腰，让他的耳朵靠近我的嘴：我正在为我们点两块牛排。
Halla laughed and patted my chest. Très bien, Jules. After a time, he said, Do you have people, Jules?
Halla 笑着拍了拍我的胸膛。 Très bien， Jules.过了一会儿，他说，你有人吗，朱尔斯？
I had a wife, I told him.
我告诉他，我有个老婆。
I should have stopped there. But I could not.
我应该就此打住。但我不能。
My wife’s sister had a daughter. My niece.
我妻子的姐姐有一个女儿。我的侄女。
I should not have given the name. But I was afraid and so I gave Halla the name of my niece and her husband in Spokane.
我不该说出这个名字。但我很害怕，所以我把我在斯波坎的侄女和她丈夫的名字告诉了 Halla。
It’s okay, he said again. Sleep now, Jules.
没关系，他又说了一遍。现在睡吧，朱尔斯。
Heat. Breath catching. Slip down a ladder. Pass into dreams, bales of hay and garden rows and a thicket of blackberries and a dog with white eyes and still no mother but an old aunt who didn’t recognize me. And in my dream I could not remember enough of the language to ask for her. I could not even name all that I had lost.
热。喘不过气来。从梯子上滑下来。进入梦境，成捆的干草和一排排的花园，一丛黑莓和一只长着白眼睛的狗，除了一个不认识我的老阿姨之外，仍然没有妈妈。在我的梦中，我记不住足够的语言来询问她。我什至无法说出我失去的一切。
Men were talking over me.
男人们都在谈论我。
Hands on my shoulders and legs.
双手放在我的肩膀和腿上。
Halla’s face. You’re getting out, Jules.
Halla 的脸。你出去了，朱尔斯。
Deux vin, I said.
Deux vin， 我说。
Goodbye, Jules, he said.
再见了，朱尔斯，他说。
I see you, I said, but in what language?
我说， 我看到你了，但用什么语言呢？
Repose-toi, maintenent, Halla said. Mon ami.
Repose-toi，维护者，Halla 说。 Mon ami.
Night. The sky was clear. Cold clean air. I gulped it like water. Was this freedom? I was being carried on a litter, ice crunching beneath the feet of the men carrying my body.
晚上。天空晴朗。寒冷干净的空气。我像喝水一样大口大口地喝着。这是自由吗？我被人抱着，冰块在抬着我尸体的人脚下嘎吱作响。
They put me in the back of a wagon and I drifted again. Cold air. Horses crying, rustled, clopping, pulling the wagon. Ruts. Blankets. Wagon. Heat.
他们把我放在一辆马车的后座上，我又漂流了。㓎。马匹哀嚎、沙沙作响、咔嚓咔嚓、拉着马车。车辙。毯子。车皮。热。
Then we were outside her house. Dom came out, with his big arms and his kind eyes. He spoke to the jailers. Muffled words. Yes, he said, Jules Plante is my wife’s uncle. Of course.
然后我们到了她家外面。Dom 走出来，带着他那双宽大的手臂和他善良的眼睛。他对狱卒们说。含糊不清的话语。是的，他说，朱尔斯·普兰特是我妻子的叔叔。答案是肯定的。
The litter rose up the steps with me on it. And I was delivered into the warmth of Gemma’s house. And then her face filled the world above me.
猫砂和我一起爬上了台阶。我被送进了 Gemma 温暖的房子里。然后她的脸充满了我头顶的世界。
Hello, Uncle.
你好，叔叔。
Gemma, I’m—no breath.
杰玛，我——没有呼吸。
It’s okay. Stay quiet, Uncle, it’s okay.
没关系。别吭，叔叔，没事的。
It’s what my mother would have said, too, stay quiet, Jules.
我妈妈也会这么说的，别说话，朱尔斯。
Heat from the fire. O Gemma. Lovely girl. Jewels and gems.
火的热量。哦，杰玛。可爱的女孩。珠宝和宝石。
Sleep now, Uncle. You’re home.
现在睡吧，叔叔。你到家了。
Her husband left the room, and she bent and whispered in my ear.
她的丈夫离开了房间，她弯下腰在我耳边低语。
And the rest of life was dreams.
而剩下的生活就是梦想。
I fell in love with my country—its rivers, prairies, forests, mountains, cities and people. . . . It could be a paradise on earth if it belonged to the people, not to a small owning class.
我爱上了我的国家——它的河流、草原、森林、山脉、城市和人民......如果它属于人民，而不是属于一个小的拥有阶级，那么它可能是人间的天堂。
—Elizabeth Gurley Flynn
——伊丽莎白·格利·弗林
She was the daughter of an Irish firebrand named Thomas Flynn and a lace-curtain suffragist named Ann Gurley, raised on the speeches of Emma Goldman and Mother Jones. At ten, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn was railing against inequity at Harlem social clubs and calling for the women’s vote at her grammar school. She drew hundreds when she spoke on the street and, by the time of her first arrest, at fifteen, was locally famous, dubbed by progressive newspapers the “East Side Joan of Arc, an Irish beauty with blue eyes, filmy black hair and a fiery manner of speaking.” The establishment New York Times took a harder tack, calling her a “she-dog of anarchy.” At seventeen, Gurley Flynn joined the IWW as an organizer, rallying workers and leading strikes in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, working her way west, speaking in mining camps and earning the nickname Rebel Girl. She married a Montana labor man named Jones and, having just run a successful protest in Missoula, was sent to Spokane to help organize its free speech battle—at nineteen, already a grizzled veteran of dozens of union actions.
她的父亲是爱尔兰煽动者托马斯·弗林 （Thomas Flynn） 和蕾丝窗帘女权主义者安·格利 （Ann Gurley），在艾玛·戈德曼 （Emma Goldman） 和琼斯妈妈 （Mother Jones） 的演讲中长大。10 岁时，伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 抨击哈莱姆区社交俱乐部的不平等现象，并呼吁在她的文法学校进行女性投票。她在街上演讲时吸引了数百人，到她第一次被捕时，也就是 15 岁时，她在当地很有名，被进步报纸称为“东区圣女贞德，一位有着蓝眼睛、黑发和火爆说话方式的爱尔兰美女”。建制派《 纽约时报 》 采取了更强硬的措施，称她为“无政府状态的母狗”。17 岁时，格利·弗林 （Gurley Flynn） 作为组织者加入了 IWW，在宾夕法尼亚州和新泽西州召集工人并领导罢工，一路向西工作，在采矿营地发表演讲，并赢得了 “叛逆女孩” 的绰号 。她嫁给了蒙大拿州一位名叫琼斯的工人，刚刚在米苏拉成功举办了一场抗议活动，被派往斯波坎帮助组织言论自由之战——19 岁时，已经是参加过数十次工会行动的白发老兵。
Rye’s lawyer, Fred Moore, was explaining all of this as they left the courthouse after his release, but Rye was having trouble concentrating. A jailer had brought his clothes to him, and though they’d been laundered, a bloodstain still covered his shirt like a bib. As they walked down the courthouse steps, people kept staring, and Rye self-consciously pulled his coat tight around his neck.
Rye 的律师 Fred Moore 在他获释后离开法院时正在解释这一切，但 Rye 难以集中注意力。一个狱卒把他的衣服带到他面前，虽然它们已经洗过了，但血迹仍然像围兜一样覆盖在他的衬衫上。当他们走下法院的台阶时，人们一直盯着看，Rye 不自觉地把外套紧紧地套在脖子上。
In Spokane, the seasons could turn like a switch, autumn light one day, winter dark the next. A wall of courthouse maples burst with color the day Rye went to jail. Nine days later, the trees were frosted and skeletal.
在斯波坎，季节可以像开关一样转换，今天是秋天的光明，明天是冬天的黑暗。法院的一堵枫树墙在 Rye 入狱的那天绽放出五颜六色。九天后，树木结霜并形成骨骼。
Rye shared their mood: What was he supposed to do now? How would he explain his absence to Mrs. Ricci? Would she charge him against their wintering money for the eight days he’d been gone? And what about Gig? Who knew how long he’d be in jail or what trouble he’d face in there?
Rye 分享了他们的心情：他现在应该做什么？他将如何向 Ricci 夫人解释他的缺席呢？她会向他收取他离开的八天的过冬费吗？那么 Gig 呢？谁知道他会在监狱里呆多久，或者他在那里会遇到什么麻烦呢？
Fred Moore stopped on the sidewalk and turned to him. “So,” he said, “if you’re amenable to it, this woman would like to speak with you this afternoon.”
弗雷德·摩尔（Fred Moore）在人行道上停了下来，转向他。“所以，”他说，“如果你愿意的话，这个女人今天下午想和你谈谈。
Rye looked up. “Ursula the Great?”
Rye 抬起头。“乌苏拉大帝？”
“Who?” The lawyer looked dumbfounded. “No. Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, the woman I was just telling you about, Mrs. Jack Jones by her married name.” He put a hand on Rye’s arm. “But I should warn you. She can be—” He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, she has a certain way of . . . well, her nature is—” Then Rye’s lawyer, who seemed never at a loss for words, laughed at his own inability to find the right one. “Let’s just say she is redoubtable.”
“谁？”律师看起来目瞪口呆。“不。伊丽莎白·格利·弗林，我刚才告诉你的那个女人，杰克·琼斯夫人的婚名。他把手放在 Rye 的手臂上。“但我得警告你。她可以是——“他清了清嗓子。“我的意思是，她有某种方式......嗯，她的本性是——“然后，Rye 的律师，似乎从来不知所措，嘲笑自己找不到合适的人。“我们只能说她是值得怀疑的。”
Rye stared.
Rye 瞪着眼睛。
“Estimable?”
“估计？”
Rye shifted his feet on the frosty gravel.
Rye 在冰冷的砾石上移动着脚。
“Formidable?”
“令人生畏？”
Rye liked having a lawyer, but the man could be as hard to understand as Old Jules on a French bender. He wondered how many words he’d have to hear before he recognized one, so he gave up and said, “Oh,” thinking he would figure out what formidable meant once he met the woman.
Rye 喜欢有个律师，但这个男人可能就像老朱尔斯在法国弯头上一样难以理解。他想知道他要听多少个字才能认出一个，所以他放弃了，说：“哦”，以为一旦 他遇到那个女人 ，他就会明白 ababable 是什么意思。
Rye walked with Fred Moore across the river, which steamed like a bath in the cool air. They passed Stevens Street and the job agencies, guarded by men with downturned rifles. Down Front Street, past cafés, hotels, service halls, laundries, and bars—the street nearly empty of tramps and day workers, so many now behind bars or run out of town. A cop standing across from the IWW building took note of Rye and his lawyer as they entered. Inside, the foyer was empty, cantina closed, the cops having seized back issues of the Industrial Worker from the newsstand and arrested the editors for conspiracy to incite a riot.
Rye 和 Fred Moore 一起走过河，河在凉爽的空气中像洗澡一样冒着热气。他们经过史蒂文斯街（Stevens Street）和职业介绍所，那里的守卫都是拿着倒着的步枪的人。沿着前街，经过咖啡馆、酒店、服务大厅、洗衣店和酒吧——这条街上几乎没有流浪汉和临时工，许多人现在被关在监狱里或跑出城外。站在 IWW 大楼对面的一名警察在他们进入时注意到了 Rye 和他的律师。里面的门厅空无一人，小酒馆关着，警察从报摊上没收了 《产业工人》 杂志， 并以阴谋煽动骚乱的罪名逮捕了编辑。
In the meeting hall, they could hear raised voices from the back office, and that was when Fred Moore put a hand on Rye’s arm. “I’m sorry for taking you into the fray without a bath or a change of clothing. Miss Flynn—er, Mrs. Jones requested that you arrive bearing the evidence of your mistreatment.” Then Fred Moore gently reached over and opened Rye’s coat to reveal the bloodstain on his shirt. “Her idea . . .”
在会议厅里，他们可以听到后勤办公室传来的声音，就在这时，Fred Moore 把手放在了 Rye 的手臂上。“很抱歉，我带你去打仗，没有洗澡或换衣服。弗林小姐——呃，琼斯太太请你带着你虐待的证据来。然后，Fred Moore 轻轻地伸手打开了 Rye 的外套，露出了他衬衫上的血迹。“她的想法......”
Rye looked down. Seeing his own dried blood made him think of Gig. “Mr. Moore, I don’t suppose you’d see about getting my brother out, too.”
Rye 低头看。看到自己干涸的血液，他想起了 Gig。“摩尔先生，我想你也不会想到把我哥哥也救出来。”
“Of course,” he said. “I will look into it immediately.”
“当然，”他说。“我会立即调查。”
“Gregory Dolan,” Rye said. “And there was another man with us, an Indian named Jules.”
“格雷戈里·多兰，”莱伊说。“还有另一个人和我们在一起，一个名叫朱尔斯的印第安人。”
Fred Moore pulled out a pad and wrote the names down. “I’ll see what I can find out. And I’ll get you some proper clothing. You look to be about my size.” He reached for the door of the union office.
Fred Moore 拿出一个笔记本，把名字写下来。“我看看能找到什么。我给你弄点像样的衣服。你看起来和我差不多大。他伸手去拿工会办公室的门。
“I don’t suppose you got a bowler hat,” Rye said. “I always thought I would look smart in a bowler.”
“我猜你没有戴圆顶礼帽，”Rye 说。“我一直认为我穿投球手会看起来很聪明。”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mr. Moore said, and he opened the door and Rye got his first look at the redoubtable, estimable, formidable Elizabeth Gurley Flynn.
“我看看我能做些什么，”摩尔先生说，他打开了门，莱伊第一次看到了令人敬畏的、值得尊敬的、令人敬畏的伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn）。
She was just a kid, more girl than rebel, small and sprightly and not a line or seam in her open face. She seemed to change from different angles—a bit of the schoolgirl, a bit of the nun, a bit of the Irish saloon girl—long black hair loose to the waist, held thick by a black ribbon. She wore a long-sleeved black satin blouse with a high collar revealing a narrow black necktie, above a plain black bustled skirt—black on black on pure Irish pale. Her slate blue eyes were big and dipped at the corners so she seemed to be alternately pleading and sympathizing.
她只是一个孩子，与其说是叛逆 ，不如说是女孩子，娇小而活泼，在她张开的脸上没有一条线或缝隙。她似乎从不同的角度发生了变化——有点像女学生，有点像修女，有点像爱尔兰酒吧女孩——黑色的长发松散地垂到腰间，用一条黑色丝带系着厚厚的。她穿着一件长袖黑色缎面衬衫，高领露出一条狭窄的黑色领带，外面是一条纯黑色的盛裙——黑底黑字，纯爱尔兰淡色。她那双石板蓝色的眼睛很大，眼角凹陷，所以她似乎时而恳求，时而同情。
Rye wondered then if redoubtable meant a thing so pretty and unexpected that it actually hurt to look at. She glanced up and saw Rye and his lawyer at the doorway, but she did not announce them, instead turning her attention back to the five men standing around her, their backs to Rye.
Rye 当时想知道 redoubtable 是否意味着一件如此美丽和出乎意料的东西，以至于看起来真的很痛苦。她抬头看了一眼，看到 Rye 和他的律师在门口，但她没有宣布他们，而是将注意力转回站在她周围的五个男人身上，他们背对着 Rye。
The men shuffled and shifted their weight, hats in hand. Gurley Flynn was the only one sitting, perched sidesaddle on a small sofa, as if choosing between unworthy suitors.
男人们手里拿着帽子，拖着脚步，转移着他们的重心。只有格利·弗林（Gurley Flynn）坐在一张小沙发上，坐在马鞍上，仿佛在不值得的追求者之间做出选择。
The only man Rye recognized in the room was the IWW secretary, nervous Charlie Filigno. He was standing nearest Mrs. Jones, trying to explain in heavily accented English that they were planning a second free speech action for November 29, exactly four weeks after the first. Word was going out for more soapbox speakers and floaters willing to clog the jails. They planned to keep up the pressure with news stories while they battled in the courts. “Elizabeth has offer to give speeches to raise money—”
Rye 在房间里唯一认出的男人是 IWW 秘书，紧张的 Charlie Filigno。他站在离琼斯夫人最近的位置，试图用带有浓重口音的英语解释说，他们计划在 11 月 29 日进行第二次言论自由行动，正好是第一次行动的四个星期后。越来越多的肥皂盒扬声器和漂浮物愿意堵塞监狱的消息传出去。他们计划在法庭上战斗时通过新闻报道来保持压力。“伊丽莎白提议发表演讲来筹集资金——”
“A thousand dollars,” interrupted Gurley. “That’s how much I intend to raise. In three weeks, the great Clarence Darrow will be back in Boise delivering a lecture on the Haywood case, and I plan be there, to hire him to come to Spokane and challenge this outrageous anti-speech law once and for all.”
“一千美元，”格利打断了他。“这就是我打算筹集的金额。三周后，伟大的克拉伦斯·达罗 （Clarence Darrow） 将回到博伊西，就海伍德案发表演讲，我计划在那里，聘请他来斯波坎，一劳永逸地挑战这项令人发指的反言论法。
Filigno cleared his throat. “Elizabeth hopes—”
菲利尼奥清了清嗓子。“伊丽莎白希望——”
“I hope to use my notoriety to raise this money, as I did in Missoula,” she said, “until the cops there overplayed their hand by arresting me.”
“我希望利用我的恶名来筹集这笔钱，就像我在米苏拉所做的那样，”她说，“直到那里的警察逮捕了我。
The men shifted, made wary eye contact, and a chinless man cleared his throat. “Mrs. Jones, we all admired what you done in Missoula, but you had thirty men in jail there. There’s three hundred here. And frankly, we got concerns about allowing a nineteen-year-old girl in your current condition—”
男人们移动了一下，警惕地进行了眼神交流，一个没有下巴的男人清了清嗓子。“琼斯太太，我们都钦佩你在米苏拉所做的一切，但你那里有三十个人在监狱里。这里有三百人。坦率地说，我们对让一个 19 岁的女孩处于你目前的状况感到担忧 ——”
“Allowing?” She laughed. “Mr. Davis, with all due respect, I have given speeches from Maine to Montana, and I have never once been allowed to speak.”
“允许？”她笑了起来。“戴维斯先生，恕我直言，从缅因州到蒙大拿州，我都发表过演讲，但我从未被允许发言。”
Standing next to her, Charlie Filigno put his hand out to calm her just as one of the men, whom Rye couldn’t see from the doorway, grew agitated. “Mrs. Jones, you will refrain from such outbursts—”
站在她旁边的查理·菲利尼奥伸出手让她平静下来，这时，其中一个男人变得焦躁不安，而 Rye 从门口看不到他。“琼斯太太，你可别这么大发雷霆——”
And that was the moment when Mrs. Elizabeth Gurley Flynn Jones thought it best to see Rye. She popped off the sofa, and that was also the moment when he understood her current condition—she appeared to be some months pregnant.
就在那一刻，伊丽莎白·格利·弗林·琼斯夫人认为最好去看看莱伊。她从沙发上跳了下来，这也是他明白她现在的情况的时刻——她似乎已经怀孕几个月了。
“Mr. Dolan! Mr. Moore!” she said. “Please, come in.”
“多兰先生！摩尔先生！“请进来。”
They did, Moore first, then Rye. The union men took a step back, repelled by his appearance, just as Gurley Flynn must have hoped. As for the Rebel Girl, she greeted Rye’s lawyer, then took both of Rye’s hands like he was her oldest-dearest, her white skin creamy against his rough, scarred mitts.
他们做到了，首先是 Moore，然后是 Rye。工会成员后退了一步，对他的出现感到厌恶，正如格利·弗林所希望的那样。至于那个叛逆的女孩，她向 Rye 的律师打招呼，然后握住 Rye 的双手，就像他是她最亲爱的一样，她白皙的皮肤在他粗糙、伤痕累累的手套上呈奶油色。
She spun and presented him. “Gentlemen, I trust you know the young hero of our movement, Mr. Ryan Dolan, only this morning released from jail. Ryan, these men are union leaders with the AFL and WFM—carpenters, metal workers, and miners—our allies in this struggle.” She leaned on that word, then gestured toward Rye’s lawyer. “You know our brilliant young attorney, Mr. Moore.” She let go of Rye’s hands and had him sit on the sofa next to her. She smiled as if this were a garden party she’d organized. “These giants of labor were just explaining to me that the people of Spokane would be scandalized to find out that engaging in sexual congress with one’s husband occasionally results in pregnancy.”
她转过身来，把他介绍给他。“先生们，我相信你们认识我们运动的年轻英雄瑞安·多兰先生，他今天早上才从监狱中获释。瑞安，这些人是 AFL 和 WFM 的工会领导人——木匠、金属工人和矿工——我们在这场斗争中的盟友 。她靠在那个词上，然后向 Rye 的律师做了个手势。“您认识我们才华横溢的年轻律师，摩尔先生。”她放开 Rye 的手，让他坐在她旁边的沙发上。她笑了，仿佛这是她组织的花园派对。“这些劳工巨头只是在向我解释，如果斯波坎人发现与丈夫发生性关系偶尔会导致怀孕，他们会感到震惊。”
Rye felt like a firecracker had gone off in the room. One of the men gasped. Another snapped: “Mrs. Jones! We are simply asking for some decency! That you not make a spectacle of yourself and that you let others do the public speaking.”
Rye 感觉房间里就像燃起了鞭炮。其中一个男人倒抽了一口气。“另一个人厉声说：”琼斯夫人！我们只是在要求一些体面！你不要炫耀自己，让别人做公开演讲。
“Others?” she said. “What others would you suggest?”
“其他的？”“你还会推荐什么？”
“Elizabeth—” Charlie Filigno said.
“伊丽莎白——”查理·菲利尼奥说。
But she wouldn’t even look at Charlie, her intense dark eyes sweeping the room, challenging. “My entire membership is caged, living on bread and water,” she said. “To whom should I turn for this public speaking, Mr. Bennett?”
但她甚至不愿看查理一眼，她那双深沉的黑眼睛扫视着房间，充满挑战。“我的所有成员都被关在笼子里，靠面包和水生活，”她说。“贝内特先生，我应该向谁寻求这次公开演讲呢？”
That’s when the oldest of the union men, a big mottled man with reddish-gray hair, stepped forward: “Enough, Mrs. Jones!” The way the other men deferred to him, Rye figured him to be the biggest labor boss. “I’m not your father, but I will speak to you like a child if you continue to act like one. You ask our union’s support and then you speak to us in such coarse language? While brashly promoting yourself as Gurley-Flynn in the newspapers?” His face kept reddening. “Maybe that’s acceptable in New York City, but here, for a married woman, it is unseemly and wrong—”
就在这时，工会中年龄最大的男人，一个红灰色头发、斑驳的大个子男人，走上前来：“够了，琼斯夫人！其他人对他的尊重，Rye 认为他是最大的劳工老板。“我不是你的父亲，但如果你继续表现得像个孩子，我会像个孩子一样对你说话。你问我们工会的支持，然后你用这么粗俗的语言跟我们说话？同时在报纸上肆无忌惮地宣传自己是 Gurley-Flynn？他的脸一直红着。“也许这在纽约市是可以接受的，但在这里，对于一个已婚女人来说，这是不体面和错误的——”
Her face flushed as well. “Mr. Cawley—”
她的脸也涨得通红。“考利先生——”
But the red-faced man would not be quieted. “I worked alongside your husband in Butte, and I know for a fact Jack was against you taking this trip! And yet here you are, with child, run off from a devoted husband, sullying your reputation and that of every workingman in the west!”
但那个红脸男人不会安静下来。“我和你丈夫一起在比尤特工作，我知道杰克是反对你去这次旅行的！可是你却在这里， 带着孩子 ，从一个忠心耿耿的丈夫那里逃走，玷污了你和西方每一个工人的名誉！
Gurley Flynn drew her lips tight. “My apologies if I offend you, Mr. Cawley, but I use my maiden name because Elizabeth Jones is unknown as a speaker, whereas Elizabeth Gurley Flynn is a name whose reputation I burnished—”
格利·弗林紧紧地抿着嘴唇。“如果我冒犯了你，我很抱歉，考利先生，但我使用我的娘家姓，因为伊丽莎白·琼斯（Elizabeth Jones）不知名，而伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn）这个名字的名声我擦亮了——”
Cawley interrupted again. “Your reputation is what we are here to protect!”
考利再次打断了他。“您的声誉就是我们在这里保护的！”
Again she interrupted her interrupter: “—whose reputation I burnished from New York to Chicago to Missoula to Spokane—”
她又打断了她的话：“—— 从纽约到芝加哥，从米苏拉到斯波坎，我都擦亮了谁的名声 ——”
Oh, but that got even further under the skin of the union man, and he took two steps toward her, his face going scarlet to the mottled line of his hair. “Enough! You ask for our support—now listen!”
哦，但这在工会男人的皮肤下更进一步了，他向她走了两步，他的脸变成了猩红，直到他斑驳的发线。“够了！你请求我们的支持——现在听着！
Gurley gripped Rye’s arm. She was shaking.
格利紧紧抓住莱伊的手臂。她浑身发抖。
The man held out a copy of the Industrial Worker. “Your first article, you call Judge Mann ‘a known bottle-tipper’ and ‘a lackey of the parasites!’ You call the Spokane police ‘hired thugs’ and ‘half-witted Hiberians.’ ”
那个人拿出一本 《产业工人》。 “你的第一篇文章，你称曼法官是'一个众所周知的倾倒瓶子的人'和'寄生虫的走狗'！”你称斯波坎警察为'雇佣的暴徒'和'半聪明的希伯利亚人'。“
Gurley half-smiled. “Too alliterative, Mr. Cawley?”
格利半笑半笑。“太押头韵了，考利先生？”
“Too far, Mrs. Jones! You go too far! You go too far confusing the cause of labor with that of socialism and suffrage, the Negro and Indian, and you go too far now!” He crumpled the newspaper. “My union is committed to higher wages, not a goddamn revolution! In fact, I’m not sure this outfit of yours is a union,” he continued, “and not a menagerie! Every day the Spokesman runs the names of foreign savages you trot onto soapboxes!”
“太远了，琼斯太太！你太过分了！你把劳动事业与社会主义和选举权、黑人和印第安人的事业混为一谈，太过分了，你现在走得太远了！他把报纸揉成一团。“我的工会致力于提高工资，而不是一场该死的革命！事实上，我不确定你们的这套衣服是不是工会，“他继续说，”而不是动物园！每天， 代言人都会把你小跑到肥皂盒上的外国野蛮人的名字记下来！
“Listen—” she said quietly.
“听着——”她轻声说。
“No, you listen!” He took another step forward, until he was right above her. “From now on, you will use your married name! And if Jack doesn’t join you here soon, I will put you on a train back to Montana myself! While you’re in Spokane, you will stay off the soapbox, off the street, and indoors at all times—”
“不， 你听！” 他又向前迈了一步，直到他正好在她的上方。“从现在开始，你将使用你的婚名！如果 Jack 不尽快加入你，我会亲自送你坐火车回蒙大拿州！当你在斯波坎的时候，你得一直远离 肥皂盒，远离街道，远离室内——”
She smiled. “So, I am not free to speak about free speech?”
她笑了。“所以，我不能自由地谈论言论自由吗？”
But Cawley was not done. “You may deliver speeches at women’s clubs, but if I hear you have been on a single street corner addressing men, or using your maiden name, I will pull my union’s support. You will travel at all times with an escort, and if you publish anything in that red rag of yours, it will be respectful, and it will be under the name Mrs. Jack Jones. Do you understand?”
但考利并没有就此止步。“你可以在妇女俱乐部发表演讲，但如果我听说你一直在一个街角向男性讲话，或者使用你的娘家姓，我会撤回我工会的支持。”您将始终与护送人员一起旅行，如果您在您的那块红色破布上发表任何内容，那将是尊重的，并且将以杰克琼斯夫人的名义。 你明白吗？
Gurley glanced around at the other men but found no allies. Even Filigno was looking at his shoes.
格利环顾四周，但没有找到盟友。就连菲利尼奥也在看他的鞋子。
Cawley finally took a step back and sighed, his anger having run its course. He ran his hand through his thin hair and put his hat back on. “Mrs. Jones, I don’t care if you get a nickel out of every Negro hoe-boy and half-breed Celestial whore in the state, but I will not ask God-fearing American unionists to line up behind a pregnant wayward wife.”
Cawley 终于后退了一步，叹了口气，他的愤怒已经结束了。他用手抚摸着自己稀疏的头发，重新戴上了帽子。“琼斯夫人，我不在乎你是不是能从这个州的每一个黑人锄头男孩和混血天妓身上得到一分钱，但我不会 要求敬畏上帝的美国工会成员站在一个怀孕的任性妻子后面。”
The air was gone from the room.
房间里的空气已经消失了。
“Gentlemen, can we—” Charlie Filigno began.
“先生们，我们能不能——”Charlie Filigno 开始说。
Gurley sprang up and smiled broadly. “Good point, Charlie. Let’s thank these gentlemen for their support and get back to work.” She turned to the mottled man. “Mr. Cawley, I assure you, my husband will be in Spokane soon. In the meantime, I will travel at all times with an escort. In fact—” She turned to Rye. “Mr. Dolan will accompany me and speak about his mistreatment.”
格利跳起来，露出灿烂的笑容。“说得好，Charlie。让我们感谢这些先生们的支持，然后重新开始工作。她转向那个斑驳的男人。“考利先生，我向你保证，我丈夫很快就会到斯波坎。在此期间，我将始终在护送下旅行。事实上——“她转向 Rye。“多兰先生会陪我一起谈论他的虐待。”
The men all looked at Rye. “He’s a boy,” one of them said.
男人们都看着 Rye。“他是个男孩，”其中一人说。
“He is a boy who was beaten and jailed for seeking honest work. I guarantee everyone who hears this Irish orphan’s story will imagine their own son.”
“他是一个因为寻找诚实工作而被殴打和监禁的男孩。我保证每个听到这个爱尔兰孤儿故事的人都会想象他们自己的儿子。
That word again—orphan
又是那个词——孤儿.
“And by your own description, Mr. Cawley,” she went on, “I would say that as the only white male American-born, English-speaking member of our union currently not in jail, he’s ideal.”
“根据你自己的描述，考利先生，”她继续说，“我想说，作为我们工会中唯一一个在美国出生、讲英语的白人男性成员， 目前没有被关进监狱，他是理想的。
Rye went almost as red as Cawley. Not because he didn’t like Gurley calling him ideal but because he wasn’t actually a dues-paying member of the IWW.
Rye 几乎和 Cawley 一样红。不是因为他不喜欢 Gurley 称他为理想，而是因为他实际上并不是 IWW 的会费支付会员。
And no way could he imagine getting up and jawsmithing like his brother.
他无法想象像他的兄弟一样站起来和下巴锻造。
“Mr. Dolan,” Gurley said, taking his hand again. “Please. Tell these men about the treatment you endured.”
“多兰先生，”格利说，再次握住他的手。“拜托。告诉这些人你所遭受的待遇。
Rye wished Mr. Moore were still there to give all the proper habeas ipsos, but the lawyer had slipped out. The rest of the men were staring at him.
莱伊希望摩尔先生还在那儿，提供所有适当的人身保护措施， 但律师已经溜走了。其余的人都盯着他看。
“Go ahead, Mr. Dolan,” she said, “tell them what happened.”
“去吧，多兰先生，”她说，“告诉他们发生了什么事。
“Well,” Rye said, “we woke on a ball field.”
“嗯，”Rye 说，“我们在球场上醒来。
He hardly remembered what he said after that—he just talked, about his brother and Jules and the slate-haired cop and Gig telling him to stay at Mrs. Ricci’s boardinghouse but him sneaking off to watch the free speech riot and Walsh and the Italian singer and seeing Gig get arrested and stepping on the soapbox himself and being locked up in the sweatbox and then the school and the Salvation Army discovering he was only sixteen and the judge releasing him that very day.
他几乎不记得在那之后他说了什么——他只是聊了聊，关于他的兄弟和朱尔斯，还有那个黑发的警察和吉格告诉他留在里奇太太的寄宿公寓，但他偷偷溜走去看言论自由的骚乱，沃尔什和那个意大利歌手，看到吉格被捕，自己踩到肥皂盒，被关在汗水箱里，然后学校和救世军发现他是只有 16 岁，法官就在那天释放了他。
“And now . . .” Rye looked over at Gurley. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my brother out, too.”
“现在 . . .Rye 看向 Gurley。“我也会不惜一切代价把我哥哥救出来。”
The union men took turns shaking his hand on their way out, and clapping his shoulder, and then they left. When it was just Filigno, Gurley, and Rye in the office, Elizabeth turned and said, “You did well, Ryan.”
工会成员轮流在离开时握他的手，拍拍他的肩膀，然后他们离开了。当办公室里只有 Filigno、Gurley 和 Rye 时，Elizabeth 转身说：“你做得很好，Ryan。
Then Fred Moore came back in the room with a stack of clothes. On top was a bowler hat. “As promised,” said Fred.
然后 Fred Moore 带着一堆衣服回到房间。上面是一顶圆顶礼帽。“正如承诺的那样，”弗雷德说。
The pants were fine, gray, with a matching jacket, braces, and a white stiff-collared shirt. Rye immediately put the gray bowler on his head.
裤子很漂亮，灰色，搭配一件相配的夹克、牙套和一件白色的硬领衬衫。Rye 立即将灰色圆顶球戴在他的头上。
“Looks good,” Gurley said.
“看起来不错，”格利说。
Fred Moore pulled some notes from his jacket. “I also got the charging documents for your brother, Ryan,” he said. “He’s being held with the union leaders, charged with conspiracy. They’re seeking six months.”
Fred Moore 从夹克里掏出一些笔记。“我还拿到了你哥哥的指控文件，瑞安，”他说。“他被关押在工会领导人身边，被指控犯有阴谋罪。他们正在寻求六个月的时间。
“Six months?”
“六个月 ？”
“Don’t worry, we’ll fight it,” Fred Moore said. “Your brother is not an elected union official, and since he was only on the free speech committee, we can use his overcharging to challenge the anti-gathering law.”
“别担心，我们会抗争的，”Fred Moore 说。“你哥哥不是民选的工会官员，既然他只是言论自由委员会的成员，我们就可以利用他的滥收费用来挑战反集会法。”
Rye was about to ask what that all meant when Fred Moore flipped to another page in his file. “The other name, your friend Jules?” he said. “A Jules Plante was released to family two days ago.”
Rye 正要问这一切意味着什么，这时 Fred Moore 翻到了他档案中的另一页。“另一个名字，你的朋友朱尔斯？”“两天前，朱尔斯·普兰特 （Jules Plante） 被释放给家人。”
Of all the things that had happened that day, this seemed, in some ways, the most unlikely to Rye. He took the hat off. “Wait,” he said. “Jules has a family?”
在那天发生的所有事情中，从某种程度上说，这似乎是 Rye 最不可能的事情。他摘下了帽子。“等等，”他说。“朱尔斯有家庭吗？”
I HEARD no breathing from the other room. I touched my husband’s broad back. “Dom?”
我没有听到另一个房间的呼吸声。我摸了摸丈夫宽阔的后背。“多姆？”
He rolled over. “I’ll go see.” He pulled on his pants and walked across the floor. I heard his footsteps out in the hall, and then it was quiet again. The steps moved into the kitchen, and the cookstove door opened, Dom stoking embers, a log going in. A minute later, he got back in bed. “He’s alive, Gemma.”
他翻了个身。“我去看看。”他拉上裤子，走过地板。我听到他的脚步声在大厅里，然后又安静了下来。台阶走进厨房，炉灶门打开了，Dom 点燃余烬，一根木头进来。一分钟后，他回到了床上。“他还活着，杰玛。”
It was decent of him, but my husband was nothing if not decent. Especially about Uncle Jules. The very first time he’d shown up, dirty from the road, Dom had invited him to stay. “He’s family,” Dom had said. I was humbled. Not every man would let an old Indian shirttail relation of his wife’s come sleep at the house each year.
他很体面，但我丈夫如果不体面的话，就什么都不是。尤其是关于朱尔斯叔叔。他第一次出现时，路上脏兮兮的，Dom 邀请他留下来。“他是家人，”Dom 说。我感到很谦卑。不是每个男人每年都会让他妻子的一位老印度衬衫尾巴亲戚来这所房子里睡觉。
Jules had Spokane and Palus parents, and a Scottish trader on one side. He was born on the river before the city existed, then sent to live with an old ferryman who ran the crossing between here and Idaho. In his thirties, he married my mother’s sister, Agnella. As I told Dom that first year, Jules was the only family I had. Mother and Aunt Agnella were both dead from flu and my father long since run off.
Jules 的父母是斯波坎和帕卢斯，一边是苏格兰商人。在这座城市存在之前，他就出生在河上，然后被送到一位老摆渡人那里生活，这位摆渡人负责这里和爱达荷州之间的过境。30 多岁时，他娶了我母亲的妹妹阿涅拉 （Agnella）。正如我第一年告诉 Dom 的那样，Jules 是我唯一的家人。母亲和阿姨阿涅拉都死于流感，我父亲早就跑了。
Dom liked Uncle Jules. When he showed up after harvest, he and Dom would work together wintering the house, cutting firewood, making repairs. I knew Dom gave him money, too, even though I said a winter bed was payment enough. Jules brought presents for the girls—corn dolls and wagon-wheel rugs. He’d stay two or three weeks in November and then drag a train south to hunt work in California. Fourteen years Dom and I had been married, and Jules came for eight of them, no warning, just him walking up our road with his pack and long duster.
Dom 喜欢 Jules 叔叔。当他在收割后出现时，他和 Dom 会一起在房子里过冬、砍柴、修理。我知道 Dom 也给了他钱，尽管我说冬天的床就够了。朱尔斯为女孩们带来了礼物——玉米娃娃和马车车轮地毯。他会在 11 月停留两到三个星期，然后拖着火车南下去加利福尼亚打猎。我和 Dom 结婚 14 年了，Jules 来了 8 年，毫无征兆地，只有他带着他的背包和长掸子走在我们的路上。
He always looked so big walking up that road.
他走在那条路上总是看起来那么大。
But the man the jailers brought in the wagon was half that size. They said Jules got caught up in the labor trouble from the newspaper. When he became sick, Jules gave them my name and they released him to the closest thing to family, his niece by marriage.
但狱卒带进马车的男人只有那个大的一半。他们说 Jules 卷入了报纸的劳工问题。当他生病时，Jules 告诉他们我的名字，他们把他放给了离家人最近的人，他的侄女。
Dom didn’t hesitate when that coach arrived. He cleared a place in the living room, put blankets on the davenport, and tried to make Jules comfortable.
当那辆教练到来时，Dom 没有犹豫。他在客厅里腾出一个地方，在达文波特上盖上毯子，并试图让朱尔斯舒服些。
Jules’s gaze flickered in and out, then fell on me. “Uncle Jules,” I said. The girls stood in the doorway. Elena was thirteen, Maria nine. Maria had been studying Indians in school and used to pepper Jules with questions and even asked him to teach her Salish. But Jules, wary of teaching the old language, had told her French words instead. He’d held up a knife. “Couteau,” he’d said.
朱尔斯的目光忽明忽暗，然后落在我身上。“朱尔斯叔叔，”我说。女孩们站在门口。埃琳娜 13 岁，玛丽亚 9 岁。玛丽亚在学校里一直在研究印第安人，她经常向朱尔斯提问，甚至让他教她萨利什语。但朱尔斯对教这门古老的语言持谨慎态度，而是告诉了她法语单词。他举起了一把刀。“库托，” 他说。
But Maria was too smart for that. “Not French, I want to learn Indian.”
但玛丽亚太聪明了。“不是法语，我想学印度语。”
“That language doesn’t work anymore,” he’d said. “C’est disparu.”
“那种语言已经行不通了，”他说。 “C'est disparu。”
And now he was on the davenport in our living room, drawing what sounded like his final breaths.
现在他坐在我们客厅的达文波特上，画着听起来像是他最后的呼吸。
“Is Uncle Jules gonna be okay?” Maria asked that first night.
“朱尔斯叔叔会没事吗？”玛丽亚在第一晚问道。
Elena was the quiet one. She and I heated wet rags for his chest. We kept the fire hot and tried to break his fever and that awful rattle in his chest. Dom always said Jules could lift as much as a man half his age, extra strength coiled in that body, even with his hard life. Now he was just a weak old man. Still, he survived the first night and seemed to be improving in the morning, but on the second night he took a turn. Short, uneven breaths, and he couldn’t open his eyes. Dom looked over at me. We’d both buried parents. We had the girls say goodbye before they went to bed.
埃琳娜是个安静的那个。她和我加热湿抹布敷在他的胸前。我们把火烧得很热，试图让他退烧和他胸口那可怕的嘎嘎声。Dom 总是说 Jules 可以举起和他一半大的男人一样多的重量，即使他的生活很艰难，那身体里也有额外的力量。现在他只是一个虚弱的老人。尽管如此，他还是挺过了第一个晚上，早上似乎有所好转，但在第二个晚上，他的情况发生了变化。呼吸急促、不均匀，他无法睁开眼睛。Dom 看着我。我们俩都埋葬了父母。我们让女孩们在睡觉前说再见。
“Is there anything he would want us to do?” Dom asked in bed. “People we should contact? Preparations to make?”
“他想让我们做什么吗？”Dom 在床上问道。“我们应该联系的人？准备工作吗？
I said I didn’t know.
我说我不知道。
“Are there leggings or something?”
“有紧身裤什么的吗？”
“Leggings?”
“紧身裤？”
“Funeral leggings? Or buckskins or something? I think I’ve heard that.”
“葬礼紧身裤？或者鹿皮什么的？我想我听说过。
“How would I know?”
“我怎么知道？”
“He’s your uncle,” Dom said. “Did he ever say anything about his wishes?”
“他是你的叔叔，”Dom 说。“他有没有说过他的愿望？”
I told him that Jules didn’t talk like that. He told stories. He liked to make himself laugh. The only thing I ever recalled him saying was how, when he was a boy, his people sometimes put the dead on platforms in trees. This terrified him. He thought that if he walked beneath one of these trees, someone would reach down and pull him up into it. Once, he and the ferryman’s son climbed a tree to see if there were bones up there, but there was nothing. They debated whether animals had made off with the remains, or if the spirit had gone on to the afterlife. When loggers took down trees, Jules would say to himself, Goodbye, Uncle, goodbye, Grandmother
我告诉他，Jules 不是那样说话的。他讲故事。他喜欢逗自己笑。我记得他说的唯一一件事是，当他还是个孩子的时候，他的族人有时会把死者放在树上的平台上。这让他感到害怕。他想，如果他走到其中一棵树下，就会有人伸手把他拉进去。有一次，他和摆渡人的儿子爬上一棵树，看看上面有没有骨头，但什么都没有。他们争论的是动物带着这些遗骸离开了，还是灵魂已经去了来世。当伐木工砍倒树木时，朱尔斯会对自己说，再见，叔叔，再见，祖母.
Dom listened intently. “You don’t think he’d want us to put him in a tree.”
Dom 聚精会神地听着。“你以为他不会想让我们把他放在树上。”
“No, I don’t think that was the point,” I said. It was hard to explain someone like Uncle Jules to a man as direct as Dom.
“不，我不认为那是重点，”我说。很难向像 Dom 这样直接的人解释像 Jules 叔叔这样的人。
“What was he like then?” Dom asked.
“他那时是什么样子的？”Dom 问道。
“Jules? The same. The big booming laugh. He didn’t have the trouble with liquor then. Not until Agnella died.”
“朱尔斯？一样。大笑。那时他没有酒的麻烦。直到阿涅拉去世。
My mother and her sister died within a month of each other, in the 1890 Russian flu outbreak. Agitta and Agnella were only a year apart, dragged west by their miner father, Giacomo, and his wife, Gemma, after whom I was named. Grandma Gemma died not long after they arrived, and Grandpa Gio died in a cave-in when his daughters were sixteen and seventeen. Neither girl was what you’d call a looker, unless you meant to look away from, and even in a mining town, neither was beset with suitors. Mother married late, a union that lasted just long enough to produce me. She would volunteer, without being asked, that my shiftless father “flew off with a soiled dove.” Then there was Jules, who met Aunt Agnella while digging fence posts near the family house in Mullan. After that, Jules was in and out of our lives, catching work on ranches and orchards most of the year, during which time it would be just Mother, Aunt Agnella, and me in the little Mullan house.
我母亲和她的姐姐在一个月内相继死于 1890 年的俄罗斯流感爆发。Agitta 和 Agnella 只相差一岁，被他们的矿工父亲 Giacomo 和他的妻子 Gemma 拖着向西，我就是以她的名字命名的。杰玛奶奶在他们到达后不久就去世了，吉奥爷爷在他的女儿们 16 岁和 17 岁时死于塌方。除非你打算把视线移开，否则这两个女孩都不是你所说的旁观者，即使在一个采矿小镇，也没有被追求者所困扰。母亲晚婚，这种结合持续的时间刚好足以产生我。她会主动告诉她，我那无所事事的父亲 “带着一只脏鸽子飞走了”。然后是 Jules，她在 Mullan 的家附近挖栅栏柱时遇到了 Agnella 阿姨。在那之后，Jules 进进出出我们的生活，一年中的大部分时间都在牧场和果园工作，在此期间，只有妈妈、阿涅拉阿姨和我在 Mullan 的小房子里。
All spring and summer Jules worked farm jobs from Canada to California, but he’d come winter with Agnella and Agitta and me, cut firewood, and catch up on repairs to our little house. Once the snow came, Jules would hibernate, barely leave his chair in front of the fire, drink tea, smoke his pipe, and tell stories. I never shared much of this with Dom’s family, for fear they would judge me sordid, coming from the kind of women who took up with Indians and gamblers who ran off with whores.
整个春天和夏天，Jules 从加拿大到加利福尼亚都在农场工作，但他会和我一起来冬天，和 Agnella、Agitta 一起砍柴，并赶上我们小房子的维修工作。一旦下雪，朱尔斯就会冬眠，几乎不离开火炉前的椅子，喝茶，抽烟斗，讲故事。我从来没有和 Dom 的家人分享过太多这些，因为害怕他们会认为我很肮脏，因为我是那种与印第安人交往的女人和与妓女私奔的赌徒。
I sat up in bed. “There was one story he used to tell, about an outlaw who stole their ferry boat.” In the story, Jules was twelve or thirteen, working on Plante’s cable ferry. One day two outlaws stole the ferry, cut the ropes and escaped downstream. Jules tracked the men from the shore on horseback as the raft rode the current down to the falls. One fell off and Jules kept expecting the other to swim for shore. Instead the man simply rode the boat over the falls.
我在床上坐了起来。“他 曾经讲过一个故事，关于一个偷了他们的渡船的亡命之徒。”在故事中，朱尔斯十二三岁，在普兰特的电缆渡轮上工作。有一天，两个不法之徒偷了渡轮，剪断了绳索，然后逃到了下游。朱尔斯骑着马从岸上跟踪这些人，木筏乘着水流向下到达瀑布。一个掉了下来，Jules 一直期待另一个会游到岸上。相反，这个男人只是简单地乘船越过瀑布。
“Maybe he couldn’t swim,” Dom said.
“也许他不会游泳，”Dom 说。
“Maybe,” I said. “But Jules said the man didn’t look scared, not the way someone would if they couldn’t swim. He seemed almost eager, and right before he went over the falls, he sat up and called out, ‘Watch!’ ”
“也许吧，”我说。“但朱尔斯说，那个人看起来并不害怕，不像不会游泳的人那样害怕。他似乎很急切，就在他越过瀑布之前，他坐起来，喊道：'看！”
“Watch?” Dom said.
“看？”Dom 说。
“Watch. Jules yelled from the riverbank, ‘Swim, you idiot!’ But the young outlaw just waved and went over the falls.”
“看。朱尔斯在河岸上大喊，“游泳，你这个白痴！但那个年轻的亡命之徒只是挥挥手，越过了瀑布。
Dom waited for more, but there was no more. “And . . . he died?”
Dom 等待更多，但已经没有更多了。“而且 . . .他死了？
“Well of course he died,” I said.
“嗯，他当然死了，”我说。
Dom just stared ahead, as if trying to picture it. “Huh,” he said.
Dom 只是盯着前方，仿佛试图想象它。“嗯，”他说。
“Jules said if the kid jumped off the boat and swam to shore, he’d have been arrested and hanged. But as long as he stayed on the boat, his fate was his own. I think that’s why Jules liked the story. And why he rode the rails instead of moving onto a reservation. I think he came to believe it was better to choose your life, and that even choosing your death was better than letting someone else choose your life.”
“朱尔斯说，如果这个孩子跳下船游到岸上，他就会被逮捕并绞死。但只要他留在船上 ，他的命运就属于他自己。我想这就是 Jules 喜欢这个故事的原因。以及为什么他乘坐铁轨而不是搬到保留地。我认为他开始相信选择你的生活更好，即使选择你的死亡也比让别人选择你的生活要好。
In bed, Dom sat with this a moment. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.
在床上，Dom 坐了一会儿。最后，他开口说话了。
Oh, how I loved my sweet, simple husband. I put my hand on his thick, hairy arm. “No, darlin’,” I said gently. “I don’t think Uncle Jules would want us to put him on a raft and send him over the falls.”
哦，我多么爱我可爱、单纯的丈夫。我把手放在他粗壮、毛茸茸的手臂上。“不，亲爱的，”我温和地说。“我想朱尔斯叔叔不会希望我们把他放在木筏上，然后送他越过瀑布。”
I woke. The sun was up. After spending all night listening for Jules’s breathing, I’d overslept. It was after seven and Dom must have gone to work. I put on my robe and went out to the living room. The fire was out. Jules lay still on the davenport. The grimace was gone from his mouth. I was equally heartbroken and relieved. With Mother there had been gasps, jerks, and shudders. I didn’t want that for Jules. I put my hand above his mouth. I touched his head, pushed the hair away.
我醒了。太阳升起了。在听了一整夜 Jules 的呼吸之后，我睡过头了。当时是七点多，Dom 一定去上班了。我穿上长袍，走到客厅去。火已经熄灭了。朱尔斯一动不动地躺在达文波特上。他嘴里的鬼脸消失了。我同样感到心碎和宽慰。和妈妈在一起时，有喘息、抽搐和战栗。我不想让 Jules 这样。我把手放在他的嘴上。我摸了摸他的头，把头发拨开。
Before the girls woke, I walked down the road to ask the Carvers if their boy could ride downtown to notify the county coroner that my uncle had passed.
在女孩们醒来之前，我走在路上问卡弗夫妇，她们的儿子是否可以骑车去市中心通知县验尸官我叔叔已经去世了。
“Your uncle?” asked Mona Carver. “I didn’t know you had relations around here.”
“你的叔叔？”“我不知道你在这儿有亲戚。”
“Yes,” I said, “my uncle.” I walked home, snow crunching under my boots, built the kitchen fire, and lit it again. Then I went into the girls’ room. I sat on the edge of their bed. Elena sat up without me saying anything.
“是的，”我说，“我的叔叔。我走回家，雪在靴子下嘎吱作响，生起厨房的火，然后再次点燃。然后我走进了女生的房间。我坐在他们的床沿上。埃琳娜坐了起来，我什么也没说。
Maria was just waking. “Uncle Jules?”
玛丽亚刚刚醒来。“朱尔斯叔叔？”
I nodded.
我点点头。
She crawled into my lap and wept into my chest. “I want to see him.”
她爬到我的腿上，在我的胸口哭泣。“我想见他。”
“He’s gone, Maria.”
“他走了，玛丽亚。”
“In heaven?”
“在天堂？”
“Yes,” I said.
“是的，”我说。
“The same heaven we go to?”
“我们去的同一个天堂？”
I did not know what to say. Most of Jules’s people had gone to the reservation and got Christianity from the missionaries a generation ago. But Jules hated the missionaries and said cruelty and hope should never be served together. He’d gone to the Billy Sunday tent revivals when the old ballplayer came through town—but more for Billy’s good humor and free food than the preaching.
我不知道该说什么。儒勒的大多数人在一代人之前就去了保留地，并从传教士那里得到了基督教。但朱尔斯憎恨传教士，说绝不应该把残忍和希望放在一起。当这位老球手经过镇上时，他去参加了 Billy Sunday 帐篷复兴活动——但更多的是为了 Billy 的幽默和免费的食物，而不是布道。
He talked sometimes about elders who practiced the old ways. Washani. Dreamer Cult. But he rarely shared details except a single prophecy that he told like it was just another story: that after the shimmering people destroyed the world, knocked down the mountains, drained the rivers, and ate all the animals—the true people would be resurrected and have the land to themselves.
他有时会谈到那些奉行旧道的长老。 和華。 梦想家崇拜。但他很少分享细节，除了一个预言，他把这就像另一个故事一样讲出来：在闪闪发光的人们摧毁了世界，推倒了山脉，排干了河流，吃掉了所有的动物之后——真正的人会复活，拥有自己的土地。
But did Jules believe this? I had no idea.
但 Jules 相信这一点吗？我不知道。
I suspected he did not. I didn’t think Jules practiced the old ways any more than he practiced Catholicism. If Jules had a religion, I would call it the Church of the Big Laugh.
我怀疑他没有。我不认为 Jules 践行旧方式，就像他践行天主教一样。如果 Jules 有宗教，我会称它为 Church of the Big Laugh。
“Mama,” Maria said. “Can Indians go to heaven?”
“妈妈，”玛丽亚说。“ 印度人能上天堂吗？”
“If anyone can,” I said.
“如果有人能的话，”我说。
I covered Jules with a bedsheet and sat with my girls in the kitchen, next to the fire. I could not get warm. I made tea and bread with raspberry jam. Elena ate quietly. Every few minutes, Maria would sniff.
我用床单盖住 Jules，和我的女儿们坐在厨房里，靠近火炉。我无法取暖。我用覆盆子果酱泡了茶和面包。埃琳娜静静地吃着。每隔几分钟，玛丽亚就会闻一闻。
The coroner’s assistant arrived at noon with a man from the funeral parlor. Both men seemed surprised to see an old Indian in our house. I asked the funeral man if there were special considerations for Indian deaths, but he did not know. He said he could carve a feather on the headstone. “Did he have a name like Two Clouds or Bear Paw?” the man asked.
验尸官的助理在中午带着一名来自殡仪馆的男子到达。两个人似乎都很惊讶地看到我们家里有个老印第安人。我问殡仪师，印第安人的死亡是否有特殊考虑，但他不知道。他说他可以在墓碑上刻一根羽毛。“他有没有像 Two Clouds 或 Bear Paw 这样的名字？”
I did not know his Indian name—but I was fairly sure it wasn’t Two Clouds. I suspected it bore some relation to the name the French ferryman had given him, but I didn’t even know that. “Jules Plante will be fine,” I said.
我不知道他的印第安名字——但我相当确定那不是 Two Clouds。我怀疑这与法国摆渡人给他起的名字有某种关系，但我甚至不知道。“朱尔斯·普兰特会没事的，”我说。
They were about to load the body when two young men came walking up our drive. These were not funeral men, but a boy in tramp clothes and a new bowler hat, and a young man in a fine suit who introduced himself as the young tramp’s lawyer. The boy in the bowler said he was a friend of Jules.
他们正准备装尸体，这时两个年轻人从我们的车道上走了过来。这些人不是送葬的人，而是一个穿着流浪汉衣服、戴着新圆顶礼帽的男孩，还有一个穿着华丽西装的年轻人，他自称是这个年轻流浪汉的律师。那个坐在圆顶礼帽上的男孩说他是朱尔斯的朋友。
The lawyer said he had inquired with the jail about Jules’s condition and had been told that he was released and brought to the house of his niece. Was I her?
律师说，他已经向监狱询问了朱尔斯的情况，并被告知他已被释放并被带到他侄女的家中。我是她吗？
Yes, I said.
是的，我说。
Might they see him?
他们会看到他吗？
“No,” I said. “He died this morning.”
“不，”我说。“他今天早上死了。”
The boy’s legs buckled and he reached for his lawyer’s arm. “We’re too late.”
男孩的双腿弯曲，他伸手去抓律师的手臂。“我们太晚了。”
The lawyer explained that he was working on this union fight—perhaps I had read about it in the newspaper—I nodded—and that he was concerned that Jules’s treatment in jail might have contributed to his death.
律师解释说，他正在为这场工会斗争做准备——也许我在报纸上读到过——我点点头——他担心朱尔斯在监狱里的待遇可能会导致他的死亡。
“He had pneumonia,” I said.
“他得了肺炎，”我说。
The lawyer said his condition had come about from being confined eight men to a two-man cell, and that he would be happy to represent me in an inquest into the circumstances of Jules’s death.
律师说，他的病情是由于被关在一个两人牢房里造成的，他很乐意代表我调查朱尔斯的死因。
As the lawyer spoke, the boy kept rubbing his face and looking at different spots on the ground. Sorrow was written on his pocked, thin face.
在律师说话的同时，男孩不停地揉着脸，看着地上的不同地方。他那满是麻子的瘦削脸上写满了悲哀。
“What’s your name, son?” I asked.
“你叫什么名字，孩子？”我问。
“Ryan Dolan,” he said. And as if he’d been reminded by his mother, he thought to remove his hat, revealing a rat’s nest of brown hair underneath. “I worked with your uncle up near Rockford. Went to the tent revivals with him.”
“瑞安·多兰，”他说。仿佛他妈妈提醒了他一样，他想摘下帽子，露出下面一窝棕色的头发。“我和你叔叔在罗克福德附近一起工作。和他一起去参加帐篷复兴。
I nodded but said nothing.
我点点头，但什么也没说。
Grief can be a stingy emotion. I was in no mood to share it with a rabble-rousing lawyer and a young drifter. A horrible stain, a mixture of sweat and blood, trailed the front of the young man’s shirt, and he absentmindedly turned the hat in his hands. Still, he was Jules’s friend, so I invited the boy inside to pay his respects.
悲伤可能是一种吝啬的情绪。我没有心情与一个煽动乌合之众的律师和一个年轻的流浪者分享它。一个可怕的污渍，汗水和血的混合物，拖在年轻人的衬衫前面，他心不在焉地转动着手中的帽子。尽管如此，他还是 Jules 的朋友，所以我邀请这个男孩进来向他致敬。
“He looks so small,” Ryan said.
“他看起来好小，”瑞安说。
My girls peeked in from the kitchen and I pointed at them to go back. I knew they’d want to say goodbye, but I did not want them to see the old man’s lifeless face, and I did not want to deal with Maria’s nightmares.
我的女儿们从厨房偷看，我指着她们回去。我知道他们想说再见，但我不想让他们看到老人那张死气沉沉的脸，我也不想处理玛丽亚的噩梦。
Outside, the lawyer started in again. “There’s a woman named Gurley Flynn who would like to write about Jules’s death for the labor newspaper,” he said.
在外面，律师又开始进来了。“有个叫格利·弗林（Gurley Flynn）的女人想为劳工报纸写关于朱尔斯之死的文章，”他说。
“No,” I said. “Thank you.”
“不，”我说。“谢谢你。”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Tursi,” the lawyer said, “your uncle is a casualty in the battle for free speech, and his death should not go unnoticed, nor those responsible go unpunished—”
“恕我直言，图尔西夫人，”律师说，“你叔叔是争取言论自由的牺牲品，他的死不应该被忽视，那些肇事者也不应该逍遥法外——”
“No,” I said again. “To all of it. No.”
“不，”我又说。“对所有的。不。
He looked confused. “You’ll at least let us proceed with an inquest. You could have a claim against the county, pay for his burial and maybe more—”
他看起来很困惑。“你至少让我们进行调查。你可以向县政府提出索赔，支付他的葬礼费用，也许还有更多——”
“My husband and I will pay for my uncle’s burial,” I said. “I want no part of this. It’s not my concern, and it shouldn’t have been any of his.”
“我和我丈夫会付我叔叔的葬费，”我说。“我不想参与其中。这不是我关心的，也不应该是他的任何事情。
The younger one put a hand on his lawyer’s arm to quiet him. “We’re sorry for what happened, ma’am.” Then he pulled at his dumbstruck lawyer, and they turned and walked away.
年轻的那个把手放在他律师的胳膊上，让他安静下来。“我们很抱歉发生了什么，马。”然后他拉着目瞪口呆的律师，他们转身走开了。
A light snow had begun to fall.
一场小雪已经开始下了。
I watched them walk to the corner of our fenced field. We lived on the outskirts of town, and it was a quarter mile to the nearest streetcar stop. I wished Dom were home with the buggy to offer them a ride. Maybe he would listen to what they had to say about this free speech fight. Dom was a machinist, a member of that union, and his sympathies might be keener than mine.
我看着他们走到我们围栏田地的角落。我们住在镇子的郊区，离最近的有轨电车站有四分之一英里。我希望 Dom 能带着越野车回家，让他们搭一程。也许他会听听他们对这场言论自由斗争的看法。Dom 是一名机械师，是那个工会的成员，他的同情可能比我更强烈。
After they rounded the Carvers’ corner, I went back in the house. The coroner and the funeral man had set Jules on a litter and were ready to move him.
他们绕过卡弗家的拐角后，我回到了房子里。验尸官和殡仪师已经把 Jules 放在一个垃圾堆上，准备把他搬走。
I pulled the blanket aside so that one of Jules’s hands was exposed. “Girls,” I said, and I let them come hold his hand and say goodbye. “Oh, Uncle,” Maria said. Elena said nothing, just squeezed his hand. Then I sent them back to the kitchen.
我把毯子拉到一边，露出 Jules 的一只手。“姑娘们，”我说，然后让她们牵着他的手过来说再见。“哦，叔叔，”玛丽亚说。埃琳娜什么也没说，只是捏了捏他的手。然后我把他们送回厨房。
“May I have a minute?” I asked the coroner and the funeral man.
“我可以有一分钟吗？”我问验尸官和殡仪师。
“Of course,” they said, and stepped outside.
“当然，”他们说，然后走出去。
The room was quiet. I took Jules’s cold hand. Such heaviness in my arms—sorrow for Jules, dead on a litter in my living room. My living room. My house. My daughters. Oh, how proud he was of the life I had made, of the woman I had become. It meant everything to him, having me safe and settled, as my girls’ health and happiness will mean everything to me.
房间里很安静。我握住了朱尔斯冰冷的手。我怀里那么沉重——为朱尔斯感到悲哀，她死在了我客厅的垃圾堆里。我的客厅。我的房子。我的女儿们。哦，他为我所创造的生活，为我所成为的女人感到多么自豪。这对他来说意味着一切，让我安全和安定下来，因为我女儿们的健康和快乐对我来说意味着一切。
Still, I was saddened by the time we had lost. The years apart, the secret we had borne the way these two men would bear Jules’s dead body. The invention after Mother died, when Jules urged me to leave Mullan, saying I could pass for Italian because of Mother’s coloring, move somewhere and start over, not the daughter of an Indian tramp and a Tunisian Gypsy but a good Catholic girl. I took the name Gemma from a neighbor in Mullan. Jules liked it, said it meant precious. Jewels and Gems, the two of us.
尽管如此，我还是为我们失去的时间感到难过。相隔岁月，我们背负的秘密是这两个人如何承载朱尔斯的尸体。母亲去世后，当 Jules 敦促我离开 Mullan，说我可以因为母亲的肤色而通过意大利语，搬到某个地方重新开始，不是印度流浪汉和突尼斯吉普赛人的女儿，而是一个优秀的天主教女孩。我从 Mullan 的一位邻居那里取了 Gemma 这个名字。朱尔斯喜欢它，说它意味着珍贵。Jewels and Gems，我们两个。
Jules found a woman in Spokane to take me in, and she brought me to Mass and taught me enough Italian to be my finishing teacher. Her neighbor had a nephew who had lost his first wife in childbirth, this bull of a man whose family, Tursi, was Tuscan. That was how I met Domenico. I liked the look of him the minute he came calling. Secure and sturdy. He asked for my hand after just three weeks. I hadn’t even spent half my boarding money. Except for missing Jules, I was never unhappy with my decision, especially when Elena was born.
Jules 在斯波坎找到一位女士收留我，她带我去参加弥撒，并教了我足够的意大利语，让我成为我的毕业老师。她的邻居有一个侄子，他在分娩时失去了他的第一任妻子，这个男人的家名叫图尔西，是托斯卡纳人。我就是这样认识多梅尼科的。我喜欢他打电话的那一刻的样子。安全坚固。仅仅三个星期后，他就向我求助。我什至没有花掉一半的寄宿费。除了想念 Jules，我从来没有对自己的决定不满意，尤其是当 Elena 出生时。
Uncle Jules was my idea, and Aunt Agnella, whom I invented by splitting my mother in two—kindly sister Agitta and shrewish Agnella. At first Jules fought it, said it was better if he just drifted away and allowed me to live this new life. But I insisted, and eventually he was glad for it. Especially in the last few years, with the girls, and Dom agreeable to his visits, Jules became part of our family. I think we both had a sense of peace, of landing safely on some other shore.
朱尔斯叔叔是我的主意，而阿涅拉阿姨是我通过将我的母亲一分为二而发明的——善良的姐姐阿吉塔和精明的阿涅拉。起初，Jules 反对它，说如果他就这样渐行渐远，让我过上这种新生活就更好了。但我坚持，最终他为此感到高兴。特别是在过去的几年里，和女孩们在一起，Dom 同意了他的来访，Jules 成为了我们家庭的一部分。我想我们俩都有一种平静的感觉，一种安全降落在另一岸的感觉。
Jules and I were never anything but uncle and niece after that—even when it was just the two of us. I even began to believe we could separate Mother from her angry half—separate the pretty young girl who ran away from a brutal father from the common-law wife who harangued Jules for not supporting us better. Sometimes it bothered me that my daughters wouldn’t know Jules was their grandfather and that they were part Indian—but what was life if not one invention after another?
从那以后，我和 Jules 再也不是叔叔和侄女了——即使只有我们两个人。我甚至开始相信我们可以把母亲和她愤怒的另一半分开——把那个逃离残酷父亲的漂亮年轻女孩和那个嘲讽朱尔斯没有更好地支持我们的同居妻子分开。有时，我的女儿们不知道 Jules 是她们的祖父，她们是印度人，这让我感到困扰——但如果不是一件又一件的发明，生活又是什么呢？
Out the window I saw the coroner and the funeral man walking back toward the house.
我从窗外看到验尸官和殡仪师向房子走去。
I bent down to the old man’s ear, and I said goodbye in his language, the one I had promised never to use—the one he’d feared would get me a beating or land me in a reservation boarding school. My mother hated the old tongue, “like someone choking on a bone,” she said, but I always thought of it as music. Jules only taught me a few phrases, but I sometimes hummed them to myself, and I sang the words now that I knew best, for I used to say them every time he walked away in the spring—kw hin x̣menč, mestm̓—their sweet click on my tongue.
我弯下腰来，用他的语言说再见，那种我答应过永远不会用的语言——他担心会挨打我或把我送进保留寄宿学校的语言。我妈妈讨厌这种老口子，“就像有人被骨头噎住了，”她说，但我总是把它当作音乐。朱尔斯只教了我几个短语，但有时我也会自言自语地哼唱它们，现在我最熟悉这些词我就唱出来了，因为每次他在春天走开时，我都会说这些词——kwhinx̣ menč， mestm̓—— 它们在我舌头上甜美的咔嗒声。
Rye couldn’t tell if Mrs. Ricci was crying or yelling or both. “Piccolo brutto!” She cupped his face, hugged him, then slapped him. “Pensavo fossi morto!”
Rye 分不清 Ricci 夫人是在哭泣还是在大喊大叫，或者两者兼而有之。 “Piccolo brutto！” 她捧住他的脸，拥抱他，然后扇他耳光。 “Pensavo fossi morto！”
“Sorry I didn’t rake the leaves before I went to jail,” Rye said.
“对不起，我在入狱前没有耙树叶，”Rye 说。
Then Rye’s lawyer proved his value yet again; Latin wasn’t his only trick. “Mi dispiace, signora. Sono il suo avvocato, Fred Moore. Ryan era in prigione—ma non era colpa sua.”
然后，Rye 的律师再次证明了他的价值;拉丁语并不是他唯一的把戏。“Mi dispiace， signora.Sono il suo avvocato， Fred Moore.瑞安时代在普里吉奥内—马 非时代 colpa sua”
“Prigione!”
“普里吉奥内！”
“Si, ma non ha fatto nulla di sbagliato. Anche suo fratello, Gregory. La polizia era molto brutale! Ryan era trionfante in tribunal. Molto trionfante!”
“Si， 马 non ha fatto nulla di sbagliato.Anche suo fratello， Gregory.La polizia era molto brutale！瑞安时代的特里恩芬特在法庭上。Molto trionfante！
Mrs. Ricci cupped Rye’s face again. “Oh, Marco! Oh, mio povero Geno!”
利玛窦太太又捧了捧莱伊的脸。“哦，马可！哦，mio povero Geno！
She went to the kitchen to make him some food, and Rye showed his lawyer around back, to the porch where he and Gig slept. Mr. Moore looked at the cots, bindles shoved under them, and the few belongings they’d managed to squirrel away—on Rye’s side, a pair of summer pants, a set of utensils he may or may not have stolen from a café in Pullman, a baseball he’d found in the grass, and the only thing he’d brought from Montana—a small pencil drawing his father had done of two horses. Mr. Moore looked at the picture of the horses, then turned to Gig’s side of the room, extra clothing, a hairbrush, a poster advertising that bill of depravity at the Comique Theater—Ursula the Great’s name across the top.
她去厨房给他做了点吃的，Rye 带着他的律师回头走了一圈，去了他和 Gig 睡觉的门廊。摩尔先生看着婴儿床，床下塞着绑带，还有他们设法偷走的几件东西——在莱伊这边，有一条夏裤，一套他可能从普尔曼的咖啡馆偷来的餐具，也可能不是从普尔曼的一家咖啡馆偷来的，他在草地上找到的一个棒球，还有他从蒙大拿州带来的唯一一样东西——他父亲画的两匹马的小铅笔画。摩尔先生看了看马的照片，然后转向房间里吉格那边，多余的衣服，一把梳子，在喜剧剧院（Comique Theater）上贴着一张宣传那张堕落的海报——上面写着乌苏拉大帝的名字。
The lawyer ran his hand along Ursula’s name and then reached down for Gig’s prized possession, Volumes I and III of War and Peace, published in America in 1903 by Scribner’s Sons in a five-volume set, as part of the larger Complete Works of Count Tolstoy.
律师用手抚摸着乌苏拉的名字，然后伸手去拿吉格的珍贵财产，《战争与和平》第一卷和第三卷 ， 由斯克里布纳之子于 1903 年在美国出版，共五卷，作为更大的托尔斯泰伯爵全集的一部分。
“Those are Gig’s books,” Rye said. “He says it’s two fifths of the finest novel ever written. He’s on the lookout for the rest.”
“那些是 Gig 的书，”Rye 说。“他说这是有史以来最好的小说的五分之二。他正在寻找剩下的人。
The lawyer turned the volume over in his hands.
律师把书卷在手里翻了过来。
“He doesn’t usually like people touching it,” Rye said, “but you being a lawyer, it’s probably okay.”
“他通常不喜欢别人碰它，”Rye 说，“但你是一名律师，这可能没问题。
Fred Moore carefully put the book back with such a pitying look on his face that Rye felt compelled to point out the window to the grove of trees behind the house. “Mrs. Ricci is selling us that little piece back there. Gig and I are planning to build a house—well, we were, I mean, before all this started.”
弗雷德·摩尔小心翼翼地把书放回去，脸上露出可怜的表情，以至于莱伊忍不住指着窗外房子后面的树林。“利玛窦太太把那一小块东西卖给我们了。Gig 和我正计划盖一栋房子——嗯， 我是说，在这一切开始之前， 我们就已经这样做了。
This didn’t seem to alleviate Mr. Moore’s pity, and he turned away. “I’m sorry about Jules, Ryan,” he said. “And your brother. I’m going to get Gregory out of jail, and you’ll be working on your house by spring.”
这似乎并没有减轻摩尔先生的怜悯，他转身离开了。“我对朱尔斯感到抱歉，瑞安，”他说。“还有你的兄弟。我要把格雷戈里从监狱里救出来，到春天你就可以把你的房子修好了。
“Spring,” Rye repeated.
“春天，”Rye 重复道。
The back door opened just enough for Mrs. Ricci to slide a bowl of noodles and some bread out; then, without a word, she closed the door. Rye jumped up and had a forkful before he’d looked up at his lawyer. “I’m sorry. Did you want some?”
后门开着，刚好让利玛窦太太把一碗面条和一些面包滑出来;然后，她一言不发地关上了门。Rye 跳起来，在他抬头看向他的律师之前，他就劈了一口。“对不起。你想要一些吗？
“You go ahead. Eat up.”
“你去吧。吃完。
Fred Moore said he’d check on Gig’s case the next day, and he left, glancing back once at Rye’s sleeping arrangements. When Rye’s lawyer and his dinner were both gone, he collapsed back onto his cot. It was like an entire life had been lived in this one day, the schoolhouse, court and his lawyer, the redoubtable Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, and then seeing Jules dead like that. And to end this day here, on the porch without Gig—Rye felt lost and alone. He leaned back in his nest of blankets and fell straight into sleep, dreamless and black.
弗雷德·摩尔说他第二天会检查吉格的案子，然后他离开了，回头看了一眼莱伊的睡眠安排。当 Rye 的律师和他的晚餐都吃完后，他又瘫倒在了他的小床上。就好像在这一天里度过了一辈子，学校、法院和他的律师，令人信服的伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn），然后看到朱尔斯就这样死去。而这一天就在这里结束，在没有 Gig 的门廊上——Rye 感到迷茫和孤独。他靠在他的毯子窝里，直接睡着了，无梦而漆黑。
He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but then it was late morning and the sun was flashing through the porch window and Mrs. Ricci was shaking him awake in frantic Italian: “Donna! In una grande machina!” He got the first word. Woman
他不确定自己出去了多久，但现在已经是凌晨晚些时候了，阳光从门廊的窗户照进来，利玛窦太太用疯狂的意大利语把他摇醒：“唐娜！在 una grande machina！他得到了第一个词。女人.
He sat up. He must have slept sixteen hours. He felt panic that he’d missed something. Then he remembered that Gurley Flynn had wanted to talk to him about accompanying her on the trip to raise money for the lawyer. But here? Now? Rye felt disoriented. “Tell her I’ll be right out, Mrs. Ricci,” he said.
他坐了起来。他肯定睡了十六个小时。他感到恐慌，因为他错过了什么。然后他想起格利·弗林 （Gurley Flynn） 曾想和他谈谈陪她一起旅行为律师筹集资金的事情。但在这里呢？现在？Rye 感到迷失了方向。“告诉她我马上就出来，里奇太太，”他说。
“Si, Geno,” Mrs. Ricci answered, and went back inside. She left a glass of milk and a biscuit, and Rye made quick work of them. He looked at the stack of neat clothes piled at the foot of the bed, the bowler hat he’d worn the day before smack on top.
“嗯，热诺 ，”利玛窦太太回答说，然后又回到了屋里。她留下了一杯牛奶和一块饼干，莱伊很快就把它们处理好了。他看着床脚堆放的一堆整洁的衣服，他前一天戴的圆顶礼帽咔嚓咔嚓地在上面。
Rye went out back and used the outhouse, cleaned up as best he could, powdered and dressed in the clothes Mr. Moore had given him, which smelled fresh and fit fine, if a bit loose in the seat. He hitched the pants with the new set of braces that Mr. Moore had provided. He had everything but shoes. He laced up his old boots and put on the gray coat. He slicked down his hair with water, set the bowler on top, and caught his faint reflection in Mrs. Ricci’s back window: a fine gentleman—
莱伊出去，去了外屋，尽他所能地打扫干净，给他涂了粉，穿上了摩尔先生给他的衣服，这些衣服闻起来很清新，很合身，虽然在座位上有点松弛。他用摩尔先生提供的新牙套系上了裤子。除了鞋子，他什么都有。他系好旧靴子的鞋带，穿上那件灰色的外套。他用水撩了撩头发，把圆顶礼帽放在上面，在利玛窦太太的后窗里看到了他微弱的倒影：一位优秀的绅士——
The back door was open, and Rye walked into Mrs. Ricci’s kitchen, then through the house and into the parlor. And there, sitting in a chair with her hands in a muff, looking around the room, was Ursula the Great.
后门开着，Rye 走进了 Ricci 太太的厨房，然后穿过房子，走进了客厅。在那里，乌苏拉大帝坐在椅子上，双手叉腰，环顾房间。
“Oh, hello, Miss—” He’d begun speaking without knowing what came next, and so he said, “Great.”
“哦，你好，小姐——”他开始说话时不知道接下来会发生什么，所以他说，“太好了。
Life is slow until it isn’t; Rye wondered if that was what people meant by fate, life speeding up like the view from an express train. Or maybe fate was a fancy motor car driven by a silent man in white gloves, for once Rye climbed in, there was no choice—you held on and rattled over cobblestones and streetcar tracks, around horses and carriages, nothing to do but shrug and think, So this is it, one day on a ball field, next a sweatbox, then snuggled into the leather backseat of a pup-pupping automobile with Ursula the Great—buffeted by wind while she squeezed his arm like she was his girl, the two of them chauffeured by this serious man in a driver’s cap and goggles, who gave Rye the warmest scarf and gloves and now motored them around buggies and trucks and lampposts, heads turning like royalty was passing, for this had to be the finest car in town, and they traveled through neighborhoods and years, up the South Hill to the grandest boulevard overlooking downtown and the whole river valley.
生活很慢，直到它不是;Rye 想知道这是否是人们所说的命运，生活像特快列车上的景色一样加速。又或许命运是一辆由一个戴着白手套的沉默男子驾驶的豪华汽车，因为一旦 Rye 爬进来，就别无选择——你紧紧抓住，在鹅卵石和有轨电车的轨道上嘎嘎作响，绕过马匹和马车，除了耸耸肩，别无他法，想着， 就这样 ，有一天在球场上， 接下来是一个汗箱，然后和乌苏拉大帝依偎在一辆小狗汽车的皮革后座上——被风吹拂着，她像他的女孩一样捏着他的手臂，他们两个由这个戴着驾驶帽和护目镜的严肃男人开车，他给了莱伊最暖和的围巾和手套，现在开车带着它们在越野车、卡车和灯柱上转来转去。 像皇室成员一样转过头来，因为这一定是镇上最好的汽车，他们穿越了各个街区和岁月，爬上南山，到达了俯瞰市中心和整个河谷的最宏伟的林荫大道。
There were other autos on the street, but those lesser vehicles were chuddering old Tin Lizzies and delivery trucks, nothing like this long, fancy dragon.
街上还有其他汽车，但那些较小的车辆是摇晃的旧 Tin Lizzies 和送货卡车，完全不像这条长而花哨的龙。
“This is the Peerless seven-passenger Touring!” the driver called over his shoulder, over the wind and the thupping motor. “Out of Cleveland! Ohio! Shipped piece by piece! Built on the spot by a specialist! Only vehicle of its kind in the state!”
“这是 Peerless 七人座 Touring！”司机在他的肩膀上喊道，越过了风和轰鸣的马达。“离开克利夫兰！俄亥俄州！逐件发货！由专家现场建造！该州唯一的同类车辆！
Rye wondered at the kind of man who could afford to hire someone to yell out his bragging for him. “I could see six passengers,” he said quietly to Miss Ursula, “but you’d have to drag the seventh.”
Rye 想知道是什么样的人能雇人为他大声吹嘘。“我能看到六名乘客，”他悄悄地对乌苏拉小姐说，“但你得拖着第七名。
It was ice cold in the open air, and Ursula just kept pulling him closer by his hostage arm. “Thank you for coming. I’ve been worried about Gregory.”
露天冰冷，乌苏拉只是不停地抓住他作为人质的手臂把他拉得更近。“谢谢你的到来。我一直很担心格雷戈里。
“Gig can handle himself,” Rye said, and wondered if it was true.
“Gig 能应付自己，”Rye 说，并想知道这是否是真的。
“I hope you’re right.” She nestled even closer.
“我希望你是对的。”她依偎得更近了。
When she glanced up at the driver, Rye took in her whole face and thought how funny the word beautiful was, that it could mean such different things. The stark contrast of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn’s black hair and eyes against that pale Irish skin or Ursula’s scarlet hair and pink lips and high flushed cheeks. She looked at him looking at her, and before he could turn away, their eyes locked, and she glanced down at his lips. Rye wondered if she did this to make men think about kissing her, because it certainly made him think that, then he felt awful for even thinking about kissing his brother’s girl.
当她抬头看了一眼司机时，Rye 看着她的整个脸，觉得“美丽”这个词是多么有趣 ，它可以意味着如此不同的东西。伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 的黑发和黑眼睛与苍白的爱尔兰皮肤形成鲜明对比，或者乌苏拉 （Ursula） 的猩红色头发、粉红色的嘴唇和高高的红润脸颊形成鲜明对比。她看着他看着她，在他转身离开之前，他们的眼睛锁定了，她低头瞥了一眼他的嘴唇。Rye 想知道她这样做是否是为了让男人考虑亲吻她，因为这确实让他这么想，然后他甚至因为想到亲吻他哥哥的女孩而感到难过。
“I went to see Gregory at the jail,” she said. She swallowed and glanced up at the driver. “They are being treated brutally in there. It is barbaric. But he was happy to know you’d gotten out. He asked me to talk to you and make sure you knew that he was fine.”
“我去监狱看了格雷戈里，”她说。她咽了口口水，抬头看了一眼司机。“他们在那里受到了残酷的对待。这是野蛮的。但他很高兴知道你已经出来了。他让我和你谈谈，确保你知道他没事。
“Thank you,” Rye said, though he was filled with jealousy and wondered how Ursula had managed to get in to see Gig when they were on lockdown.
“谢谢你，”Rye 说，尽管他充满了嫉妒，想知道 Ursula 是怎么在他们被封锁的时候进来见 Gig 的。
“He also told me about the house you hope to build one day,” she said.
“他还告诉我你希望有一天能建的房子，”她说。
“He did?”
“他知道吗？”
“Yes, he’d like to build a real home for you, Ryan.” She smiled and squeezed his arm again. Rye could feel her breath on his face.
“是的，他想为你建造一个真正的家，Ryan。”她微笑着，再次捏了捏他的手臂。Rye 能感觉到她的呼吸在他的脸上。
Hearing about his brother’s feelings from Ursula was strange. Like Rye was overhearing a conversation that wasn’t meant for him. He had to remind himself that less than two weeks ago this woman had chosen a rich mining man over Gig.
从乌苏拉那里听到他哥哥的感受很奇怪。就像 Rye 无意中听到了一场不适合他的对话。他不得不提醒自己，不到两周前，这个女人选择了一位富有的矿工而不是 Gig。
He wished he could show her that he and Gig weren’t all orphan-on-the-bum sorrow. That they were actually adventuring brothers. But he was at a loss as to how to make that case in the back of a rumbling seven-person automobile. Some nameless ache hit him, and he imagined Gig and Ursula making a house together, her cooking dinner—and felt a swirling confusion: his arm pressed in her bosom. Rye wasn’t sure if he wanted to be kissed by this woman or mothered.
他希望他能向她证明，他和 Gig 并不都是孤儿般的悲伤。他们实际上是冒险的兄弟。但他不知道如何在一辆隆隆作响的七人汽车后座上提出这个理由。某种无名的痛苦袭来，他想象着吉格和乌苏拉一起整理房子，她一起做晚饭——并感到一阵漩涡般的困惑：他的手臂紧紧地贴在她的怀里。Rye 不确定他是否想被这个女人亲吻还是成为母亲。
“What is it, Ryan?” she asked, and she squeezed his arm even tighter, and he thought, When we separate, my arm might go with her.
“怎么了，Ryan？”她问道，她把他的胳膊捏得更紧了，他想， 当我们分开时，我的胳膊可能会跟她一起走。
The driver shifted to go uphill and Rye had to yell over the sound of the motor. “Can I ask you something?”
司机换档上坡，Rye 不得不在电机的声音中大喊大叫。“我能问你一件事吗？”
“Of course!” she said.
“当然！”
“It’s about the cougar!”
“这是关于美洲狮的！”
“Oh,” she said, “that,” and loosened her grip. She must’ve heard this question a hundred times, because she turned away and looked out the window. “There’s meat sewn in the corset,” she said more quietly. “Beef liver and offal.” She shrugged. “Provides some extra here, too.” She patted her chest. “The cat knows that if he growls but refrains from biting, he’ll get a fine meal.” And now she glanced at the driver again. “Me, too, I guess. If I growl but don’t bite, I get to eat.”
“哦，”她说，“那个，”然后松开了她的手。她肯定已经听了一百遍这个问题，因为她转过身去，望向窗外。“紧身胸衣里缝了肉，”她更轻声地说。“牛肝和内脏。”她耸耸肩。“这里也提供一些额外的服务。”她拍了拍自己的胸口。“猫知道，如果它咆哮但不咬人，他会得到一顿美餐。”现在她又瞥了一眼司机。“我猜也是。如果我咆哮但不咬人，我就可以吃东西。
The car slowed then, and Rye looked up. They were on a street of mansions lined with shade trees and massive gates. The driver wheeled the Peerless Touring into a turnout. The home went on forever, dormers and rooflines making it look like three houses had collided—not just the grandest home Rye had ever seen but, he knew in that moment, the grandest home he would ever see.
然后车子放慢了速度，Rye 抬起头来。他们在一条豪宅的街道上，两旁是绿树成荫和巨大的大门。司机将 Peerless Touring 推到一个道岔上。房子永远地继续着，天窗和屋顶线看起来就像是三栋房子相撞了——不仅是 Rye 见过的最宏伟的房子，而且，在那一刻，他知道，这是他所见过的最宏伟的房子。
He couldn’t take the entire house in, but the front seemed to cover half the block. It was three stories, with turrets and balconies and rows of exterior arches. It was an unusual coral color, like a castle from another land, the buildings behind it painted the same: a carriage house, a shop, and a gardener’s bungalow. Rye realized he was gaping and closed his mouth.
他无法把整个房子都看进去，但前面的房子似乎覆盖了半个街区。它是三层楼，有塔楼和阳台以及一排排的外部拱门。这是一种不寻常的珊瑚色，就像来自另一个国家的城堡，它后面的建筑也涂成了同样的油漆：马车房、商店和园丁的平房。Rye 意识到他张大了嘴巴，闭上了嘴。
Thank God for the paid braggart driver or Rye never would have known the house was “constructed entirely of sandstone imported from Italy” or that its style “suggested Spanish and Moorish influences with classical elements.”
感谢上帝，有钱吹牛的司机，否则 Rye 永远不会知道这所房子是“完全由从意大利进口的砂岩建造的”，或者它的风格“暗示了西班牙和摩尔人的影响，并带有古典元素”。
“I was thinking Moorish,” Rye muttered.
“我在想摩尔人，”Rye 咕哝道。
The driver went on about how the arches referenced an estate called Alhambra, a Spanish palace belonging to Charles the Fifth.
司机继续说，这些拱门如何参考了一个叫阿尔罕布拉宫的庄园，这是一座属于查理五世的西班牙宫殿。
The driver opened the back door of the Peerless Touring and they climbed out, Rye grateful to have Mr. Moore’s bowler on his head as they climbed the steps, the driver leading them to a set of double doors adorned with silver knockers inlaid with gold sculpted horses. Then he pushed on both doors and the building didn’t open so much as unfold, reveal itself to Rye, the first image one that would endure for him—gold.
司机打开了 Peerless Touring 的后门，他们爬了出来，Rye 很感激在他们爬上台阶时头上戴着 Moore 先生的圆顶礼帽，司机带领他们来到一组双门前，门上装饰着镶嵌着金雕马的银色门环。然后他推开了两扇门，建筑并没有打开，而是展开了，向 Rye 展示了他将要承受的第一个形象——金色。
Gold light and gold fixtures and gold furniture, burlap wallpaper painted gold across a wide two-story landing, crystal chandeliers hanging between two grand round staircases, each with shiny black railings above a marble floor, those steps curling away into untold second-story riches. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The tables and chairs lining the entryway, the rugs, everything was gilded on its edges. Four servants were lined up waiting, the first a young man holding out his hands for coats and hats and gloves and scarves. “Can I keep my hat?” Rye asked, worried about the rat’s nest beneath.
金色的灯和金色的灯具和金色的家具，宽阔的两层楼梯平台上涂成金色的粗麻布墙纸，两个宏伟的圆形楼梯之间悬挂着水晶吊灯，每个楼梯在大理石地板上都有闪亮的黑色栏杆，这些台阶蜿蜒曲折，进入了数不清的二楼财富。这是他见过的最美丽的东西。入口处排列的桌椅、地毯，一切都在它的边缘镀金。四个仆人排着队等待，第一个是一个伸出手要外套、帽子、手套和围巾的年轻人。“我可以保留我的帽子吗？”Rye 问道，担心下面的老鼠窝。
“Of course, Mr. Dolan,” the coat man said.
“当然，多兰先生，”大衣男说。
The lord of the house was nowhere in sight, and unsure what to do now, Rye stepped up to get a look at one of the two dazzling staircases, wide enough for ten men at the bottom but narrowing as it curled up and around. He looked deep into the black shiny railing, expecting to see himself, but whatever that black stone was, it gobbled up light and reflection like a deep cave.
房子的主人不见了，不知道现在该怎么办，Rye 走上前去看了看两个令人眼花缭乱的楼梯中的一个，楼梯的底部足够十个人，但随着它的蜷缩和旋转而变窄。他深深地望着那黑色闪亮的栏杆，期待着能看到自己，但无论那块黑色的石头是什么，它都像一个深邃的洞穴一样吞噬着光线和反射。
“Onyx,” the driver said. “Each of the house’s nine fireplaces is also constructed of Brazilian onyx.”
“玛瑙，”司机说。“房子的九个壁炉中的每一个也都是用巴西缟玛瑙制成的。”
“Did he run out of gold?” Rye asked.
“他的金子用完了吗？”Rye 问道。
The bragging driver made a noise that might’ve been a laugh, and when Rye turned back, the driver was handing the servant his own hat and gloves and coat. Beneath his wool coat, he wore a velvet dinner jacket, and Rye thought he seemed older than he had in the car—fifty, perhaps. The other servants all faced him and waited. “Heat some brandy,” the driver said, “and some tea for Ursula,” one of the waiting women nodding and backing away, and Rye saw that even Ursula the Great was watching the driver, and he understood, finally, just as the man offered his hand.
吹牛的司机发出的声音可能是笑声，当 Rye 回头时，司机正在把自己的帽子、手套和外套递给仆人。在他的羊毛大衣下面，他穿着一件天鹅绒晚礼服，Rye 觉得他看起来比在车里时还要老——也许是五十岁。其他仆人都面对着他等待。“烧点白兰地，”司机说，“给乌苏拉喝点茶，”其中一个等着的女人点点头，向后退去，莱伊看到连乌苏拉大帝也在看着司机，他终于明白了，就像那个男人伸出手一样。
“Lemuel Brand,” he said. “You’ll forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, but I am still getting used to motoring by myself.”
“莱米尔·布兰德，”他说。“你会原谅我没有早点介绍自己，但我仍然在习惯自己开车。”
Rye glanced over at Ursula, remembering her promise that night “not to bed the man,” but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Rye 瞥了 Ursula 一眼，想起了她那天晚上的承诺“不让那个男人上床”，但她不愿与他的眼睛对视。
Then Lem Brand waved his arm around the room like a magician and said, “Welcome to Alhambra, Mr. Dolan.”
然后莱姆·布兰德像魔术师一样在房间里挥舞着手臂说：“欢迎来到阿罕布拉宫，多兰先生。
It seemed funny, as they walked the grounds, that Rye had imagined Lem Brand would hire someone to brag for him—he would have been just as likely to hire someone to draw his breaths. He gushed with pride over every aspect of his estate: here, a two-story carriage house with room for four premier autos and an apartment for his mechanic; there, Spanish stables for two of the finest breeding horses in the western United States; up there, a sledding hill and archery course. He described everything with such care (“a footbridge made from Amazon rosewood assembled with no nails or screws”), it was as if he’d built it with his own hands.
当他们走在院子里时，Rye 想象着 Lem Brand 会雇人为他吹嘘——他也同样有可能雇人来为他喘口气。他对自己庄园的方方面面都感到自豪：这里有一座两层楼的马车房，可以停放四辆高级汽车，还有一间供他的机械师使用的公寓;那里有西班牙马厩，饲养着美国西部最好的两匹种马;那里有雪橇山和射箭场。他如此小心翼翼地描述了一切（“一座由亚马逊红木制成的人行天桥，组装而成，没有钉子或螺丝”），就像他亲手建造的一样。
Ursula stayed a few steps behind as they walked; clearly, she’d had this tour before. They were also trailed by several members of the house staff, led by a thick man with bushy eyebrows who introduced himself simply as Willard and who had a pistol strapped beneath his long coat. He eyed Rye suspiciously as they walked.
乌苏拉走着走着，落在后面几步;显然，她以前也参加过这次旅行。他们身后跟着几名房子的工作人员，领头的是一个浓密的眉毛的粗壮男人，他简单地介绍自己是威拉德，他的长外套下绑着一把手枪。他们走着，他怀疑地看着 Rye。
They looped back into the house, where Rye was shown one treasure after another: a stained-glass window twice his height, silk curtains from Java, crystal lamps from Paris, a thirty-person dining table cut from the Bavarian forests of a “lesser duke,” a Patagonia cherrywood grandfather clock that cost twenty thousand dollars. When Rye stopped to stare at a forest of tall orchids in vases, Lem Brand put a hand on his shoulder. “You have a good eye, Ryan,” he said, “Anyone can buy a clock, but find fresh orchids in winter? That’s the true test of a man’s means.”
他们绕回屋里，向莱伊展示了一个又一个宝藏：一扇两倍高的彩色玻璃窗、爪哇的丝绸窗帘、巴黎的水晶灯、一张从巴伐利亚森林中切下来的“小公爵”的 30 人餐桌，一个价值两万美元的巴塔哥尼亚樱桃木祖父钟。当 Rye 停下来凝视着花瓶里的高大兰花森林时，Lem Brand 将一只手搭在他的肩膀上。“你的眼睛真好，瑞安，”他说，“任何人都可以买到钟表，但在冬天能找到新鲜的兰花吗？这才是对一个人能力的真正考验。
The estate was overwhelming, and Rye felt a kind of dazzled panic—like a hungry man trying not to eat too fast. Finally, they settled into what Lem Brand called the main library, which, like the landing, was two stories tall, but felt to Rye as cozy as a pair of new socks. The walls were floor-to-twenty-foot-ceiling with books, and books disappeared into the sky, leather-bound volumes climbing and climbing, a sliding ladder to reach them all. A fire burned in the onyx fireplace. It was the warmest room Rye had ever been in—he felt sleep come on the moment he sat down, and he covered a yawn.
庄园不堪重负，Rye 感到一种令人眼花缭乱的恐慌——就像一个饥饿的人试图不吃得太快。最后，他们住进了 Lem Brand 所说的主图书馆，它和楼梯平台一样，有两层楼高，但对 Rye 来说，感觉就像一双新袜子一样舒适。墙壁上铺满了从地板到二十英尺高的书，书籍消失在天空中，皮革装订的书卷不断攀升，一个滑动的梯子可以到达它们。缟玛瑙壁炉里燃起了火。这是 Rye 住过的最温暖的房间——他一坐下就觉得睡着了，他打了个哈欠。
“Happens to me every time,” Lem Brand said, the enveloping warmth coming from heated water that ran through pipes in the floor as well as the radiators, and just then a servant arrived with a tray of French cookies and gold-lined snifters of a warm, sweet drink—Rye looked up and the servant said, almost apologetically, “Brandy, sir”—which they sipped in the soft chairs.
“每次我都会这样，”莱姆·布兰德说，从地板上的管道和散热器流出的热水带来了包裹性的温暖，就在这时，一个仆人端着一盘法式饼干和金边的温暖甜饮料来了——莱伊抬起头来，仆人几乎带着歉意说： “白兰地，先生”——他们在软椅上啜饮着。
Rye sat in this warm cookie-brandy-Ursula goodness, looked up at the walls of books, and suddenly began to weep.
黑麦坐在这种温暖的饼干白兰地乌苏拉美食中，抬头望着书的墙壁，突然开始哭泣。
Seated in the chair next to his, Ursula leaned forward and touched his arm. “Ryan. Are you okay?”
乌苏拉坐在他旁边的椅子上，身体前倾，摸了摸他的手臂。“瑞恩。你还好吗？
He nodded. He cleared his throat and asked Brand, “I don’t suppose you have War and Peace by Count Tolstoy?”
他点点头。他清了清嗓子，问布兰德：“我想你没有托尔斯泰伯爵的 《战争与和平 》吗？
Brand looked around at his books as if he’d never seen them before. Then he looked at Willard, who had been standing by the door. Willard nodded.
布兰德环顾四周，仿佛从未见过它们。然后他看向一直站在门边的威拉德。威拉德点点头。
“All five of them?”
“他们五个都吗？”
Willard shrugged and nodded again.
威拉德耸耸肩，再次点头。
It was too much. All of it, too much, and Rye cried at the too-muchness of it. This incredible room of books—how he wished Gig could spend a single day in such a room, two stories of leather and gilt volumes and a heated floor and brandy so sweet and rich it coated your insides. The thought of his bookish brother in that stone jail while he was here—it was all just too much.
这太过分了。所有这一切，太多了，Rye 为它太多而哭泣。这个令人难以置信的书屋——他多么希望吉格能在这样的房间里度过一天，两层楼的皮革和镀金书籍，加热的地板和白兰地是如此甜美和浓郁，以至于覆盖了你的内心。一想到他在这里的时候，他那个书般的弟弟在那个石头监狱里——这一切都太过分了。
The unfairness hit Rye not like sweet brandy but like a side ache—a physical pain from the warmth of that heated floor and the softness of that chair and Gig not knowing any of it—and Lace and Danny and Ma and Da, too—Rye never could have imagined it, either. But now he knew, and he would know the next time he was curled up in a cold boxcar, that men lived like this, that there was such a difference between Lem Brand and him that Brand should live here and Rye nowhere.
这种不公平打击黑麦的不是甜白兰地，而是侧面的疼痛——那加热地板的温暖和那把椅子的柔软带来的身体疼痛，而吉格对此一无所知——还有蕾丝、丹尼、马和达——莱伊也从未想象过。但现在他知道了，下次他蜷缩在冰冷的棚车里时，他就会知道，人们是这样的生活，莱姆·布兰德和他之间存在着如此大的差异，布兰德应该住在这里，而莱伊却无处可去。
He flushed with sadness, as if every moment of his life were occurring all at once—his sister dying in childbirth, his mother squirming in that one-room flop, poor Danny sliding between wet logs, Gig in jail, and Jules dead—and how many more? All people, except this rich cream, living and scraping and fighting and dying, and for what, nothing, the cold millions with no chance in this world.
他伤心满脸，仿佛他生命中的每一刻都在同时发生——他的姐姐死于难产，他的母亲在那个单间房里扭动着身体，可怜的丹尼在湿木头之间滑行，吉格被关进监狱，朱尔斯死了——还有多少？ 所有人 ，除了这浓郁的奶油，活着、刮擦着、战斗着、死去，为了什么，什么都没有，这个世界上没有机会的数百万冰冷的人。
He remembered last winter hopping an open boxcar with Gig and seeing a body in the corner. He’d seen played-out bums before, but this one appeared to be a young woman, her long hair iced to the floor of the boxcar, frozen or starved or kidnapped or run off or just made dead somehow. How was it this girl was trash in the corner of a rattling freight box while Rye had hot water running through the floor and warm brandy in his guts? He wept for that girl, too, for what a learned man like Gig might’ve called humanity, a poor girl born in hunger and dirt, destined to die in a cold boxcar without ever imagining this room existed.
他记得去年冬天和 Gig 一起跳一辆敞篷车厢，看到角落里有一具尸体。他以前见过被耍过的流浪汉，但这个似乎是个年轻女子，她的长发被冰冻在车厢的地板上，被冻住了，或者饿了，被绑架了，被逃跑了，或者不知怎么地死了。这个女孩怎么会是个嘎嘎作响的货箱角落里的垃圾，而 Rye 的地板上流着热水，他的内脏里有温暖的白兰地？他也为那个女孩哭泣，为像吉格这样博学的人可能称之为人性，一个在饥饿和肮脏中出生的可怜女孩，注定要死在冰冷的车厢里，却从未想象过这个房间的存在。
Lem Brand offered him a handkerchief, stitched, like everything, in gold. Rye stared at the handkerchief, and at Brand’s clean, rounded fingernails. It was the softest thing he’d ever held to his face. Rye hated that he’d cried in front of Brand and did his best to fill the thing with dirty hobo snot before handing it back.
莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 给了他一条手帕，像所有东西一样，用金子缝制的。Rye 盯着手帕，盯着 Brand 干净圆润的指甲。这是他贴在脸上最柔软的东西。Rye 讨厌他在 Brand 面前哭泣，并尽最大努力在把东西还给之前用肮脏的流浪汉鼻涕填满它。
Brand waved that he should keep it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dolan,” he said. “I imagine it’s been a strange couple of weeks for you. And now you’re probably wondering why you’re here.” He leaned forward and Rye finally got a full picture of the man: pale, balding, wide-faced, with a trim mustache. “I thought you might consider working for me.”
布兰德挥挥手，让他保留它。“对不起，多兰先生，”他说。“我想这对你来说很奇怪。现在你可能想知道你为什么在这里。他身体前倾，Rye 终于看到了这个男人的全貌：苍白、秃顶、宽脸、留着修剪整齐的小胡子。“我想你可以考虑为我工作。”
Rye wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
Rye 不确定自己是否听错了。
“This request comes at the suggestion of my friend Ursula”—she looked at the ground—“who asked me to intervene in your brother’s case. As I explained to her, I have no real power in these situations. This fight is between the police and the unionists.” Mr. Brand swirled his drink. “As I told Ursula, this is a matter for the courts now. But, like many, she exaggerates the power of a simple businessman. Still, I might be able to see about getting the charges against him reduced, although, as you might imagine, I am not eager to go out of my way to help a man who makes trouble for the agencies I rely upon to provide labor and security. Not without getting something in return.”
“这个请求是我朋友乌苏拉的建议，”她看着地面，“她要我插手你哥哥的案子。正如我向她解释的那样，在这些情况下我没有真正的权力。这场斗争是警察和工会成员之间的斗争。布兰德先生把他的饮料搅动起来。“正如我告诉乌苏拉的那样，这是现在法院的事情。但是，和许多人一样，她夸大了普通商人的力量。不过，我也许能够看到减轻对他的指控，尽管，正如你可能想象的那样，我并不急于帮助一个为我所依赖的提供劳动力和安全的机构制造麻烦的人。不能没有得到回报。
Ursula was studying the heated floor. Rye couldn’t imagine the thing of value he could supply in return for helping Gig. “Like what?”
乌苏拉正在研究加热地板。Rye 无法想象他能提供什么有价值的东西来换取帮助 Gig。“像什么？”
“I understand you met a young woman yesterday?” Lem Brand said. “A Mrs. Jack Jones?”
“我知道你昨天遇到了一个年轻女人？”莱姆·布兰德说。“杰克·琼斯太太？”
Rye said nothing.
Rye 什么也没说。
“Listen, Ryan,” Brand said, “I am not a political person. This business with the Wobblies and the police, I don’t like it. Were it up to me, I’d put every English-speaking man in Spokane to work. I am a businessman, and this is bad for business. But I also have responsibilities, and partners. And to satisfy those responsibilities, I need information. That’s all I’m asking from you. Information.”
“听着，瑞安，”布兰德说，“我不是一个政治人物。这种与 Wobblies 和警察的生意，我不喜欢。如果由我决定，我会让斯波坎的每个说英语的人都去工作。我是一名商人，这对企业不利。但我也有责任和合作伙伴。为了履行这些责任，我需要信息。这就是我对你的全部要求。信息。
“What kind?”
“什么种类？”
He shrugged as if it were nothing. “Plans, meetings, developments. Say a union organizer like Mrs. Jones comes to town. Basic news of the street.”
他耸耸肩，仿佛这没什么。“计划、会议、发展。假设像 Jones 夫人这样的工会组织者来到镇上。街上的基本新闻。
Rye looked down at the glass in his hands.
Rye 低头看着他手中的玻璃杯。
Brand leaned forward. “I wouldn’t ask you to put anyone in danger or do anything that goes against your ethics.”
布兰德身体前倾。“我不会要求你把任何人置于危险之中，也不会做任何违背你道德的事情。”
Ethics? Did Rye have those? He’d slept and shat in people’s yards and stolen their food, he had been drunk and sacrilegious and disparaging. Was the peak of tramp ethics seeing a dead girl on a train car and not going through her pockets?
伦理学？Rye 有这些吗？他在人们的院子里睡觉、拉屎、偷他们的食物，他喝醉了，亵渎神明，贬低了他们。流浪汉道德的巅峰是看到一个死去的女孩在火车车厢里，却没有掏她的口袋吗？
“I only ask two things,” Brand said, “that we keep this in complete confidence, which is to your benefit as well as mine. And that you answer my questions honestly. That’s it. For that, I will do my best to intervene in your brother’s case.” He looked over at Ursula. “And as long as your information is correct, I will pay you twenty dollars a month.”
“我只要求两件事，”布兰德说，“我们对此完全保密，这对你和我都有好处。而且你诚实地回答我的问题。就是这样。为此，我会尽我所能干预你哥哥的案子。他看向乌苏拉。“只要你的信息没错，我每个月就付你二十美元。”
Rye took a drink to keep himself from making a noise. He didn’t imagine he’d had twenty dollars’ worth of information in his whole life.
Rye 喝了一口水，以免自己发出声音。他没想到自己这辈子里有二十块钱的信息。
“For instance”—Brand pulled a twenty-dollar note from his pocket as if it were nothing—“tell me about the man who beat up the police sergeant on the river that day.”
“比如”——布兰德从口袋里掏出一张二十美元的钞票，仿佛什么都没做——“跟我说说那天在河上殴打警长的那个男人吧。
“Early?” Rye asked before he thought better of it. “What about him?”
“早点？”Rye 在想得更清楚之前问道。“那他呢？”
“Where is he now?”
“他现在在哪里？”
“I don’t know.” Rye chewed his lip. How did Brand know about Early? “He said he was going to Seattle.”
“我不知道。”Rye 咬了咬嘴唇。Brand 是如何知道 Early 的？“他说他要去西雅图。”
Brand leaned forward and handed him the twenty. “See how easy that was?” The bill was crisp and flat, like it had been pressed. Brand leaned back in the chair and watched him. “Your father worked the Golden Sunlight strike in Montana.”
布兰德身体前倾，递给他二十块钱。“看到这有多容易了吗？”喙干脆而平坦，就像被压过一样。布兰德靠在椅子上看着他。“你爸爸在蒙大拿州的 Golden Sunlight 罢工中工作。”
Again, Rye wondered how he could know. He nodded.
Rye 再次想知道他怎么知道。他点点头。
“I owned that mine,” Brand said. “I worked it myself after my father died. Started on the muck line and worked my way into the sluice and the mill. These agitators—your Gurley Flynn, she doesn’t care about men like your father or me. Or you. All they want is revolution. You’re a pawn in that.
“我拥有那个矿，”布兰德说。“我父亲去世后，我自己干活了。从渣土线开始，一直进入水闸和磨坊。这些煽动者——你的格利·弗林，她不在乎像你爸爸或我这样的男人。或者你。他们想要的只是革命。你是其中的一枚棋子。
“Look, I’m not saying you always get a fair deal in mines and timber camps. But you’ll get worse from them. They come from Berlin, from drawing rooms in New York City. Do you think they care about you? About this job-shark business? They want to upend everything. Blow up the world. Don’t take my word for it. Ask Gurley Flynn. Ask her where this all ends. Ask, if you get rid of the job agencies, get a higher wage for workers—will that ever be enough?”
“听着，我并不是说你总是在矿山和木材营地得到公平的交易。但你会从他们那里变得更糟。他们来自柏林，来自纽约市的客厅。你觉得他们关心你吗？关于这个 job-shark 业务？他们想颠覆一切。炸毁世界。不要相信我的话。问问 Gurley Flynn。问她这一切到哪里结束。问问，如果你摆脱了职业介绍所，为工人获得更高的工资——这就够了吗？
Rye looked down at the floor.
Rye 低头看着地板。
“People like her, they only want to get you killed and then go on to the next battlefield, because that’s what they really want. A war. I’ve seen it for twenty years. They call themselves WFM or IWW or socialists or syndicalists, they rile up the locals, get you arrested and killed, then go back to New York and tell their friends how they fought in the revolution out west.”
“像她这样的人，他们只想杀了你，然后去下一个战场，因为那才是他们真正想要的。一场战争。我已经看到它二十年了。他们称自己为 WFM 或 IWW 或社会主义者或工团主义者，他们激怒当地人，逮捕并杀害你，然后回到纽约，告诉他们的朋友他们是如何在西部革命中战斗的。
He was getting himself riled up, Ursula shifting uncomfortably like she’d heard this all before. “Do I use workers?” he asked. “Yes. I use them to extract silver and to fell trees and to pull beer in my saloons. But I pay them for it. And that’s all I want to do, pay good men for good work, the way I was once paid to dig silver. Do you know the difference between me and them, Ryan?”
他把自己激怒了，乌苏拉不舒服地移动着，就像她以前听到过这一切一样。他问道：“我用工人吗？“是的。我用它们来提取银子，砍倒树木，在我的酒吧里拉啤酒。但我付钱给他们。这就是我想做的一切，付钱给好人干好工作，就像我曾经通过挖银子得到的报酬一样。你知道我和他们有什么区别吗，Ryan？
He shook his head.
他摇摇头。
“This?” Brand waved around the room, the house, the grounds, the mines and hotels and saloons, the world that he owned. “I want you to have it, too. I want you to have every opportunity I had. With them, nobody gets a chance at anything.”
“这个？”布兰德在房间、房子、场地、矿山、酒店和酒吧，以及他拥有的世界里挥手。“我也希望你拥有它。我希望你拥有我所拥有的一切机会。有了他们，没有人有机会做任何事情。
This was when Ursula finally spoke. “Ryan?”
这时乌苏拉终于开口了。“Ryan？”
He looked over at her and could see she must be tired of Brand’s ranting.
他看着她，看得出她一定厌倦了布兰德的咆哮。
“Do it for Gregory,” she said.
“为了格雷戈里，”她说。
If Ursula thought she had to remind Rye of his brother during Brand’s speech, she was wrong. He wondered just what sort of ethics a person needed to survive so long in cages with cougars. Rye looked down at the twenty-dollar note in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. He took a deep breath.
如果乌苏拉认为她必须在布兰德的演讲中提醒莱伊他的哥哥，那她就错了。他想知道一个人需要什么样的道德才能在与美洲狮一起的笼子里生存这么久。Rye 低头看着一只手拿着 20 美元的钞票，另一只手拿着一杯白兰地。他深吸了一口气。
A WOMAN owns nothing in this world but her memories—a shabby return on so steep an investment. The First Ursula taught me this. The other thing she taught me was how to climb in a cage and sing to a mountain lion.
一个女人在这个世界上除了她的记忆之外一无所有——如此高昂的投资的微薄回报。第一代乌苏拉教会了我这一点。她教我的另一件事是如何爬进笼子里，为美洲狮唱歌。
I was the Second Ursula. I met the First in the spring of 1909. She’d been doing the act for ten years, nearly half her vaudeville life. By the time I met her, she was putting her stage makeup on with a putty knife, dying her hair every morning, and every night wrestling her rangy tits into corseted captivity like two escaped criminals. Then she would walk onstage and try not to get eaten by a cougar.
我是第二个乌苏拉。我在 1909 年春天遇到了 First。她已经做了十年的表演，几乎是她杂耍表演生涯的一半。当我遇到她时，她已经用油灰刀化了舞台妆，每天早上染发，每天晚上都像两个逃跑的罪犯一样，把她宽大的奶子挣扎进紧身胸衣的囚禁中。然后她会走上舞台，尽量不被美洲狮吃掉。
It was a bear, the first creature Ursula performed with, and the reason she was called Ursula, “Ursa being Latin for bear,” according to her fatstack manager, Joe Considine, who hired me to replace her. This was in Reno, Nevada, where I answered a simple newspaper ad for “Actress, singer, calm demeanor.”
那是一只熊，是乌苏拉表演的第一个生物，也是她被称为乌苏拉的原因，“Ursa 在拉丁语中是熊的意思”，据她的胖子堆经理乔·康西丁 （Joe Considine） 说，他雇我来代替她。那是在内华达州的里诺，我在那里回答了一则简单的报纸广告，题目是“女演员、歌手、冷静的举止”。
I was from an East Coast performing family, my mother an opera singer, my father a playwright. Just two years earlier I’d wowed six hundred a night on the San Francisco stage as Fanny LeGrand in Sappho. But two years is a hundred in actress time, and I had chosen badly in romance and found myself in Reno in a limited engagement called desperation. That’s when I saw the ad.
我来自东海岸的一个表演家庭，我妈妈是歌剧演员，我爸爸是剧作家。就在两年前，我在旧金山的舞台上饰演 Sappho 的 Fanny LeGrand，每晚让 600 人惊叹不已。但两年是一百个女演员的时间，我在浪漫中选择了错误，发现自己在里诺处于一种称为绝望的有限参与中。就在那时我看到了这个广告。
For my audition, Joe Considine led me to the stage of an empty variety saloon, and I sang, “A Woman Is a Woman but a Good Cigar Is a Smoke.” I wasn’t even to the second puff when Joe said, “And can you dance?” and I showed him tap and a high kick and he said, “And what about your tits?” and I asked if we could keep those out of it, and he said, “Then how do you feel about animals?”
在我的试镜中，乔·康西丁（Joe Considine）带我去了一家空荡荡的综艺沙龙的舞台，我唱道：“女人是女人，但一支好雪茄是一支烟。我甚至还没抽到第二次 ， 乔就说：“你会跳舞吗？”，我给他看了踢踏舞和高踢，他说：“那你的奶子呢？”我问我们是否可以把那些东西排除在外，他说：“那你对动物有什么感觉？
I met the First Ursula the next afternoon backstage at the theater where she’d been performing for the last month, co-billed with an Orientalist seer. She wore a flowing gown of reds and oranges, her hair wrapped in a scarf, four dollars in costume jewelry on her fingers and neck. Behind her, her costar lay in a ten-by-ten cage, asleep in a narrow slant of sunlight beneath a high window.
第二天下午，我在剧院的后台遇到了第一乌苏拉，她上个月一直在那里演出，与一位东方主义先知共同出演。她穿着一件红色和橙色的飘逸礼服，头发用围巾缠着，手指和脖子上戴着四美元的服装首饰。在她身后，她的搭档躺在一个 10 x 10 的笼子里，在高高的窗户下，在狭窄的阳光下睡着了。
Ursula seemed resigned to giving up the act, and gamely showed me the tricks, although, from what I could tell, the main trick was to not get mauled.
乌苏拉似乎不甘心放弃这种行为，并顽皮地向我展示了这些技巧，尽管据我所知，主要的技巧是不要被伤害。
“Why are you leaving?” I asked.
“你为什么要走？”我问。
“I am not leaving,” she said. “I am being replaced. A week ago, Joe informed me that he was taking out an advertisement for a new Ursula. And look, here you are.”
“我不会离开 ，”她说。“我正在被替换。一周前，Joe 告诉我，他要为新的 Ursula 做广告。你看，你在这里。
I chose not to apologize. “Why would he replace you?”
我选择不道歉。“他为什么要取代你？”
“As he explained it to me, our receipts are down, the show is rarely extended beyond our two-week contracts, and he has begun to suspect my age is an issue in marketing this spectacle.”
“正如他向我解释的那样，我们的收入下降了，演出很少超过我们两周的合同，他已经开始怀疑我的年龄是营销这种奇观的一个问题。”
“So, you’re too young,” I said.
“所以，你还太年轻了，”我说。
“Yes, very good.” She smiled. “No, according to Joe, a more mature Ursula reminds them of their mothers and wives, and they have begun to cheer for the cat.”
“是的，非常好。”她笑了。“不，根据乔的说法，更成熟的乌苏拉让他们想起了他们的母亲和妻子，他们已经开始为这只猫欢呼了。”
“What is the age,” I asked, “when a woman becomes more entertaining as meal than singer?”
“几岁了，”我问，“当一个女人像饭一样变得比唱歌更有趣的时候？
“I am thirty-six,” she said, “or so.”
“我三十六岁了，”她说，“大概是这样。
Or so. No way First Ursula had seen thirty-six this century. Not that I held any reverence for the accurate measure of one’s age. I had told Considine I was twenty-four, a number I had scrupulously maintained since turning twenty-five a few years earlier.
或者说 。First Ursula 不可能在本世纪见过 36 只。这并不是说我对准确衡量一个人的年龄有任何敬意。我告诉康西丁我二十四岁，自从几年前我二十五岁以来，我一直小心翼翼地保持这个数字。
First Ursula was slated for three more shows while she trained me, and after that I would assume the role, meaning I had only two performances in Reno to get the act down. After that came a two-week run in Boise, followed by Butte and Missoula, then it was on to Spokane in the fall, where we had an open engagement at a theater First Ursula said was the finest house in the best city this side of San Francisco.
首先，Ursula 在培训我期间被安排再演出三场，之后我将担任这个角色，这意味着我在里诺只有两场演出来完成表演。之后，我们在博伊西进行了为期两周的演出，然后是 Butte 和 Missoula，然后在秋天去了斯波坎，在那里我们在一家剧院进行了公开演出，First Ursula 说这是旧金山这边最好的城市里最好的房子。
It was called the Comique and it was owned, in secret, by a mining magnate named Lemuel Brand—secret, she said, because “his wife remains blissfully unaware of his fondness for actresses.” She was quite taken with this Brand, whom she described as “a cup of charm in a gallon of largesse.” Brand’s wealth came from silver-mining the Coeur d’Alenes and the rather broad range of vices his workers spent their money on—cathouses, saloons, hotels, opium dens, and theaters in Spokane’s tenderloin, positions he held behind a series of paper partners. “Lem likes to say that every dollar that goes out in payroll,” Ursula said, “comes back through bed, brothel, and booze.”
它被称为 Comique，由一位名叫 Lemuel Brand 的矿业大亨秘密拥有——她说，这是秘密的，因为“他的妻子仍然幸福地不知道他对女演员的喜爱”。她对这个品牌非常感兴趣，她将其描述为“一加仑慷慨中的一杯魅力”。布兰德的财富来自科达伦斯 （Coeur d'Alenes） 的银矿开采，以及他的工人们花钱买的相当广泛的恶习——斯波坎田脊区的猫屋、沙龙、酒店、鸦片窝点和剧院，他在一系列纸业合作伙伴后面担任过职务。“莱姆喜欢说，工资单上的每一美元，”乌苏拉说，“都是通过床位、妓院和酒回来的。
Ursula and Lem Brand had carried on for her entire two-month run in Spokane. He’d even made her a promise: that when her career was over, she could manage one of his flop hotels and turn it into a proper boardinghouse. She planned to open its doors to old variety-show actresses like herself, to teach them secretarial and operator skills so they wouldn’t be reduced to taking on loggers at four bits a throw. Of course, she said, a hotel full of former actresses also appealed to a patron of the arts like Brand.
Ursula 和 Lem Brand 在斯波坎度过了整整两个月的时间。他甚至向她许下了一个承诺：当她的职业生涯结束时，她可以管理他的一家失败的酒店，把它变成一个像样的寄宿公寓。她计划向像她这样的老综艺节目女演员敞开大门，教她们秘书和作技巧，这样她们就不会沦落到以四比特的价格与伐木工打交道。当然，她说，一家住满前女演员的酒店也吸引了像布兰德这样的艺术赞助人。
That’s why she was staying with the show as far as Spokane, so she could dismount the stage for the next segment of her life. She had even picked out a name for her boardinghouse: the Phoenix.
这就是为什么她一直留在斯波坎的演出中，这样她就可以走下舞台，开始她人生的下一个阶段。她甚至为她的寄宿公寓取了一个名字：凤凰。
That morning she’d sent a telegram to Brand saying that she would be coming to Spokane with the show, was eager to see him, and hoped to discuss taking over the management of his hotel. “I am ready,” she told me. “I have been at this for too long.”
那天早上，她给布兰德发了一封电报，说她将带着演出来斯波坎，很想见他，并希望讨论接管他的酒店管理。“我准备好了，”她告诉我。“我已经在这个行业待太久了。”
“May I ask,” I said, “what happened to the bear?”
“请问，”我说，“那只熊怎么了？
“Ah, the bear.” This question softened the corners of First Ursula’s eyes. “Boryenka. He fell quite in love with me, I’m afraid. Backstage, he would growl whenever Joe raised his voice. Onstage, he would sit patiently, panting like a dog, his eyes following me everywhere. He was heartsick, and he would moan for me to come into his cage, to sing to him, to stroke his jowls. He was so gentle the audience began to laugh.
“啊，那只熊。”这个问题让第一乌苏拉的眼角柔和了下来。“博尔延卡。恐怕他很爱我。在后台，每当乔提高嗓门时，他就会咆哮。在舞台上，他会耐心地坐着，像狗一样喘着粗气，眼睛到处跟着我。他伤心欲绝，他会呻吟着让我进他的笼子里，给他唱歌，抚摸他的下巴。他如此温柔，观众们都笑了起来。
“Joe found it unseemly the way the bear looked at me. I suggested we play it as a comedy, the bear my suitor, perhaps add a wedding scene, but Joe feared the ministers would be scandalized by us suggesting what happened in the wedding bed, or worse, that audiences would be disappointed not to see that. Of course, I had fallen quite far in the theater, as you apparently have, too, dear, but I was not about to become one of those acts.” She smiled gently. “In the end, Joe sold the bear to a traveling circus out of Denver, and we went with a mountain lion after that.”
“乔觉得那只熊看我的方式很不体面。我建议我们把它演成喜剧，《熊是我的追求者》，也许可以加上一个婚礼场景，但乔担心我们暗示婚床上发生的事情会让部长们感到羞耻，或者更糟糕的是，观众没有看到这一点会感到失望 。当然，我在剧院里已经跌得很远了，亲爱的，你显然也是这样，但我不会成为那些演员中的一员 。她温柔地笑了笑。“最后，乔把熊卖给了丹佛的一个巡回马戏团，之后我们带着一只美洲狮去了。”
Mountain lions were more reliable for snarling and baring teeth, Ursula said. But she still missed Boryenka. “I understand he is quite a star in the circus.” Her eyes drifted to the window. “The last I heard, he had learned to play the banjo while riding a bicycle. He is quite a talent.”
乌苏拉说，美洲狮在咆哮和露出牙齿方面更可靠。但她仍然想念博尔延卡。“我知道他是马戏团中的明星。”她的眼睛飘向窗户。“我最后一次听到的是，他在骑自行车时学会了弹班卓琴。他真是个天才。
Those first few days in Reno, First Ursula showed me the basic staging and blocking: come out, sing my first number, and dance three laps around the cage. Then open the door and go inside for the next song. She showed me how to sew raw steak strategically into the corset to enhance my profile, and how the cat would growl and wait while I ripped off the corset, and that a quick throw was the real trick, for if I hesitated and held the meaty corset in my hand—
在里诺的最初几天，First Ursula 向我展示了基本的舞台和阻塞：出来，唱我的第一首歌，然后绕着笼子跳三圈。然后打开门，进去听下一首歌。她向我展示了如何巧妙地将生牛排缝入紧身胸衣中以增强我的轮廓，以及猫如何咆哮并等待我扯下紧身胸衣，而快速扔掉才是真正的诀窍，因为如果我犹豫不决，将多肉紧身胸衣握在手中——
Then, with my back to the audience, singing in full voice, I was to grab the robe hanging from the stand at the back of the cage. Depending on which city we were in and its variety-theater laws, I could either show my tits or not. She had not shown hers in a year, “but this is more for gravity’s sake than for decency’s.”
然后，我背对着观众，大声唱歌，要抓住挂在笼子后面看台上的长袍。根据我们在哪个城市和那里的综艺剧院法律，我可以展示或不展示我的乳房。她已经一年没有展示过她的衣服了，“但这更多的是为了地心引力，而不是为了体面。
One other thing to remember: The robe stand could be used to fend off the cat should things go badly. This was the way she described being attacked by a cougar in front of a screaming throng—“should things go badly”—the loveliest bit of theater decorum I’d ever heard.
要记住的另一件事是：如果情况恶化，浴袍架可以用来抵御猫。“她是这样描述在尖叫的人群面前被美洲狮袭击的——”如果事情变得糟糕“——这是我听过的最可爱的剧院礼仪。
We had a fine time in Reno, First Ursula and me. I’d watch her perform and then we’d stay up late in her hotel room, sharing stories while we drank a strange plum wine that she had acquired a taste for in Spokane’s Chinatown.
我们在里诺度过了一段美好的时光，First Ursula 和我。我会看她的表演，然后我们会在她的酒店房间里熬夜，一边分享故事，一边喝着她在斯波坎唐人街喜欢上的奇怪梅酒。
In the mornings, she would go to the front desk of the hotel to see if Lem Brand had answered her telegram about the Phoenix. When, after three days, no answer came, she sent a second telegram, and then a third, but these also went unanswered, and as the week wore on, I felt an aching sympathy for her.
早上，她会去酒店前台，看看莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 是否回复了她关于凤凰号的电报。三天后，没有回信，她又发了第二封电报，然后又发了第三封电报，但这些电报也没有得到回复，随着一周的过去，我对她感到一种痛苦的同情。
On the fourth night, we stood backstage together. There was no announcement that the actress playing Ursula was changing; the barker simply said, “Ursula the Great!” and I went out instead.
第四天晚上，我们一起站在后台。没有宣布扮演乌苏拉的女演员会发生变化;吠叫者只是说：“乌苏拉大帝！”，我就出去了。
There was a whistle, some light applause. We’d spent most of our rehearsal time on the bits with the cougar, for obvious reasons, and while the show itself was simple, I found myself overtaken with a surprising and savage bout of stage terror.
一声哨声，一些轻微的掌声。出于显而易见的原因，我们把大部分排练时间都花在了美洲狮的排练上，虽然演出本身很简单，但我发现自己被一阵令人惊讶和野蛮的舞台恐怖所淹没。
The heat of the lights, the growl of the cat, the smell of workingmen in the front rows: It all combined to make me nauseous. I hit my notes and the cougar was professional enough, but I left the stage thinking I might not be cut out for this. There were only three things these yokels wanted to see: Two of them were my breasts and the third was a cougar attack; the singing and dancing to which I had devoted my life were very much beside the point.
灯光的热度、猫的咆哮、前排工人的气味：这一切结合在一起，让我感到恶心。我敲响了我的笔记，美洲狮足够专业，但我离开舞台时想着我可能不适合这个。这些枭雄只想看到三样东西：其中两样是我的乳房，第三样是美洲狮的攻击;我一生都献身于的歌舞完全无关紧要。
I came off after that first performance feeling bereft, what she called having “fallen so far in the theater” weighing on my soul, and that is when I saw First Ursula, standing backstage, her hand over her mouth.
第一场演出后，我感到失落，她所说的“在剧院里跌落了这么远”，这让我的灵魂感到沉重，就在那时，我看到第一乌苏拉站在后台，用手捂住嘴巴。
“Dear God,” she said. “Your voice.”
“亲爱的上帝，”她说。“你的声音。”
Since the rehearsals had focused on staging and safety, I hadn’t really invested in the songs and had almost forgotten the effect my voice could have at full release, its unlikely power and register, which at one time had secured parts and performances for me at the best theaters in San Francisco.
由于排练的重点是舞台和安全，所以我并没有真正投入到歌曲中，几乎忘记了我的声音在完全释放时可能产生的效果，它不太可能的力量和音域，它曾一度为我在旧金山最好的剧院获得了部分和表演。
“Thank you,” I said, and she said, “No. Thank you,” and began to cry. She enveloped me in a shuddering embrace.
“谢谢你，”我说，她说，“不。谢谢你 ，“然后开始哭泣。她用一个颤抖的拥抱拥抱了我。
We separated and she looked out at the dingy Reno theater. “These dusty heathens have no idea. You could be singing in Paris for monarchs.”
我们分开了，她望着肮脏的里诺剧院。“这些尘土飞扬的异教徒不知道。你可能在巴黎为君主歌唱。
“Well, I am at the Palace,” I said, and waved a hand at the bar of the Palace Theater and Gambling Club of Reno, Nevada. This, too, was rewarded with an embrace. The show was now mine. I was now Ursula.
“嗯，我在 皇宫，”我说，然后向内华达州里诺的皇宫剧院和赌博俱乐部的吧台挥了挥手。这也得到了一个拥抱的回报。这个节目现在是我的了。我现在是乌苏拉。
On our last day together in Reno, First Ursula and I had breakfast at the hotel, and she checked once more for a telegram from Lem Brand; there wasn’t one.
在我们一起在里诺的最后一天，我和第一乌苏拉在酒店吃了早餐，她再次查看了莱姆·布兰德的电报;没有。
“Why don’t you have the operator ring him?” I asked.
“你为什么不让接线员给他打电话？”我问。
She said the telephone was a “brutish form of communication,” and that Lem Brand not answering her telegrams was, of course, answer enough, and the one she had secretly been expecting all along. “I suspected the Phoenix was a fantasy the moment he mentioned it,” she said. “A man will say anything on the windward side of a bed. But I chose to believe it. And I don’t mind indulging in the fantasy that a wealthy lover might reward a woman with whom he has shared such intimacy. Perhaps I could have been a wife somewhere with a loyal husband and nine perfect children—but I would have to indulge that fantasy. Compared with that business, this was a harmless bit of theater.”
她说，电话是一种“野蛮的通信方式”，莱姆·布兰德不接她的电报当然已经足够了，而且是她一直在暗中期待的电话。“他一提到凤凰，我就怀疑它是个幻想，”她说。“一个人在床的迎风面什么都会说什么。但我选择相信它。而且我不介意沉迷于一个富有的情人可能会奖励一个与他有过如此亲密关系的女人的幻想。也许我可以在某个地方成为一个妻子，有一个忠诚的丈夫和九个完美的孩子——但我必须沉迷于这种幻想。与那种业务相比，这简直是无害的戏剧。
We stayed up all night drinking plum wine.
我们熬夜喝梅酒。
“What will you do now?” I asked. “Do you have family?”
“你现在要做什么？”我问。“你有家人吗？”
She said she was from a Philadelphia stage family—her father an acrobat, mother a singer. She was the youngest of six performing siblings—tumblers and musicians. But she was a late bloomer in looks and in talent. As each of her siblings ventured off into show business, Ursula stayed behind to care for their parents. When she was in her teens, her father fell from a tightrope in Cincinnati and suffered a debilitating head injury that required nearly nonstop care. That was when she met Joe Considine, who had come east looking for showgirls willing to perform in the saloons out west. She auditioned and left with him the very same day without telling anyone.
她说她来自费城的一个舞台家庭——她的父亲是杂技演员，母亲是歌手。她是六个表演兄弟姐妹中最小的一个——不倒翁和音乐家。但她在外表和才华上都是大器晚成的。当她的兄弟姐妹都涉足演艺界时，乌苏拉留下来照顾他们的父母。当她十几岁时，她的父亲在辛辛那提从钢丝上掉下来，头部受伤，几乎需要不间断的照顾。就在那时，她遇到了乔·康西丁 （Joe Considine），她来到东部寻找愿意在西部酒吧表演的歌舞女郎。她参加了试镜，当天就和他一起离开了，没有告诉任何人。
“And you haven’t talked to your family since?” I asked.
“从那以后你就没和你的家人说过话了？”我问。
“No,” she said. “It’s been—” Perhaps remembering that she had shorted her own age by at least a decade, she finished, “several years.”
“不，”她说。“是——”也许是想起了她把自己的年龄缩短了至少十年，她总结道，“好几年。
I said it was cruel, Joe Considine whisking Ursula away from her family as a young woman and then summarily firing her once she got old. She said Joe was too simple to be cruel, and that he had offered her severance, fifty dollars and a train ticket east. She said she was going to take him up on it.
我说这很残忍，乔·康西丁 （Joe Considine） 在乌苏拉还是个年轻女子的时候就把她从家人身边赶走，然后在她老了之后立即解雇她。她说乔太简单了，不能残忍，他给了她遣散费、五十美元和一张东方的火车票。她说她要接受他。
“I’m going to tell Joe I won’t perform until he gives you a hundred-dollar severance,” I said.
“我要告诉乔，除非他给你一百美元的遣散费，否则我不会表演，”我说。
“You’re a dear,” she said, patting my arm. “You make a fine Ursula.”
“你真是个好人，”她说，拍了拍我的胳膊。“你真是个好乌苏拉。”
“But not great yet,” I said.
“但还不是很好 ，”我说。
“You are far more talented than I ever was,” she said, and her eyes welled with tears again. I began to object, but she put a finger to my mouth. “Please. It would be unseemly for you to argue. Your voice hurts, it is so lovely.”
“你比以前更有才华，”她说，她的眼睛里又涌出了泪水。我开始反对，但她把一根手指放在我的嘴上。“拜托。你争论是不合时宜的。你的声音很痛 ，太可爱了。
We were quiet a moment.
我们安静了一会儿。
“I will send you a postcard from wherever I land,” she said.
“无论我降落在哪里，我都会给你寄一张明信片，”她说。
We finished the last bottle of plum wine and talked until dawn. We became loose with our stories, and at some point she began listing old lovers’ attributes. Instead of their names, she referred to them by avocation: The bullfighter was a groveler, the sea captain equipped like a horse.
我们喝完了最后一瓶梅酒，一直聊到天亮。我们对自己的故事变得松散起来，在某个时候，她开始列出旧恋人的特质。她没有提到他们的名字，而是用称呼他们：斗牛士是个卑躬屈膝的人，船长装备像一匹马。
And what of the mining magnate, Mr. Brand? I asked.
那么矿业大亨布兰德先生呢？我问。
I should not have brought him up, for the very mention of his name brought sadness to her eyes and she simply shook her head.
我不该提起他，因为一提到他的名字，她的眼睛就感到悲哀，她只是摇了摇头。
I told her about my own weakness in that area: my penchant for a certain kind of younger man I referred to as “meat,” an actor here, a stagehand there, culminating in the dashing young playwright I fell for, who turned out to be more swindler than scribe, and who went to the bathroom at a restaurant in Sparks and never returned, sticking me with the check, a week’s hotel bill, and a wrecked heart. And because he had stolen from my old theater and I’d stood by him when I had thought him wrongly accused, I could never go back to San Francisco.
我告诉她我自己在这方面的弱点：我对某种我称之为“肉”的年轻人的偏爱，这里是演员，那里是舞台工作人员，最终我爱上了那个潇洒的年轻剧作家，他后来发现比抄写员更像骗子，他去了斯帕克斯一家餐馆的洗手间，再也没有回来。 给我开支票、一周的酒店账单和一颗伤心的心。因为他从我的旧剧院偷了东西，而我在我认为他被错误地指控时站在他身边，所以我再也回不去旧金山了。
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she put her hand on the side of my face.
“对不起，”她说，然后把手放在我的脸侧。
It was almost dawn when First Ursula asked if she might kiss me. Before I could answer, she leaned in and did it. Then she lay down in front of me and faced away. I held her from behind. She was frailer than I’d imagined. In a beam of streetlight through the hotel window, I could see age spots on her shoulder, little fissures around her eye, the gray seams in her clownish red hair. When she began shaking, I whispered, “It’s okay.”
天快亮时，第一乌苏拉问她是否可以亲吻我。在我回答之前，她俯身做了。然后她躺在我面前，面朝我。我从后面抱住她。她比我想象的要脆弱。透过酒店窗户的一束路灯，我可以看到她肩膀上的老年斑，眼睛周围的小裂缝，以及她小丑般的红发上的灰色接缝。当她开始颤抖时，我低声说：“没事的。
I woke alone midmorning, Joe Considine rapping on my door. “Ursula?”
我早上独自醒来，乔·康西丁 （Joe Considine） 敲打着我的门。“乌苏拉？”
He did not seem alarmed or surprised that I was in her room. “Train leaves for Boise in two hours,” he said. “They’re loading the cat now.”
他似乎并没有因为我在她的房间里而感到惊慌或惊讶。“火车将在两个小时后发车前往博伊西，”他说。“他们现在正在给猫装东西。”
I asked about First Ursula.
我问起了 First Ursula。
“Gone,” he said. She had come down early to breakfast, dressed and packed, and accepted his offer of fifty dollars and a ticket out of town. Then she caught the Union Pacific headed east toward Denver. “She left two hours ago.”
“走了，”他说。她早早地下来吃早餐，穿好衣服，收拾好行李，接受了他提出的五十美元和一张出城票的提议。然后她赶上联合太平洋向东驶向丹佛。“她两个小时前就走了。”
We did two weeks in Boise, then two in Butte, and after that, Missoula. In each city we headlined with two or three local opening acts—musicians, comedians, the occasional freak and animal trick. We started slowly but were extended in Montana, the notices hinting at just enough scandal that we filled the seats without riling the ministers. Meanwhile, the cat and I were developing a real rapport—sometimes when I sang, she seemed to growl on key.
我们在博伊西呆了两周，然后在比尤特呆了两周，然后是米苏拉。在每个城市，我们都有两到三场当地的开场表演——音乐家、喜剧演员，偶尔还有怪胎和动物把戏。我们开始得很慢，但在蒙大拿州延长了时间，通知暗示了足够多的丑闻，以至于我们在没有激怒部长的情况下坐满了座位。与此同时，这只猫和我建立了真正的融洽关系——有时当我唱歌时，她似乎会咆哮。
In each city, I checked for a postcard from First Ursula, but none arrived.
在每个城市，我都检查了 First Ursula 的明信片，但没有一张到达。
Finally, we moved to Spokane, our passenger car emerging from mountain forest into a river valley laced with bridges and railroad tracks, a lovely train station on an island in the center of a rocky channel. First Ursula was right: Spokane had a thrumming vibrancy those other cities lacked, and the Comique seemed a fine theater, URSULA THE GREAT across the whole of the marquee, in letters thrice the size of the next act, a blind accordion player named Rico Roma.
最后，我们搬到了斯波坎，我们的客车从山林中驶出，进入一个河谷，河谷里有桥梁和铁轨，这是一个可爱的火车站，位于岩石通道中心的一个小岛上。首先 Ursula 是对的：斯波坎有一种其他城市所缺乏的轰鸣活力，而喜剧剧院似乎是一个精美的剧院，URSULA THE GREAT 贯穿整个大帐篷，用三倍于下一幕的字母，一位名叫 Rico Roma 的盲人手风琴手。
Lem Brand was waiting to greet us onstage at the Comique, hat held over his chest. He gave a bow like he was meeting royalty. I cannot say what I expected after so many weeks imagining him, only that he was less of it. He was perhaps fifty, although he was the kind of man who would have looked fifty at thirty, bald and lumpish, soft in the manner of one used to hiring other men to do his work.
莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 在动漫展的舞台上等着迎接我们，帽子戴在胸前。他鞠了一躬，就像在见皇室成员一样。在想象了他这么多周之后，我无法说出我所期待的是什么，只知道他不那么喜欢了。他大概五十岁了，虽然他是那种三十岁看起来五十岁的人，秃顶，秃顶，身材魁梧，像个习惯雇别人干活的人一样软弱。
“My goodness, Ursula,” Brand said, “you are more beautiful than even Mr. Considine’s rather vivid description.”
“我的天哪，乌苏拉，”布兰德说，“你甚至比康西丁先生相当生动的描述还要漂亮。
Behind me, Joe laughed and said, “Isn’t she something, Mr. Brand?”
在我身后，乔笑着说：“布兰德先生，她不是很了不起吗？
“Welcome to the Comique,” Brand said, and he gestured to what looked like three-hundred-some-odd seats. “I hope you will consider dining with me this evening,” he said. “It’s a tradition that, as the theater’s benefactor, I show new performers a bit of good old-fashioned Spokane hospitality.”
“欢迎来到喜剧展，”布兰德说，他指了指看起来有三百多个座位的地方。“我希望你今晚能考虑和我一起吃饭，”他说。“作为剧院的捐助者，我向新表演者展示一点斯波坎老式的热情好客，这是一个传统。”
“So the blind accordion player will be joining us, too?” I asked.
“所以盲人手风琴手也会加入我们吗？”我问。
Joe cleared his throat behind me.
乔在我身后清了清嗓子。
“No,” Brand said, taken aback.
“不，”布兰德吃了一惊说。
“That’s too bad. And what about your wife?”
“那太糟糕了。那你的妻子呢？
That limp-rump Joe Considine hissed at me: “Margaret!”
那个跛脚的乔·康西丁对我嘶吼道：“玛格丽特！
I turned and gave Joe the sharp eye. “Ursula, you mean,” I said, reminding him of his own rule that I stay in character even when not onstage. “Please, Joe, Mr. Brand and I are having a conversation. Perhaps go check on the cat.”
我转过身来，狠狠地瞪了乔一眼。“乌苏拉，你是说，”我说，提醒他他自己的规则，即使不在舞台上，我也要保持角色。“拜托，乔，布兰德先生和我正在交谈。也许去看看那只猫。
Joe slunk away. When I turned back, Lem Brand’s face was flushed and wore a stern expression I imagined he gave the miners and valets and maids and countless others in his employ. And me, too, his eyes said, I shouldn’t forget I was on the payroll as well. “My wife is away,” he said. “In Boston, visiting our son at boarding school.”
乔溜走了。当我回头时，莱姆·布兰德的脸涨得通红，脸上露出一种严肃的表情，我想象着他给矿工、男仆、女佣和无数其他雇员。还有我，他的眼睛说，我不应该忘记我也在工资单上。“我妻子不在，”他说。“在波士顿，去寄宿学校看望我们的儿子。”
“Perhaps she could join us next time,” I said.
“也许她下次可以加入我们，”我说。
“Perhaps,” he said, the word nearly choking him.
“也许吧，”他说，这个词几乎让他窒息。
His anger roiling, I saw the moment to turn things. “In that case, a private dinner sounds divine. Just the two of us. Perhaps you’re thinking we might even become friends and dine regularly. Is that what you had in mind, Mr. Brand?”
他的怒火肆虐，我看到了扭转局面的时刻。“那样的话，私人晚宴听起来很神圣。就我们两个人。也许您在想我们甚至可能会成为朋友并定期用餐。这就是你的心意吗，布兰德先生？
He was clearly confused by my change in tone. “Yes,” he said. “I . . . Yes.”
他显然对我语气的变化感到困惑。“是的，”他说。“我 . . .是的。
“Good,” I said, and smiled softly. “Then, as your friend, I hope you don’t mind if I ask for the smallest favor before we meet again.”
“很好，”我说，然后轻轻地笑了笑。“那么，作为你的朋友，我希望你不介意在我们再次见面之前，我要求一点点的帮助。”
“Favor?”
“恩惠？”
“Yes,” I said. I reached out and took his arm. “After which I will be all yours.”
“是的，”我说。我伸手抓住了他的手臂。“之后，我就归你所有了。”
He swallowed.
他咽了口口水。
Then I brought up the telegrams First Ursula had sent from Reno and how there must have been some mix-up at the Western Union office, because surely if her cables had been properly delivered, he would have answered them.
然后我提到了 First Ursula 从里诺发来的电报，以及西联汇款办公室肯定有什么混乱，因为如果她的电报被正确地送达，他肯定会回复的。
“Yes, a mix-up,” he said.
“是的，混淆了，”他说。
“I thought so,” I said. “You must be so eager to find her.”
“我想是的，”我说。“你一定很想找到她。”
“Find her—”
“找到她——”
“To fulfill your agreement! It must be disheartening to know a friend is out there with the misconception that you have cast her aside. You must be so eager to remedy it by making good on your promise.”
“为了履行你的协议！知道一个朋友在那里，误以为你把她抛在一边，这一定很令人沮丧。你一定很想兑现你的诺言来补救它。
“Yes,” he said, his eyes on my pale hand on his hairy wrist.
“是的，”他说，他的眼睛盯着我苍白的手，手上他毛茸茸的手腕。
“Then it is decided! Once you’ve tracked down Ursula, you and I will have the most splendid dinner, Mr. Brand.”
“那么决定了！一旦你找到了乌苏拉，你和我就会吃上最丰盛的晚餐，布兰德先生。
“Lem,” he said.
“莱姆，”他说。
“Lem,” I said, “indeed.” I nodded. “I greatly look forward to it.” And with that, I bowed, turned, and began walking to my dressing room.
“莱姆，”我说，“确实如此。我点点头。“我非常期待。”“说完，我鞠了一躬，转身，开始走向我的更衣室。
“Wait,” he said, “do you know where she is?”
“等等，”他说，“你知道她在哪里吗？
I looked back over my shoulder. “I don’t. I believe her family is from Philadelphia. But I should think a man of your stature would have a private detective you could engage on this question, perhaps even one on staff?”
我回头看了看。“我不知道。我相信她的家人来自费城。但我想，像你这样的人，会让你找个私家侦探来解决这个问题，也许你也可以找个专职侦探呢？
“Yes,” he said. “How about a name, at least. A name would help.”
“是的，”他说。“至少，找个名字怎么样。一个名字会有所帮助。
Christ. He didn’t even know her name.
基督。他甚至不知道她的名字。
“Her name is Ursula the Great,” I said.
“她叫乌苏拉大帝，”我说。
We killed in Spokane. The cat roared. The house roared. I belted. The lights, the opening acts—from the first performance we were a hit. And when one of the city’s five newspapers called me “a spectacle of indecency,” Joe raised ticket prices thirty percent.
我们在斯波坎杀人。猫咆哮着。房子咆哮着。我系上了腰带。灯光、开场表演——从第一场演出开始，我们就大受欢迎。当该市五家报纸中的一家称我为“猥亵奇观”时，乔将票价提高了 30%。
Of course, there is always a catch, and the one in Spokane was called Gregory. I found him wandering the theater one day, delivering boards to a carpenter, and I played at mistaking him for an actor and we bantered and I asked if he might bring a bit of that lumber to my dressing room.
当然，总有一个陷阱，斯波坎的那个叫 Gregory。有一天，我发现他在剧院里闲逛，给一个木匠送木板，我把他误认为是演员，我们开玩笑，我问他能不能把那些木材带到我的更衣室。
He turned out to be a union man, a budding socialist, an adventurer, or, by clearer light, a day laborer and train vagrant. If memories are an unwise investment, this was burning money.
他原来是一个工会成员，一个崭露头角的社会主义者，一个冒险家，或者，更清楚地说，他是一个临时工和火车流浪汉。如果回忆是一项不明智的投资，那就是烧钱。
But what can I say? He was beautiful. And I have always been weak for physical beauty in men. My sister always said I was born with a man’s lecherous eye and made stupid by my base attractions. She said it would lead to my ruin. “Well,” I told her, “then let’s get on with it.”
但我能说什么呢？他很漂亮。而且我一直对男人的身体美感到软弱。我姐姐总是说我天生就有男人好色的眼睛，被我的基地景点弄得愚蠢。她说这会导致我的毁灭。“好吧，”我告诉她，“那我们继续吧。
He was a man of broad marbled shoulders, deep-set blue eyes, thick black hair, roping arms, and a full chest that tapered to a waist nearly as slender as mine. His skin was cooked a golden crisp beneath the shirt I coaxed from him and tossed on my dressing room chair. At times I have found the beguiling ones to be less energetic at play, perhaps too used to getting their way. But this Gregory was my equal in hands and hunger, and my goodness, the carnal afternoons we shared, the first I’d had since the grifting playwright left me.
他有着宽阔的大理石纹肩膀，深陷的蓝眼睛，浓密的黑发，粗壮的手臂，丰满的胸膛，腰部几乎和我一样纤细。他的皮肤在我从他那里哄骗来的衬衫下烤得金黄酥脆，然后扔在我的更衣室椅子上。有时我发现那些迷人的人在玩耍时不那么精力充沛，也许太习惯了按照自己的方式行事。但这个格雷戈里在双手和饥饿上是平等的，我的天哪，我们共同度过的下午，自从那个吝啬的剧作家离开我以来，我第一次拥有。
He was a conversationalist after, which I also liked. Our legs tangled in my hotel bedding, he presented himself an avid reader, a socialist and intellectual, although I suspected he was somewhat vagrant in that department, too, limited by the six or seven books he’d happened upon while tramping.
他之后是个健谈的人，我也喜欢这一点。我们的腿缠在我酒店的床上，他把自己描绘成一个狂热的读者，一个社会主义者和知识分子，尽管我怀疑他在那个部门也有点流浪，因为他在跋涉时偶然发现的六七本书限制了他。
But it was his talking about his brother that really got to me. He was raising the boy since their parents had died, and when he described the house he wanted to build them someday, it was all I could do not to have another go at him. I could imagine First Ursula shaking her head at my sentimentality. To be made stupid by a man’s beauty was foolish enough.
但真正打动我的是他谈论他的兄弟。自从他们的父母去世后，他就一直在抚养这个男孩，当他描述他想有一天为他们建造的房子时，我所能做的就是不要再对他发动攻击了。我可以想象 First Ursula 对我的多愁善感摇头。被一个男人的美貌弄得愚蠢已经够愚蠢的了。
One night I told Gregory to bring his little brother by the show. I was a nervous schoolgirl all that day, but afterward, I returned to my dressing room to find a different man waiting there for me—that overripe squash Lem Brand, thin hair slicked across pale forehead, a rich bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand.
一天晚上，我告诉 Gregory 带他的弟弟来参加演出。那天我整个时间都是一个紧张的女学生，但后来，我回到更衣室，发现另一个男人在那儿等着我——那个熟透了的南瓜莱姆·布兰德（Lem Brand），稀疏的头发滑过苍白的额头，手里拿着一束浓郁的鲜花。
He smiled. “I must say, you surprised me the other day.”
他笑了。“我必须说，你前几天让我大吃一惊。”
“Must you?”
“必须吗？”
“I’m not used to such wit in a woman, nor such impertinence.”
“我不习惯女人那样的机智，也不习惯这样的无礼。”
“Thank you,” I said, as if this were a compliment.
“谢谢你，”我说，仿佛这是一种赞美。
He looked around my dressing room, then back at me. “You said that when I found her, you would have dinner with me.”
他环顾了一下我的更衣室，然后又看了看我。“你说过，我找到她后，你会和我一起吃晚饭。”
I felt a tug. “You found Ursula?”
我感到一阵拉扯。“你找到乌苏拉了吗？”
He nodded.
他点点头。
“Will you give me a moment to change?”
“你能给我一点时间改变一下吗？”
“Of course,” he said. “Meet me in front of the theater.”
“当然，”他说。“剧院前见我。”
After he was gone, I hurried down the hall to the stage door to get rid of poor Gregory and his brother. A man like Brand could cause terrible trouble for them, so I intended to chase him off mercilessly, like a stray, for his own good. But in his eyes I lost my nerve, and the shadow of his little brother at the end of the alley—it affected me greatly, and I apologized and gave what promises I could. Empty as they were, I wanted them to be true. I ached watching Gregory slink down that alley, hands deep in his trouser pockets.
他走后，我匆匆忙忙地穿过走廊，走到舞台门口，赶走可怜的格雷戈里和他的兄弟。像布兰德这样的人可能会给他们带来可怕的麻烦，所以我打算为了他好，像流浪狗一样无情地把他赶走。但在他眼里，我失去了勇气，他弟弟在小巷尽头的影子——这让我深受影响，我道歉并做出了我能做出的承诺。尽管它们很空洞，但我希望 它们是真的。看着 Gregory 溜达着那条小巷，双手深深地插在裤兜里，我感到很痛。
I returned to my dressing room and changed, a cold iron taste in my mouth.
我回到更衣室换衣服，嘴里有一股冰冷的铁味。
There are things a woman must do, my sister used to say.
有些事情女人必须做，我姐姐曾经说过。
A woman owns nothing in this world, Ursula used to say.
女人在这个世界上一无所有，乌苏拉曾经说过。
Roar, the mountain lion used to say.
吼 ，美洲狮常说。
Brand was waiting outside, beneath my name on the theater marquee, near a large touring automobile. He held the door, I climbed in, and he drove us all of three blocks. The auto was the point, obviously, for it was an unseasonably warm night and we could have walked as easily. “That’s quite a machine,” I said.
布兰德在外面等着，在剧院的大帐篷里，在我的名字下，靠近一辆大型旅行汽车。他扶着门，我爬进去，他开车把我们全都开了三个街区。显然，汽车是重点，因为这是一个不合时宜的温暖夜晚，我们本来可以很容易地走路。“那真是一台机器，”我说。
“Thank you,” he said, as if he’d invented it.
“谢谢你，”他说，仿佛这是他发明的。
It was a fine restaurant with stucco walls and white tablecloths. The dinner service was ending and chairs were being put up for the evening. I followed Brand through the main dining hall to a small private room with formal settings for two. All around were marbled pillars and red curtains.
这是一家精致的餐厅，有灰泥墙和白色桌布。晚餐服务即将结束，晚上的椅子被摆好了。我跟着布兰德穿过主餐厅，来到一个小的私人房间，里面有正式的两人座位。周围是大理石柱子和红色窗帘。
Waiting for us in the room was a side of security beef who introduced himself as Willard. He was holding a folder.
在房间里等着我们的是一面的保安，他介绍自己叫威拉德。他手里拿着一个文件夹。
“Willard’s a retired Pinkerton,” said Brand, “and the head of my security. I told him you were the kind of woman who would want documentation, so he prepared this dossier.”
“威拉德是个退休的平克顿人，”布兰德说，“也是我的保安主管。我告诉他你是那种需要记录的女人，所以他准备了这份档案。
Willard wouldn’t meet my eyes and, with a nod, backed out of the room.
威拉德不愿与我的眼睛对视，点了点头，退出了房间。
“I was hoping we could eat first,” Brand said. “I have just come from a meeting about some pending labor trouble that upset my stomach, and if you don’t mind, I should at least like to pretend that you are eager to dine with me.”
“我希望我们能先吃饭，”布兰德说。“我刚开完个会，说了一些悬而未决的劳工问题，这让我很不舒服，如果你不介意的话，我至少可以假装你很想和我一起吃饭。”
“Oh, but I am,” I said, and sat next to him, the two of us on one side of a long table, like a king and queen receiving official visitors.
“哦，但我是，”我说，然后坐在他旁边，我们两个坐在长桌的一边，就像国王和王后接待官方访客一样。
For the next hour, waiters swarmed us. We were served a French red wine, a fine local beefsteak, scallops from Seattle, and gnocchi that might have been pinched from the ass of an Italian angel. Brand told me about the theater scene in Spokane, about the battles he was having with a union organizing the men he would prefer remain unorganized, about the ministers who wanted to tame the city he would prefer stay untamed, and about a spineless mayor who seemed to think a modern city could be constructed only of parks and churches.
在接下来的一个小时里，服务员蜂拥而至。我们吃了一杯法国红酒、一块精美的当地牛排、来自西雅图的扇贝，以及可能是从意大利天使的屁股上捏出来的面疙瘩。布兰德向我讲述了斯波坎的戏剧场景，他与一个工会的斗争，工会组织了他宁愿保持无组织状态的人，关于那些想要驯服他宁愿保持驯服的城市的部长，以及一个没有骨气的市长，他似乎认为现代城市只能由公园和教堂组成。
He was surprisingly good company, and I told him so, though not the surprising bit. I said how nice it was to be in a city that employed actual chefs and not the blind syphilitic camp cooks who had tried to poison me in Montana.
他是一个出乎意料的好伙伴，我告诉了他，尽管并不令人惊讶。我说，在一个雇用真正的厨师的城市，而不是在蒙大拿州试图毒死我的盲人梅毒营地厨师，这真是太好了。
Our plates were being taken away when Lem Brand asked the headwaiter to hold our desserts a moment. “You’ve been kind,” he said to me, “and you have waited long enough.” Then he reached over and opened the file on First Ursula.
当 Lem Brand 要求服务员暂时端候我们的甜点时，我们的盘子被拿走了。“你真好，”他对我说，“你等得够久了。然后他伸手打开了关于 First Ursula 的档案。
Her real name was Edith Hardisson, he said. She was forty-six years old. She was not the youngest child of an East Coast stage family but the oldest of six, daughter of a clerk and his wife from Independence, Missouri. Her parents were members in frightful good standing of a devout chapter of Reorganized Latter Day Saints, and they betrothed her at fifteen to a widower and pig farmer from their church, but Edith ran away before the wedding.
他说，她的真名是伊迪丝·哈迪森（Edith Hardisson）。她享年 46 岁。她不是东海岸舞台家庭中最小的孩子，而是六个孩子中的老大，是密苏里州独立城的一名文员和他的妻子的女儿。她的父母是重组后期圣徒（Reorganized Latter Day Saints）一个虔诚的分会成员，名声极佳，他们在 15 岁时将她许配给了他们教会的一位鳏夫和养猪人，但伊迪丝在婚礼前逃跑了。
Mr. Willard could find no trace of her for the next six years, until a twenty-two-year-old Edie Hart was arrested at a labor camp brothel in Minnesota. There were also arrest records in Virginia City, and Cripple Creek, Colorado, which was where she met Joe Considine, who first put her onstage as a saloon singer and, later, turned her into Ursula the Great.
在接下来的六年里，威拉德一直没有找到她的踪迹，直到 22 岁的伊迪·哈特 （Edie Hart） 在明尼苏达州的一家劳改营妓院被捕。弗吉尼亚城和科罗拉多州的克里普尔克里克也有逮捕记录，她在那里遇到了乔·康西丁，乔·康西丁首先让她登上舞台成为一名酒吧歌手，后来又把她变成了乌苏拉大帝。
“She told me she was from Philadelphia,” I said, “that her father was an acrobat who cracked his skull falling off a tightrope.”
“她告诉我她来自费城，”我说，“她爸爸是个杂技演员，从钢丝上掉下来，头骨裂开了。
He smiled. “She told me that her father was a cowboy in Buffalo Bill Cody’s traveling Wild West show and that he impregnated her French mother, and when she turned sixteen, she came to America to find him.”
他笑了。“她告诉我，她的父亲是布法罗比尔·科迪 （Buffalo Bill Cody） 的巡回狂野西部节目中的牛仔，他让她的法国母亲怀孕，当她 16 岁时，她来到美国寻找他。”
I could see on his lumpish face that he was as disappointed in this banal report as I was, and I reminded myself that even if he had been shabby in not returning her telegrams, Ursula had once thought enough of the man to share his bed.
我从他那张疙瘪的脸上看出，他和我一样对这份平淡无奇的报告感到失望，我提醒自己，即使他没有回她的电报，乌苏拉也曾经对这个男人想得够多了，所以可以和他同床共枕。
I paged through the report myself: After she left Reno, First Ursula took the train to Denver, where she apparently went to the offices of one “Putnam and Gold Traveling Circus.” The circus was performing that week in Iowa, so she inquired of the circus booking agent about purchasing an animal she’d once worked with, a performing bear named Boryenka. The booking agent explained that Boryenka had been dead for a year, put down by his trainer when he began to go blind. The booking agent didn’t recall Ursula being overly upset by the news of Boryenka’s demise, but they spent some time reminiscing about the bear and agreed that he was a rare talent, the booking agent saying the animal had grown so adept at the banjo in his last years that his facility rivaled that of a human player.
我自己翻阅了这份报告：离开里诺后，乌苏拉首先乘火车去了丹佛，她显然去了一家“普特南和黄金旅行马戏团”的办公室。那周马戏团在爱荷华州演出，所以她向马戏团预订代理询问关于购买她曾经合作过的动物的事情，一只名叫 Boryenka 的表演熊。预订代理解释说，Boryenka 已经死了一年了，当他开始失明时，他的教练放下了它。预订代理不记得乌苏拉对博尔延卡去世的消息感到过于难过，但他们花了一些时间回忆这只熊，并同意他是一个罕见的天才，预订代理说这只动物在他最后的几年里已经变得如此熟练地演奏班卓琴，以至于他的设施可以与人类演奏者相媲美。
Edith spent another week in Denver, Willard wrote, eating and drinking until her money ran out.
威拉德写道，伊迪丝在丹佛又呆了一个星期，吃喝玩乐，直到她的钱花光了。
I kept flipping pages, Brand narrating as I read.
我不停地翻页，布兰德边读边叙述。
“Finally, when she had nowhere else to go, she went back to Independence,” he said. “It was not a pleasant homecoming, and she stayed only two days. Her father is deceased, and her mother and sisters rejected her. Now she is in Des Moines, Iowa, at an SRO hotel, working as a waitress and”—here Brand cleared his throat—“augmenting her income in ways I asked Willard not to include in this report.”
“最后，当她无处可去时，她回到了独立城，”他说。“回家并不愉快，她只呆了两天。她的父亲已经去世，她的母亲和姐妹们都拒绝了她。现在她在爱荷华州得梅因的一家 SRO 酒店担任女服务员，“布兰德清了清嗓子，”以我要求 Willard 不要包含在这份报告中的方式增加了她的收入。
The report fell to my lap. How far you have fallen. Your ruin. For a moment I could barely breathe. I looked down at the floor.
报告落在我的腿上。 你跌落了多远。你的毁坏。 有那么一刻，我几乎无法呼吸。我低头看了看地板。
“You had to know I wasn’t going to bring her back here,” he said.
“你得知道我不会把她带回这里，”他说。
I looked back up at Brand.
我抬头看向布兰德。
“So I began thinking,” he said, “there must be some other reason you brought up my agreement with Ursula. And I realized that if I were in your position, I would do the same.” Brand reached into a valise next to his chair and produced another document. He handed it to me. There was a wax seal on it. It read Spokane County and Official Deed and Bill of Sale. The building was listed as the Bailey Hotel, Spokane, Washington.
“所以我开始想，”他说，“你提到我和乌苏拉的协议，一定还有其他原因。我意识到，如果我处于你的位置，我也会这样做。布兰德把手伸进椅子旁边的手提箱里，拿出另一份文件。他把它递给我。上面有个蜡封。上面写着斯波坎县和官方契约和销售单 。该建筑被列为华盛顿州斯波坎的贝利酒店。
“This is the hotel we talked about her running,” he said. “Fifty-two single-occupancy rooms that rent for five dollars a month. But that’s just on paper. We get three dollars a day from the thirty or so women who ply their trade in cribs on the alley side. That’s where the real money comes from. From that, I pay the police to look the other way.
“这就是我们谈论她跑步的酒店，”他说。“52 间单人间，每月租金 5 美元。但这只是纸上谈兵。我们每天从三十个左右的妇女那里得到三美元，她们在小巷边的婴儿床上做生意。这就是真金白银的来源。从那以后，我付钱给警察，让他们视而不见。
“The legal owner is a man named Burke. I pay the taxes, and the upkeep, and I give Burke ten dollars a month to serve as a front for my interests.”
“合法所有者是一个名叫伯克的人。我交税和赡养费，每个月给伯克十美元，作为我利益的幌子。
I looked over the document. It was two pages long. At the bottom of the second page were two lines transferring ownership from Burke, who had signed below his name, to my legal name, Margaret Anne Burns. The contract was dated that day. Brand held out a fountain pen.
我看了看那份文件。它有两页长。第二页的底部有两行文字，将所有权从伯克（Burke）转移到我的法定姓名玛格丽特·安妮·伯恩斯（Margaret Anne Burns）手中。合同的日期是那天。布兰德拿出一支钢笔。
“Of course, you’ll get a better deal than Mr. Burke had,” he said. Then he pointed to a paragraph in the contract. “This deed transfers twenty percent of real ownership of the building to you, as well as that percentage of monthly income from the property. You’ll be responsible for twenty percent of upkeep, improvements, and taxes. This stake requires no cash investment on your part but will be in exchange for agreeing to assume management of the property and being its public face. You have the right to sell your stake at any time, but I retain first right of refusal to match any offer.”
“当然，你会得到比伯克先生更好的交易，”他说。然后他指了指合同中的一段。“该契约将建筑物 20% 的真正所有权以及该物业的月收入百分比转让给您。您将负责 20% 的维护、改进和税收。这笔股份不需要您进行现金投资，但将作为交换，您同意承担该物业的管理并成为其公众形象。您有权随时出售您的股份，但我保留拒绝任何报价的优先权。
It was quiet in the private dining room. My investment in the hotel was clear. His eyes sought out my chest and I felt my rib cage tighten, like I was still wearing the meat-filled corset.
私人餐厅里很安静。我对酒店的投资是显而易见的。他的眼睛寻找着我的胸部，我感觉到我的胸腔紧绷，就像我还穿着那件充满肉的紧身胸衣一样。
I looked up into his eyes. Whatever First Ursula had seen there, she was right: A woman owns nothing of this world.
我抬头看着他的眼睛。无论第一乌苏拉在那里看到什么，她都是对的：女人不拥有这个世界。
“Thirty percent,” I said.
“百分之三十，”我说。
He smiled, crossed out 20 on the contract and wrote 25, then initialed it. “And you will pay Burke five dollars a month for two years,” he said.
他微笑着，在合同上划掉 20 并写下 25，然后草签。“而且你要每月付给伯克五美元，为期两年，”他说。
“I will pay Burke two and you will pay him three,” I said.
“我付给伯克两块钱，你付给他三块钱，”我说。
He held out the pen. I took it. He pointed. “Here,” he said, “and here. And here.”
他伸出笔。我接受了它。“他指了指。“这里，”他说，“还有这里。还有这里。
When we were done, I set the pen down. It weighed forty pounds.
完成后，我放下了笔。它重达 40 磅。
Then dessert came. Bread pudding.
然后甜点来了。面包布丁。
At midnight, Rye met Gurley at the Great Northern station for the overnight to Seattle. She wore her usual black dress with bulky black coat, hair tied back with a black ribbon. She carried a red and gold carpetbag. So he wouldn’t have to travel with his bindle, Rye had borrowed a boxer’s bag from Fred Moore.
午夜时分，Rye 在 Great Northern 车站与 Gurley 会面，他们将过夜前往西雅图。她穿着平常的黑色连衣裙和笨重的黑色外套，头发用黑色丝带向后扎。她背着一个红色和金色的地毯包。这样他就不必带着他的束缚去旅行了，Rye 从 Fred Moore 那里借了一个拳击手包。
They settled in second class and Rye sat by the window. He’d never been in a train, only on one. It was how he’d traveled to Seattle the first time, lying in deep grass with Gig, ducking railroad bulls, then running down a Northern Pacific freighter just as it picked up speed outside the yard. They had spent a miserable seven hours hanging ladders and riding blinds, but even so, there were worse ways to go. Class existed among tramps, too; Rye had seen Negro hoe-boys from Texas clinging to the trusses a foot above the tracks.
他们坐在二等舱，Rye 坐在靠窗的地方。他从来没有坐过火车，只坐过火车。这就是他第一次去西雅图的方式，和 Gig 一起躺在深草丛中，躲避铁路公牛，然后在船厂外加速时撞上一艘北太平洋货轮。他们花了七个小时挂梯子和骑百叶窗，但即便如此，还有更糟糕的路要走。流浪汉之间也存在阶级;Rye 曾看到来自德克萨斯州的黑人锄头小子紧紧抓住离铁轨一英尺高的桁架。
But now, how could he go back to riding on trains after he’d been inside one, nestled in this soft seat, lulled by the thumping rattle of the ties?
但是现在，他怎么能回到火车上呢，他已经坐进了火车里，坐在这个柔软的座椅上，被领带的砰砰嘎声哄骗着呢？
When he jerked awake, he realized he’d missed most of the trip. The sun was up and Gurley wasn’t next to him. The snow had held off and they’d made good time through the mountains, easing down Cascade switchbacks into a lush valley. Log piles and shipyards rolled past the window—farms and stacks and waterfront hamlets, and then the train slowed and they crossed a bridge onto the isthmus that held that great shithole of prosperity, Seattle.
当他猛地醒来时，他意识到自己错过了大部分旅程。太阳升起了，Gurley 不在他身边。雪停了下来，他们花了好时间穿过群山，缓缓地沿着喀斯喀特的之字形进入一个郁郁葱葱的山谷。原木堆和造船厂从窗户驶过——农场、木堆和海滨小村庄，然后火车放慢了速度，他们穿过一座桥，来到地峡上，那里是西雅图那个繁荣的大粪坑。
Last time here had been a disaster for them. Gig had been sold a dock job by an employment shark, but it turned out to be unloading a contraband barge with no manifest, and on day two, when dockworkers with union badges showed up, Gig understood he was scabbing a union job. He beat it off the pier and found Rye scrounging for food in alleys. They were stranded four days down the Seattle skid, wet and cold, under a low gray ceiling. If the sun rose that week, Rye missed it.
上次在这里对他们来说是一场灾难。Gig 被一条雇佣鲨鱼卖给了一份码头工作，但结果证明是卸下一艘没有舱单的违禁品驳船，第二天，当戴着工会徽章的码头工人出现时，Gig 明白他正在破坏一份工会工作。他把它从码头上打下来，发现 Rye 在小巷里四处寻找食物。他们被困在西雅图的滑坡上四天，又湿又冷，在低矮的灰色天花板下。如果那一周太阳升起，Rye 就会错过它。
Seattle was like an infection that started at the water and spread up the verdant hills. The smell of stewed harbor turned his guts: salt flats, log pulp, and fish guts stirred by a tide that gently rocked the city’s sewage back and forth. Gig said it was why he preferred a river town, because it took your shit away. “A man shouldn’t have to worry about his morning business coming back for him in the afternoon.”
西雅图就像一种感染，从水开始，蔓延到青翠的山丘上。炖港湾的气味让他的胆子翻了个底朝天：盐滩、原木浆和鱼内脏被潮汐轻轻地来回摇晃着城市的污水。吉格说这就是为什么他更喜欢河边小镇，因为它可以带走你的狗屎 。“男人不应该担心他早上的生意会在下午回来。”
Rye hadn’t cared for the people, either—a humorless breed of fishermen and dockworkers, and tight shop owners. In four days, they found no work and little in the way of generosity, and finally grabbed a rattler back out of town.
Rye 也不关心人们——一群没有幽默感的渔民和码头工人，以及紧张的店主。四天后，他们没有找到任何工作，也没有什么慷慨的帮助，最后还是抓了一只响尾蛇回到城外。
It felt entirely different now, arriving inside a warm passenger compartment, staring out his window at the city around him.
现在感觉完全不同了，他来到一个温暖的乘客舱里，凝视着窗外周围的城市。
“See that?” asked a man with a British accent from the seat behind him.
“看到了吗？”
Through the window, Rye watched a crew of workers using water cannons to blast at a steep hillside, sluicing away the dirt in muddy streams that left a few houses perched on a jagged man-made cliff.
透过窗户，Rye 看到一群工人使用水炮在陡峭的山坡上爆炸，冲走浑浊溪流中的泥土，留下几栋房屋栖息在锯齿状的人造悬崖上。
“They are flattening Denny Hill,” said the man, his face pressed against the window. “Farewell, Rome of the West, the City of Seven Hills is now six.”
“他们正在压平丹尼·希尔，”那个男人说，他的脸贴在窗户上。“再见了，西方的罗马，七山之城现在是六座。”
Rye wasn’t sure what to think of any of this.
Rye 不知道该如何看待这一切。
The train rattled along Elliott Bay, then through a tunnel behind the piers, and at last into King Station south of downtown, its huge clock tower rising into the low gray clouds.
火车沿着埃利奥特湾嘎嘎作响，然后穿过码头后面的一条隧道，最后进入市中心以南的国王车站，巨大的钟楼耸立在低矮的灰色云层中。
Gurley came back from the dining car with a man and a sandwich. The sandwich was wrapped in waxed paper, the man enduring a Gurley lecture, “. . . not trying to convince you of anything except that which you claim to believe,” and without a beat, she handed Rye “turkey and cheese,” then back to the man, “while you fret over a few extra pennies going to the poor,” then to Rye, “they were out of mustard,” then back to the man, “the rich live on untold millions in interest and inheritance, all of it unearned, by your own definition a free handout and proof of your inherent hypocrisy, now I hope you will pardon my candor and my brusqueness, but good day, sir,” and she dropped into the seat next to Rye. “Did you want coffee?”
Gurley 带着一个男人和一个三明治从餐车上回来。三明治用蜡纸包着，这个男人忍受着格利的演讲，“......除了你声称相信的东西之外，她没有试图说服你任何东西，“她毫不犹豫地把”火鸡和奶酪“递给黑麦，然后又回到男人手里，”当你为给穷人多出几分钱而烦恼的时候“，然后又递给黑麦，”他们用完了芥末“，然后又回到男人手里，”富人靠数以百万计的利息和遗产生活， 所有这些都是来之不易的，按照你自己的定义，这是免费的施舍和你天生虚伪的证据，现在我希望你能原谅我的坦率和粗鲁，但你好，先生，“她坐在莱伊旁边的座位上。“你想喝咖啡吗？”
Rye spent the day like this, in this revolving door of Gurley’s considerable energies, first at the train station, where she introduced him to a tall union man, “James Garrett, IWW Puget Sound organizer, this is Ryan Dolan, sixteen-year-old orphan the Spokane police very nearly beat to death—” Garrett escorted Gurley to a female boardinghouse and Rye to a flop around the corner where he dropped his bag in his room and went down to the lobby to find Gurley and a red-faced man with a notebook and pen already in deep conversation.
Rye 就这样度过了这一天，在这个 Gurley 精力充沛的旋转门里，首先是在火车站，在那里她把他介绍给了一个高大的工会男人，“James Garrett，IWW Puget Sound 的组织者，这是 Ryan Dolan，十六岁的孤儿，斯波坎警察差点打死——”Garrett 陪着 Gurley 去了一家女性寄宿公寓，Rye 在拐角处的一个小坑里，他把包丢在房间里，然后下楼去了大厅里发现 Gurley 和一个拿着笔记本和笔的红脸男人已经在深入交谈。
“I’m telling you, it’s not like Missoula. If that was a skirmish in the free speech war, this is Antietam,” Gurley said, and without pause, she touched the red-faced man on the arm. “Olen Parr, this is Ryan Dolan, sixteen-year-old orphan beaten and arrested in Spokane for nothing more than standing on the street, and then crowded into a sweatbox with thirty other men.”
“我告诉你，这不像米苏拉。如果那是言论自由战争中的一场小规模冲突，那就是安提坦，“格利说，她毫不犹豫地摸了摸那个红脸男人的手臂。“奥伦·帕尔，这是瑞恩·多兰，一个 16 岁的孤儿，在斯波坎被殴打和逮捕，只因为站在街上，然后和其他 30 个男人挤进一个汗箱。”
“Son of a bitch.” The man looked down to write in his notebook. “Is that so?”
“婊子的儿子。”男人低头在他的笔记本上写字。“是这样吗？”
“Well,” Rye said, “twenty-eight, but . . . yeah.”
“嗯，”莱伊说，“二十八岁，但是......是的。
“Son of a bitch,” the man said again.
“婊子的儿子，”男人又说了一遍。
“Olen, walk with us.” Gurley rose and, her hand falling easily on Rye’s arm, spoke over her shoulder at Olen as they walked through the cluttered lobby. “Ryan here was on bread and water for two weeks, and he is only sixteen years old and an orphan to boot.”
“奥伦，跟我们走。”格利站起来，她的手轻松地落在了莱伊的手臂上，当他们穿过杂乱的大厅时，她转过头对奥伦说了一句话。“Ryan 在这里吃了两个星期的面包和水，他只有 16 岁，是个孤儿。”
“Is that so?” Olen muttered. “Son of a bitch.” Rye wished she’d go easy on the young-orphan talk, which made him sound like a baby left on her doorstep.
“是这样吗？”奥伦咕哝道。“婊子的儿子。”Rye 希望她能对这个年轻的孤儿谈话放轻松，这让他听起来像一个留在她家门口的婴儿。
As they stepped through the door, she said to him, “Olen is the editor of the Socialist newspaper.”
当他们走进门时，她对他说：“奥伦是 《社会主义报 》的编辑。
On the sidewalk, Olen looked stricken. “But I’m not anymore, Gurley.”
在人行道上，奥伦看起来非常痛苦。“但我已经不在了，格利。”
“What?” She stopped, turned.
“什么？”她停了下来，转过身来。
“You didn’t hear? I split with the Socialist Party in July, and went with the Socialist Workers Party, but then I left them, too.”
“你没听见吗？我在 7 月与社会党分道扬镳，加入了社会主义工人党，但后来我也离开了他们。
“What? Why?”
“什么？为什么？
“Well, we got into it with the Central Branch at the state convention over their platform, those uptown sons of bitches handcuffed us and pushed the Pike Street radicals aside, so I walked out and joined the SWP for two weeks, but those petite bourgeois sons of bitches were like a knitting club, so we finally had our own goddamned convention.”
“嗯，我们在州代表大会上与中央支部就他们的平台进行了争论，那些上城的婊子儿子给我们戴上手铐，把派克街激进分子推到一边，所以我走出去，加入了社会工人党两个星期，但那些娇小的资产阶级婊子儿子就像一个编织俱乐部，所以我们终于有了自己的该死的大会。”
“You quit the socialists to have your own socialist convention?”
“你放弃了社会主义者，去建立你自己的社会主义大会？”
“Then National failed to recognize us, so we quit altogether.”
“然后 National 没有认出我们，所以我们完全退出了。”
“You quit the Socialists? Olen, you edit a newspaper called The Socialist.”
“你退出了社会党？奥伦，你编辑了一份叫 《社会主义者》 的报纸 。
“Like I said, I don’t anymore. I’m in the Wage Workers Party now. We started a newspaper called The Workingman Paper, but we only printed two issues. Now it’s called The Agitator.”
“就像我说的，我现在不再这样做了。我现在是工资工人党的成员。我们创办了一份名为 The Workingman Paper 的报纸， 但我们只印了两期。现在它叫 The Agitator。
Gurley stared at the ground for a moment. She looked over at Rye, who had no idea what to make of any of this. He tried shrugging with his eyebrows.
Gurley 盯着地面看了一会儿。她看向 Rye，她不知道该如何看待这一切。他试着耸耸肩。
She abruptly started walking again, hand on Rye’s arm, Olen at full pace behind them. “Well, you should still write about Ryan here, a poor orphan fighting for justice and for freedom of speech—”
她突然又开始走路，手搭在 Rye 的手臂上，Olen 全速跟在他们身后。“嗯，你还是应该在这里写瑞安，一个为正义和言论自由而战的可怜孤儿——”
“And to get my brother out of jail,” Rye interjected for the first time.
“为了把我哥哥从监狱里救出来，”Rye 第一次插嘴。
“Yes!” she said. “And for his equally courageous brother. That’s what we need you to write, Olen, that we came to raise money to launch a second free speech day in Spokane and to hire a lawyer of national caliber to eventually get those five hundred brave men, including Ryan’s only living relative, out of that horrible jail!”
“是的！”“还有他同样勇敢的兄弟。这就是我们需要你写下的，Olen，我们来这里是为了筹集资金，在斯波坎发起第二个言论自由日，并聘请一位具有全国素质的律师，最终将那五百名勇敢的人，包括 Ryan 唯一在世的亲戚，从那个可怕的监狱里救出来！
“Five hundred. Son of a bitch.” Olen was back to scribbling in his notebook. “Is that so?”
“五百。婊子的儿子。Olen 又开始在他的笔记本上涂鸦了。“是这样吗？”
Gurley tapped Olen Parr’s pad with her finger. “Five hundred workers whose only crime was to speak freely in the street and to seek a job without paying a crook for it! The cops filled the jail and filled the brig at Fort Wright, and they locked poor Ryan here in an old school with no heat and no electricity.”
Gurley 用手指敲了敲 Olen Parr 的垫子。“五百名工人，他们唯一的罪过就是在街上自由发言，找工作而不付钱给骗子！警察把监狱和双桅船都塞满了，他们把可怜的瑞安锁在了一所没有暖气和电的老学校里。
“And he’s an orphan, you say?”
“你说他是个孤儿？”
“Son of a bitch,” Rye muttered to himself.
“婊子，”Rye 喃喃自语道。
“The police don’t even wait for them to speak now,” Gurley continued. “Man climbs off a train or asks for directions, they shackle him on the spot. It’s tyranny!” She turned them around a corner, the sidewalk rising up a hill so steep that the side door was on the second floor in front of the building. “You need to see for yourself, Olen. Come! Write about it! It’s a great story. An outrage.”
“警察现在甚至不等他们说话，”格利继续说道。“男人从火车上爬下来或问路，他们当场就给他戴上了脚镣。这是暴政！她把他们转过一个拐角，人行道爬上一座陡峭的山坡，侧门在建筑物前面的二楼。“你得自己看看，奥伦。来！写下来吧！这是一个很棒的故事。令人愤慨。
“Well, we have a committee meeting next week to vote in our bylaws, but I might be able to come after that.”
“嗯，我们下周有一个委员会会议来投票表决我们的章程，但我可能会在那之后来。”
“That will be too late.”
“那太晚了。”
“It’s the bylaws, Gurley.”
“这是章程，Gurley。”
“Well, for God’s sake, at least write something about our trip, Olen. You can do that, can’t you?”
“嗯，看在上帝的份上，至少写点关于我们这次旅行的事情吧，奥伦。你能做到，不是吗？
“Well, sure,” he said, his face flushing.
“嗯，当然，”他说，脸涨得通红。
She tapped his pad again. “In ten days, we’re planning a second free speech action. A week after that, Clarence Darrow is speaking in Boise, and Ryan and I aim to travel there, raising money along the way to hire Darrow to fight this travesty! D-A-R-R-O-W!” She pushed Rye through the revolving door and said back over her shoulder, “Publish, Olen!” She squeezed Rye’s arm and said quietly, “What a waste of blood.”
她又敲了敲他的垫子。“十天后，我们计划进行第二次言论自由行动。一周后，克拉伦斯·达罗 （Clarence Darrow） 将在博伊西发表演讲，瑞安和我打算前往那里，沿途筹集资金以聘请达罗来打击这种荒谬的行为！D-A-R-R-O-W！！难忘她把 Rye 推过旋转门，回头说：“发布，Olen！她捏了捏 Rye 的手臂，轻声说道：“真是浪费血。
Rye glanced back to see Olen Parr through the spinning door and hear the man’s last muffled question: “Gurley, are you pregnant?”
Rye 回头瞥了一眼，透过旋转的门看到 Olen Parr，听到了男人最后一个含糊不清的问题：“Gurley，你怀孕了吗 ？
Seattle’s IWW Hall was half the size of Spokane’s—cramped above a Pioneer Square dry goods store, stage half hidden by beams. The room was dark and smoky, a bog of beards and hats, legs crossing and uncrossing. Rye sat with Gurley in the front row as a local speaker went first—a snerfling, erming lumber bum who couldn’t put three words together—Rye unable to concentrate without imagining the whole town with the same flu bug.
西雅图的 IWW 大厅只有斯波坎的一半大小——位于先锋广场一家干货店上方，舞台有一半被横梁遮挡。房间里漆黑，烟雾缭绕，胡须和帽子堆积如山，双腿交叉又不交叉。Rye 和 Gurley 坐在前排，当地演讲者先走了——一个脾气暴躁、吵吵嚷嚷的笨蛋，三个词都说不出来——Rye 无法集中注意力，除非想象整个小镇都有同样的流感病毒。
Back in Spokane, Gurley had assured the union men she would leave the agitating to others, but throughout the day Rye saw this was impossible. In meeting after meeting, she swept into the room and took it over, whether it was filled with socialists, suffragists, or society women. She got thirty dollars here, fifty there, and a commitment of four women to come to Spokane and help feed the union men. All leading to the main event that night in the IWW Hall, flyers in Pioneer Square announcing: “The Rebel Girl E. Gurley Flynn (Jones) Speaking Tonight 7 p.m. on Spokane Free Speech War.” Onstage, the local organizer was finishing: “Erm, I said my peace, and now the person you come to hear, Mrs. Jack Jones, previously known as, snerf, that fiery girl rebel out of New York and Chicago, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn.”
回到斯波坎后，格利向工会成员保证，她会把煽动工作留给其他人，但一整天里，莱伊都认为这是不可能的。在一次又一次的会议中，她冲进房间并接管了它，无论里面坐满了社会主义者、女权主义者还是社会女性。她在这里得到了 30 美元，在那里得到了 50 美元，并承诺有四名女性来到斯波坎，帮助养活工会的男人。所有这些都导致了当晚在 IWW 大厅举行的主要活动，先锋广场的传单宣布：“叛逆女孩 E. Gurley Flynn （Jones） 今晚 7 点就斯波坎言论自由战争发表演讲。在台上，当地的组织者说完了：“ 呃 ，我说了我的平静，现在你来听的人，杰克·琼斯夫人，以前被称为 snerf，那个来自纽约和芝加哥的火热女孩，伊丽莎白·格利·弗林。
She came out to musty applause, purposefully striding toward the crowd like she might dive in, her toes stopping at the stage edge. She leaned forward. “Listen,” took a few breaths, “brothers and sisters, have we ever seen such trying times?”
她在发霉的掌声中走出来，故意大步走向人群，就像她可能会跳进去一样，她的脚趾停在舞台边缘。她身体前倾。「听着，〝我深吸一口气，『弟兄姊妹们，我们见过这样的艰难时期吗？〝
She went through a list of outrages, fifteen-hour workdays and women dying at their sewing machines, men crushed in cave-ins while their families got nothing, copper kings and shipping magnates living like royalty while poor workers couldn’t even afford a flop bed, families in tents and hovels, workers given no rights and tossed aside when they were too broken or sick or old to work.
她经历了一系列的暴行，每天工作 15 小时，女人死在缝纫机上，男人被压在塌方，而他们的家人一无所有，铜王和航运大亨像皇室一样生活，而贫穷的工人甚至买不起一张破床，家庭住在帐篷和小屋里，工人没有权利，当他们太破、太病或太老而无法工作时被扔到一边。
“Listen,” she spoke softly, so the crowd had to lean in, “I know you believe in a better world—” Then she raised her voice and sat them back in their chairs. “But belief without the will to fight is nothing! And I’m here to tell you the fight is here! Now! In Spokane!” She gestured at Rye and he stood. “This is sixteen-year-old Ryan Dolan, beaten and jailed for trying to speak, for imagining his hard work might one day get him a foothold in this life. He came here with me today to plead for your help and help for his own brother, a political prisoner in a Spokane jail—”
“听着，”她轻声说，所以人群不得不靠过来，“我知道你们相信一个更好的世界——”然后她提高了声音，让他们坐回椅子上。“但是，没有战斗意志的信念就什么都不是 ！我在这里告诉你，战斗就在这里 ！现在！在斯波坎！她向 Rye 做了个手势，他站了起来。“这是 16 岁的瑞恩·多兰 （Ryan Dolan），因为试图说话而被殴打和监禁 ，因为他想象着他的辛勤工作有一天会让他在这辈子站稳脚跟。他今天和我一起来到这里，恳求你的帮助，以及他自己的兄弟，一个在斯波坎监狱里的政治犯——”
They’d rehearsed this part, Rye facing the crowd and telling his story as he always did, starting, “We woke in a ball field—” and continuing to the mob’s attack, Gig’s beating and arrest, his own arrest, the sweatbox, rock pile, bread and water, and then getting out, finding out his friend Jules was dead and that his brother was facing six months in jail, maybe more, for doing nothing more than standing on a crate and singing. And that was why he was here, raising money to hire “the great Clarence Darrow” to help get Gig and the others out of jail.
他们排练了这一部分，Rye 面对人群，像往常一样讲述他的故事，开始说，“我们在球场上醒来——”然后继续到暴徒的袭击，Gig 的殴打和逮捕，他自己的被捕，汗水箱、石堆、面包和水，然后出去，发现他的朋友 Jules 已经死了，他的兄弟面临六个月的牢狱之灾， 也许更多，因为除了站在板条箱上唱歌之外什么都做不了。这就是他来到这里的原因，筹集资金聘请“伟大的克拉伦斯·达罗”来帮助吉格和其他人出狱。
“Thank you, Ryan.” She gave him a nod that he’d done well, and he returned to his seat. She’d added Jones to her name on flyers and posters, but it was all Gurley onstage now, striding about in her big black coat to hide her pregnancy, and which made her appear to float, ethereal, fine dark features on a thin pale face. “This is the fight, brothers and sisters! And it’s not just in Spokane!” She worked the space like a boxer, corner to corner, perched forward as though looking through a high window. “It is anywhere these robber barons own the land and the industry and the agency that sends you to work there! Anywhere men and women are forced to live on the street. Anywhere a handful of copper and timber kings steal the wealth created by the labor of tens of millions and then beat and arrest the very men they’ve robbed for simply asking why!”
“谢谢你，Ryan。”她向他点点头，说他做得很好，然后他回到了自己的座位上。她在传单和海报上把琼斯加在她的名字里，但现在舞台上全是格利 ，穿着她的黑色大衣大步走来走去，以掩盖她的怀孕，这使她在一张瘦弱的苍白脸上显得漂浮、空灵、精致的深色特征。“这就是战斗，兄弟姐妹们！而且不仅仅是在斯波坎！她像拳击手一样在这个空间里工作，从一个角落到另一个角落，向前探视，仿佛透过高高的窗户看东西。“就是这些强盗大亨拥有的任何地方，那里有土地 、 工业和派你去那里工作的机构！任何男人和女人都被迫流落街头的地方。在任何地方，一小撮铜材大王偷走了数千万劳动创造的财富，然后殴打和逮捕了他们抢劫的人，只因为他们问为什么！
Rye had seen his brother jawsmith, and he’d seen Walsh talk an angry crowd out of busting up a job agency, he’d seen storytellers like Jules, and traveling quacks and palmists, and he’d seen the dazzling center fielder Billy Sunday keep a thousand hobos rapt with his jokey preaching (“Goin’ to church don’t make you a Christian any more than goin’ to a garage makes you an automobile”).
Rye 见过他的兄弟 Jawsmith，他见过 Walsh 劝说一群愤怒的人捣毁一家职业介绍所，他见过像 Jules 这样的讲故事的人，以及旅行的江湖骗子和手相师，他见过令人眼花缭乱的中野手 Billy Sunday 用他那幽默的讲道让一千个流浪汉津津乐道（“去教堂不要让你成为基督徒，就像去车库不会让你成为汽车一样”）。
But he’d never seen the likes of Gurley up there.
但他从来没有见过像 Gurley 这样的人。
The crowd was nodding, perched to erupt, but Gurley wouldn’t pause, and she rode their murmuring yeses to a rising chorus. “Brothers and sisters, look around this room, at our bodies, our blood, the fuel for their machine! We can use the same fuel to start a movement! These bodies! This blood! To demand fair pay! Basic medical care! Rights for women, Negroes, Indians! To demand nothing less than the American right to speak out against corruption! Against greed and unfairness! Join us on the front lines, donate money, help young Ryan Dolan and his brother, for when we’ve won in Spokane, we’ll bring the fight here, to Seattle, to San Francisco and Fresno, to Portland and Minneapolis, we will fill a room like this in every building on every block in every city in every state in this country! And our righteousness will spill into the streets, into the lumber camps and mining halls! Join us in Spokane on November twenty-ninth to fight their corruption with our peace, and room by room, street by street, city by city, on rails and docks, in factories and farms, anywhere a workingman or -woman is cheated from a dollar and clings to a freight ladder for life and livelihood, we will stand as one and say, ‘No more! We demand a better world!’ ”
人群点头，准备爆发，但 Gurley 不会停下来，她乘着他们喃喃自语的 Yeses 加入了越来越高的合唱。“弟兄姐妹们，看看这个房间，看看我们的身体，我们的血液， 他们机器的燃料 ！我们可以使用相同的燃料来发起一场运动 ！这些尸体！这血！要求公平的报酬！基本医疗！妇女、黑人、印第安人的权利！要求美国人有权公开反对腐败！反对贪婪和不公平！加入我们的前线，捐款，帮助年轻的 Ryan Dolan 和他的兄弟，因为当我们在斯波坎获胜时，我们会把战斗带到这里，带到西雅图，到旧金山和弗雷斯诺，到波特兰和明尼阿波利斯，我们将在这个国家每个州每个城市的每个街区的每栋建筑中填满这样的房间！而且，我们的公义必洒在街上，洒进伐木场和采矿场！11 月 29 日，加入我们在斯波坎，用我们的和平来打击他们的腐败，一个房间一个房间，一条街一个街，一个城市又一个城市，在铁路和码头上，在工厂和农场里，任何一个工人或女人被骗了一美元，为了生活和生计而紧紧抓住货运梯子的地方，我们将团结一致地站起来说： “不行了！我们要求一个更美好的世界！”
Rye was sitting when all around him people rose up, stomping, cheering. A bucket passed, slopping change and small bills. Gurley, speech over, was swamped by men and women wanting to talk or to touch her, but as Rye stood nearby watching, she ignored them all and walked to the edge of the stage and called over a ragged-looking young woman who had been sitting off by herself.
Rye 正坐着，周围的人都站起来，跺脚，欢呼。一个水桶流过，潦草的零钱和小额钞票。格利说完了，被想要交谈或触摸她的男人和女人淹没了，但当 Rye 站在附近看着时，她无视了他们所有人，走到舞台边缘，叫来了一个看起来衣衫褴褛的年轻女人，她一直独自坐在一旁。
The woman looked to be twenty at most, no stranger to trouble, an opium girl or rustle boxer, Rye guessed. He had noticed her just before the speech, matted hair and a fresh black eye. Now, while the crowd milled, Gurley bent down, took the young woman’s hands, and said something to her. She pulled away and said in a louder voice, “You can do it.” Then she walked along the stage, thanking people as the raggedy woman made eye contact with Rye and hurried from the union hall.
这个女人看起来最多只有二十岁，对麻烦并不陌生，是个鸦片女孩或沙沙作响的拳击手，Rye 猜想。他在演讲前就注意到了她，一头乱蓬蓬的头发和一双清新的黑眼睛。现在，当人群喧嚣时，格利弯下腰，握住这位年轻女子的手，对她说了些什么。她拉开距离，大声说：“你能做到的。然后她走上舞台，向人们表示感谢，而这个衣衫褴褛的女人与 Rye 进行了眼神交流，然后匆匆离开了工会大厅。
Most people waiting at the stage just wanted to thank Gurley or to hand her an envelope with a donation it. These went so swiftly into the big coat that Rye thought she’d have made a good sleight-of-hand grifter if she hadn’t been such a terrific union agitator.
大多数等待在舞台上的人只是想感谢 Gurley 或递给她一个装有捐款的信封。这些东西很快就进了大衣里，以至于莱伊觉得，如果她不是一个如此出色的工会煽动者，她会成为一个很好的狡猾的骗子。
A few people wanted to talk to Rye, too—a woman in a bonnet asking about his brother, an older man thanking him, a floater saying he’d be in Spokane at the end of the month for the next free speech action. One woman said she had a sister in Spokane, “Agnes Poole? Married to a furniture man? Carl Poole? I don’t like Carl much, no one does. Do you know him?”
有几个人也想和 Rye 谈谈——一个戴着帽子的女人问他的兄弟，一个年长的男人感谢他，一个漂浮的人说他将于月底在斯波坎参加下一次言论自由行动。一位女士说她在斯波坎有一个姐姐，“艾格尼丝·普尔？嫁给了一个家具商？卡尔·普尔？我不太喜欢 Carl，没有人喜欢。你认识他吗？
Rye was relieved when a tall man in a Stetson grabbed his arm to make a plea for sabotage instead of peaceful protest. “Son, you know all this talk ain’t worth a well-placed spike in a tree.”
当一个穿着 Stetson 的高个子男人抓住他的手臂，恳求破坏而不是和平抗议时，Rye 松了一口气。“孩子，你知道这些话都不值得在树上插一根合适的钉子。”
“That’s what I’ve tried to tell him,” said a familiar voice.
“这就是我试图告诉他的，”一个熟悉的声音说。
Rye turned to see Early Reston, still as a rock in a stream in that crowd, hands in his trousers pockets, hat tilted forward.
Rye 转过身来，看到 Early Reston，他仍然像那群人中溪流中的一块石头，双手插在裤兜里，帽子向前倾斜。
“Early!” Rye left the saboteur and walked over.
“早点！”Rye 离开了破坏者，走了过去。
“Look at you,” Early said. “I leave for two weeks and you go become a famous radical.”
“看看你，”Early 说。“我离开两周，你去成为一个著名的激进分子。”
They had a tussling handshake and Early put a hand on Rye’s shoulder and became serious. “I’m sorry about your brother. And Jules.” He shook his head. “I should have made him come with me.”
他们争吵了一下握手，Early 把手放在 Rye 的肩膀上，变得严肃起来。“我对不起你哥哥。还有朱尔斯。他摇摇头。“我应该让他跟我走的。”
Early said that after leaving Spokane, he’d made his way to Seattle and was scraping up day jobs when he saw on a poster in Pioneer Square that Elizabeth Gurley Flynn was in town to talk about the trouble in Spokane. “I figured Gig might be caught up in this, but I didn’t imagine I’d find you here.” He chewed his bottom lip. “I hope what I did to that cop didn’t make things worse for you fellas.”
Early 说，离开斯波坎后，他去了西雅图，正在找日间工作，这时他在先锋广场的海报上看到伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 在城里谈论斯波坎的麻烦。“我以为 Gig 可能被卷入其中，但我没想到我会在这里找到你。”他咬着下嘴唇。“我希望我对那个警察所做的事不会让你们这些家伙的情况变得更糟。”
Rye shrugged. “They were going hard at us anyway.”
Rye 耸耸肩。“无论如何，他们都在狠狠地攻击我们。”
“Well, I’m still sorry for it, Rye.”
“嗯，我还是为此感到抱歉，Rye。”
Their reunion was cut short by raised voices.
他们的重逢被更高的声音打断了。
Rye turned to see an older, gray-haired man yelling at Gurley from just below the stage. The man was possibly hard of hearing, or just angry, because in his opinion, her speech had “devolved into a screed about women’s suffrage!”
Rye 转过身来，看到一个年长的灰发男人从舞台下面对 Gurley 大喊大叫。这个男人可能听不见，或者只是生气，因为在他看来，她的演讲已经“沦为对妇女选举权的尖锐批评！
“A screed—” she said.
“一块碎石——”她说。
“Yes, a screed!” the man said. He reminded Rye of the older labor bosses in the union office, yelling at Gurley like she was a child. “A screed that hardens the listener’s heart against the merits of what could be an otherwise honorable message, the cause of justice for the poor!”
“是的，一块碎屑！”他让 Rye 想起了工会办公室里那些年长的劳工老板，像个孩子一样对 Gurley 大吼大叫。“一声尖锐的嘲讽，使听众的心变得坚硬，反对本来可以成为光荣的信息，为穷人伸张正义的事业！”
Rye could see that from the edge of the stage, Gurley was smiling at the old man. He marveled at her calm but thought he saw something else in her eyes, too—a hint of mischief. “With all due respect, sir,” she said, “I do not believe justice will ever be truly possible, economic or otherwise, for any human being, until we have once and for all emancipated the vagina.”
Rye 可以看到，从舞台边缘，Gurley 正在对这位老人微笑。他对她的平静感到惊奇，但又觉得他也在她的眼睛里看到了别的东西——一丝恶作剧。“恕我直言，先生，”她说，“我不相信，在我们一劳永逸地解放阴道之前 ，对任何人来说，无论是经济的还是其他的，正义是真的可能的。
The man sputtered. He took a step back and was still sputtering, red-faced above his priest’s collar, when he rushed past Rye and out the door.
男人结结巴巴地说。他后退了一步，仍然咕噜咕噜地咕噜咕噜地走着，红着脸盖在牧师的衣领上，这时他冲过莱伊，冲出了门。
They had raised nearly $250, a fourth of their goal, the Seattle IWW leader, Garrett, pointing out that they might’ve done even better “if you hadn’t decided to end the evening by yelling profanities at a priest.”
他们筹集了近 250 美元，这是他们目标的四分之一，西雅图 IWW 负责人加勒特指出，“如果你没有决定以对牧师大喊大叫来结束这个夜晚”，他们可能会做得更好。
“He was yelling,” she said, “I was quite calm.”
“ 他在大喊大叫，”她说，“我很冷静。
In addition to the money, a dozen men had promised to come to Spokane for the second free speech protest, including, to Rye’s great surprise, Early Reston.
除了这笔钱，还有十几个人答应来斯波坎参加第二次言论自由抗议活动，其中包括令 Rye 大吃一惊的 Early Reston。
Rye had just introduced Gurley Flynn, “Early here was the man at the river I was telling you about who got some good licks in the day we got rousted,” when Early surprised Rye by taking off his hat and bowing.
Rye 刚刚介绍了 Gurley Flynn，“早些时候，我告诉你的那个在河边的人，在我们被舔的那天，他得到了一些很好的舔舐，”这时 Early 摘下帽子鞠躬，让 Rye 大吃一惊。
“You are some speaker,” he said to her. “By the time you finished, you’d half convinced me to come back to Spokane and join up.”
“你是个演讲者，”他对她说。“当你完成时，你已经半信半疑地说服我回到斯波坎加入。”
“Just half?” she said.
“就一半？”
“Maybe more than that,” he said.
“也许不止于此，”他说。
Rye looked sideways at Early.
Rye 侧头看着 Early。
“I’d do it for Gig,” he said. “And you and Jules. You all took a beating for me.”
“我会为 Gig 做这件事，”他说。“还有你和朱尔斯。你们都为我挨了一顿揍。
“Why don’t you come with us now,” Gurley said. “To Montana. I’m supposed to travel with two men anyway, for security, and Ryan speaks well of you.” She said she had union funds to buy him a train ticket.
“你为什么不现在就跟我们走，”格利说。“去蒙大拿州。无论如何，为了安全起见，我应该和两个男人一起旅行，而且 Ryan 对你说得很好。她说她有工会资金给他买火车票。
“Yeah?” He looked at Rye and then back to Gurley. “Well. Okay. But I’m not singing. And if some cop comes at me with a nightstick, I can’t promise I won’t—”
“是吗？”他看了看 Rye，然后又看向 Gurley。“嗯。好。但我不是在唱歌。而且，如果有警察拿着夜棍来找我，我不能保证我不会——”
“No,” she said. “No violence. That’s the one rule.” She put out her hand. Early stared at it a moment, as if not used to shaking with a woman.
“不，”她说。“没有暴力。这是一条规则。她伸出手。Early 盯着它看了一会儿，仿佛不习惯和女人一起颤抖。
“All right,” he said, and gripped her hand. “But I’m still not singing.”
“好吧，”他说，然后握住了她的手。“但我还是不唱歌。”
When everyone had left the hall, Gurley took Rye’s arm, and he walked her down the busy street toward her boardinghouse.
当大家都离开大厅后，格利挽着莱伊的胳膊，带着她沿着繁忙的街道走向她的寄宿公寓。
“You did a fine job today, Ryan,” she said.
“你今天做得很好，Ryan，”她说。
“You’re the best speaker I ever heard,” he said.
“你是我听过的最好的演讲者，”他说。
She took the compliment without comment. Rye remembered what Lem Brand had said, that Gurley didn’t care about workers like him. “But I wanted to ask. Do you think you could change one thing in your speech?”
她接受了赞美，没有发表任何评论。Rye 想起了 Lem Brand 说过的话，Gurley 不在乎像他这样的工人。“但我想问。你觉得你能改变你演讲中的一件事吗？
She stopped walking and turned to face him.
她停下脚步，转身面对他。
“You keep calling me a sixteen-year-old orphan,” he said.
“你一直叫我 16 岁的孤儿，”他说。
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She touched her chest. “Is it terribly demeaning? At times the story overwhelms me and I get carried away.”
“哦，对不起。”她摸了摸自己的胸口。“这是非常贬低的吗？有时这个故事让我不知所措，我得意忘形。
“No, I understand that. It’s just . . .” He hesitated. “Well, today I’m seventeen.”
“不，我明白。只是 . . .他犹豫了。“嗯，今天我十七岁了。”
The hand that had been on her heart now covered her mouth. And when she removed it, she was smiling. “Come on,” she said, and she pulled him up Second Avenue, through the mist, dodging the streetcar-auto-and-horse-hustle. At Yesler Way, she steered him into a building with a fancy scripted sign: G. O. GUY DRUG STORE.
那只一直放在她心上的手现在捂住了她的嘴。当她取下它时，她面带微笑。“来吧，”她说，然后拉着他走上第二大道，穿过薄雾，躲避着有轨电车和马车的喧嚣。在 Yesler Way，她带他进了一栋建筑，上面有一个花哨的脚本标志：G. O. GUY 药店。
Gurley spread both hands on the soda counter and beamed. “My gentleman friend and I are celebrating, and we would like two ice cream sodas.”
Gurley 把双手摊在苏打水柜台上，露出笑容。“我和我的绅士朋友正在庆祝，我们想要两杯冰淇淋苏打水。”
Gentleman friend! Rye watched the man at the counter produce two big glasses, thin at the bottom, wide at the top. He pulled vanilla sodas from the tap and dropped two plops of ice cream in each, the soda fizzing around them.
绅士朋友！ Rye 看着柜台前的男人拿出两个大玻璃杯，底部很薄，顶部很宽。他从水龙头里抽出香草苏打水，每瓶都滴了两杯冰淇淋，苏打水在他们周围嘶嘶作响。
They carried their ice cream sodas to a wrought iron table, Rye reluctant to take a bite. He’d had ice cream and he’d had soda and liked them so much separately that he worried they’d be ruined together. But the soda made the ice cream melt slowly and the ice cream made the soda colder. It was creamy and delicious, and he felt another pang of guilt about having such a treat while his brother sat in jail.
他们把冰淇淋苏打水端到一张锻铁桌上，Rye 不愿意咬一口。他吃过冰淇淋，也喝过苏打水，他非常喜欢把它们分开吃，以至于他担心它们会一起毁掉。但是苏打水使冰淇淋慢慢融化，而冰淇淋使苏打水变冷。它又是奶油又美味，当他的哥哥坐牢时，他却能吃到这样的款待，他又感到一阵愧疚。
Gurley was stirring hers slowly. “My mother used to take us for ice cream sodas when she earned a little extra from sewing. We didn’t tell Father.” She hummed at the memory and finally took a bite. “Ryan? Do you ever think back with regret on the choices you’ve made?”
格利慢慢地搅动着她的。“我妈妈以前从缝纫中赚了一点额外的钱时，会带我们去吃冰淇淋苏打水。我们没有告诉爸爸。她哼着歌回忆，最后咬了一口。“瑞安？你有没有后悔过你所做的选择？
He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Had he made choices? He hadn’t really thought of it that way. Since his mother died, he’d bounced from job to flop to train—sleep here, sleep there—was that a choice? There were things he felt bad about, stealing chickens from an icebox, letting a tramp press against him on a cold night, but really, the first choice he remembered making was to step on the soapbox after Gig got knocked from it.
他不知道该怎么回答。 他做出了选择吗 ？他真的没有这么想过。自从他母亲去世后，他就从工作到失败再到训练——睡在这里，睡在那里——这是一个选择吗？有些事情他感觉很糟糕，从冰箱里偷鸡，在寒冷的夜晚让流浪汉压在他身上，但实际上， 他记得的第一个选择是在 Gig 被撞倒后踩在肥皂盒上。
Then Rye thought about Lem Brand’s warm library, the twenty dollars in his hand. There was a choice. And a regret. He had tried to tell Brand nothing important that day—only things that were already in the newspaper—but he knew what he’d done was wrong. He looked up at Gurley now, worried that the guilt was written on his face. But she was lost in her own thoughts.
然后 Rye 想起了 Lem Brand 温暖的图书馆，想起了他手里的 20 美元。有一个选择。还有一个遗憾。那天他试图告诉布兰德什么重要的事情——只告诉报纸上已经发生的事情——但他知道他所做的是错的。他抬头看着格利，担心他的脸上写满了愧疚。但她却迷失在自己的思绪中。
“When I was fifteen, my mother took me to see Vincent Saint John speak about the labor troubles in the west. He was dashing. I couldn’t stop staring at his mangled hand—he’d been shot in a dispute in Minnesota.” She laughed, then leaned forward, confiding. “It’s a grave disappointment: the discovery that you have a type.”
“我 15 岁时，我妈妈带我去看文森特·圣约翰 （Vincent Saint John） 谈论西部的劳工问题。他很潇洒。我忍不住盯着他那只伤痕累累的手——他是在明尼苏达州的一场争执中被枪杀的。她笑了起来，然后身体前倾，倾诉道。“这真是令人大失所望：发现你有一种类型 。”
Not long after that, she said, a note arrived at her house from a Broadway producer named David Belasco. “He’d read about my arrest in the newspaper, and he invited Mother and me to see a play he was staging, The Girl of the Golden West, about a frontier saloon woman who falls for a notorious outlaw. It was a terrible play, although I must confess some stirring when the outlaw came on. Blanche Bates played the girl, and I recall my mother saying, ‘Well, at least her bosom can act.’ ”
她说，不久之后，她家收到了一张纸条，来自一位名叫大卫·贝拉斯科（David Belasco）的百老汇制片人。“他在报纸上读到我被捕的消息，他邀请我和妈妈去看他正在上演的戏剧《 金色西部的女孩》（The Girl of the Golden West），该剧讲述了一个边境酒吧的女人爱上一个臭名昭著的亡命之徒的故事。这是一场可怕的戏剧，尽管我必须承认，当这个亡命之徒出现时，我感到有些激动。布兰奇·贝茨 （Blanche Bates） 扮演这个女孩，我记得我妈妈说，'嗯，至少她的胸部可以表演。
Rye glanced around the soda fountain, but the only person listening was an older man with a bulbous red nose, wearing a tweed suit, who sat over Gurley’s shoulder. He had lowered his newspaper at the word bosom but now lifted it back up
Rye 环顾了一下苏打水喷泉，但唯一能听到的是一个长着球状红鼻子的老人，他穿着粗花呢西装，坐在 Gurley 的肩膀上。他本来把报纸放低到“胸前”这个词，但现在又把它举起来了.
“After the play, we were led upstairs to Belasco’s office, and he asked if I might be interested in a career as an actress. He was producing a play about a young labor activist, and he thought having the real ‘East Side Joan of Arc’ could generate great publicity. ‘No, thank you,’ I told him, ‘and anyway, I’m from the Bronx.’ ” Gurley shook her head at the memory. “Mother was furious with me. Here was my chance for an independent life, on the stage! But I told her I would choose my own path and that she should not pass off her unlived ambitions to me.
“演出结束后，我们被带到楼上贝拉斯科的办公室，他问我是否对演员的职业感兴趣。他正在制作一部关于一位年轻劳工活动家的戏剧，他认为拥有真正的“东区圣女贞德”可以产生巨大的宣传。“不，谢谢你，”我告诉他，“不管怎样，我来自布朗克斯。“格利对这段回忆摇了摇头。”妈妈对我很生气。这是我在舞台上独立生活的机会！但我告诉她，我会选择自己的路，她不应该把她未实现的抱负交给我。
“The next year, I went to my first IWW convention. That trip changed me, the factories, the mining camps, the great stands of forest and mountains. I just wanted to keep traveling, going west, one more train stop. I did not want to go home, Ryan. It was like . . . falling in love.”
“第二年，我参加了我的第一个 IWW 大会。那次旅行改变了我，改变了工厂、采矿营地、大片森林和山脉。我只想继续旅行，向西行驶，再坐一站火车。我不想回家，Ryan。就像 . . .坠入爱河。
She smiled at the memory. “And that’s where I met Jack. He was a miner and a union organizer on the Mesabi Range. His eyes, oh, I can’t tell you. So when Vincent Saint John suggested I take a speaking tour of the west, starting in Minnesota, I jumped at the chance.
她对这段回忆微笑。“我就是在那里遇到了 Jack。他是 Mesabi Range 的一名矿工和工会组织者。他的眼睛，哦，我不能告诉你。因此，当 Vincent Saint John 建议我从明尼苏达州开始到西部进行一次演讲时，我抓住了这个机会。
“But my parents were furious, and Mr. Saint John came to plead my case and to reassure them. He said I would stay in decent boardinghouses with matrons and that he would have two men assigned to my security. As he explained all of this, though, my mother just stood in our living room with her arms crossed. ‘And who,’ she said, ‘will you assign to protect these men from her?’ ”
“但我的父母很生气，圣约翰先生来为我的案子辩护并安抚他们。他说我会和保姆一起住在体面的寄宿公寓里，他会指派两个人帮我看守。然而，当他解释这一切时，我妈妈只是站在我们的客厅里，双臂交叉。“那么，”她说，“你会指派谁来保护这些人不受她的影响呢？”
Rye blushed again and looked down.
Rye 又红了脸，低下头。
“I was so humiliated! I dragged her to the kitchen and we yelled at each other, but she wouldn’t budge. I had just turned your age, seventeen, which she thought was too young to travel to rough labor camps and western towns alone. Besides, she reminded me, I had promised that I would finish high school. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. High school? Should I ask Jack Jones and Vincent Saint John to wait a few months for the revolution while I took my exams in comportment and had my final piano recital? Or perhaps my mother preferred I stay home and marry a Newark bookkeeper who would spend the rest of his life fumbling at my skirts while I learned to boil cabbage?
“我太丢脸了！我把她拖到厨房，我们互相大吼大叫，但她不肯让步。我刚满十七岁，她觉得你太小了，不能独自去艰苦的劳改营和西部城镇。此外，她提醒我，我曾承诺过我会完成高中学业。我简直不敢相信我所听到的。 高中？ 我是否应该让杰克·琼斯和文森特·圣约翰等几个月等到革命来临，同时我参加举止考试并举行最后的钢琴独奏会？或者，也许我妈妈宁愿我留在家里，嫁给一个纽瓦克的簿记员，他会用他的余生摸索我的裙子，而我却学着煮卷心菜？
“Mother threw her arms in the air. At the very least, I could admit there were choices in life other than bookkeeper’s wife and miner’s whore!”
“妈妈把她的手臂扔向空中。至少，我可以承认，除了簿记员的妻子和矿工的妓女之外，生活中还有其他选择！
Rye glanced around the soda fountain. The old man in tweed was peering over his newspaper again, but Gurley didn’t seem to care, in mid-performance, replaying this fight with her mother.
Rye 环顾了一下苏打水喷泉。那个穿着粗花呢的老人又在看他的报纸，但格利似乎并不在乎，在表演中，她重播了与她母亲的这场争吵。
“I yelled back at her, ‘At least a whore has the good sense to get her money up front!’ ” Gurley shook her head. “Oh, it was a horrible thing to say. My father had never been much of a provider, except of stories. Mother slapped me. And I slapped her back. And she slapped me again. And I knew better than to go another round with Ann Gurley. We faced off like prizefighters in the kitchen while the great Vincent Saint John sat patiently in our parlor, awaiting my answer and listening to my father dither on about some speech he’d given about home rule back in 1890.
“我对她吼道，'至少妓女有很好的意识，可以预先把钱拿出来！'“格利摇摇头。”哦，说起来真是太可怕了。我父亲从来不是一个供养者，除了讲故事。妈妈打了我一巴掌。我打了她的后背。她又打了我一巴掌。我知道最好不要再和 Ann Gurley 打一轮。我们在厨房里像斗士一样对峙，而伟大的文森特·圣约翰（Vincent Saint John）耐心地坐在我们的客厅里，等待我的回答，听我父亲喋喋不休地讲述他在 1890 年发表的一些关于地方自治的演讲。
“That’s when my mother’s face changed. It was as if, in that moment, she suddenly became an older version of herself, and the rage drained from her eyes.
“就在那时，我妈妈的脸色变了。仿佛在那一刻，她突然变成了一个老年的自己，愤怒从她的眼中流走。
“ ‘I am going, Mother,’ I said.
“'我要走了，妈妈，'我说。
“ ‘I know you are,’ she said. And she looked around this kitchen, this place she worked twelve hours a day, cooked three meals and sewed and darned for extra money, where she would live and die, and where I would have died, or some kitchen like it, had she not raised me to break out. She sighed and took my hand and said, ‘Give ’em hell, Gurley.’ ”
“'我知道你是，'她说。她环顾这个厨房，这个地方她每天工作十二个小时，做三顿饭，缝纫和做饭，赚点钱，她会在那里生活和死亡，我也会死在那里，或者像什么厨房，如果她没有把我养大，让我闯出一片天。她叹了口气，拉着我的手说，'给他们下地狱吧，格利。”
Rye’s ice cream soda was long gone, the glass licked so clean it barely needed washing.
黑麦的冰淇淋苏打水早就不见了，玻璃杯舔得很干净，几乎不需要清洗。
“Look at me going on,” Gurley said. She slid her glass forward. “Please, finish mine. My stomach is unsettled.”
“看看我继续前进，”格利说。她把酒杯往前滑。“拜托，完成我的。我的胃很不安。
“No,” Rye said, “you should eat it.”
“不，”莱伊说，“你应该吃它。
“For your birthday,” she said, “please.”
“祝你生日快乐，”她说，“拜托了。
A woman passed by smiling, and Rye became aware that they must look like sweethearts, him in his secondhand lawyer’s clothes and bowler, Gurley in her big black coat—a young couple sharing an ice cream, not a pregnant nineteen-year-old revolutionary and a seventeen-year-old orphan who was days removed from a jail sweatbox. He imagined them as real sweethearts, and the thought caused him to blush.
一个女人微笑着走过，Rye 意识到他们一定看起来像心上人，他穿着二手律师服和圆顶礼帽，Gurley 穿着她的黑色大衣——一对分享冰淇淋的年轻夫妇，而不是一个怀孕的 19 岁革命者和一个从监狱汗水箱中被带走几天的 17 岁孤儿。他把他们想象成真正的甜心，这个想法让他脸红了。
He looked around the room, but no one else seemed to be looking at them. Even the tweed man with the bulbous nose had gotten up and left. Rye finished Gurley’s ice cream and they left the drugstore. Outside, a woman was leaning on a light post. She straightened when they came out.
他环顾房间，但似乎没有其他人在看他们。就连那个长着球状鼻子的粗花呢男人也起身离开了。Rye 吃完了 Gurley 的冰淇淋，他们离开了药店。外面，一个女人靠在一根灯柱上。当他们出来时，她挺直了身体。
It was the woman with the black eye Gurley had spoken to after her speech. “I followed you from the hall,” she said. “I hope that’s okay.”
那是格利在演讲后与之交谈的那个黑眼睛的女人。“我从大厅里跟着你，”她说。“我希望没关系。”
“Of course,” Gurley said. “Ryan, this is Carol Anne.”
“当然，”格利说。“Ryan，我是 Carol Anne。”
Carol Anne wouldn’t even look at him.
卡罗尔·安妮甚至不愿看他一眼。
Gurley turned to him. “I’m sorry, Ryan, would you excuse us a moment?”
格利转向他。“对不起，Ryan，你能请原谅我们一下吗？”
She walked the woman halfway down the block. On the sidewalk, people made a wide berth around the thin woman, but Gurley held her hand, nodded, and listened. Then Gurley reached into the pocket of the black coat, pulled something out, and pressed it into the woman’s hands. The woman shook her head no, but Gurley nodded as if she were insisting. She patted the woman’s hand and seemed surprised when she suddenly gave Gurley a hug.
她带着那个女人走了半个街区。在人行道上，人们围着这个瘦弱的女人走得很远，但格利握着她的手，点头，然后倾听。然后，格利把手伸进黑色外套的口袋里，掏出什么东西，塞进女人的手里。女人摇头说没有，但格利点点头，仿佛她在坚持。她拍了拍那个女人的手，当她突然给了 Gurley 一个拥抱时，她似乎很惊讶。
The woman continued down the street. When she rounded the block, Gurley returned to Rye and took his arm again and they began walking back toward the hotel and boardinghouse.
那个女人继续沿着街走。当她绕过街区时，Gurley 回到 Rye 身边，再次挽着他的手臂，他们开始向酒店和寄宿公寓走去。
“Did you see her eye?” she asked.
“你看到她的眼睛了吗？”
“Yes,” Rye said.
“是的，”Rye 说。
“Her sister’s husband did that and much worse, I’m afraid. She would be in danger if she didn’t leave, so I advised her to catch a train and get out of town immediately. She has family in California, cousins, so she’s going there.
“她姐姐的丈夫做了那样的事情，恐怕更糟糕。如果她不离开，她会有危险，所以我建议她赶火车立即离开城镇。她在加利福尼亚有家人，是表亲，所以她要去那里。
“Oh, and another thing,” she added. “I had believed we raised two hundred fifty dollars tonight, but due to a bookkeeping error, it was closer to two hundred.”
“哦，还有一件事，”她补充道。“我本来以为我们今晚筹集了 250 美元，但由于记账错误，它接近 200 美元。”
They had reached the door of her boardinghouse. Rye could see through the window the house matron sitting next to a fire with a cup of tea. “A bookkeeping error,” he said.
他们已经到了她的寄宿公寓门口。Rye 可以透过窗户看到女主人坐在火堆旁，手里拿着一杯茶。“记账错误，”他说。
“Yes,” she said.
“是的，”她说。
Rye looked at her closely. How had he imagined they might be sweethearts? She lived such a different life, not just married and expecting a child but commanding a union fight against a whole city, this slip of a girl who fired up rooms full of workers and decided on a whim to pay a poor beaten girl to get out of town. It seemed silly that he had imagined what it might be like to kiss her. What he wondered now was what it might be like to be her.
Rye 仔细地看着她。他怎么想到他们可能是恋人呢？她过着如此不同的生活，不仅仅是结婚并期待一个孩子，而且指挥了一场反对整个城市的工会斗争，这个女孩的失误让满屋子的工人都上瘾，一时兴起决定付钱给一个可怜的被打败的女孩离开这个城市。他想象着亲吻她会是什么样子，这似乎很愚蠢。他现在想知道的是成为她会是什么样子 。
“I hope it was the priest’s money,” Rye said.
“我希望这是牧师的钱，”莱伊说。
She stared at him a moment and a wide smile slowly spread on her face. “I don’t believe he donated,” she said.
她盯着他看了一会儿，脸上慢慢地绽放出灿烂的笑容。“我不相信他捐了钱，”她说。
“Too bad,” Rye said.
“太糟糕了，”Rye 说。
She enveloped him in a hug. “Thank you, Ryan,” she said into his ear. “I needed this. Happy birthday.”
她用一个拥抱拥抱了他。“谢谢你，Ryan，”她在他耳边说。“我需要这个。生日快乐。
Rye watched her walk up the steps, the matronly figure in the window rising to greet her.
Rye 看着她走上台阶，窗外那个娇小的身影站起来向她打招呼。
He walked down the street to his own dank hotel, got his key from the ghost at the desk, and went up the narrow stairs to his room, still feeling the pressure of her hand on his arm. So strange, the turns of life. Gig in jail, him here in Seattle with someone like Gurley.
他沿着街道走到他自己阴暗的旅馆，从柜台的鬼魂那里拿到了钥匙，然后走上狭窄的楼梯回到了他的房间，仍然感觉到她的手压在他的手臂上。太奇怪了，生活的转折。在监狱里演出，他在西雅图和像 Gurley 这样的人在一起。
Rye turned the key and slid inside the door. A man was sitting on his bed.
Rye 转动钥匙，滑进了门。一个男人坐在他的床上。
“Who are you?” Rye asked.
“你是谁？”Rye 问道。
He was an older man, sixty at least, in a gray tweed coat and trousers, with a great flourish of a tie. But it was his red, veined nose that drew Rye’s eye, and he recognized him as the man from the drugstore.
他是个年纪较大的人，至少有六十岁左右，穿着灰色粗花呢外套和裤子，打着华丽的领带。但吸引 Rye 注意的是他那红肿的鼻子，他认出他是药店里的男人。
“How was your ice cream, Mr. Dolan? To your satisfaction, I hope?” He spoke with the western remnants of a British accent, like something fancy covered in dust. Rye remembered the voice from the train seat behind him when they’d arrived in Seattle, pointing out the window at men blasting away Denny Hill.
“你的冰淇淋怎么样，多兰先生？我希望你满意吗？他说话时带着残存的英国口音，就像被灰尘覆盖的花哨东西。Rye 记得他们到达西雅图时，他身后火车座位上传来的声音，指着窗外轰炸 Denny Hill 的男人。
“Who are you?” Rye repeated.
“你是谁？”Rye 重复道。
“I’ve been sent to collect the debt you owe Mr. Brand.”
“我被派去收你欠布兰德先生的债。”
Rye was confused. “He wants his twenty dollars back?”
Rye 感到困惑。“他想把他的二十块钱拿回来？”
The man laughed. “No. He does not want his twenty dollars back.”
那人笑了起来。“不。他不要拿回他的二十块钱。
None of it made sense to Rye. “Who are you?” he asked a third time.
这些对 Rye 来说都没有意义。“你是谁？”
“Oh yes, forgive me, where are my manners?” The man stood and removed his hat and held out his hand. “My name is—”
“哦，对了，原谅我，我的礼仪在哪里？”那人站起来，摘下帽子，伸出手。“我的名字是——”
SPOKANE GAVE me the morbs. Right blood blister of a town. Six-month millionaires and skunk-hobos, and none in between, Spokane a gilded carriage passing by peasants bathing in the very river they shat in.
SPOKANE 给了我 morbs。一个小镇的血泡。六个月的百万富翁和臭鼬流浪汉，没有介于两者之间，斯波坎是一辆镀金的马车，经过在他们赖以生存的河流中沐浴的农民。
Last place I wanted to go, but the job was the job, so I packed three shirts and lingered a minute over which barking iron to take (in the end I went small, loud, and kicky, the .32 Savage automatic). I caught first-class Denver to Billings, my first day sober in a month spent crossing Montana, then two hours over the Idaho panhandle toward the Washington border, and that’s when the old morbid voice rattled up: Careful, Del—
我想去的最后一个地方，但工作就是工作，所以我收拾了三件衬衫，徘徊了一分钟，想着该带哪把吠叫的铁杆（最后我变小了，声音大了，踢了 .32 Savage 自动手枪）。我赶上了从丹佛到比林斯的头等舱，我穿越蒙大拿州一个月来第一天清醒，然后两个小时越过爱达荷州狭长地带向华盛顿边境走去，就在这时，那个病态的老声音嘎嘎作响： 小心，德尔——
At Hope, I slipped the porter a buck for a whiskey, then another when the train slowed the last five miles, forest, foothills, farms, and finally, Spokane.
在霍普，我给搬运工买了一杯威士忌，然后在火车减速最后五英里时又偷了一美元，森林、山麓、农场，最后是斯波坎。
I couldn’t believe how the syphilitic town had metastasized. Smoke seeped from twenty thousand chimneys, pillars to an endless gray ceiling. The city was twice the size of the last time I’d hated being there. A box of misery spilled over the whole river valley.
我简直不敢相信这个梅毒小镇是怎么转移的。烟雾从两万个烟囱、柱子和无尽的灰色天花板中渗出。这座城市的面积是我上次讨厌在那里时的两倍。一箱痛苦溢出了整个河谷。
I was half rats by the time we settled in the station. The voice again: Go home, Del. You don’t need this. But my doctor wasn’t likely to take reputation as payment. You can do this, I said back. Ten years a Pinkerton, ten more with Allied, and twenty a freelance, I had survived worse.
当我们在车站安顿下来时，我已经是半只老鼠了。声音又响了起来： 回家吧，德尔。你不需要这个。 但我的医生不太可能把声誉当作报酬 。你可以这样做， 我回答说。在平克顿工作了十年，在盟军又工作了十年，做了二十年自由职业者，我活得更糟。
And money was good. The kind of money I hadn’t seen since the mining wars, this Brand offering me prime pay (Dear Detective Dalveaux, My associates and I would like to inquire . . . ) and a bit of my old station in the letter, but also I suspected the job lived on the outskirts of what I was willing to do—and I’d done plenty: undercover with the Molly Maguires in my youth and the unionists in middle age. I had broke, beat, and buried men.
而且钱很好。自从采矿战争以来我就没有见过的那种钱，这个品牌为我提供了主要的薪水（ 亲爱的侦探 Dalveaux，我和我的同事想打听一下...... ）和我在信中提到了一点我以前的职位，但我也怀疑这份工作位于我愿意做的事情的边缘——我已经做了很多事情：年轻时与莫莉·马奎尔 （Molly Maguires） 一起卧底，中年与工会成员一起卧底。我打破、殴打和埋葬了男人。
Spokane had a fancy new train station since I’d been through, built on an island just this side of the falls, three stories of brick and optimism. On the platform, I made the mistake of looking up, and a ripe ass told me I was gazing upon the biggest clock west of Chicago, 155 feet tall with four nine-foot faces. The ripe ass also said Spokane had the biggest beer hall and the biggest theater stage in the world, and I fancied shooting him in the teeth if he didn’t shut up. I can suffer any fool, but a booster turns my guts.
自从我经过斯波坎后，斯波坎就有了一个漂亮的新火车站，建在瀑布这边的一个岛上，三层砖砌而成，让人乐观向上。在平台上，我错误地抬头看了一眼，一只成熟的驴子告诉我，我正在凝视着芝加哥以西最大的时钟，它有 155 英尺高，有四个 9 英尺高的面。那个成熟的屁股还说斯波坎有世界上最大的啤酒馆和最大的剧院舞台，如果他不闭嘴，我就想朝他的牙齿开枪。我可以忍受任何傻瓜，但助推器会让我胆子大转。
“You know what else you should see while you’re here?” he said.
“你知道你在这里的时候还能看到什么吗？”
“Is it only you,” I said, “or is every man in this town an insufferable cunt?”
“是只有你一个人，”我说，“还是这个镇上的每个人都是个令人难以忍受的傻瓜？
Before he could answer, a thick lug in a driver’s cap stepped forward from a line of porters. Stared at my nose. A lot of things a man can hide, but not that grog-blossom map of life. “Mr. Dalveaux? Please follow me, sir.”
在他回答之前，一个戴着驾驶帽的粗耳从一排搬运工中走了出来。盯着我的鼻子。男人可以隐藏很多东西，但不是那张盛开的人生地图。“达尔沃先生？请跟我来，先生。
I stepped after the driver, but I noticed his socks were silk. His arm swung cuff links. Good Christ, this tiresome business. A fancy monger pretending to be his own driver, cap and all, reaching for the bags like a servant.
我跟在司机后面，但我注意到他的袜子是丝绸的。他的手臂挥舞着袖扣。天哪，这件令人厌烦的事情。一个花哨的小贩假装是自己的司机、帽子和所有东西，像仆人一样伸手去拿袋子。
How to play it? Get rumbumptious or let him have his fun? I went down the middle, didn’t want him to play me, but didn’t want him canked yet, either: “Thank you, Mr. Brand,” I said, and he looked surprised over his shoulder. I liked the defeat on his face—his racket was queered and he was stuck carrying my bags. How’s that for a red nose, muffinguts? He muttered some rot about safety and anonymity, but I could tell he’d just wanted to reveal himself like a posh magician—Look, it is I, Lemuel Brand!
怎么玩呢？变得暴躁还是让他玩得开心？我走到中间，不想让他玩弄我，但也不想让他生气：“谢谢你，布兰德先生，”我说，他回头看上去很惊讶。我喜欢他脸上的失败——他的球拍很奇怪 ， 他被困在提我的包里。红鼻子怎么样，闷闷不乐？他嘟囔着一些关于安全和匿名的腐朽话，但我看得出来他只是想像个时髦的魔术师一样展示自己—— 看，是我，Lemuel Brand！
We were followed by his security lug, who climbed in a tail car. Brand and I settled in a big touring auto—him driving us into that hopeful downtown, past a curling streetcar packed with people, hutching wagons and sputtering Tin Lizzies, much more traffic than last time, on suspiciously wide streets up a hill to a big gaudy house overlooking his rank kingdom.
他的安全车跟着我们，他坐在一辆尾车上。布兰德和我坐上了一辆大型旅行车——他开车带我们进入那个充满希望的市中心，经过一辆挤满了人的蜿蜒有轨电车、颠簸的马车和嘶嘶作响的 Tin Lizzies，车流量比上次多得多，在可疑宽阔的街道上爬上一座山坡，来到一座俯瞰着他的等级王国的华而不实的大房子。
He laid out a whole speech in the car: “city on the verge of—dangers of socialism—East Coast agitators—immigrant filth—concerned mine owners and business leaders—real Americans—jail full of vermin—mayor’s hands tied—in support of police—moral responsibility—commercial interests—future in the balance—last stand of decency—”
他在车里发表了一整篇演讲：“城市濒临崩溃——社会主义的危险——东海岸的煽动者——移民的污秽——忧心忡忡的矿主和商界领袖——真正的美国人——满是害虫的监狱——市长的手被绑住——支持警察——道德责任——商业利益——未来岌岌可危——最后的体面——”
“And is that why you brought me here, Mr. Brand? My decency?”
“这就是你带我来这里的原因吗，布兰德先生？我的体面吗？
He looked over. Did not so much as smile.
他看了过去。他没有笑过。
We parked and got out of the touring. The security brute climbed out of the follow car and gave me the old agency-man once-over. I opened my coat to show my gun so the lug wouldn’t feel the need to pull it from me.
我们停好车，离开了旅行团。那个保安野蛮人从后面的车里爬出来，把那个老代理员给了我一遍。我打开外套露出我的枪，这样凸耳就不会觉得有必要把它从我身上拉出来。
“Dalveaux,” said I.
“达尔沃，”我说。
“Willard,” said he.
“威拉德，”他说。
Three other men worked the edges. This Brand was spooked. Or just had money to burn. He offered to show me the grounds, but I declined, much to his disappointment. I was already feeling one of my harder thirsts.
另外三个男人在边缘工作。这个品牌被吓坏了。或者只是有钱烧。他提议给我看看理由，但我拒绝了，这让他非常失望。我已经感到了我更强烈的口渴。
His lecture had reached the part about him representing “a consortium of industrialists, mining and timber men looking to fight back against the anarchists and unionists.”
他的演讲已经达到了他代表“一个由实业家、采矿和木材商组成的财团，希望反击无政府主义者和工会主义者”的部分。
“Consortium,” I repeated. Nothing better than a consortium. Ten rich hens to pluck instead of one.
“财团，”我重复道。没有什么比一个财团更好的了。十只富鸡可以摘取，而不是一只。
He explained that the Spokane police chief had been properly tough with the Wobblies in the first round, and if they stayed tough until spring, the tramps would give up and go back to work, and trouble would take care of itself. But there were “pockets of weakness in the city’s resolve,” and a new union organizer had arrived, a girl. “The consortium hopes to augment the actions of the police while keeping this young woman organizer from getting a foothold.”
他解释说，斯波坎警察局长在第一轮对 Wobblies 表现得相当强硬，如果他们一直强硬到春天，流浪汉就会放弃并回去工作，麻烦会自行解决。但“这座城市的决心存在一些弱点”，一个新的工会组织者来了，一个女孩。“该财团希望加强警方的行动，同时阻止这位年轻的女性组织者站稳脚跟。”
“So it’s augmenting you want,” I said. “Why me? Plenty of augmenters here. Indeed, there were three national detective agencies with shops in Spokane—Thiel’s thugs and Pinkerton’s too-smart-for-their-own-goods and Allied’s bargain boys. Any of them could augment, plus at least four regional head-knock shops. Why go all the way to Denver and old Del—this part I did not say—ten years far side of prime?
“所以它正在增强你想要的，”我说。“为什么是我？这里有很多增强器。事实上，在斯波坎有三家全国性侦探社都有商店——蒂尔的暴徒和平克顿的太聪明了，不买东西了，还有 Allied 的讨价还价小子。他们中的任何一个都可以增强 ，再加上至少四个区域性的 Head-knock 商店。为什么要千里迢迢来到丹佛和老德尔——这部分我没有说——离黄金时期还有十年呢？
“First, this can’t be local,” Brand said. “And it can’t be one of my men. No tracing it back. It needs to be off the books. And made to look . . .” He searched for the word. “Natural. You came highly recommended for that.”
“首先，这不能是本地的，”布兰德说。“而且它不可能是我的一个手下。没有追溯。它需要从书本上下来。而且看起来 . . .他搜索了这个词。“自然。你强烈推荐你来。
Then he said a name. Rich Spokane monger. Nasty job I had done for him last time I was here. During the low period. The kind of thing the Pinkertons and better agencies wouldn’t touch. A woman-in-the-way kind of thing.
然后他说了一个名字。Rich Spokane 贩子。上次我来这里时为他做了一件令人讨厌的事情。在低谷期。平克顿夫妇和更好的机构不会碰这种事情。一种 Woman in the way.
Christ this town.
基督这个小镇。
We went up the steps, and as if to wave off my conscience, Brand swept his arm at the entryway. “Welcome to Alhambra, Mr. Dalveaux!”
我们走上台阶，仿佛要挥手打消我的良心，布兰德在入口处扫了扫他的手臂。“欢迎来到阿罕布拉宫，达尔沃先生！”
“Like the Spanish castle.”
“就像西班牙城堡一样。”
He looked stunned, and if he hadn’t hired me already, he’d have done so on the spot. “Well. I must say—you live up to your reputation.”
他看起来惊呆了，如果他没有雇用我，他会当场就这样做。“嗯。我必须说——你没有辜负你的名声。
These mining guys. Knew so little and wanted to believe so much. How hard was it to find the name of his bloody house?
这些采矿家伙。知道的太少，却想相信这么多。找到他那的房子的名字有多难？
I followed him through a fancy landing, beneath dual staircases, to a two-story library. Books that hadn’t been cracked since they were shelved. Give money to a monkey and he’ll fill his cage with bananas. Give the same money to a dim American and he’ll build a show library every time.
我跟着他穿过一个豪华的平台，在双楼梯下，来到一个两层楼的图书馆。自从被搁置以来就没有被破解过的书。给一只猴子钱，他就会把香蕉装满笼子。把同样的钱给一个愚蠢的美国人，他每次都会建一个表演库。
Brand had a bottle brought in. Brandy. I stared at it while he mentioned again the Spokane mining prince I’d done the job for a few years back—son of a prominent family in a rub with a hotel girl—a dove run by some cop in town—told the boy’s father that the girl was pregnant—father deciding it was cheaper to pay old Del once than this rat cop over and over—Can you make it seem . . . accidental—
布兰德带来了一瓶酒。白兰地。我盯着它看，他又提到了几年前我做过这份工作的斯波坎矿业王子——一个名门望族的儿子和一个旅馆女孩——镇上某个警察经营的一只鸽子——告诉男孩的父亲那个女孩怀孕了——父亲决定付一次钱给老德尔比付一次钱给这个老鼠警察便宜—— 你能让它看起来......意外 —
On and on, anon, anon, begat, begun, begone. The brandy stared back.
不停地，匿名，匿名，生成，开始，消失。白兰地回头盯着他。
“And so, in talking with my colleagues, you seemed a good candidate for the kind of thing we need.”
“所以，在与我的同事交谈时，你似乎是我们需要的那种东西的好人选。”
“Which is?”
“哪个是？”
“Which is . . . the kind of thing we need.”
“这是 . . .我们需要的那种东西。
His tone surlied me—or the bottle did, just sitting there, doing none of us any good. And the sour taste of that other job: hiring the girl, getting her drunk in her crib behind the tavern, pouring booze and lye down her throat until she drowned. Easing out of the room. Took a peek-feel as she died and she wasn’t even pregnant—likely just a play this dirty cop made against the wealthy kid. But the girl was gone now, while the rat cop, shit kid, and old Del, we all woke up next morning and breathed air. In a better world, I’d have done them, too, the cop, the kid, the dad, but that wasn’t the job. The job was the job and the girl had to go. And Del—a little more of him in the process.
他的语气让我感到不安——或者说瓶子确实如此，就坐在那里，对我们谁都没有好处。还有另一份工作的酸味：雇用那个女孩，让她在酒馆后面的婴儿床上喝醉，把酒和碱液倒进她的喉咙，直到她淹死。慢慢地走出房间。在她死去时偷看了一眼，而且她甚至没有怀孕——可能只是这个肮脏的警察对付那个有钱孩子的游戏。但那个女孩现在已经走了，而那个老鼠警察、狗屎小子和老德尔，我们第二天早上都醒来了，呼吸着空气。在一个更好的世界里，我也会做他们，警察、孩子、爸爸，但那不是我的工作。工作就是工作，女孩必须离开。还有 Del——在这个过程中多了一点他。
Finally, Brand handed me a glass of brandy.
最后，布兰德递给我一杯白兰地。
“They’re planning another major action, November twenty-ninth,” he said. “They’re going around giving speeches, raising money, recruiting bodies to fill the jail. They want to hire Darrow.”
“他们正在计划另一项重大行动，即 11 月 29 日，”他说。“他们到处发表演讲，筹集资金，招募尸体来填补监狱。他们想雇用达罗。
“Sure they do,” I said. After he got Big Bill Haywood acquitted of a murder conspiracy in Boise in ’07, every jailed radical prayed at night to Clarence Darrow.
“他们当然知道，”我说。07 年，当他让大比尔·海伍德 （Big Bill Haywood） 在博伊西的谋杀阴谋无罪释放后，每个被监禁的激进分子都在晚上向克拉伦斯·达罗 （Clarence Darrow） 祈祷。
“We would like their efforts . . . hindered.”
“我们希望他们的努力......受阻。
Hindered? The only thing I hated more than a booster was a euphemism. Augment? Hinder? I ought to augment his chin with my right fist and hinder his dick with my left. I drained my glass.
阻碍？我唯一比助推器更讨厌的是委婉的说法。 增加？阻碍？我应该用右拳托住他的下巴，用左拳挡住他的鸡巴。 我把杯子里的水喝干了。
“I was thinking,” Brand said, “what if, at some point of their travels, their party was relieved of whatever funds they’d raised?”
“我在想，”布兰德说，“如果在他们旅行的某个时刻，他们的聚会从他们筹集到的任何资金中解脱出来怎么办？
“You want them robbed,” I said. Euphemisms.
“你想抢劫他们，”我说。委婉 语。
“Is it considered robbery if the money is intended for an illegal purpose?”
“如果钱是用来用于非法目的的，算不算抢劫？”
“Yes,” I said. “How much money?”
“是的，”我说。“多少钱？”
“The money isn’t important.”
“钱不重要。”
“The money’s always important.”
“钱总是很重要的。”
“The money is important only in that it conflicts with our larger purposes. You can keep the money. What I’m wondering is if the presence of the money provides an opportunity to . . . make one thing look like another?”
“这笔钱之所以重要，只是因为它与我们更大的目标相冲突。你可以保留这笔钱。我想知道的是，这笔钱的存在是否提供了一个机会......让一件事看起来像另一件事吗？
I finished my brandy through gritted teeth, thinking: You don’t hire a man forty goddamn years in this thing and tell him how to make one thing look like another thing. Just like you don’t go into a restaurant and hand the chef a recipe for a bouillabaisse. You order bouillabaisse and you let the goddamn chef do his goddamn job. You don’t hire Del for a dirt bath and say make it look like a manicure
我咬牙切齿地喝完了我的白兰地，心想：你他妈的不会雇一个做这事四十年的人，然后告诉他怎么让一件事看起来像另一件事。就像你不会走进餐厅，把法式炖鱼的食谱递给厨师一样。你点了法式炖鱼，然后让那个该死的厨师做他该死的工作。你不会雇 Del 来洗个泥浴，然后说让它看起来像个美甲.
“You have names?”
“你有名字吗？”
“I have dossiers.”
“我有档案。”
Good Christ. Dossiers. Save me from these mining men—little girls playing dress-up in their mother’s wardrobe.
天哪。档案。把我从这些矿工手中救出来——小女孩们在妈妈的衣橱里玩装扮。
He handed me a file. Dalveaux typed on the outside. Six pages. Four names: two tramps, brothers, Gregory and Ryan Dolan, twenty-three and almost seventeen. Montanans. Arrested in the labor trouble. The younger released. The older, Gregory, still in jail. He’d done some speaking for the IWW and was known to “consort” with Margaret Anne Burns, aka Ursula the Great, thirty-two although she claimed twenty-four, actress in a wild cougar act. It was the joke of a place like Spokane, how many whores listed themselves as “actress.” Still, if it was real, I wouldn’t mind seeing this cougar thing. It occurred to me that Brand might have a personal angle for this job, too—a stake in the cadge.
他递给我一份文件。 Dalveaux 在外面打字。六页。四个名字：两个流浪汉，兄弟 ，格雷戈里和瑞恩·多兰 ，二十三岁，快十七岁了。蒙大拿人。在劳工纠纷中被捕。小儿子松开了。年长的格雷戈里 （Gregory） 仍在监狱里。他为 IWW 做了一些演讲，并且以与玛格丽特·安妮·伯恩斯（Margaret Anne Burns）“勾结”而闻名 ，她又名乌苏拉大帝（Ursula the Great），三十二岁，尽管她声称自己是二十四岁，是狂野美洲狮表演的女演员。这是斯波坎这样的地方的笑话，有多少妓女把自己标榜为 “女演员”。不过，如果它是真的，我不介意看到这个美洲狮的东西。我突然想到，布兰德对这份工作也可能有个人角度——在这份工作中占有一席之地。
There was a third bum, but the information was thin, nothing but a name, Early Reston. He’d taken a few punches at a Spokane cop. With this one I was to use caution because he was dangerous. I nearly laughed at the idea of a dangerous bum. So he’d decked a cop? There were raccoons I’d take in a fight with a Spokane cop.
还有第三个流浪汉，但信息很少，只有一个名字，Early Reston。他对着一个斯波坎警察挨了几拳。对于这个，我要小心，因为他很危险。我差点被一个危险的流浪汉的想法逗笑了。所以他装扮了一个警察？我会在与斯波坎警察打架时带走一些浣熊。
That left the labor woman. The only one I knew. At least I knew of her. Every detective in the west knew Elizabeth Gurley Flynn. Saucebox spent the last two years riling up camps from Seattle to Minneapolis. Labor cunny roused more rabble than jaws twice her age. I’d had my boy Paul in St. Paul tail her back when she was working the Minnesota mining region, and he all but fell in love with her. After that I’d heard some miner married her and knapped her up. Good for all involved. Best way to turn a nineteen-year-old problem like that was put her in a kitchen with a babe on her tit. But now she was back on the road?
就剩下这位女工了。我唯一认识的。至少我知道她。 西部的每一位侦探都知道伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn）。在过去的两年里，Saucebox 一直在激怒从西雅图到明尼阿波利斯的营地。劳动的狡猾比比她大两倍的下巴激起了更多的乌合之众。当我在圣保罗的儿子保罗在明尼苏达州矿区工作时，我让她尾随她，他几乎爱上了她。在那之后，我听说某个矿工娶了她，把她绑了起来。对所有相关人员都有好处。解决这样一个 19 岁孩子的问题的最好方法是把她放在厨房里，让她的奶子上有一个婴儿。但现在她又上路了？
“What do you think?”
“你觉得怎么样？”
I looked up. Brand was smiling. “The bums won’t be a problem.”
我抬起头。布兰德在微笑。“流浪汉不会有问题。”
“The older brother is still in jail.”
“哥哥还在监狱里。”
“It will be easier when he gets out. Fewer people involved.”
“当他出来的时候，事情会更容易。参与的人更少。
“I see. And what about this Early Reston? He beat up a cop pretty bad. When it comes to it, I would advise taking him down first.”
“我明白了。那么这个早期的雷斯顿呢？他把一个警察打得很惨。说到这件事，我建议先把他拿下来。
When it comes to the bouillabaisse, I’d stew the lobster with tomatoes first. “Like I said, the bums won’t be a problem.” I held up the page and pointed to Gurley Flynn’s name, not wanting to say it aloud. “This one’s a problem.”
说到法式炖鱼，我会先把龙虾和西红柿炖。 “就像我说的，流浪汉不会成为问题。”我举起书页，指着格利·弗林的名字，不想大声说出来。“这是个问题。”
He nodded. “The job you did for my friend—”
他点点头。“你为我朋友所做的工作——”
“I don’t mean because she’s a woman. I mean the attention. It would be four times the price.” I held up four fingers. “Plus expenses.”
“我不是说她是个女人。我是说关注。那将是四倍的价格。我举起了四根手指。“加上费用。”
His eyes widened. “I see.” It was more than he’d planned, and I worried I’d started too high. “Well.” He took a swallow of his drink. “Maybe it won’t come to that. For now I just want them located, followed, and—”
他睁大了眼睛。“我明白了。”这比他计划的要多，我担心我开始得太高了。“嗯。”他喝了一口饮料。“也许不会变成那样。现在我只想找到他们，跟踪他们，然后——”
“Hindered,” I said.
“受阻，”我说。
“Hindered,” he said, “although, should the opportunity present itself—”
“受阻，”他说，“不过，如果机会出现 ——”
I cleared my throat. Should the opportunity—I was the opportunity, opportunity and chance and fate, that’s why you called Del. Dirt bath. Eternity box. That’s the opportunity I provided.
我清了清嗓子。如果机会——我就是机会、机会、机会和命运，这就是你叫 Del. Dirt bath 的原因。永恒之盒。这就是我提供的机会。
“There is one other thing you should know,” Brand said. “Last week I made an entreaty to the younger brother.”
“还有一件事你应该知道，”布兰德说。“上个星期我向弟弟求了个道。”
“You did what—”
“你做了什么 ——”
“An entreaty? An offer—”
“恳求？一个提议——”
“I know what an entreaty is.”
“我知道什么是恳求。”
Brand shifted in his chair. “Last week I brought Ryan Dolan here and I floated the idea of hiring him, having him on retainer. For information.”
布兰德在椅子上动了动。“上周我把瑞恩·多兰带到了这里，我提出了雇用他的想法，让他成为聘用者。供参考。
“Information?”
“信息？”
“Specifically, I wanted to know if Early Reston had rejoined their party.”
“具体来说，我想知道 Early Reston 是否重新加入了他们的队伍。”
I stared.
我瞪大了眼睛。
“I . . . I had Ursula bring Ryan to me. You see, I was seeking information—”
“我 . . .我让 Ursula 带 Ryan 来找我。你看，我在找情报——”
I held up the file. “You had one of these people . . . brought here?”
我举起文件。“你有这样的人中的一个 ...... 带到这里来的？
He cleared his throat at the depth of his mistake. “Ursula wanted me to get the older brother released, and . . . it seemed like an opportunity to—”
他清了清嗓子，意识到了自己犯下的错误。“乌苏拉要我把哥哥放出来，然后......这似乎是个机会——”
“What if he told someone? What if Ursula told someone?”
“如果他告诉别人呢？如果乌苏拉告诉了某人呢？
I could see this hadn’t occurred to him. Christ, this euphemistic stupid scaramouch. I closed the dossiers. They weren’t half bad. That’s what made them so bad. I looked up at Willard, standing with his hands crossed in the corner. “A minute with your boss?”
我看得出来，他没有想到这一点。天哪，这个委婉的愚蠢的 scaramouch。我关闭了档案。他们还不错。这就是他们如此糟糕的原因。我抬头看向威拉德，他双手交叉站在角落里。“和你的老板聊一会儿？”
He looked at Brand, who nodded. The lug left the room.
他看向布兰德，布兰德点了点头。拖曳离开了房间。
I closed the file and ran my finger over the label. Dalveaux
我关闭了文件并用手指在标签上划过。达尔沃.
Brand saw me looking at his handiwork. “I imagine you’ll be hiring other men for this operation? Perhaps I could be your—”
布兰德看到我看着他的手艺。“我想你会雇佣其他人来做这个行动吗？也许我可以成为你的——”
“Shut your bone box.”
“关上你的骨头盒。”
His breath went short.
他喘不过气来。
I walked to the fireplace and pitched the dossiers into the fire. “No more paper. No more dossiers. No more fake drivers and no more trying to hire the men you want me to plant. Right?”
我走到壁炉前，把档案扔进火里。“没有更多的纸张。无需更多档案 。不再有假司机，也不再试图雇用你想让我安插的人。对吧？
He nodded weakly.
他虚弱地点了点头。
“I will hinder. Follow the girl and plan the robbery. Meantime, you go back to your consortium, and if it’s dirt baths you want: It’s a thousand per bum and three for the girl. Nonnegotiable. From now on, you and I speak only by telephone. Twice a week. I ring you on Monday and Friday. I tell the girl on the line my name is Grant.
“我会阻止。跟踪女孩并计划抢劫。与此同时，你回到你的财团 ，如果你想要泥土浴：每个流浪汉一千，女孩三。不可流通的。从现在开始，你我只能通过电话交谈。每周两次。我周一和周五给你打电话。我告诉电话那头的女孩我叫格兰特。
“If it’s just the robbery, you don’t take the call. If it’s a dirt bath you want, you come on the line and propose lunch. If it’s the labor cunny, you say, ‘Can we have lunch Monday, Mr. Grant?’ If it’s the dangerous tramp Reston, you say, ‘Lunch Tuesday?’ The entreaty brother, ‘Lunch Wednesday?’ If it’s the whole party, you ask for dinner—”
“如果只是抢劫，你不要接电话。如果你想要一个泥土浴，你就来排队提议吃午饭。如果是那个狡猾的工人，你会说，'我们周一可以吃午饭吗，格兰特先生？如果是危险的流浪汉雷斯顿，你会说，'星期二吃午饭？恳求的兄弟，“星期三吃午饭？如果是整个派对，你就要吃晚饭——”
“Dinner,” he said breathlessly, his trousers no doubt tightening.
“晚餐，”他气喘吁吁地说，他的裤子无疑收紧了。
“Say you want just the girl and the dangerous tramp, you say—”
“说你只想要那个女孩和那个危险的流浪汉，你说——”
“ ‘Mr. Grant, can we have lunch Monday or Tuesday?’ ”
“'格兰特先生，我们可以周一或周二吃午饭吗？'”
“Right. And the younger brother and Reston?”
“对。那弟弟和雷斯顿呢？
“ ‘Mr. Grant, can we have lunch Tuesday or Wednesday?’ ”
“'格兰特先生，我们可以在周二或周三吃午饭吗？'”
“And if you want all of them done, you say?”
“如果你想要所有的事情，你说？”
“ ‘Mr. Grant, can we schedule a dinner?’ ”
“'格兰特先生，我们能安排一次晚餐吗？'”
“Good.” It was over the top, pointless secret agent business, but he ate it up. That’s what he was hiring—a story. Any mining goon could plant three tramps and a knapped-up labor girl. This rust-guts wanted a play. So, Del played, and hoped this lunch-on-Tuesday gullyfluff would keep him occupied and out of my way.
“很好。”这是夸张的、毫无意义的秘密特工生意，但他吃了它。这就是他正在招聘的——一个故事。任何一个采矿暴徒都可以安插三个流浪汉和一个被打砸的劳工女孩。这个生锈的胆子想上演一场戏。所以，Del 玩了起来，希望这个星期二午餐的 gullyfluff 能让他忙得不可开交，不妨碍我。
“Any questions?”
“有什么问题吗？”
“What if I actually want to have lunch?”
“如果我真的想吃午饭怎么办？”
I cleared my throat. “We will not be having lunch. Anything else I should know?”
我清了清嗓子。“我们不会吃午饭。我还有什么应该知道的吗？
He hesitated a moment, and the old voice said, Oh, get out, Del, but I hadn’t made this kind of money in a decade, and then he said, “No, that’s it.”
他犹豫了一会儿，那个苍老的声音说， 哦，滚出去，Del，但我已经十年没有赚到这种钱了，然后他说，“不，就是这样。
I didn’t think he’d ever ordered this before. He was overwhelmed, a scared schoolgirl with Del’s hand up his skirt.
我以为他以前从来没有订购过这个。他不知所措，一个害怕的女学生，Del 的手捂着他的裙子。
I reached over and took the bottle of brandy. “Now have your man drive me downtown. I need to get some sleep. And have a girl sent up. Something young.”
我伸手拿起了那瓶白兰地。“现在让你的男人开车送我到市中心去。我需要睡一会儿。并派一个女孩上来。一些年轻的东西。
“Yes,” he said.
“是的，”他说。
“Right, then.” I offered my hand down to him. “Charmed.”
“那么。”我向他伸出手。“被迷住了。”
The man looked up, took my hand, and I shook it. And I squeezed the blood right out of that fat claw.
那个人抬起头，握住我的手，我握了握。我直接从那只肥大的爪子里挤出了血。
When I first came into this burg, I had a cold hunch, and I kept having it. Something was due to happen to me in this place.
当我第一次来到这个堡垒时，我有一种寒冷的预感，而且我一直有这种预感。在这个地方，我本来要发生一些事情。
—Wallace Stegner, Joe Hill
——华莱士·斯特格纳（Wallace Stegner）， 乔·希尔（Joe Hill）
On the way from Seattle to Montana, they stopped in Spokane for a day. While Gurley checked in at the union hall, Rye and Early went to see Gig in jail, but the IWW leaders were on a hunger strike and weren’t allowed visitors.
在从西雅图到蒙大拿州的路上，他们在斯波坎停留了一天。当 Gurley 在工会大厅登记时，Rye 和 Early 去监狱看望 Gig，但 IWW 领导人正在绝食抗议，不允许访客。
“You could write him,” Gurley said on the train the next day, and she got a card and envelope from the purser. They were on the Northern Pacific, on their way to the Coeur d’Alene Mining District for a day of speeches.
“你可以给他写信，”第二天，格利在火车上说，她从乘务长那里拿到了一张卡片和信封。他们正在北太平洋，正在前往科达伦矿区进行为期一天的演讲。
Rye stared at the blank card. He had never written anyone a letter.
Rye 盯着那张空白的卡片。他从来没有给任何人写过信。
“Tell him to break out of jail and come find us and we’ll raise hell together,” Early suggested.
“告诉他越狱来找我们，我们会一起掀起地狱，”Early 建议道。
In the end, Rye decided simply to tell Gig what had happened since he got out—although he knew he couldn’t write all of it, about Ursula bringing him to Lem Brand’s house and the twenty dollars he’d taken for information, or the strange detective, Del Dalveaux, appearing in his Seattle hotel room. Instead, he wrote:
最后，Rye 决定简单地告诉 Gig 他出狱后发生的事情——尽管他知道他无法写下所有内容，关于 Ursula 带他去 Lem Brand 的家和他拿走的 20 美元以获取情报，或者奇怪的侦探 Del Dalveaux 出现在他西雅图的酒店房间里。相反，他写道：
Dear Gig,
亲爱的 Gig，
I’m sorry you are still in jail. I am traveling with Elizabeth Gurley Flynn raising money for your defense and for the others. She wants to hire a crack lawyer by the name of Darrow who I pretended to know of but I don’t. He must be even better than Fred Moore who is the lawyer who got me out. I never met a girl like Gurley Flynn. She is an excellent speaker tho you should of heard what she said to a priest. We had ice cream sodas one night. (Very good.) We have already been to Seattle and I talked in front of two hundred people and now we are taking the train to Wallace and then to Missoula. (Inside the train.) Early is with us too. He came to hear us in Seattle and we tried to see you in Spokane but they wouldn’t let us. Early made a joke that you should just break out of jail. I know you feel bad that I got knocked around and arrested that day and put in the sweatbox and mixed up in all this. But it’s the proudest I’ve ever been climbing on that crate next to you.
很抱歉你还在监狱里。我与 Elizabeth Gurley Flynn 一起旅行，为您的辩护和其他人筹集资金。她想聘请一位名叫 Darrow 的优秀律师，我假装认识他，但我不知道。他一定比 Fred Moore 还要好，而 Fred Moore 是把我救出来的律师。我从来没有见过像 Gurley Flynn 这样的女孩。她是一位出色的演讲者，你应该听听她对牧师说的话。有一天晚上我们吃了冰淇淋苏打水。（非常好。我们已经去过西雅图，我在 200 人面前交谈过，现在我们要坐火车去华莱士，然后去米苏拉。（在火车内。Early 也与我们同在。他来西雅图听我们说话，我们试图在斯波坎见你，但他们不让我们。Early 开玩笑说你应该越狱。我知道你觉得很糟糕，那天我被撞了，被逮捕了，被关进了汗箱里，混进了这一切。但这是我爬上你旁边的那个板条箱最自豪的一次。
Yr brother Ryan
弟弟 Ryan
He sealed the letter in an envelope and wrote Gig’s name, care of the Spokane City Jail.
他把信密封在一个信封里，写下了 Gig 的名字，照顾斯波坎市监狱。
From the seat in front of him, Gurley turned back. “Listen, before we arrive, I need to tell you something about Al Bolin. To prepare you.”
Gurley 从他前面的座位上转过身来。“听着，在我们到达之前，我需要告诉你一些关于 Al Bolin 的事情。让你做好准备。
She said that Al was an old union pick, blown up in an anarchist’s bombing in the ’99 labor wars. That in spite of his injuries, Al was a top organizer, and they should count themselves lucky he’d agreed to be their guide for two days of fund-raising in Wallace and the mountain mining towns of Idaho and Montana.
她说，艾尔是工会的老人选，在 99 年劳工战争中被无政府主义者的轰炸炸毁。尽管他受伤了，但 Al 是一位顶级的组织者，他们应该认为自己很幸运，他同意成为他们在华莱士以及爱达荷州和蒙大拿州的山区采矿小镇进行为期两天筹款的向导。
“Al can be a sight, and it takes a moment to get used to him,” Gurley said. “So try not to stare, though neither should you look away.”
“Al 可以是一个景象，需要一点时间来适应他，”Gurley 说。“所以尽量不要盯着看，但你也不应该把视线移开。”
Early sat up in the seat behind Rye. “How am I supposed to look and also not look?” Rye liked having Early along. It reminded him of traveling with his brother.
Early 在 Rye 后面的座位上坐了起来。“我该怎么看呢 ？”Rye 喜欢 Early 陪伴。这让他想起了和他哥哥一起旅行的情景。
“I mean that you should behave normally,” said Gurley.
“我的意思是你应该表现得正常，”格利说。
“Well, that’s what I’m saying,” Early said, “looking and not looking are fairly normal behavior for eyes.”
“嗯，我就是这么说的，”Early 说，“看和不看是眼睛相当正常的行为。
“You’ll see,” she said.
“你会看到的，”她说。
Al Bolin was waiting on the platform when they pulled into Wallace, and Rye saw right away that normal eye behavior was going to be impossible. The man lurching toward them was six feet tall on his right leg and six-four on his left; a four-inch peg had been nailed to his right cowboy boot to make up the difference. His arm and shoulder on the right side were diminished too, half gone, like his portraitist had lost interest.
当他们把车停进华莱士时，阿尔博林正在站台上等着，莱伊立即意识到正常的眼睛行为是不可能的。那个蹒跚地向他们走来的男人右腿有六英尺高，左腿有六四英尺高;他的右牛仔靴上钉了一个 4 英寸的钉子，以弥补差额。他右侧的手臂和肩膀也缩小了，半消失了，就像他的肖像画家失去了兴趣一样。
But it was his face that Rye couldn’t keep from staring at: the cave-in that constituted the right side of Al Bolin’s burned, mottled mug, the eye patch and torn nostril, the gnarled mouth, and the hole where his right ear should be. A metal clip was punched through his cheek like a bull’s ring and held his jaw together on that side. When he offered Rye a hunk of stained bone with two scarred knuckles for a handshake, Rye hesitated.
但 Rye 无法不盯着他的脸：Al Bolin 被烧焦、斑驳的杯子右侧的塌陷，眼罩和撕裂的鼻孔，粗糙的嘴巴，以及他右耳应该在的洞。一个金属夹子像公牛环一样打穿了他的脸颊，将他的下巴固定在那一侧。当他向 Rye 提供一块带有两个伤痕累累的指关节的染色骨头握手时，Rye 犹豫了。
Bolin said, “Best shake it, kid. The good one I use for fighting.”
博林说，“最好摇一摇，孩子。我用来打架的好那个。
Introductions over, they followed Al through the depot and out to a dirt street in front of the station. For a man half blown up, Bolin walked like he was in a footrace. He generated surprising speed on the block of wood, and Rye hurried to keep up with him as he strode into downtown Wallace, a picturesque valley town nestled between impossibly steep mountains. There weren’t three thousand people, and there were twenty horses for every automobile on the street, but Wallace was what passed for civilization here—schools, hotels, and restaurants, center of a spiral of two dozen smaller mining and logging towns that disappeared up in the mountains.
介绍完毕，他们跟着 Al 穿过仓库，来到车站前的一条泥泞街道。对于一个半身发雷霆的人来说，Bolin 走路就像在赛跑一样。他在木头上产生了惊人的速度，当他大步走进华莱士市中心时，Rye 急忙跟上他，这是一个风景如画的山谷小镇，坐落在令人难以置信的陡峭山脉之间。那里没有三千人，街上的每辆汽车都有二十匹马，但华莱士是这里的文明——学校、酒店和餐馆，是二十多个消失在山中的小型采矿和伐木城镇的螺旋中心。
This area had been the site of a fierce labor war a decade earlier, culminating with a gang of angry, underpaid miners hijacking a train at gunpoint, loading up two hundred men and eighty boxes of stolen dynamite. The “Dynamite Express” picked up more men in every little town and rail platform until a thousand of them hung off the cars, men whooping and waving rifles as the train steamed to the Bunker Hill mine, where they shot the first security man they saw, then lit the boom sticks and blew the mill and a handful of scabs and managers off the world. Their work done, they took the train back to Wallace, got drunk, scattered, and went to bed. The mine owners appealed to the Idaho governor, who sent the army to put down the rebellion, and a thousand union men were thrown into detention camps with no trials, guarded by buffalo soldiers meant to inflame them. The governor paid for this in the end, getting blown up in his house near Boise five years later.
十年前，该地区曾是一场激烈劳工战争的发生地，最终一伙愤怒、工资微薄的矿工持枪劫持了一列火车，劫持了 200 名士兵和 80 箱被盗的炸药。“炸药快车”在每个小镇和铁路站台上接载了更多的人，直到有一千人挂在车厢上，当火车驶向邦克山矿场时，人们大喊大叫，挥舞着步枪，在那里他们射杀了他们看到的第一个保安，然后点燃了吊杆，将工厂和一小撮结痂和经理从世界上炸飞了。他们的工作完成后，他们乘火车回到华莱士，喝醉了，四散开来，上床睡觉了。矿主向爱达荷州州长上诉，爱达荷州州长派遣军队镇压叛乱，一千名工会成员未经审判就被扔进拘留营，由旨在激怒他们的野牛士兵看守。州长最终为此付出了代价，五年后在博伊西附近的他家中被炸毁。
Wallace also had the most famous tenderloin this side of San Francisco, a block of brothels and cribs just north of Cedar and Sixth, along the South Fork of the Coeur d’Alene River. Temperance and clergy were cleaning up other red-light districts, but in Wallace, the brothels were seen as a necessity by the town fathers to keep the miners mining and the loggers logging. The city legislated and regulated the houses, and it wasn’t uncommon to open the newspaper and see the mayor presenting flowers to the madam who’d donated money for a new streetlight.
华莱士在旧金山这边也有最著名的里脊肉，这是 Cedar 和 Sixth 以北的一块妓院和婴儿床，沿着科达伦河的南叉。节制和神职人员正在清理其他红灯区，但在华莱士，镇上的父亲们将妓院视为保持矿工采矿和伐木工人伐木的必需品。该市对房屋进行立法和监管，打开报纸，看到市长向捐钱购买新路灯的女士献花的情况并不少见。
“That’s Block Twenty-three, where our whores is kept,” Al Bolin said as they walked past a cluster of brick-and-stone buildings along the river.
“那是 23 号街区，我们的妓女就关在那里，”阿尔·博林 （Al Bolin） 说，他们走过河边的一组砖石建筑。
Gurley had already given a speech in Coeur d’Alene and one in Smelterville. This last speech was to be here in Wallace, at dusk on the street from the back of a buggy up against that wall of mountains. The national IWW office had advertised the event as Gurley and Big Bill Haywood, the hero of the old mining wars, acquitted of assassinating the Idaho governor in 1907, but Big Bill never made it out of Chicago, so it was just Gurley and Rye.
格利已经在 Coeur d'Alene 发表了一次演讲，在 Smelterville 也发表了一次演讲。这最后一次演讲是在华莱士这里，黄昏时分，从一辆马车的后座上，对着那堵山墙。全国 IWW 办公室曾宣传这一事件，因为格利和旧采矿战争的英雄大比尔海伍德在 1907 年暗杀爱达荷州州长而被判无罪，但大比尔从未离开芝加哥，所以只有格利和莱伊。
A small crowd of lumberjacks and miners, socialists and suffragists had gathered, maybe sixty people. Rye’s job was the same as always, matter-of-factly tell his story when she called on him, after she’d riled up the crowd with her socialist talk, when she got to the part about “the criminal mistreatment of workingmen by the thugs in the Spokane Police Department. And here with me is a victim of that abuse, a young orphan recently turned seventeen . . .”
一小群伐木工人和矿工、社会主义者和女权主义者聚集在一起，大概有 60 人。Rye 的工作一如既往，当她拜访他时，在她用她的社会主义演讲激怒了人群之后，当她谈到“斯波坎警察局的暴徒对工人的犯罪虐待”时，她会实事求是地讲述他的故事。和我在一起的是一个虐待的受害者，一个最近刚满 17 岁的年轻孤儿......”
“We woke in a ball field,” Rye said each time, and then he stood and removed Mr. Moore’s bowler and told his story as plainly as he could. He was careful not to exaggerate, to stick to real details, and not to make sweeping political statements. He always ended with the death of his friend Jules and the Salvation Army man asking his age. This last bit got gasps and angry tuts from folks, although Rye couldn’t see why it was so much more barbarous to beat on a sixteen-year-old. Or why it was worse than them killing poor Jules.
“我们在球场上醒来，”莱伊每次都说，然后他站起来，取下摩尔先生的投球手，尽可能清楚地讲述他的故事。他小心翼翼地不夸大其词，坚持真实细节，不发表笼统的政治声明。他总是以他的朋友 Jules 和询问他年龄的救世军男子的去世而告终。这最后一点引起了人们的喘息和愤怒的嘲讽 ，尽管 Rye 不明白为什么打一个 16 岁的孩子要野蛮得多。或者为什么这比他们杀死可怜的朱尔斯更糟糕。
As he spoke, Rye noticed Early leaning against a wagon at the edge of the square. He wore a smirk that stung Rye.
在他说话的时候，Rye 注意到 Early 靠在广场边缘的一辆马车上。他露出一个刺痛了 Rye 的笑容。
When it was done, most of the crowd scattered, and Rye, Early, and Al Bolin met Gurley behind the wagon where she’d spoken. She was plainly discouraged. They’d collected only about fifty dollars, barely two hundred total from three speeches in Idaho, less than they’d gotten at one event in Seattle. And only a handful of volunteers had said they might come to Spokane.
当仪式结束后，大部分人群都散去了，Rye、Early 和 Al Bolin 在她说话的马车后面遇到了 Gurley。她显然很沮丧。他们只收集了大约 50 美元，在爱达荷州的三次演讲中总共只收集了 200 美元，比他们在西雅图的一次活动中得到的还少。只有少数志愿者表示他们可能会来斯波坎。
“We’re speaking to the wrong people,” she said. “Socialists and retired men, women’s clubbers. I’m not getting through to the actual workers. This is not some dry Sunday lecture. It’s a fight with dirt under its nails.”
“我们跟错误的人说话了，”她说。“社会主义者和退休男子，女子俱乐部成员。我没有联系到实际的工人。这不是什么枯燥的星期天讲座。这是一场指甲下有污垢的斗争。
“That’s why I want to take you where the workers are,” said Al Bolin. He said he’d added one stop to their tour. Instead of going around the mountains, they were taking the Great Northern through the mountain pass for a noontime talk in the border town of Taft.
“这就是为什么我想带你去工人所在的地方，”Al Bolin 说。他说他在他们的旅行中增加了一站。他们没有绕山而行，而是带着大北方号穿过山口，在边境小镇塔夫脱（Taft）进行中午的谈话。
“Taft?” Early looked up sharply. “Wait, we’re going to Taft?”
“塔夫脱？”Early 猛地抬起头来。“等等，我们要去塔夫脱吗？”
“Sure,” Al Bolin said. “You don’t have to be in Missoula until five, and Taft is where the workers are. Probably two hundred of them just sitting up there. Timber work’s shut down for winter, and the rail jobs are winding down. You want workingmen, they’re in Taft.”
“当然，”Al Bolin 说。“你不必在米苏拉五点之前到达，塔夫脱是工人所在的地方。他们中可能有 200 人就坐在那里。木材工作在冬天关闭，铁路工作正在减少。你想要工人，他们在塔夫脱。
“What’s Taft?” Rye asked.
“塔夫脱是什么？”Rye 问道。
“I like this,” Gurley said. “Let’s do it, Al.”
“我喜欢这个，”格利说。“我们开始吧，艾尔。”
“Jesus,” Early said, and he turned and walked away.
“耶稣，”Early 说，然后他转身走开了。
“Wait, what’s Taft?” Rye asked again.
“等等，塔夫脱是什么？”Rye 又问道。
But an old miner with a sideways foot had just limped around the wagon to talk to Gurley. He began telling her about the day in 1899 when troops marched down Sixth Street. Gurley nodded politely. He went on, “They built a bullpen down on the river, rounded up every man in town, and locked us up there. No trials. Nothing. You remember them days, Al?”
但一个脚侧着的老矿工刚刚一瘸一拐地绕着马车和格利说话。他开始告诉她 1899 年军队沿着第六街行进的那一天。格利礼貌地点点头。他继续说，“他们在河上建了一个牛棚，围捕了镇上的每一个人，把我们关在那里。没有试验。无。你还记得他们的时候吗，艾尔？
“If I didn’t recall it, my body would,” Bolin said, “just like yours, Jeff.”
“如果我不记得，我的身体会的，”博林说，“就像你的一样，杰夫。
Rye backed away from this conversation to go find Early Reston. That look on his face earlier while Rye spoke: It was eating at him.
Rye 放弃了这次谈话，去找 Early Reston。刚才 Rye 说话时他脸上的表情：它在吃他。
The sun had gone down and there seemed to be twice as many people on the street now. The mountains were pine-blanketed walls on every side of him. Rye followed some men through the brick downtown to Sixth Street, where a block of saloons was broken by a single café.
太阳已经下山了，现在街上的人似乎多了一倍。群山在他的四面都是松树覆盖的墙壁。Rye 跟着一些男人穿过市中心的砖砌街道，来到第六街，那里的一条酒吧街区被一家咖啡馆打破。
He stuck his head in each saloon, and he finally found Early in the fourth, leaning on the rail with a half glass of beer. He turned and saw Rye. “Why, look, it’s Eugene goddamn Debs!”
他把头探进每个酒吧，最后在第四个酒吧里找到了 Early，他靠在栏杆上，喝着半杯啤酒。他转过身来，看到了 Rye。“哎呀，你看，是尤金他妈的黛布斯！”
Rye could feel his face redden again. “Were you laughing at me out there, Early?”
Rye 能感觉到他的脸又红了。“你在外面笑我吗，Early？”
“No!” Early straightened.
“不！”早早挺直了。
“It’s not easy, getting up there talking.”
“这并不容易，站在那里说话。”
“Of course not. Rye, I was not laughing at you.” Early looked around for the bartender. He clicked his teeth like he was calling for a horse and pointed at the bar in front of them. The thick bartender gave Rye a harsh sideways look, but Early chided him: “Don’t be like that. Did you not hear the man’s speech? He’s got no mother, and his brother’s in jail in Spokane.” Early winked at Rye, spun a coin on the bar, and a glass of beer quickly landed on the rail. “A peace offering,” he said. “Drink up.”
“当然不是。Rye，我不是在嘲笑你。”Early 环顾四周寻找调酒师。他像在呼唤一匹马一样咔嚓咔嚓地咬牙切齿，然后指着他们面前的吧台。那个粗壮的酒保狠狠地侧头看了 Rye 一眼，但 Early 斥责他：“别那样。你没听见那人的讲话吗？他没有母亲，他的兄弟在斯波坎的监狱里。Early 对 Rye 眨了眨眼，在吧台上旋转了一枚硬币，一杯啤酒很快就落在了栏杆上。“和平的祭品，”他说。“喝完。”
Rye took the pint glass and tipped it, the tart foam reminding him of the sweeter foam around the ice cream soda he’d had with Gurley.
Rye 拿起品脱玻璃杯，倾倒了一下，酸涩的泡沫让他想起了他和 Gurley 一起喝的冰淇淋苏打水周围更甜的泡沫。
Early took a long drink of his own. “I guess, if anything, maybe I was thinking it was strange seeing you up there because you seem to agree with me about this one big union business. I thought it was more your brother’s folly than yours.”
Early 自己也喝了一大口。“我想，如果有的话，也许我在想看到你在那里很奇怪，因为你似乎同意我关于这个大型工会业务的看法。我以为这更像是你哥哥的愚蠢，而不是你的愚蠢。
Rye took another drink.
Rye 又喝了一杯。
Early leaned over. “This utopian one-for-all bullshit . . . if it wasn’t for your brother and that cyclone of a girl, I don’t think you’d be doing any of this. I guess that’s what I was thinking.”
Early 俯下身来。“这种乌托邦式的一劳永逸的废话......如果不是你哥哥和那个女孩的旋风，我想你不会做这些。我想这就是我当时的想法。
Rye felt a tightness in his chest, loyalty to Gurley and to Gig, but something else, too, which had been growing since the riot.
Rye 感到胸口一阵紧绷，对 Gurley 和 Gig 的忠诚，但也有其他东西，自从骚乱以来一直在增长。
“Come on. Tell the truth.” Early closed one eye. “You don’t actually believe the story Gurley is selling out there, do you? I mean, that it’s possible?”
“来吧。说实话。Early 闭上了一只眼睛。“你真的不相信 Gurley 在那里卖的故事，对吧？我的意思是，有可能吗？
“I don’t know, Early,” said Rye. “Does it have to be possible to believe in it?”
“我不知道，Early，”Rye 说。“必须要有可能相信它吗？”
Early stared at him a moment, then gave a short staccato laugh. “Jesus, Rye. That might be the best defense I’ve ever heard from one of you utopian shitheads.” He gave a small, appreciative nod and pointed at Rye with his glass of beer. “And are you willing to go to jail again for something impossible?”
Early 盯着他看了一会儿，然后断断续续地笑了起来。“天哪，莱伊。这可能是我从你们这些乌托邦式的狗屁那里听到的最好的辩护。他赞赏地点了点头，然后用他的啤酒杯指了指 Rye。“你愿意为了不可能的事情再次进监狱吗？”
“Yes, I am,” Rye said, wondering if that was true.
“是的，我是，”Rye 说，想知道这是不是真的。
“Okay, then. If you’re going back to jail anyway, wouldn’t you rather do something to deserve it, something big?”
“好吧。如果你无论如何都要回到监狱，你难道不愿意做一些活该的事情 ，一件大事吗？
Rye looked around the saloon. It was full of men like them. He imagined a street of saloons in a state of saloons in a world of saloons, a million men spending their last dollar on a glass of frosty forget. It was all too much, this way of thinking. Rye took another drink, the tartness not bothering him anymore.
Rye 环顾了一下酒吧。那里到处都是像他们一样的人。他想象着一条沙龙街，在一个沙龙的世界里，一个沙龙的状态，一百万男人把他们最后的钱花在一杯冰冷的遗忘上。这种思维方式实在是太过分了。Rye 又喝了一口，酸味不再困扰他。
“I got a question for you, Early,” he said. “What the hell is Taft?”
“我有个问题要问你 ，Early，”他说。“塔夫脱是什么？”
It wasn’t even a town but an overgrown work camp that had sprouted three years earlier when the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul and Pacific Railroad decided to connect the last transcontinental line. They mapped a route eighteen miles shorter than any competitor, but that meant going over, and mostly through, the steep Bitterroot Mountains of Montana and Idaho. Thousands of men came to the woods to lay track, spike ties, clear trees, and build dizzying trestles two hundred feet over virgin forest and canyons. They dynamited and hand-dug thirteen tunnels, the longest of which ran 1.7 miles through a granite peak. On either side of that endless tunnel, the St. Paul Pass, grew a pair of squalid work camps, like the front door and back door to hell, Grand Forks, Idaho, and Taft, Montana.
它甚至不是一个城镇，而是一个杂草丛生的工作营地，三年前，当芝加哥、密尔沃基、圣保罗和太平洋铁路决定连接最后一条横贯大陆的线路时，它就萌芽了。他们绘制的路线比任何竞争对手都短 18 英里，但这意味着要穿越蒙大拿州和爱达荷州陡峭的苦根山脉，并且大部分时间都要穿过。成千上万的人来到树林里铺设轨道、钉索、清理树木，并在原始森林和峡谷上建造 200 英尺高的令人眼花缭乱的栈桥。他们用炸药炸药和手工挖掘了 13 条隧道，其中最长的一条穿过花岗岩峰，全长 1.7 英里。在那条无尽的隧道两侧，圣保罗山口，长着一对肮脏的工作营地，就像通往地狱的前门和后门一样，爱达荷州的大福克斯和蒙大拿州的塔夫脱。
At their peak, each bustling camp housed more than a thousand men and nearly as many barmen, gamblers, and prostitutes, spread out in fifty or so rough-hewn wooden buildings—saloons, brothels, hotels and casinos, a barracks, chow hall, sawmill, and a sprawl of crib tents where the sorriest played-out jangle girls sat open-legged on dirty cots waiting for men too drunk to climb the brothel steps. Neither place had what you’d call streets—just crude wood buildings thrown up alongside the train tracks, where every night dirty, bearded men seeped from the woods to spend a day’s wages. Behind this one square block were the men’s shacks, lean-tos, and tents, trailing up the wooded hillsides with no more planning than sprouted mushrooms. Taft himself had visited as secretary of war in ’07, before becoming president. He called the camps a “sewer of sin” and “a sore on an otherwise beautiful national forest.” In response, the Montana side gleefully voted to take his name.
在鼎盛时期，每个熙熙攘攘的营地都住着一千多名男子和几乎同样多的酒保、赌徒和，分布在五十多座粗糙的木结构建筑中——酒吧、妓院、酒店和赌场、军营、食堂、锯木厂和一大片婴儿床帐篷，最悲惨的叮叮当当的女孩张开双腿坐在肮脏的婴儿床上，等待喝得酩酊大醉的男人爬上妓院的台阶。这两个地方都没有你所说的街道——只是沿着火车轨道拔地而起的简陋的木头建筑，每天晚上，肮脏的、留着胡子的男人都会从树林里渗出来，花一天的工资。在这个方形街区的后面是男生棚屋、棚屋和帐篷，沿着树木繁茂的山坡向上延伸，除了发芽的蘑菇外，没有更多的规划。塔夫脱本人在成为总统之前，曾在 07 年作为战争部长访问过这里。他称这些营地是“罪恶的下水道”和“原本美丽的国家森林上的一个疮”。作为回应，蒙大拿州一方兴高采烈地投票采用他的名字。
If Spokane was half-lawed, at least there was half. Taft and Grand Forks were built illegally on National Forest land, so neither had police nor government, and vice grew wild and untended there. An hour after frustrated forest rangers closed a saloon, three others opened. Taft did have what locals called a hospital—a dank cabin where a sawbones separated men from their smashed feet and gangrenous arms and where it was rare to leave better off than you arrived.
如果斯波坎有一半的法律，那么至少有一半。塔夫脱和大福克斯是在国家森林土地上非法建造的，所以警察和政府都没有，罪恶在那里肆意滋生，无人照料。在沮丧的护林员关闭一家酒吧一小时后，另外三家酒吧开门了。塔夫脱确实有当地人所说的医院——一个潮湿的小屋，那里的锯骨将人们与被砸碎的脚和坏疽的手臂隔开，很少有人能比你来时过得更好。
With no police, order was kept by the bosses of Baltic work gangs—Serb, Croat, Montenegrin, and Slav—who drove off the Chinese, Negro, and Indian workers and took over the camps. These bosses made deals with the job agents and foremen to control hiring, and they took a dime from every man’s paycheck. The gangs also policed each other, settling disputes quietly, with fists and knives and hammers. No one would ever know how many killings took place in the mountains in those three years, but the previous spring, forest rangers had counted eighteen corpses in the melting snowbanks outside Taft.
由于没有警察，波罗的海工作帮派的老大——塞尔维亚人、克罗地亚人、黑山人和斯拉夫人——维持着秩序，他们赶走了中国、黑人和印度工人，占领了营地。这些老板与求职中介和工头达成交易以控制招聘，他们从每个人的薪水中拿走一分钱。这些帮派还互相监管，用拳头、刀子和锤子悄悄地解决争端。没有人会知道那三年里山里发生了多少杀戮，但去年春天，护林员在塔夫脱郊外融化的雪堆中统计了 18 具尸体。
“I’d like to register my official objection,” Early said that morning as they boarded the Northern Pacific train from Wallace.
“我想正式提出反对意见，”那天早上，当他们从华莱士登上北太平洋火车时，Early 说。
But Gurley had already been convinced by Bolin that with log and rail work down for the winter, Taft was the best place to recruit floaters to join the Spokane protests.
但 Bolin 已经说服了 Gurley，随着冬季的原木和铁路工作停止，塔夫脱是招募漂浮者加入斯波坎抗议活动的最佳地点。
Early leaned over to Rye. “Nothing to recruit there but the drips.”
Early 靠向 Rye。“除了点滴，没什么可招募的。”
The train slowed as it slid through Grand Forks, and they looked out at a cluster of half-burned log buildings along muddy paths. A prostitute had recently set fire to the camp to cover up the murder of a sadistic barman. “And that’s the nicer of the two camps,” Early said as they left Grand Forks and entered the endless black tunnel, bound for Taft. It was dead quiet in their car through the mile and two thirds of darkness.
火车在滑过大福克斯时放慢了速度，他们望着泥泞小路上一群烧了一半的原木建筑。一名最近放火烧毁了营地，以掩盖一名虐待狂酒保被谋杀的事实。“这是两个营地中更好的一个，”Early 说，他们离开了大福克斯，进入了通往塔夫脱的无尽黑色隧道。他们的车里一片死寂，穿过了三分之二的黑暗。
Finally, they came out of the tunnel on the Montana side. Taft was a scar, half the buildings empty, roofs caved in by snow. No one greeted them on the platform, and in the center of that mud-and-ice square were only two human beings, and those two barely, a couple of slack-mouthed booze sacks perched on empty kegs waiting for the saloons to open.
最后，他们从蒙大拿州一侧的隧道里出来了。塔夫脱是个伤疤，一半的建筑空无一人，屋顶被雪塌陷。平台上没有人向他们打招呼，在那个泥泞的冰方块中央只有两个人，而那两个人，是一对张口松弛的酒袋，栖息在空桶上，等待着酒吧开门。
“It looks like this during the day,” Early said to Rye. “But the player pianos start jangling and the men come out of tents and shacks, straight for the saloons and cribs. We won’t want to be here after dark.”
“白天看起来是这样的，”Early 对 Rye 说。“但演奏钢琴开始叮当作响，男人们从帐篷和棚屋里出来，直奔酒吧和婴儿床。我们可不想在天黑后待在这里。
It already felt dark to Rye as Bolin led them along a narrow trail between peaks toward a dark barracks hall. They walked single file down a rutted path, clumps of trees felled on either side for strips of roughhewn cabins. Smoke tipped from the tin chimney of the log barracks in front of them.
当 Bolin 带领他们沿着山峰之间的狭窄小径走向一个黑暗的军营大厅时，Rye 已经感到黑暗了。他们一字排开地走在一条车辙小路上，两边的树木被砍伐，形成了一条条粗糙的小屋。烟雾从他们面前圆木营房的铁皮烟囱里冒出来。
At the door, the smell hit Rye. “Here we go,” Early said.
在门口，气味扑面而来。“我们开始吧，”Early 说。
The faces inside were whiskered, sooty, dull. They wore dirty long johns and work clothes—loggers, rail spikes, and tunnel rats out of work until spring. They sat on sleeping pallets or leaned forward on the few rickety chairs they hadn’t burned for heat. An old boiler had been turned into a woodstove in the center of the room, and it burned so hot its iron sides glowed red. Yet no matter how close he stood, Rye couldn’t shake off the Bitterroot cold.
里面的脸长着胡须，乌黑，呆滞。他们穿着脏兮兮的长裤和工作服——伐木工、铁钉和隧道老鼠直到春天才下班。他们坐在睡板上，或者向前倾在几把没有燃烧取暖的摇摇晃晃的椅子上。一个旧锅炉在房间中央变成了柴火炉，它燃烧得如此热，以至于铁边发出了红色的光芒。然而，无论他站得有多近，Rye 都无法摆脱 Bitterroot 的寒冷。
“Well then,” said Al Bolin, and he clomped to the center of the room next to the stove. With as little fanfare as possible, he made the introduction: “Boys, here’s Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, the labor girl out of New York I said about.”
“那么，”阿尔·博林说，然后他咔嚓咔嚓地走到房间中央，靠近炉子。他尽可能不大张旗鼓地做了介绍：“男孩们，这是伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn），我说的那个来自纽约的劳工女孩。
No applause, just quiet stares from the thirty or so men in the room, a third the number Al had promised. Rye’s eyes and nose had adjusted, and he watched as, again, despite the setting, Gurley brought the fire. “The ruling class will keep you in slavery until you demand freedom!” she said. “Come stand beside me in this fight!” But unlike the other crowds, these hard, hungover men just stared. She introduced Rye and he told his usual story of getting knocked around and surviving the sweatbox. The shadowed faces didn’t seem to register any of it, and Rye wondered how many of them even spoke English. They watched with bored, hungry stares—like hawks trying to decide if that mouse was worth the dive.
没有掌声，只有房间里三十多个男人安静的目光，是 Al 承诺的数字的三分之一。Rye 的眼睛和鼻子已经适应了，他看着，尽管环境如此，Gurley 又一次带来了火。“统治阶级会让你成为奴隶，直到你要求自由！”“在这场战斗中站在我身边！”但与其他人群不同的是，这些顽固、宿醉的男人只是盯着看。她介绍了 Rye，他讲述了他经常被撞倒并在汗箱中幸存下来的故事。那些被阴影遮住的面孔似乎没有注意到任何信息，Rye 想知道他们中有多少人会说英语。他们用无聊、饥饿的目光注视着——就像鹰一样，试图决定那只老鼠是否值得潜水。
Gurley gave another pitch for them to come to Spokane for the November 29 free speech action, and when they’d finished, Al Bolin hobbled into the center of the room, tilted his ranch hat back, and said, “Well, boys, give a hand to these folks come to tell you about this business.” They did, a couple of short claps. Then Al Bolin said, “You’re welcome to come ask them questions and wish them luck as they travel on to Missoula to continue raising money for this thing.”
格利又向他们提出了一个提议，让他们来斯波坎参加 11 月 29 日的言论自由行动，当他们说完后，阿尔·博林一瘸一拐地走到房间中央，把他的牧场帽向后倾斜，说：“好吧，孩子们，帮帮这些来告诉你这件事的人。他们做到了，几次短暂的掌声。然后 Al Bolin 说：“欢迎你来问他们问题，并祝他们好运，因为他们将继续前往米苏拉继续为这件事筹集资金。
At the door, Early Reston straightened. Rye felt his unease and watched his friend’s eyes sweep the room and finally fall back on Bolin, who was backing away toward the rear of the building. They both watched as Al slid out a side door.
在门口，Early Reston 挺直了身体。Rye 感到不安，看着他朋友的眼睛扫过房间，最后落在了 Bolin 身上，后者正在向建筑物的后面后退。他们俩都看着艾尔从侧门滑了出去。
“Where’s he going?” Early said, and he went out the front door to catch up to Bolin. Rye was frozen. He couldn’t follow Early and leave Elizabeth alone. He could see why Early was alarmed. Why had Al made a big deal of them raising money? And why, when he’d introduced Gurley, had he mentioned the “New York girl I said about”? When had he told them about her?
“他要去哪儿？”Early 说着，他走出前门追上了 Bolin。黑麦被冻住了。他不能跟着 Early 离开 Elizabeth。他明白为什么 Early 会感到惊慌。为什么 Al 要把他们筹集资金赚大钱？为什么当他介绍 Gurley 时，他提到了“我说的纽约女孩”？ 他什么时候告诉过他们关于她的事呢？
Rye made eye contact with Gurley, who also seemed to sense something was wrong. Then he looked at the travel bag at her feet. She had hundreds of dollars in there from their fund-raising, plus whatever she’d brought for expenses on the trip, more than enough to stir those hawks.
Rye 与 Gurley 进行了眼神交流，Gurley 似乎也感觉到了什么不对劲。然后他看了看她脚边的旅行包。她从他们的筹款活动中获得了数百美元，再加上她带来的旅行费用，足以激怒那些鹰派。
“We’d love to take questions, but we should get going on to Missoula,” Gurley said, and she edged toward Rye and the door.
“我们很想回答问题，但我们应该继续去米苏拉，”格利说，然后她慢慢走向莱伊和门。
“I got a question,” a voice called.
“我有个问题，”一个声音喊道。
“We really should be—”
“我们真的应该——”
“How much money’s in the bag?”
“袋子里有多少钱？”
A thick man stepped in front of the door just as Gurley reached Rye’s side. She cleared her throat. “Whatever funds we’ve raised are intended for the legal representation of those labor leaders in the Spokane jail.”
一个粗壮的男人走到门前，就在 Gurley 走到 Rye 身边时。她清了清嗓子。“我们筹集到的任何资金都用于斯波坎监狱中那些劳工领袖的法律代表。”
“How come you didn’t ask us for money?” said a tall man with gray-blond hair. “You think we ain’t got any to give?”
“你怎么不向我们要 钱呢？”“你觉得我们没有什么可给的吗？”
“We’d be honored to have your contributions”—Gurley looked at the two men by the door and then back at Rye—“to challenge the unconstitutional law against speaking on the street—”
“我们很荣幸能得到你的贡献”——Gurley 看了看门口的两个人，又看了看 Rye——“挑战禁止在街上发言的违宪法律——”
Another man with a thick accent cut her off. “How much money—”
另一个带着浓重口音的男人打断了她。“多少钱——”
Gurley persisted: “As I said in my speech, we hope to hire—”
格利坚持说：“正如我在演讲中所说的，我们希望雇用——”
“How much?” the man came again.
“多少钱？”
“—the great Clarence Darrow—”
“——伟大的克拉伦斯·达罗——”
“How much fuckin’ money!”
“他妈的多少钱！”
Rye’s eyes darted around until they landed on the shirt of a small dark-haired man standing next to him—his white undershirt was stained yellow, with a bib of crusted brown blood below his chin, like he’d eaten something alive.
Rye 的眼睛四处扫视，直到落在站在他旁边的一个黑发小个子男人的衬衫上——他的白色汗衫被染成了黄色，下巴下面有一团结痂的棕色血，就像他吃了什么活的东西一样。
Then the tall man with graying blond hair stepped forward until he was right in front of Gurley. Something about him seemed authoritative, and he spoke with an accent Rye couldn’t place. “Mind if I look in your bag, miss?”
然后那个灰白金发的高个子男人向前走了一步，直到他正好出现在格利面前。他的某些东西似乎很权威，他说话的口音让 Rye 分不清。“介意我看看你的包吗，小姐？”
Rye took a half step between the man and Gurley. This caused the man to turn slowly and look sidelong at Rye. A toothy smile crossed the tall man’s face. With the heat from the woodstove, the awful breath of the tall gray man, and the ripe of the men around them, Rye felt bile rise. His only defense might be to vomit on the man.
Rye 在男人和 Gurley 之间走了半步。这导致男人慢慢转过身来，侧头看着 Rye。高个子男人的脸上露出露齿的笑容。随着柴火炉的热气，那个高大的灰衣男人可怕的呼吸，以及他们周围男人的成熟，Rye 感到胆汁在上升。他唯一的防御措施可能是向这个男人呕吐。
“Well, look at here,” the blond-gray man said. Rye could feel Gurley’s hand in the center of his back, supporting him or cautioning. “The orphan boy wants a go.”
“嗯，看看这里，”金发灰发的男人说。Rye 能感觉到 Gurley 的手在他的背中央，要么支持他，要么警告他。“那个孤儿想试一试。”
Thirty minutes of speeches and socialist talk and rise-up-brother and the room hadn’t made so much as a peep. But now the men laughed.
三十分钟的演讲、社会主义演讲和崛起的兄弟和房间里连一丝一毫的窥视都没有。但现在男人们都笑了。
“This money belongs to the Industrial Workers of the World,” Gurley said, “and I would ask—”
“这笔钱属于世界产业工人协会（Industrial Workers of the World），”格利说，“我想问——”
The man was faster than Rye would have thought—and in what felt like a single move, he swept Rye aside, into the burning old boiler stove, and grabbed at the bag. But Gurley wouldn’t let go and they tussled over it.
这个男人比 Rye 想象的要快——他感觉像是一举一动，就把 Rye 扫到一边，钻进燃烧的旧锅炉炉里，然后抓住了袋子。但 Gurley 不肯松手，他们为此争吵不休。
Rye pushed off the burning stove. He saw Gurley gripping the bag’s handle, started toward her, but felt his arm yanked and twisted behind his back, and then something sharp pressed against his cheek. The man with the bloody shirt was holding a big deer skinner against his face, the knife scratching Rye’s cheekbone.
Rye 推开了燃烧的炉子。他看到 Gurley 紧紧抓住包的把手，开始向她走来，但感觉到他的手臂在背后被拉扯扭动，然后有什么尖锐的东西压在他的脸颊上。那个穿着血迹斑斑的衬衫的男人正把一个大剥鹿刀抵在他的脸上，刀子划伤着 Rye 的颧骨。
“Not in here,” the gray-blond man said.
“不在这里，”灰金发男人说。
Gurley still wouldn’t let go of the bag’s handle. “Listen—” And that was when the man hit her, open-handed but full, not a child’s slap but a shoulder-rotating heel-of-his-hand swing that knocked her off her feet and slid her into the legs of some of those other men. And now the man held the bag alone.
Gurley 仍然不肯松开包的把手。“听着——”就在这时，那个男人打了她一拳，张开双手但充满力量，不是孩子的耳光，而是肩膀旋转的手跟摆动，将她从脚上撞了下来，滑到了其他一些男人的腿上。现在，这个男人独自拿着袋子。
Gurley looked up from the wood floor like a cornered badger, like she might leap up and rip that man’s head from his neck. “You would steal from people who come to help you?”
Gurley 从木地板上抬起头来，就像一只走投无路的獾，仿佛她会跳起来把那个男人的头从他的脖子上扯下来。“你会从来帮助你的人那里偷东西吗？”
“I don’t recall asking for your help,” he said. “Any of you men ask for this bitch’s help?” He opened the bag and flipped through the clothing and held up some underthings for the others to see. “What have we got here?”
“我不记得有过你的帮助，”他说。“你们有谁要找这个婊子帮忙？”他打开袋子，翻阅了衣服，拿起一些内衣让其他人看到。“我们这儿有什么？”
Then the gray-blond man pulled the money from the bag, held up the cash for the others to see, and threw the bag to the floor in front of Gurley. The money disappeared into his lumber coat. “Best get on, you two,” he said with a vicious half-smile, “before it gets any colder out there.”
然后，灰金发男子从袋子里掏出钱，把现金举起来让其他人看到，然后把袋子扔到格利面前的地板上。钱消失在他的木皮大衣里。“最好走吧，你们俩，”他恶狠狠地半笑着说，“趁外面再冷一点。
Rye knew then what he meant by “Not in here.” The minute they stepped out that door, the knives would come. They’d been robbed, and now these hounds would make sure there were no witnesses. They would rifle his pockets and try on his boots as the last of his squirming life spilled out in a snowbank. As for Gurley, Rye didn’t want to think about it.
Rye 那时就知道他所说的“ 不在这里 ”是什么意思。他们一踏出那扇门，刀子就会来。他们被抢劫了，现在这些猎狗会确保没有目击者。他们会掏他的口袋，试穿他的靴子，看着他最后的蠕动生命洒在雪堆里。至于 Gurley，Rye 不想去想。
He looked helplessly at the door, wishing he’d never agreed to this, wishing he and Gig were sleeping in Mrs. Ricci’s house, wishing Early Reston could come back in with a gun and save them, wishing he could overpower the man, take his knife, protect her.
他无助地望着门口，希望他从来没有同意过这件事，希望他和吉格睡在里奇太太的房子里，希望早期雷斯顿能带着枪回来救他们，希望他能制服那个男人，拿起他的刀，保护她。
From the floor, Gurley carefully pulled herself up and gathered her clothes. In the midst of those wolves, she carefully folded her things and put them back in the travel bag. She appeared to be in no rush. She patted at her red-black hair and at the rising mark around her eye. If she was feeling Rye’s panic, she didn’t let on. Her hands were steady. She wasn’t crying, nor did she look particularly frightened.
Gurley 小心翼翼地从地板上站起来，收拾她的衣服。在那些狼群中，她小心翼翼地把她的东西折叠起来，放回旅行袋里。她似乎并不着急。她拍了拍自己红黑色的头发和眼睛周围隆起的印记。如果她感受到了 Rye 的恐慌，她就不会放手。她的手很稳。她没有哭泣，看起来也没有特别害怕。
She took a deep breath, reached back, and pulled the ribbon tighter around her hair. She took in the faces around her. And then she spoke, her voice changed. Lower, steadier. She wasn’t jawsmithing or high-handing—she was just talking.
她深吸一口气，把手伸回去，把丝带拉得更紧了。她看着周围的面孔。然后她说话了，她的声音变了。更低，更稳定。她不是在瞠目结舌或霸道——她只是在说话。
“You think I’m a fool.” She slowly buttoned the travel bag. “Some Sunday temperance lady with no idea where she’s landed.” She looked directly at the man with the knife against Rye’s face. “I know where I am. And listen: I’ve been to worse. Iron camps in Minnesota, Pennsylvania coal towns, Butte copper mine so deep I could smell the earth’s mantle.” She looked around again. “And I know you. I know you don’t give one shit for the brotherhood of men some stupid union cadge comes up here selling. Fine.”
“你觉得我是个傻瓜。”她慢慢地扣上旅行包的扣子。“某个星期天的节制女士，不知道她落在哪儿了。”她直视着那个拿着刀抵在 Rye 脸上的男人。“我知道我在哪里。听着：我经历过更糟糕的事情。明尼苏达州的铁矿营地、宾夕法尼亚州的煤炭城镇、比尤特铜矿，深到我能闻到地幔的味道。她又环顾四周。“我了解你 。我知道你一点也不在乎男人的兄弟会， 一些愚蠢的工会干部会来这里卖东西。好吧。
Rye couldn’t say what it was—her language, her posture—but he felt a shift and the men stayed quiet. “But whether you want me to or not, I am here to fight for you stupid sons of bitches. For your jobs and your booze and your right to be as stupid and poor a son of a bitch as any rich, stupid son of a bitch. I’m here to fight for your backs and for your arms, and for the freedoms you’re too goddamn stupid to use. To come and go as free men, as goddamn Americans no matter where you were born, to make your way in this world without some robber baron owning you.
Rye 说不出那是什么——她的语言，她的姿势——但他感觉到一阵变化，男人们保持沉默。“但不管你愿不愿意，我都是来为你们这些愚蠢的婊子而战的。为了你的工作和你的酒，以及你和任何一个有钱、愚蠢的婊子一样愚蠢和贫穷的权利。我在这里是为了你的背膀和你的手臂而战，为你他妈的愚蠢而无法使用的自由而战。无论你出生在哪里，都要以自由人的身份来来去去，作为该死的美国人 ，在这个世界上闯出一条路，而不需要什么强盗大亨拥有你。
“But I will be damned if I’ll let you end it all here”—she choked up and cleared it away—“in this place,” and Rye felt the hum of her anger in his throat, in the whole room.
“但是 ，如果我让你 在这里结束这一切 ， 我就该死了 ”——她哽咽着说——“在这个地方 ，”Rye 感觉到她愤怒的嗡嗡声在他的喉咙里嗡嗡作响，整个房间。
Gurley’s lips hardened and she took on a mocking tone. “ ‘I didn’t ask for your help, Gurley.’ Fuck you!” She said it right into the gray man’s face. “I fight for any man who labors, and I will fight against anyone who gets in my way, and that includes you! All of you! You want the money? Fine! It’s yours.”
格利的嘴唇变得坚硬，她带着嘲讽的语气。“' 我没有请你帮忙，格利 。'操你妈的！她直接对着灰发男人的脸说。“我为任何劳动的人而战，我将与任何阻碍我的人作战， 包括你！你们所有人！你想要钱吗？好！这是你的。
She stared at the gray-blond man as if daring him to say something. Then her eyes swept the room, landing on every eye that would meet hers. “Now maybe you think you still have business with us. Maybe you think you can do what you want, that no one cares what happens to some Montana tramp and a pregnant Irish girl—”
她盯着那个灰金发的男人，仿佛要他敢说些什么。然后她的眼睛扫过房间，落在每一只与她相遇的眼睛上。“现在，也许你认为你还和我们有生意往来。也许你认为你可以做你想做的事，没人在乎某个蒙大拿州的流浪汉和一个怀孕的爱尔兰女孩的下场——”
All eyes went to her heavy dress and coat.
所有的目光都集中在她厚重的裙子和外套上。
“But I will tell you this: If I’m not in Spokane leading this second free speech action five days from now, it will not happen! And then, make no mistake, you will have chosen sides. You’ll have chosen the side that lives off your blood and tosses you aside like trash.
“但我要告诉你：如果我不在斯波坎领导五天后的第二次言论自由行动，它就不会发生 ！”然后，毫无疑问， 您将选择立场。你会选择靠你的血活，把你像垃圾一样扔到一边的一方。
“But if you want to give those bosses a poke in the fuckin’ eye?” She grinned. “Let us go. Let us go finish our thing and fight for you, and next week I promise to make those rich bastards feel every bit as terrified as you’ve made me feel. Now, if there’s nothing else, we’ve got a goddamn train to catch—”
“但如果你想戳那些老板他妈的眼睛？”她咧嘴一笑。“我们走吧。让我们去完成我们的事情，为你而战，下周我保证会让那些有钱的混蛋感到和你让我一样恐惧 。现在，如果不出意外的话，我们还有一列该死的火车要赶——”
And with that, Gurley turned and started for the door, the man guarding it so surprised that he stepped aside, and Rye, hurrying after her, pulled away from the man with the knife, bent to grab his bowler off the ground, and ran to catch up.
说完，格利转身开始向门口走去，看守门的男人惊讶得走到一边，而莱伊急忙追赶她，从拿刀的男人身边拉开，弯腰从地上抓起他的圆顶礼帽，然后跑去追上。
The frosty ground crackled as they walked quietly up the trail, Gurley first, then Rye, taking small steps, not daring to look back at the barracks or up the dark-shadowed hills on either side. They got a good thirty feet before Rye remembered to breathe.
当他们静静地走在小径上时，冰冷的地面噼啪作响，首先是 Gurley，然后是 Rye，他们小步走着，不敢回头看军营，也不敢抬头看两边黑影的山丘。他们走了足足三十英尺，Rye 才想起呼吸。
“Bolin set us up,” Gurley whispered. “And where’s your friend Reston?” Hot anger emanated from her.
“博林安排了我们，”格利低声说。“那你的朋友雷斯顿呢？”她身上散发出炽热的怒火。
The hundred feet seemed to take an hour to walk, every tree a threat, the shadows terrifying, until they came over a hump in the dirt and there was Early, walking toward them from the cluster of buildings with a big woman who seemed all bosom and revolver.
这百英尺似乎需要一个小时才能走完，每一棵树都是一个威胁，阴影令人恐惧，直到他们越过泥土中的一个驼峰，Early 带着一个似乎全是胸膛和左轮手枪的大女人，从建筑群中向他们走来。
“See,” said the woman with the gun. “I told you them boys wasn’t all bad.”
“看，”拿枪的女人说。“我告诉过你，男孩们也不全是坏人。”
“No, you said not all the boys were bad.” Early Reston still had his hands in his pockets, as if nothing had happened.
“不，你说过不是所有的男孩都是坏的。”早期的雷斯顿仍然双手插在口袋里，仿佛什么都没发生过。
“Well, that’s true, too,” the woman said.
“嗯，这也是真的，”那个女人说。
“Where’d you go?” Gurley demanded.
“你去哪儿了？”格利问道。
“I ran after Bolin,” Early said, as if it were obvious. “Then I went to get help.” He tilted his head at the woman without removing his hands from his pockets.
“我追着博林跑，”Early 说，仿佛这是显而易见的。“然后我去寻求帮助。”他歪着头看着女人，没有把手从口袋里抽出来。
“Where’s Al?” Gurley asked.
“艾尔在哪儿？”格利问道。
“He took off into the woods,” Early said. “I think he was in on it.”
“他飞进了树林，”Early 说。“我认为他参与其中。”
The woman was named Effie and she was the madam at the brothel above the Swanson Bros Saloon. She brought them up the back stairs into what she called the parlor, a small bare front room with no furnishings save an old couch with torn upholstery. Early went out to make sure the signal was down for the next train to stop, and Effie sat Gurley down and tended to her eye. She had Rye gather some snow in a handkerchief and told Gurley to press it to her face on the train ride to Missoula. Then she took out a makeup brush and began applying her craft. “You’re a pretty girl,” she said.
这个女人名叫艾菲，她是斯旺森兄弟沙龙楼上妓院的夫人。她带他们走上后楼梯，来到她称之为客厅的地方，一个光秃秃的小前厅，除了一张内饰破旧的旧沙发外，没有任何家具。Early 出去确保信号已经关闭，以便下一班火车停下来，Effie 让 Gurley 坐下，照看她的眼睛。她让 Rye 用手帕收集一些雪，并告诉 Gurley 在去米苏拉的火车上把它压在她的脸上。然后她拿出一把化妆刷，开始涂抹她的手艺。“你是个漂亮的女孩，”她说。
Rye had never seen paint on Gurley’s face, and he ventured she didn’t need it, so drastic were those dark lashes and brows against her Irish pale.
莱伊从来没有见过格利脸上有颜料，他敢说她不需要它，那些黑睫毛和眉毛在她爱尔兰人的苍白上是如此剧烈。
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve treated my share of these,” the woman said. “Shouldn’t raise a bruise. You were fortunate it was with an open hand. A fist is harder to hide.”
“别担心，亲爱的，我已经处理了我那份，”女人说。“不应该引起瘀伤。你很幸运，你张开了一只手。拳头更难隐藏。
Gurley’s own hand came to her mouth then, and two tears made tracks in the coat of paint on her face, as if she’d just realized what had happened.
这时，Gurley 自己的手伸到了她的嘴边，两滴泪水在她脸上的油漆上留下了痕迹，仿佛她刚刚意识到发生了什么。
“Don’t go and do that,” Effie said. “That ain’t helpful.”
“不要去做那个，”Effie 说。“那没用。”
“I’m supposed to see my husband in Missoula tonight,” Gurley said.
“我今晚应该在米苏拉见到我丈夫，”格利说。
Effie looked down the length of Gurley’s body. “Honey, are you pregnant?”
Effie 低头看着 Gurley 的身体。“亲爱的，你怀孕了吗？”
Gurley nodded.
格利点点头。
“What are you doing out here?”
“你在这儿做什么？”
Gurley still couldn’t answer.
格利仍然无法回答。
“What are you, about five, six months?”
“你怎么样，大概五六个月吧？”
Another nod.
又点了点头。
“Well, don’t worry about that, neither. I seen girls fall down two flights of stairs couldn’t shake a child loose, once it gets hold up there.”
“嗯，也不用担心。我看到女孩子从两层楼梯上掉下来，一旦孩子被困住，就无法把孩子甩开。
“I lost one before,” Gurley said, Rye surprised to hear this.
“我以前丢了一个，”Gurley 说，Rye 听到这个消息很惊讶。
Effie kept tending the eye. “Well, like I tell all my girls, don’t go crying for a thing misses out on this business.” She turned to Rye next and put a bandage on his bleeding cheek. “Why, this one’s just a baby himself.”
Effie 继续照料着那只眼睛。“嗯，就像我告诉我所有的女孩们一样，不要因为错过了这件事而哭泣 。”她接下来转向 Rye，在他流血的脸颊上缠上了绷带。“哎呀，这只自己也不过是个婴儿。”
They sat in Effie’s parlor for almost an hour, before a train squealed to a stop on the platform. “All a-goddamn-board,” Early said. With Effie covering them from the window, they rushed down the stairs, across the muddy square, up onto the platform, and into the passenger car. They sat there, breathless, watching the trail to the barracks, waiting for men to come pull them off the train. Minutes later, the Milwaukee’s engine lurched and the train pulled out. They watched out the windows. Gaslights and shadows loomed in the saloons. Smoke billowed from the wood barracks where the wolves had robbed them. It was dead quiet on the car and no one said a word, long after the cluster of rough-hewn buildings had fallen away.
他们在 Effie 的客厅里坐了将近一个小时，然后一列火车尖叫着停在了月台上。“全他妈的板子，”Early 说。Effie 从窗户盖住他们，他们冲下楼梯，穿过泥泞的广场，上到站台，进入客车。他们坐在那里，气喘吁吁，注视着通往军营的小径，等待着男人来把他们从火车上拉下来。几分钟后，密尔沃基号的引擎猛烈跳动，火车驶出。他们看着窗外。煤气灯和阴影在酒吧里若隐若现。浓烟从狼群抢劫他们的木头营房里冒出来。车上一片死寂，没有人说一句话，在那群粗糙的建筑群倒塌很久之后。
Gurley stared out the window as the train rattled over a bridge across the Clark Fork River.
格利盯着窗外，火车嘎嘎作响地驶过横跨克拉克福克河的一座桥。
Rye sat next to her. “Are you okay, Elizabeth?”
Rye 坐在她旁边。“你还好吗，伊丽莎白？”
She turned as if surprised it was him. “We fell in love on a train,” she said. “Minnesota. Hibbing, Biwabik, the iron camps north of Duluth. My first trip west of Chicago. I loved seeing the world through a train window.
她转过身来，似乎很惊讶是他。“我们在火车上坠入爱河，”她说。“明尼苏达州。Hibbing， Biwabik， 德卢斯以北的铁营地。我第一次去芝加哥以西。我喜欢透过火车窗看世界。
“It was Jack who insisted we get married. For my own safety, a single girl traveling through these parts. He was thirty. I was just seventeen. I thought I was so grown up.” She laughed. “I used to see the coal steam shovels off in the distance and imagine they were dragons, that Jack was my prince, and we were exploring this mysterious land together.” She glanced up at him, embarrassed. “My romanticism is my great weakness, Ryan. But you probably guessed that by now.”
“是杰克坚持要我们结婚。为了我自己的安全，一个单身女孩穿越了这些地方。他三十岁了。我当时只有 17 岁。我以为我已经长大了。她笑了起来。“我曾经看到远处的煤炭蒸汽铲，想象它们是龙，杰克是我的王子，我们正在一起探索这片神秘的土地。”她尴尬地抬头看了他一眼。“我的浪漫主义是我最大的弱点，瑞安。但你现在可能已经猜到了。
“If you have a weakness, I haven’t seen it,” Rye said.
“如果你有弱点，我还没有看到，”Rye 说。
She hummed a small laugh and looked at him fully, her wet dark eyes dipped at the corners. “Thank you.” Then she turned back to the window. “When my mother found out I’d gotten married, she said, ‘Well, now you’ve done it. Wasted both our lives.’ Even Vincent Saint John thought it was a bad idea. ‘Look at you, Gurley,’ he said, ‘you fell in love with the west and went and married the first man you met there.’ ”
她哼了一声，全神贯注地看着他，湿漉漉的黑眼睛垂在眼角。“谢谢你。”然后她转身看向窗户。“当我妈妈发现我结婚时，她说，'好吧，现在你已经结婚了。浪费了我们俩的生命。就连文森特·圣约翰也认为这是一个坏主意。“看看你，格利，”他说，“你爱上了西部，然后去嫁给了你在那里遇到的第一个男人。”
Rye wished he knew what to say about any of this.
Rye 希望他知道该怎么说这些。
She touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Ryan,” she said. “I’m being morose. Will you give me a moment with my thoughts?”
她摸了摸他的胳膊。“对不起，瑞安，”她说。“我闷闷不乐。你能给我一点时间谈谈我的想法吗？
“Of course,” he said, and he moved a few rows, to where Early Reston was drinking from a flask he’d borrowed.
“当然，”他说，然后他走了几排，来到 Early Reston 正在用他借来的酒瓶喝水的地方。
“The purser is from the town next to mine in Wisconsin,” Early said.
“乘务长来自威斯康星州我隔壁的小镇，”Early 说。
“I thought you were from Indiana.”
“我以为你来自印第安纳州。”
Early glanced over his shoulder. “Well, he doesn’t know that.” He nodded ahead at Gurley. “How’s she doing?”
Early 回头瞥了一眼。“嗯，他不知道。”他朝 Gurley 点了点头。“她怎么样了？”
“Morose,” said Rye, adding it to his list of words to look up.
“闷闷不乐，”Rye 说，把这句话添加到他的单词清单上。
“Taft would make anyone morose. But I warned her. Going to Taft and not expecting trouble? It’s like jumping in a lake and hoping to stay dry.”
“塔夫脱会让任何人闷闷不乐。但我警告了她。去塔夫脱，没想到会遇到麻烦？这就像跳进湖里，希望保持干燥。
“They almost killed us, Early.”
“他们差点要了我们的命，Early。”
“Yeah, but they didn’t.”
“是的，但他们没有。”
“Because she talked them out of it.”
“因为她劝他们不要这样做。”
“She can talk.”
“她会说话。”
Rye felt defensive of her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rye 对她感到防备。“这是什么意思？”
“It means she can talk. That’s all.”
“这意味着她会说话。就这样。
“Why do you think Bolin set us up like that?”
“你觉得博林为什么把我们安排成那样？”
Early didn’t hesitate. “Money.”
Early 没有犹豫。“钱。”
“He’d get us killed for a little bit of money?”
“他会为了一点钱就杀了我们？”
Early shrugged. “Everyone does everything for a little bit of money.”
Early 耸了耸肩。“每个人都为了一点点钱而做任何事情。”
“You don’t believe that,” Rye said.
“你不相信，”Rye 说。
“Sure I do. Money and sex. That’s why we do everything. The desire for sex can be quenched at least for a few hours by having sex. But give someone money? They just want more.”
“我当然知道。金钱和性。这就是我们做一切的原因。至少可以通过性行为来熄灭几个小时。但是给别人钱呢？他们只是想要更多。
Rye shook his head. “Not everyone is like that. I’m not like that.”
Rye 摇摇头。“不是每个人都是这样的。我不是那样的。
“Come on!” Early laughed. “You and your brother got yourselves arrested over what? A dollar!”
“来吧！”Early 笑了起来。“你和你哥哥因为什么被捕了？一美元！
“It was not over a dollar!”
“还不到一美元！”
“Sure, it was. Same dollar that got Jules killed.”
“当然，是的。让 Jules 被杀的那块钱。
Rye’s hands balled into fists. “No! It was about free speech!”
Rye 的双手握成拳头。“不！这是关于言论自由的！
Early seemed amused by Rye’s defensiveness. “Yeah, and what were you free-speeching on? The dollar you didn’t want to pay a job shark.”
Early 似乎被 Rye 的防御性逗乐了。“是的，你是为了什么而自由发言的？你不想付给工作鲨鱼的那块钱。
“It was the principle!”
“就是原则！”
“Yeah. And the principle was a dollar.”
“是的。原则是一美元。
Rye wished he had Gig here to debate Early. “It’s not the same! Arguing for basic pay versus a guy taking money to sell out the people he’s helping.” As soon as he said it, Rye flushed with guilt, thinking about Del Dalveaux questioning him in Seattle, and Lem Brand’s twenty-dollar note, still rolled up in his sock.
Rye 希望他能有 Gig 来这里与 Early 辩论。“不一样！争论基本工资与一个人拿钱出卖他正在帮助的人。他一说，Rye 就愧疚得满脸通红，想起了 Del Dalveaux 在西雅图审问他，还有 Lem Brand 的 20 美元钞票，还卷在了他的袜子里。
“Is it? I mean, that girl up there, she is a whirlwind onstage, don’t get me wrong, but in the end, what’s she really jawing about? Getting you bums a few more dollars. That’s all.”
“是吗？我的意思是，那个女孩在舞台上就像一阵旋风，不要误会我的意思，但到头来，她到底在抱怨什么呢？让你多赚几美元。就这样。
Rye shook his head again. “You didn’t hear her in Taft, Early. She was amazing. No, it’s about a lot more than that.”
Rye 又摇了摇头。“你在塔夫脱没听见她的声音，Early。她太棒了。不，它远不止于此。
“Sure it is.” He held his hand up in surrender. “Hey, don’t listen to old Early. I got nothing against that girl and her little union. It’s as good as any other thing.” He offered the flask to Rye, closed one eye and considered him. “But ask yourself this, little brother. Why is this conversation making you so upset? Two possibilities, I see, and they are not exclusive to one another. One, because you’re getting sweet on her. And two, because you’ve had these thoughts yourself—I see it on your face.” Early leaned in closer. “This thing she’s out here doing? It’s nothing but a show. I suspect you know there’s a more direct way to accomplish things.”
“当然可以。”他举起手投降。“嘿，别听老 Early 的话。我对那个女孩和她的小工会没有任何反对意见。它和其他任何东西一样好。他把瓶子递给 Rye，闭上一只眼睛，打量着他。“但是问问你自己，小兄弟。为什么这次谈话让你如此难过？我明白了，两种可能性，而且它们并不是彼此排斥的。第一，因为你对她越来越甜蜜。第二，因为你自己也有过这些想法——我从你的脸上看到了。Early 靠得更近了。“她在这里做什么？这不过是一场表演。我怀疑你知道有更直接的方法来完成事情。
It was quiet, just the sound of the rails beneath them. Rye took the flask and had a pull to keep himself from saying anything.
这里很安静，只有他们脚下的铁轨的声音。Rye 接过瓶子，拉了拉自己，不让自己说什么。
“Look,” Early said, “in case the first possibility is true, let’s not talk about her at all. Let’s say,” he stuck out his bottom lip, “there’s a castle. And a king in the castle. And he’s an ass, because, well, kings are asses. Takes too much in tribute. The other knights and noblemen hate him. They say, This fella is getting rich off our fields and the tribute we get from the peasants. They scheme and plot and one day they slit his throat. Replace him with a new king. But pretty soon the noblemen say, Well, goddamn, the new king is as shitty as the last greedy son of a bitch. So they whack his head off, too, and they put in a new greedy king. Kings killing kings. You know what that’s called?”
“听着，”Early 说，“如果第一种可能性是真的，我们就不要谈论她了。比方说，“他伸出下嘴唇，”有一座城堡。还有一位国王在城堡里。他是个驴子，因为，嗯，国王就是驴子。需要太多的致敬。其他骑士和贵族都讨厌他。他们说，这家伙从我们的田地里发财，我们从农民那里得到的贡品。他们密谋和策划，有一天他们割开了他的喉咙。用新的国王取代他。但很快贵族们就说，嗯，该死的，新国王就像最后一个贪婪的婊子一样糟糕。所以他们也把他的头砍下来，然后他们安插了一个新的贪婪的国王。国王杀死国王。你知道那叫什么吗？
Rye shook his head.
Rye 摇摇头。
“Shakespeare,” Early said. “Now let’s say you’re on the other side of the moat, and you got these peasants watching one rich king bump off another rich king, thinking, Wait, this ain’t changing anything.” He gestured at Gurley. “They gather behind some charming rebel who leads the peasants in revolt, and they behead all the shitty knights and princes and noblemen.”
“莎士比亚，”Early 说。“现在，假设你在护城河的另一边，你让这些农民看着一个富有的国王撞倒另一个富有的国王，心想， 等等，这不会改变任何事情。“他向格利做了个手势。”他们聚集在某个领导农民起义的迷人叛逆者后面，他们斩首了所有卑鄙的骑士、王子和贵族。
Rye just shrugged.
Rye 只是耸耸肩。
“Here is my point—the peasants own the castle now, and they become the greedy sons of bitches. It’s all the same. What I’m saying is maybe the king ain’t the problem. Maybe what it is”—Early took another pull from the flask—“is time to blow up the whole goddamn castle.”
“我就是这么想的——农民现在拥有了城堡， 他们成了贪婪的婊子。都是一样的。我想说的是，也许国王不是问题。也许它是什么“——Early 又从瓶子里抽了一口——”是时候炸毁整个该死的城堡了。
A felt cowboy hat rose from a bench in the Missoula depot and the man beneath it ambled toward them, Rye assuming this was Gurley’s husband until he saw that she was looking around the man for someone else.
一顶毛毡牛仔帽从米苏拉仓库的长凳上升起，下面的男人蹒跚地向他们走来，Rye 以为这是 Gurley 的丈夫，直到他看到她正在这个男人周围寻找其他人。
“He ain’t here, Elizabeth,” the man said. He shook hands with Rye and Early. “Arn Burkitt, IWW local vice president.” Arn handed Gurley a letter. “It’s from Jack.”
“他不在这里，伊丽莎白，”男人说。他与 Rye 和 Early 握手。“IWW 当地副总裁 Arn Burkitt。”阿恩递给格利一封信。“是杰克的。”
As Gurley opened the letter, Burkitt told her that her two speeches in Missoula had been canceled.
当格利打开这封信时，伯基特告诉她，她在米苏拉的两次演讲已被取消。
“Why?” she asked without looking up from the letter.
“为什么？” 她头也不抬地问。
“I’m under a lot of pressure here, Elizabeth.”
“我在这里承受着很大的压力，伊丽莎白。”
“What pressure, Arn?”
“什么压力，阿恩？”
“I’d rather not say.”
“我宁愿不说。”
Finally, she looked up. “Pressure not to let”—she read from the letter—“ ‘a pregnant, wayward wife’ take the stage?”
最后，她抬起头来。“压力不让”——她从信中读到——“'一个怀孕的、任性的妻子'上台吗？
“It just don’t play well here, Elizabeth, Jack wanting you back in Butte and you out here speaking on street corners. Makes us look barbaric. And it makes you look . . .” He didn’t finish this thought. “It ain’t just Jack. The other unions object to having you speak, Elizabeth. The AFL, WFM—”
“这里不太好，伊丽莎白，杰克想让你回到比尤特，你在这里街角演讲。让我们看起来很野蛮。它让你看起来 . . .他没有把这个念头说完。“不仅仅是杰克。其他工会反对让你说话，伊丽莎白。AFL，WFM——”
“I know who they are,” Gurley said. “So, you’re saying we just let those men rot in the Spokane jail, surrender to the forces—”
“我知道他们是谁，”格利说。“所以，你是说我们只是让那些人在斯波坎监狱里腐烂，向部队投降——”
He cut her off. “Don’t jaw me, Elizabeth. I know what you can do. And it worked here. Cops blinked. But they ain’t blinking in Spokane. No one wants that here. Five hundred in jail, Walsh and Little on a hunger strike. Hard enough to get men to sign up for red cards, you want ’em to sign up for bread and water and beatings and rock piles and a year in prison, too?”
他打断了她。“别咬我，伊丽莎白。我知道你能做什么。它在这里奏效了。警察眨了眨眼。但他们在斯波坎并没有眨眼。这里没有人想要这样。500 人被关进监狱，沃尔什和利特尔绝食抗议。难到让男人报名参加红卡考试，你还想让他们报名参加面包、水、殴打、石堆和一年的监禁吗？
She looked away. “Are you saying I should give up, Arn?”
她移开了视线。“你是说我应该放弃吗，阿恩？”
“I’m saying that after your second arm gets bit off, it might be time to stop poking the bear.”
“我是说，在你的第二只手臂被咬掉后，可能是时候停止戳熊了。”
“Yeah.” Gurley sighed. “Time to start kicking the son of a bitch.”
“是的。”格利叹了口气。“该开始踢这个婊子了。”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Nothing I can do.”
“我很抱歉，”他说。“我无能为力。”
“Arn, they sent me to Spokane to organize and raise money to hire a national lawyer to challenge this law. We are a week away from the second free speech action, and you’re sending me back with no men, no money, nothing.”
“阿恩，他们派我去斯波坎组织并筹集资金，聘请一名全国律师来挑战这项法律。我们距离第二次言论自由行动还有一个星期，你把我送回去，没有男人，没有钱，什么都没有。
“What do you mean, no money?”
“你什么意思，没钱？”
She looked down. “We ran into some trouble in Taft.”
她低头看。“我们在塔夫脱遇到了一些麻烦。”
“What in God’s name were you doing in Taft?”
“你以上帝的名义在塔夫脱做了什么？”
Gurley’s eyes trailed around the busy depot—travelers greeting family, porters handing luggage to travelers. “Doesn’t matter,” she said.
Gurley 的目光在繁忙的仓库中四处扫视——旅客向家人问好，搬运工为旅客递行李。“没关系，”她说。
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” Arn said. “I’m at a loss here. This is all I can do.” He reached in his back pocket and handed her three train tickets. Two second-class tickets to Spokane. And one to Butte. “Time for you to go home.”
“对不起，伊丽莎白，”阿恩说。“我在这里不知所措。这就是我能做的。他把手伸进后兜，递给她三张火车票。两张前往斯波坎的二等舱门票。还有一次是 Butte。“你该回家了。”
Del Dalveaux, 1909
Del Dalveaux，1909 年
THE HOTEL clerk handed me a message from Bolin. Flaccid old lobcock wanted me to call a number. I had the girl on my end connect us.
THE 酒店职员递给我博林的一封信。松弛的老 lobcock 要我打个电话。我让那个女孩帮我们打上了电话。
Right off, Al said, “It didn’t go, Del. Taft didn’t go.”
“艾尔马上说，”没走，德尔·塔夫脱没走。
The girl on my end was chewing nails.
我这边的女孩正在嚼指甲。
“They took the money is all. And let ’em go on to Missoula.”
“他们拿了钱就行了。让他们继续去米苏拉吧。
I said nothing.
我什么也没说。
“It’s a lazy bunch up there is the thing.”
“这儿是一群懒惰的人。”
I said nothing.
我什么也没说。
“And there were surprises.”
“而且有惊喜。”
Said nothing.
什么也没说。
“Wasn’t like you said.”
“不像你说的。”
Nothing.
无。
“So what I figured now is—”
“所以我现在想的是——”
I snapped my fingers and gave a nod to the girl, who yanked the call.
我打了个响指，向女孩点了点头，她挂断了电话。
I was ripe enough with that whorepipe Bolin to grab the next rattler to Wallace and beat him to death before he could hobble off.
我对那个博林已经足够成熟了，可以抓住华莱士的下一个，在他一瘸一拐地走开之前把他打死。
But first I needed to deliver the news to Brand. And the thought of telling that fat church bell anything but “It’s done” and “Goodbye” sank my guts. Goddamn Spokane.
但首先我需要将消息传达给 Brand。一想到要告诉那个胖胖的教堂钟声，除了 “It's done” 和 “Goodbye” 之外的任何事情，我就心里舒畅。该死的斯波坎。
I caught a hansom to his house. Algoddamnhambra. The stones on that man. His doorman said he was having a drink at his club, so I had the cab take me there, to a pillared building above the river where I found the man smug in a gauzy library, having Scotch and cigars with what he called the consortium—half a dozen fat whiskered high-collared white men sunk like nails into plush chairs in front of a fireplace so big three of them could’ve held hands and walked into it. Butter on bacon, that room was: white marble floors and velvet chairs, Negro waiters behind the rich men, and two bored security men along the wall. Thirty millionaires in Spokane and six of them sat right here, like potted plants in this gilded room, ripe prig-pipes playing chess with the whole town.
我赶上了他家的马。Algoddamnhambra.那个男人身上的石头。他的门卫说他要在他的俱乐部喝一杯，所以我叫出租车带我去了那里，到了河上的一座柱子建筑，我发现那个男人在一间薄纱的图书馆里沾沾自喜，带着苏格兰威士忌和雪茄，和他所谓的财团在一起——六个长着大胡子、高领子的白人男人像钉子一样钻进壁炉前的毛绒椅子里，他们三个人竟然可以手牵手走路进入它。那个房间是培根黄油：白色大理石地板和天鹅绒椅子，富人后面是黑人服务员，墙上有两个无聊的保安。斯波坎的 30 名百万富翁和其中 6 人就坐在这里，就像这个镀金房间里的盆栽植物一样，成熟的小管子与整个小镇下棋。
Low chatter rose from the chairs—a set of whiskers complaining about the mayor hiring the Olmsted brothers to map a new park system. “I said to Pratt, you’ll spend a million dollars to have some New Yorker tell you to put grassy fields where our grassy fields are.”
椅子上传来了低沉的喋喋不休的声音——一对胡须抱怨市长雇用奥姆斯特德兄弟来绘制新的公园系统。“我对 Pratt 说，你得花一百万美元让一些纽约人告诉你，把草地放在我们的草地所在的地方。”
The other men laughed, and one said, “What’s your complaint, Charles, if they pass the bond, they’ll buy up your scabland, hire your crews to build the parks, and you’ll end up with half the money.”
“其他人都笑了起来，其中一个说：”你有什么抱怨呢，查尔斯，如果他们通过了保证金，他们就会买下你的疥癣，雇佣你的船员来建造公园，你最后会得到一半的钱。
“He’s complaining because he wants all of it.”
“他抱怨是因为他想要这一切 。”
I wondered how many I could get in that fireplace before the security men stopped me.
我想知道在保安阻止我之前，我能在那个壁炉里找到多少人。
Brand’s back was to me, so I edged into the room, past more wall portraits of bristled white faces. He looked up and saw me, smiled, and began to speak, “Oh, Mr.—” before he remembered my admonition and brought his finger to his lips. I tilted my head to the hallway, stepped out, and waited for him.
布兰德背对着我，所以我慢慢地走进房间，经过了更多墙上的白毛脸像。他抬起头来，看到了我，微笑着开始说，“哦，先生——”然后他想起了我的告诫，把手指放在嘴唇上。我把头歪向走廊，走出去，等他。
When one of the waiters walked by with a tray of cognacs, I snagged one, drained it, put it back.
当其中一位服务员端着一盘干邑白兰地走过时，我抓住了一盘，沥干，然后放回原处。
Finally, Brand came out in the hall. He was bleary-eyed drunk. Worse, one of the other men in the library had come with him and stood nearby, a few steps back. He was thin and pale, with a few long hairs pulled over his pate like wild grasses on a beach.
最后，布兰德走进了大厅。他睡眼惺忪，喝醉了。更糟糕的是，图书馆里的另外一个男人也跟他一起来了，站在附近，后退了几步。他瘦削苍白，几根长毛像海滩上的野草一样披在他的脸上。
Brand chattered: “I’m sorry, Mr. . . . Grant. I know you said not to mention your real name, but Mr. Tate here is my dearest friend and closest ally, and I promised I would introduce him.”
布兰德喋喋不休地说：“对不起，先生...... 格兰特 。我知道你说不要提你的真名，但这里的泰特先生是我最亲爱的朋友和最亲密的盟友，我答应过我会介绍他。
I opened my mouth to say it wasn’t a good idea, him introducing us, but drunk Lem Brand had already turned to his mate and waved him over: “Bernard, come, meet the famous detective”—and now he whispered—“Del Dalveaux.”
我张开嘴说这不是个好主意，他正在介绍我们，但喝醉了的莱姆·布兰德已经转向他的伙伴，向他挥手：“伯纳德，来见见那位著名的侦探”——现在他低声说——“德尔·达尔沃。
Christ.
基督。
“Such a pleasure!” This Bernard was drunker and more gal-boy booster than even Brand. “And how are you finding our fine city?” he asked. “I have heard it described more than once as the London of the West.”
“真荣幸！”这个伯纳德甚至比布兰德还醉，更像是女孩男孩的助推器。“那你觉得我们这座好城市怎么样？”“我不止一次听到它被描述为西方的伦敦。”
“Have you?”
“你呢？”
“Because of the rivers, I mean. The Spokane and the Thames.”
“我的意思是，因为河流。斯波坎和泰晤士河。
“Yes,” I said, “those are both rivers.”
“是的，”我说，“那两条河都是。
“I hope someone has taken you to the Auditorium,” he said. “It has the largest stage in the world.”
“我希望有人带你去了礼堂，”他说。“它拥有世界上最大的舞台。”
“Perhaps you could tell me about it another time,” I said. “I really must speak with Mr. Brand.”
“也许你可以下次再告诉我，”我说。“我真的必须和布兰德先生谈谈。”
“Of course,” he said. “Anarchists and dynamiting bums—we appreciate the work you’re doing—Lem here has kept us all abreast and has told us of your great reputation. But it must have been quite a surprise when you found out that Lem’s driver was Lem himself!”
“当然，”他说。“无政府主义者和炸药流浪汉——我们感谢你所做的工作——莱姆在这里让我们所有人都了解最新情况，并告诉我们你的良好声誉。但是，当你发现 Lem 的司机是 Lem 本人时，你一定很惊讶！
“Mmm,” I said, a bullfrog’s croak.
“嗯，”我说，像牛蛙一样呱呱叫。
Lem Brand jumped in then. “But we’ve got them on the run, don’t we, Del? Chief Sullivan squeezing from the top and you and I from our end.”
莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 随后跳了进来。“可是我们已经让他们逃跑了，不是吗，德尔？沙利文局长从上往下挤，你和我从我们这边挤来挤去。
“Mmm.” I felt the sweat on my brow—wiped it with the back of a spotty hand. I had aged ten years in a week in Spokane, and I was old when I arrived. “Speaking of which, Mr. Brand, I really must speak to you in private.”
“嗯。”我感到额头上冒汗——用一只斑驳的手背擦了擦。我在斯波坎的一周内就老了十岁，刚到的时候我已经老了。“说到这里，布兰德先生，我真的必须私下和你谈谈。”
This was too much excitement for his friend Tate. “Of course! Infiltrations and espionage, much to discuss!” He fluffed the tails of his coat as if he were a partridge and backed away.
这对他的朋友泰特来说太兴奋了。“当然！渗透和间谍活动，有很多值得讨论的地方！他像一只鹧鸪一样蓬松地甩动外套的尾巴，然后退后了一步。
“You have a report from our operation in Montana?” Brand asked. Still playing secret agent. “Was our dinner for three a success?”
“你有我们在蒙大拿州的行动报告吗？”布兰德问道。还在扮演秘密特工。“我们三个人的晚餐成功吗？”
“It didn’t go,” I said.
“没走，”我说。
“What do you mean?”
“你什么意思？”
“I mean it didn’t go.”
“我的意思是它没去。”
“Wait. None of them?”
“等等。他们一个都没有？
“It didn’t go.”
“它没有去。”
“You said Reston, at least. You promised!”
“至少你说的是雷斯顿。你答应了！
“It didn’t go. The Serb took their money, but it wasn’t right for the other.”
“它没有去。塞尔维亚人拿走了他们的钱，但对另一个人来说并不合适。
“You said this was the place—”
“你说这就是那个地方——”
“It was a place.”
“那是个地方。”
He was quiet. More than disappointment on his face, desperation—
他很安静。除了他脸上的失望、绝望——
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
“我会处理的，”我说。
“You said this Serb gang—”
“你说这个塞尔维亚帮——”
“My man there—”
“我的人在那儿——”
“You said the farther from Spokane—”
“你说离斯波坎越远——”
“Right, it would have been—”
“对，那会是——”
“Are they coming back here? Are you planning to do it here?”
“他们会回来吗？你打算在这里做吗？
“I don’t know yet.”
“我还不知道。”
His face reddened. “When will you know?”
他的脸涨得通红。“你什么时候知道？”
“I’m gathering information.”
“我正在收集信息。”
His irritation became something else. Fear, maybe. “Are they here now?”
他的恼怒变成了另一回事。也许是恐惧。“他们现在在这里吗？”
“As I said, I’m gathering information.”
“正如我所说，我正在收集信息。”
“Yes, I heard that!” Brand’s face constricted, mouth tight, and he spoke quietly. “I hope I didn’t make a mistake.” His eyes going straight to my grog-blossom nose again. “Hiring reputation over youth.”
“是的，我听到了！”布兰德的脸紧缩着，嘴巴紧闭着，他轻声说道。“我希望我没有犯错。”他的眼睛又直直地盯着我那花香浓郁的鼻子。“招聘声誉胜过年轻人。”
My shoulder twitched with the desire to punch his fat mug. “You may of course hire anyone you like. But as long as I am here, I will take care of it. Now, if there is nothing else—”
我的肩膀抽搐着，想打他那胖胖的杯子。“你当然可以雇佣任何你喜欢的人。但只要我在，我就会照顾好它。现在，如果没有别的了——”
He grabbed my arm. “Mr. Dalveaux—”
他抓住了我的手臂。“达尔沃先生——”
I looked down at his hand. He let go of my arm.
我低头看着他的手。他放开了我的手臂。
I barely made it out of there with my breath. I seethed on the street. Muttered. Walked until I found a rat tavern and fell in—had a beer, a whiskey, and two more before I could breathe. The last one I sipped, and that’s what started my thinking: So Brand wants youth over reputation? The jobs you do for these sons of bitches. I infiltrated the Molly Maguires and the WFM, and this prig questions me about a union girl and a handful of tramps.
我几乎用呼吸离开了那里。我在街上怒气冲冲。喃喃 地 说。我走到找到一个老鼠酒馆，然后掉进去——在我能呼吸之前，我喝了一杯啤酒、一杯威士忌和另外两杯。我喝了最后一口，这就是我开始思考的原因： 所以 Brand 想要年轻而不是声誉？你为这些婊子的儿子做的工作我渗透到了莫莉·马奎尔（Molly Maguires）和 WFM 中，这个骗子问我关于一个工会女孩和一小撮流浪汉的事情。
I could do these three in my sleep.
我可以在睡梦中做这三件事。
The point, of course—in the old days Del would have done the job himself. Trusting it to Bolin had been soft. Lazy.
当然，关键是——在过去，Del 会自己完成这项工作。 把这件事托付给博林是软弱的。懒惰。
I was replaying my mistakes while the bartender dragged a drunk out of the place by his underarms. He edged the man through the door and dropped him on the sidewalk in front of the tavern. Came back slapping his hands together to get the bum off. “Been quiet, with so many in jail,” he said from behind the bar.
我正在重演我的错误，而酒保则拽着一个醉汉的腋下把他拖出了这个地方。他把那个人从门里推了进去，把他扔在了小酒馆前的人行道上。回来时拍打着双手，把那个流浪汉弄走。“安静点，有这么多人在监狱里，”他在吧台后面说。
I settled up. Outside the tavern, I saw the man dumped on the sidewalk, sleeping it off, legs draped over the curb, head bent like he’d cocked his ear to a joke. I looked back in the tavern. The bartender was wiping down where I’d sat. Below me, the bum slothered like a hog. There was an old hitching post in front of the building. I bent over and lifted the sleeping man’s head, leaned it against that post like a pillow. The bum was maybe forty, skin and bone but for his gut, thin hair, rotted teeth. I lifted my leg and stomped down on his neck. Two more to his ripe melon, one each for Brand and his friend, but on the third stomp, I felt something in my ankle give and I limped away, cursing that slick tramp head and my own temper.
我安顿下来。在酒馆外面，我看到那个男人被扔在人行道上，睡着了，双腿垂在路边，低着头，就像他竖起耳朵听笑话一样。我回头看了看小酒馆。调酒师正在擦拭我坐的地方。在我下面，流浪汉像猪一样懒洋洋地呆着。大楼前面有一根旧的拴绳桩。我弯下腰，抬起熟睡的男人的头，像枕头一样靠在那根柱子上。这个流浪汉大概四十岁了，皮肤和骨骼，但就他的肠道而言，稀疏的头发，腐烂的牙齿。我抬起腿，踩在他的脖子上。他熟透的瓜子又踩了两口，布兰德和他的朋友各一跺了一口，但在第三次跺脚时，我感觉脚踝有什么东西在抽搐，我一瘸一拐地走开了，咒骂着那个滑溜溜的流浪汉脑袋和我自己的脾气。
Bolin was easy. Same Sixth Street saloon in Wallace where I’d paid him and where we’d planned the whole thing with the tall gray Serb from Taft.
Bolin 很容易。我在华莱士的第六街的同一家酒吧里付了钱给他，我们在那里与来自塔夫脱的高大灰色塞尔维亚人一起策划了整件事。
He wasn’t surprised to see me. He would’ve checked the train tables the minute we stopped talking. Twelve years I’d worked with that ogre and still he gave me a jump—shriveled arm and leg and boiled face and that metal ring holding the gristle of his jaws together.
他看到我并不感到惊讶。他会在我们停止交谈的那一刻检查火车表。我和那个食人魔一起工作了十二年，他还是让我跳了起来——干瘪的胳膊和腿，煮沸的脸，还有那个金属环把他的下巴软骨固定在一起。
He sat at a table with a fresh beer, facing the door. A dozen other men were there. Bolin would think he was safe. Nothing better than a man feeling safe. Two men at the bar shifted as I walked in. So Al had at least two men, Dwang and Snool, pointless work, their eyes following me as I stepped to the bar. I pressed between them at the railing.
他坐在一张桌子旁，手里拿着一杯新鲜的啤酒，面朝门。那里还有其他十几个人。博林会认为自己很安全。没有什么比一个男人感到安全更好的了。我走进来时，酒吧里的两个男人换了个姿势。所以 Al 至少有两个男人，Dwang 和 Snool，毫无意义的工作，当我走到酒吧时，他们的眼睛跟着我。我压在他们之间的栏杆上。
I said to the barman, “Do you have Scotch, or just that piss whiskey?”
我对酒保说：“你有苏格兰威士忌，还是只有那种小便威士忌？
While he poured, I leaned forward on the rail and spoke to the apes on either side. “I might not kill Bolin, but if I do, it’s my business. Either of you makes a move and you’ll go next, right?” I opened my coat on the .32 Savage.
当他倒酒时，我身体前倾在栏杆上，与两边的猿猴交谈。“我可能不会杀了博林，但如果我杀了，那是我的事。你们中的任何一个人采取行动，然后你们接下来就走，对吧？我打开了 .32 Savage 的外套。
I was alert, three quarters sober, a twitch from tears. I took a sip, stepped from the railing, turned, and smiled friendly, first at Dwang, then at Snool.
我很警觉，四分之三是清醒的，泪水抽搐了一下。我啜了一口，从栏杆上走下来，转过身来，友好地微笑，先是对 Dwang，然后是 Snool。
“Boys,” I said. I walked across the floor and sat next to Bolin at his table. He’d put an empty chair on his good side—where he wanted me to sit. I grabbed the chair and carried it to the other side of the table. His shite side.
“男孩们，”我说。我走过地板，坐在 Bolin 旁边的桌子旁。他在他好的一侧放了一把空椅子——他想让我坐在那里。我抓起椅子，把它带到桌子的另一边。他糟糕的一面。
“Looking good, Al. New scars?”
“看起来不错，艾尔，新的伤疤？”
“I figured you’d come.”
“我还以为你来了。”
“Fucking genius.”
“他妈的天才。”
He pointed at my whiskey. “How many of those you had, Del?”
他指着我的威士忌。“你有多少个，Del？”
“Every single one of them, Al.”
“他们每一个人，艾尔。”
“Look, there was nothing I could do. In Taft.”
“你看，我什么也做不了。在塔夫脱。”
“So you said.”
“你是这么说的。”
“Didn’t go is all. Sometimes things just don’t go.”
“没走就是全部。有时事情就是不顺利。
“So you said.”
“你是这么说的。”
“The Serb got his money and I guess he lost interest in the other.”
“塞尔维亚人拿到了他的钱，我猜他对另一个人失去了兴趣。”
“Right.”
“对。”
“It was a drunk crew. Nothing to be done.”
“那是一群喝醉了的船员。什么都没做。
“You could’ve done it yourself.”
“你本来可以自己做的。”
“It never occurred to me that the Serb wouldn’t. Son of a bitch killed his own nephew over two bucks.”
“我从来没有想过塞尔维亚人不会。一个婊子的儿子为了两块钱杀了他自己的侄子。
“So why didn’t he?”
“那他为什么不呢？”
“The girl got to ’em, Del.”
“那个女孩找到了他们，德尔。”
“What do you mean, she got to them?”
“你什么意思，她找到了他们？”
“After they took her money—what she said got to ’em.”
“他们拿了她的钱之后——她说的话就传到了他们心里。”
“What did she say?”
“她说了什么？”
“I don’t know, exactly.”
“我不知道，确切地说。”
“You weren’t there?”
“你不在那儿？”
“Well, no, Del. I cleared out. I set it up and I left. I figured thirty men could handle two bums and a girl. And I didn’t think you’d want me connected to that business. What good would I be to you later if I lost my cover?”
“嗯，不，德尔。我离开了。我设置好了，然后离开了。我想三十个男人可以应付两个流浪汉和一个女孩。而且我不认为你会希望我与那家公司建立联系。如果我失去了我的掩护，以后对你有什么好处呢？
“What good are you to me now?” If my ankle didn’t ache from the bum-stomp earlier, I might have meloned Bolin’s rotten face, too. What a mistake, giving him this job. Old and tired, Del, you are. “Where’s my money, Al?”
“你现在对我有什么好处 ？”如果我的脚踝没有早点被跺脚而疼痛，我可能也会把 Bolin 那张烂烂的脸弄得焦脾气。给他这份工作真是个错误。 又老又累，德尔，你真是太累了。“我的钱呢，艾尔？”
“I have it. I decided—”
“我有。我决定——”
“You decided?”
“你决定了？”
“I decided I’m keeping half for my trouble.”
“我决定留一半来弥补我的麻烦。”
I laughed. “Those boys in Taft have your money, Al. Go get it from them. My money was for the job you didn’t do.”
我笑了。“塔夫脱的那些家伙有你的钱，艾尔。去从他们那里拿来。我的钱是用来做你没做的工作的。
“Well, I’m keeping two hundred.”
“嗯，我留着两百个。”
I laughed again.
我又笑了起来。
“Okay, one hundred. I have to get out of town, Del.”
“好吧，一百个。我得离开这个城，Del。
“I’ll get you out of town for nothing. Out of every town.”
“我白白带你出城。从每个城镇出去。
“I’m keeping a hundred, Del.”
“我留着一百块钱，德尔。”
I looked up. The apes were staring. Barman, too. And one at the door. So that was at least four. Christ, Bolin was spooked. But in a place like this, more wasn’t necessarily better. Give me one good man over four rattled mettle fetchers any day. Especially for close work. The bark of the Savage would be to my advantage, the question was order: which first. Dwang. Taller ape. Do that one and everyone stops to watch that man curl around his guts and then Snool, and that’s when I turn and do Al, slow, no rush or panic, then see if any other man makes a move, although in my experience, those three will be plenty—
我抬起头。猿猴们盯着看。酒保也是。还有一个在门口。所以至少是四个。天哪，博林吓坏了。但在这样的地方， 更多不一定更好。任何一天都给我一个好人，而不是四个嘎嘎作响的勇气。特别适合近距离工作。野蛮人的吠叫对我有利，问题是顺序：哪个先。 嘟嘟。高大的猿。做那一次，每个人都停下来看着那个男人蜷缩在他的内脏上，然后是 Snool，这时我转身做 Al，慢点，不要匆忙或惊慌，然后看看是否有其他人采取行动，尽管根据我的经验，这三个会足够——
Al interrupted my thinking. “There were surprises, too. You didn’t tell me the girl was pregnant. And you could’ve told me Brand had another man inside.”
艾尔打断了我的思考。“也有惊喜。你没告诉我那个女孩怀孕了。而且你可以告诉我，布兰德里面还有另一个男人。
I turned and looked straight into Al’s mangled face. I did feel compassion for him, carrying that mug around. And it was true, I hadn’t told him Gurley Flynn was pregnant. Had I thought Al wouldn’t follow through if he knew that? Or was it some kind of guilt over the other Spokane job I’d done? I also hadn’t told him about the younger Dolan. I was slipping. “I should’ve told you about the kid.”
我转过身来，直视着艾尔那张伤痕累累的脸。我确实对他感到同情，随身携带那个杯子。这是真的，我没有告诉他 Gurley Flynn 怀孕了。我以为如果 Al 知道这一点，他就不会坚持下去吗？还是对我在斯波坎所做的另一份工作感到某种内疚？我也没有告诉他关于年轻的多兰的事情。我滑倒了。“我应该告诉你关于那个孩子的事。”
“What kid?”
“什么孩子？”
“Ryan Dolan. He tell you that Brand has him on retainer?”
“瑞恩·多兰。他告诉你布兰德把他当了个固定子？
“What are you talking about?” Bolin asked.
“你在说什么？”博林问道。
“What are you talking about?”
“ 你在说什么？”
“I’m talking about the Pinkerton.”
“我说的是平克顿。”
“The what?”
“什么？”
“The Pinkerton. Reston. The guy playing a bum. What if we’d done him in? The shit they’d rain down on us? Even in Taft you can’t just go kill a Pinkerton. You should have told me, Del.”
“平克顿。雷斯顿。那个扮演流浪汉的家伙。如果我们把他干掉呢？他们会像雨点一样落在我们身上？即使在塔夫脱，你也不能随便去杀一个平克顿。你应该告诉我的，德尔。
I was quiet.
我很安静。
“You didn’t know,” he said.
“你不知道，”他说。
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“你确定？”我问。
“Yeah, I’m sure. He slipped out and followed me. Knocked me down in the snow. Asked a bunch of questions about who paid me. Said he’d been on the job almost a month, that Lem Brand hired him to go deep.”
“是的，我确定。他溜了出来，跟着我。把我撞倒在雪地里。问了一堆关于谁付钱给我的问题。他说他已经工作了将近一个月，Lem Brand 雇用他是为了深入。
Jesus. How many men did Brand have on this job? I thought back to the dossiers. Was it possible he didn’t know Reston was the man he’d hired? Back when I went deep, I used fake names. Or was it darker than that? Had Brand wanted me to take out a man he’d hired? Was possible with him. Christ, planting a Pinkerton could’ve ended me. You can plant a dozen mutton-shunter cops, but you start killing Pinkertons, they will hound you to your last day.
耶稣。布兰德有多少人从事这项工作？我回想起了那些档案。他有没有可能不知道 Reston 就是他雇来的那个人？当我深入研究时，我用的是假名字。还是比那更黑暗？布兰德是想让我干掉他雇的一个人吗？对他来说，这是可能的。天哪，种下平克顿可能会毁了我。你可以安插十几个羊肉调车警察，但你开始杀死平克顿人，他们会一直追着你到最后一天。
And even if Brand hadn’t known Reston was his man inside, he would’ve known he had a man inside. And he didn’t tell me that. I had asked him, “Is there anything else?” and he had stalled. Told me about the kid but not another detective inside.
即使布兰德不知道雷斯顿是他的内心，他也会知道他内心有一个男人 。他没有告诉我。我问他，“还有什么吗？”他停顿了。告诉我关于那个孩子的事情，但没有告诉我里面的另一个侦探。
“You look like a man with troubles, Del.”
“你看起来就像个有麻烦的人，德尔。”
I shrugged. “Put my money on the table, Al.”
我耸耸肩。“把我的钱放在桌子上，艾尔。”
He sniffed. Then, thinking he had the upper hand, he put a small stack of cash on the table. I swept it into my pocket without counting it. “Now the other half.”
他嗅了嗅。然后，他认为自己占了上风，于是将一小摞现金放在桌子上。我把它扫进口袋里，没有数。“现在是另一半。”
“Like I said, I’m keeping—”
“就像我说的，我保持——”
I grabbed the metal piece that held his jaws together and yanked it like a kid on a carousel. I pulled his face down to the table and, with my other hand, pulled the .32 Savage from my waist and leveled it below the table at the two men by the bar railing. They came up straight, but their hands were up and out, as if calming an angry animal. I held Al’s face down by the ring in his cheek. “Where’s my money, Al?”
我抓住了固定他下巴的金属片，像旋转木马上的孩子一样猛拉它。我把他的脸拉到桌子上，用另一只手从腰间掏出 .32 Savage，把它放在桌子下面，对着吧台栏杆旁的两个男人。他们直直地站起来，但他们的手却高高举起，仿佛在安抚一只愤怒的动物。我用戒指把 Al 的脸贴在他脸颊上。“我的钱呢，艾尔？”
He fiddled in his coat and set the rest of my money on the table.
他摆弄着他的外套，把我剩下的钱放在桌子上。
A dozen years I’d known Al Bolin, since I worked him inside the WFM, back during the silver wars. I liked him. He had courage. Easy to turn a coward, but a coward’s work left much to be desired. A man like Bolin, you only had a small shot of turning him, but if you did, he was gold. He was inside for me when an anarchist blew up a safe house—Al the only survivor. In the hospital, his wounds bubbled and seeped, but when he came to, I was there to whisper in the hole where his ear used to be: You’re gonna come out of this, and when you do, come and find me. He did and I took care of him. Gave him money and opium, and when he could move again, I got him work. Paid him to watch meetings and stoke a riot in Havre so my employer there could convince the police to crack down on the union.
我认识 Al Bolin 已经十几年了，因为我在 WFM 工作过，那是在白银战争期间。我喜欢他。他有勇气。懦夫很容易变成懦夫，但懦夫的工作还有很多不足之处。像博林这样的人，你只有很小的机会来扭转他，但如果你做到了，他就是金子。当一个无政府主义者炸毁了一个安全屋时，他在我里面——艾尔是唯一的幸存者。在医院里，他的伤口冒泡渗出，但当他醒来时，我在那儿对他原来的耳朵洞里低语： 你要从这里出来，当你出来的时候，来找我。 他照做了，我照顾他。给了他钱和鸦片，当他能再次行动时，我就给他找工作。付钱让他观看会议，并在阿弗尔煽动骚乱，这样我在那里的雇主就可以说服警察打击工会。
Still, I should’ve known better than leave a job like this to him.
不过，我早就应该知道，不要把这样的工作留给他。
I held my finger in the ring through his cheek like the trigger guard of a pistol, his head on the table between us, money in front of his nose. He looked up at me with his good eye. I spoke quietly. “Now. To show that I am not a vindictive man, take twenty back.”
我把戒指上的手指像手枪的扳机护罩一样穿过他的脸颊，他的头靠在我们之间的桌子上，钱放在鼻子前。他用他那双善良的眼睛抬头看着我。我轻声说。“现在。为了表明我不是一个报复心强的人，请收回二十个。
He did.
他做到了。
“That’s for a train ticket out of here and a hotel somewhere. Now take another twenty for your troubles.”
“那是为了买一张从这里出去的火车票和某个地方的酒店。现在再拿二十块钱来帮你烦恼。
He did.
他做到了。
“And another ten to buy your apes a beer and a meal.”
“再来十个人给你的猿猴买一杯啤酒和一顿饭。”
He did.
他做到了。
I took fifty dollars from the stack, pressed them into his hand. “And that’s from me, Al. For old times.”
我从书堆里拿出五十块钱，压在他手里。“那是我说的，艾尔。为了过去。
The rest went in my pocket. I had given him the hundred he’d asked for, but I’d done it. I did not let him make Del Dalveaux look ripe for prigging up the back avenue. His face still on the table, Al squeezed the hundred in his hand like it was my throat and stared up at me with that one good eye. I leaned in and whispered in the hole where his ear used to be. “You’re gonna come out of this, and when you do—go fuck off, you half-roasted shitsteak—”
其余的都进了我的口袋。我给了他他想要的一百块钱，但我做到了 。我没有让他让 Del Dalveaux 看起来成熟了，可以沿着后街撬动。他的脸还躺在桌子上，艾尔把那一百块钱捏在手里，就像捏住我的喉咙一样，然后用那只好眼睛盯着我。我俯身在他耳朵原来的洞里低语。“你要从这儿出来，等你出来的时候——去他妈的，你这个半烤半生的狗屎牛排——”
I gave the metal ring the slightest tug, then I let it go and his head snapped back like it was a tree branch. I stood slowly, the gun still leveled at Al’s two men.
我轻轻地拉扯了一下金属环，然后我放开了它，他的头像树枝一样向后猛地缩了回来。我慢慢地站着，枪仍然对准了 Al 的两个手下。
Al rubbed the bad cheek and smiled with the other one. “One of these days, Del, someone’s going to bury you, and not a single living soul will be sorry.”
艾尔揉了揉那张坏脸颊，和另一张脸颊一起笑了笑。“总有一天，Del，有人会埋葬你，没有一个活着的灵魂会感到遗憾。”
Wasn’t often I couldn’t come up with a proper retort to these western cunts, but Al batty-fanged me on that one. Of course, the old half-miner didn’t know about the doctor in Denver and the bump on my skull, but still—it was a cruel thing for one friend to say to another, and I stewed as I backed out of the bar into the street.
我经常想不出一个合适的反驳来反驳这些西方的屄，但 Al 在那个上面狠狠地獠牙了我。当然，那个老半矿工不知道丹佛的医生和我头骨上的肿块，但还是——一个朋友对另一个朋友说这是一件很残忍的事情，我一边炖着一边走出酒吧，走到街上。
And now? Find Flynn and the young Dolan tramp and plant them where they stood. Collect five grand from Brand and ask about this Pinkerton he apparently hired and wanted dead. Or better, take the Pinkerton with me to see Brand.
现在？找到弗林和年轻的多兰流浪汉，把他们安插在他们站的地方。从布兰德那里收集五块钱，然后询问这个显然是他雇佣并希望杀死的平克顿的情况。或者更好的是，带上 Pinkerton 去看 Brand。
I got a room with a girl in Wallace, but the situation had me lobcocked and she went to sleep unruffled. I was visited all night by visions: Bolin and the hobo’s neck and the pregnant girl in Spokane I drowned, on and on. At three, I sent the girl away and dressed to catch the first train back to Spokane. A cold dark walk to the station, no sign of Bolin or his apes.
我在华莱士和一个女孩住了一个房间，但这种情况让我犹豫不决，她平静地睡着了。我整晚都被幻象所笼罩：Bolin 和流浪汉的脖子，以及我在斯波坎淹死的怀孕女孩，不停地。三点时，我把女孩送走，穿好衣服赶上第一班回斯波坎的火车。寒冷黑暗的路走到车站，没有 Bolin 或他的猿猴的踪迹。
God of morbs, pulling back into Spokane that morning I felt low, and I nearly wept as we eased into the station. Was I never to be free of this place? In the seat in front of me, a man said, “First time to Spokane?”
那天早上，我把车开回斯波坎，我感到很低落，当我们缓缓进入车站时，我几乎要哭了。难道我永远都无法摆脱这个地方吗？在我前面的座位上，一个男人说：“第一次来斯波坎？
I just stared at him.
我只是盯着他看。
“Make sure you see the Auditorium,” he said. “Biggest theater stage in the whole—”
“确保你看到礼堂，”他说。“整个剧院舞台里最大的——”
I leaned over the seat and punched him in the throat.
我俯身坐在座位上，一拳打在他的喉咙上。
Hell with Spokane, hell with Lem Brand and his consortium of prigging gentlemen, with the doom doctor’s diagnosis in Denver, all of it. I had money from two weeks’ surveillance and the money I took back from Al Bolin. Maybe I could quit. Let Brand keep his bonus for the dirt baths. I had a daughter in Lexington, I’d go live with her and fish and read books to her boy. He’d be, what, five now? Eight?
斯波坎下地狱，莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 和他的傲慢绅士财团下地狱，丹佛的末日医生诊断出地狱，所有这一切。我有两周监控的钱和从 Al Bolin 那里拿回来的钱。也许我可以放弃。让布兰德保留他的污垢浴奖金。我在列克星敦有一个女儿，我会和她住在一起，钓鱼，给她的儿子读书。他现在会，什么，五岁了？八？
Porters were helping the man I’d punched. I hurried off the train and went to my hotel. I had the clerk make a phone call to the Allied office in Missoula, to ask a favor of an eye who worked the Anaconda with me ten years ago.
搬运工正在帮助我打的那个男人。我匆匆下了火车，去了我的旅馆。我让店员给米苏拉的盟军办公室打了个电话，请十年前和我一起在蟒蛇号上工作的一位眼睛帮忙。
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, heavy on the word doing
“你在这儿做什么？” 他问道，沉重地讲了“做”这个词.
I told him, and thirty minutes later he called back. He said Gurley Flynn’s Missoula speech had been canceled and his man at the train station had Dolan and Reston railing back to Spokane today, on the Great Northern 1356, scheduled to arrive at one p.m. I checked my pocket watch: eleven-forty.
我告诉了他，三十分钟后他回了电话。他说，格利·弗林（Gurley Flynn）在米苏拉的演讲被取消了，他在火车站的人让多兰和雷斯顿今天乘坐大北方 1356 号火车返回斯波坎，计划在下午一点到达。我检查了一下我的怀表：11-40。
And Gurley Flynn?
那么格利·弗林呢？
“Sent back to Butte to be with her husband,” the man said.
“被送回比尤特和她的丈夫在一起，”该男子说。
I felt a great lightening then, glad to be free of that woman. I have never liked killing the lesser sex and prefer not to. Half the world being women, you can’t avoid it, but still it unsettles me. Even a shrill dollymop like her, better for everyone if she’s making pasties in Butte and avoids my shadow the rest of her life.
那时我感到一阵巨大的轻松，很高兴能摆脱那个女人。我从来不喜欢杀死低级性别，也不想这样做。世界上有一半是女性，你无法避免它，但它仍然让我感到不安。即使是像她这样尖锐的拖把，如果她在 Butte 制作馅饼并在她的余生中避开我的影子，对每个人都会更好。
I limped to a restaurant across from the Great Northern station and got a corner table by the window, where I could wait for the train from Missoula. I could at least drop the Dolan kid, fix that mistake, collect a thousand. If Brand wanted, I could even come back and do the brother when he got out of jail.
我一瘸一拐地来到大北方车站对面的一家餐馆，在窗边找了一张转角的桌子，在那里我可以等从米苏拉出发的火车。我至少可以放弃 Dolan 孩子，改正那个错误，收集一千个。如果布兰德愿意，我甚至可以在弟弟出狱后回来做他。
Fog had rolled in and the Great Northern 1356 was running late. The waiter delivered my eggs and I ate them as I watched out the window, carriages and autos beginning to pull up to the station. It had me imagining Lexington, my daughter greeting me.
大雾滚滚而来，Great Northern 1356 晚点了。服务员把鸡蛋送来，我一边吃一边看着窗外，马车和汽车开始停在车站。它让我想象着列克星敦，我的女儿向我打招呼。
The waiter came by to take my plate away, and I asked for a whiskey, but he said, “We have the luncheon out, sir,” and I said, “I know it’s lunch, I want a bloody whiskey for my lunch,” and him, “I’m not allowed, sir,” and my flush rose again, and that’s when I looked out the window to see people spilling out of the train station, porters loading bags onto hansom cabs, folks hugging on the street in front. I tossed my napkin on my plate.
服务员过来拿走我的盘子，我要了一杯威士忌，但他说，“先生，我们午餐出去了，”我说，“我知道这是午餐，我想在午餐时喝一杯血腥威士忌，”他说，“我不被允许，先生，”我的脸红又涨了起来，就在这时，我向窗外看去，看到人们从火车站涌出来。 搬运工将行李装上 Hansom 出租车，人们在前面的街道上拥抱。我把餐巾纸扔在盘子里。
But I was stumped. Gurley Flynn and Dolan were coming out of the train station together, her in a black cape with a carpetbag, him in that same ill-fitting suit with his bowler hat. So she’d come back after all. Well, that would be more money. But where was Reston?
但我被难住了。格利·弗林和多兰一起从火车站出来，她穿着黑色斗篷，手里拿着一个地毯袋，他穿着同样不合身的西装，戴着圆顶礼帽。所以她终究还是回来了。嗯，那会是更多的钱。但雷斯顿在哪里呢？
I reached into my pocket for a dollar coin, dropped it on the table, and was about to stand when a shadow fell and I looked up to see Early Reston.
我从口袋里掏出一枚美元硬币，把它扔在桌子上，正要站起来时，一个影子落下，我抬头看到了早期的雷斯顿。
“Del Dalveaux,” he said, like we’d met before.
“Del Dalveaux，”他说，就像我们以前见过一样。
It is the strangest aspect of aging—how faces blur, a language you no longer speak. Up close this man seemed familiar, but perhaps the way a common face is reminiscent of others—thin, weary, plain—an age that might be twenty-five or forty-five, so ordinary in appearance that only another agency man would appreciate the difficulty of achieving such anonymity, like walking in snow without making a footprint.
这是衰老最奇怪的方面——面孔如何模糊，一种你不再会说的语言。近距离看，这个男人似乎很熟悉，但也许一张普通的面孔会让人想起其他人——瘦弱、疲惫、平淡——一个可能二十五岁或四十五岁的年龄，外表如此普通，以至于只有另一个代理人才会体会实现这种匿名的困难，就像在雪地里行走而不留下脚印一样。
“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, my hand finding my .32.
“你让我处于劣势，”我说，我的手摸到了我的 .32。
“Oh, I doubt that,” he said. “Has any man ever had the great Del Dalveaux at a disadvantage?” He took the chair next to mine. “Brand hired you?” he asked.
“哦，我怀疑这一点，”他说。“有没有人让伟大的德尔·达尔沃处于劣势？”他坐在我旁边的椅子上。“Brand 雇用了你？”
“Indeed,” I said, my hand square on the Savage grip. “And you?”
“确实，”我说，我的手正好握住了 Savage 的手。“那你呢？”
“Yep. A month ago,” he said. “Wanted me to work both sides, rile things up, get the union throwing bombs and the cops busting heads. He wanted to avoid what happened in Missoula, the cops and mayor going soft.”
“是的。一个月前，“他说。“希望我两边工作，激怒事情，让工会投掷炸弹，让警察揍头捣蛋。他想避免在米苏拉发生的事情，警察和市长变得软弱。
“Well, no one’s gone soft,” I said.
“嗯，没有人会心软，”我说。
“You hire me to rile—I rile.” He looked away. “Maybe too much.”
“你雇我来吟诵——我吝啬。”他移开了视线。“也许太多了。”
“You think that’s why my employer didn’t tell me about you?”
“你觉得这就是我的雇主没有告诉我关于你的事吗？”
“He didn’t?”
“他没有？”
“No. I thought you were just one of the bums.”
“不。我还以为你只是个流浪汉呢。
“Really? He didn’t tell you?”
“真的吗？他没告诉你吗？
I shrugged. “Would have been good information to have.”
我耸耸肩。“如果有的话，那将是很好的信息。”
“For me, too.”
“对我来说也是。”
“I’m sure. A snake, isn’t he?”
“我确定。他是一条蛇，不是吗？
“Did he do the driver bit with you?”
“他跟你一起吃过车夫吗？”
I laughed. “And the dossiers?”
我笑了。“那档案呢？”
“Jesus,” he said.
“耶稣，”他说。
“So, what office are you out of?”
“那么，你不在哪个办公室？”
“Office?”
“办公室？”
This confused me. “I thought you were a Pink. Are you freelance?”
这让我很困惑。“我以为你是个粉红人。你是自由职业者吗？
He chuckled like there was a funny story in that, and shifted in his chair and looked around for a waiter. “I’m going to have a drink. You want one?”
他咯咯地笑了起来，仿佛这其中有个好笑的故事，然后挪了挪椅子，四处寻找服务员。“我要喝一杯。你想要一个吗？
Out the window I could no longer see Gurley or Ryan Dolan. I craned my neck. I’d find them later. “It’s lunch. They won’t open the whiskey,” I said.
窗外我再也看不到 Gurley 或 Ryan Dolan。我伸长了脖子。我以后会找到他们。“这是午餐时间。他们不会打开威士忌，“我说。
“Of course they will.” Reston spun toward the passing waiter, “Excuse me,” but the man skated by without stopping, and when Reston turned back, it was with a lunge, the blade sliding between ribs and nearly lifting me off my chair. I felt more pressure than pain, a thrust-lift-swipe in my chest and lung, the man’s full weight—not jerking but easy and practiced, like a butcher cutting rib roasts, and what felt like eight inches of steel in my side and God I was dead on my chair—
“他们当然会的。”雷斯顿转身走向路过的服务员，“对不起，”但那个人不停地溜过，当雷斯顿回头时，它猛冲过去，刀片在肋骨之间滑动，几乎把我从椅子上抬起来。我感到的压力大于疼痛，我的胸部和肺部被推-抬-轻扫，那个男人的全部重量——不是抽搐，而是轻松而熟练，就像屠夫切排骨烤肉一样，感觉像是八英寸的钢铁在我的身体侧面，上帝啊，我死在了椅子上——
My hand had come off the handle of the .32. I scrabbled for it, but it was gone.
我的手已经从 .32 的手柄上脱落了。我拼命寻找它，但它已经不见了。
Reston was leaning on the knife—Ah, there’s the pain—I yelled, coughed, and sputtered, but he was standing, bent over me as if concerned about my condition. He spoke with—was that an attempt at an English accent? “Oh, Del, what’s the bother?” Left hand on the handle of the knife, right reaching around his backside to tuck my gun into the back of his pants—can a man admire his killer’s method? Except for the shite accent—
雷斯顿靠在刀上—— 啊，好痛 ——我大喊大叫，咳嗽，吐口水，但他站着，弯着腰，好像在关心我的状况。他和他说话——这是在尝试英国口音吗？“哦，Del，怎么了？”左手握住刀柄，右手伸到他的后背上，把我的枪塞进他的裤子后面——一个男人能佩服他的杀手的方法吗？除了那狗屎口音——
“Oh my, you’re coughing blood, Del!” He called out to the bar: “Stay back!” He put that right arm around me, helped me to my feet. “My brother is consumptive,” he said. “I need to get him some air.”
“哦，天哪，你咳血了，Del！”他对吧台喊道：“退后！他用右臂搂着我，扶我站起来。“我哥哥很消耗，”他说。“我得给他弄点空气。”
The waiter gave us a wide berth, as Reston must’ve known he would, and he had me upright, pulling me out the door, the waiter held it for us, Reston’s right arm over my shoulder holding me up, his left reaching across his own body into my suit coat, onto the hidden handle of his knife, which jutted from my side and which he used like the tiller of a boat to steer me.
服务员给了我们一个宽阔的卧铺，雷斯顿肯定知道他会这样做，他让我直起身来，把我拉出门，服务员替我们拿着门，雷斯顿的右臂搭在我的肩膀上，把我扶起来，他的左手伸过自己的身体，伸进我的西装外套，伸到他隐藏的刀柄上。 它从我身边伸出来，他像船的舵柄一样用它来引导我。
I got out a weak “Help” to the waiter, but Reston said, “I’m trying, Del, I’m trying to help,” and he gave the knife a slight twist, the pain buckled my knees, and I cried out again.
我虚弱地向服务员说了一声“救命”，但雷斯顿说：“我在努力，德尔，我在努力帮助，”然后他轻轻扭动了刀子，疼痛使我的膝盖弯曲，我又哭了出来。
“My brother is quite ill,” he said as he lurched me down the block, over the curb, and into the street. “Consumption, stay back,” he repeated, knowing TB could explain the blood, and that people would steer away from a man coughing it up. He was so convincing that I almost wished he were my brother taking care of me—Oh, Del, dead Del, god Del—and I cried out again.
“我哥哥病得很重，”他一边说，一边把我推下街区，越过路边，走到街上。“吃，别吃，”他重复道，他知道结核病可以解释血液，而且人们会避开一个咳血的人。他如此令人信服，以至于我几乎希望他是 照顾我的兄弟—— 哦，德尔，死去的德尔，上帝德尔 ——我又哭了起来。
“Quiet now,” he whispered. “Won’t be long.”
“现在安静了，”他低声说。“不会太久。”
I faked a stagger, mustered some last fight, and gave him a sharp elbow, and followed that with a fist, and was almost able to spin away from him, but that knife was heavy in my side and he gave another turn to the handle and oh-goddamn-weeping-sorrow-goddamn pain—I could do nothing but collapse against my brother and surrender to it.
我假装踉跄，奋起最后的挣扎，给了他一记狡猾的肘部，然后用拳头紧接着，几乎要从他身边转身离开，但那把刀在我身边很重，他又转了一圈刀柄， 噢——该死的——哭泣——悲伤——他妈的痛苦——我什么也做不了，只能倒在我哥哥身上，向它投降。
“None of that,” he said.
“这些都没有，”他说。
“Fucking Brand—” I muttered, for that was my true killer—luring me to this hell-city and hiring me to kill my brother and God I wanted my brother to go and kill Brand next—God weeping sorrow
“他妈的布兰德——”我咕哝着，因为那才是我真正的凶手——引诱我到这个地狱之城，雇我杀了我哥哥，上帝啊，我想让我哥哥接下来去杀了布兰德——上帝啊，哭泣.
“Quiet, now,” he said. “Tell me, are you a religious man, Del?”
“安静，现在，”他说。“告诉我，你是个虔诚的人吗，德尔？”
“No,” I managed.
“不，”我设法。
“That’s good,” he said, “because I don’t believe we have time for rituals.”
“这很好，”他说，“因为我相信我们没有时间举行仪式。
Oh God weeping pain
哦，上帝，哭泣的痛苦
“I’m sorry. I know it hurts,” he said. “Try not to talk or breathe too deeply. We’re almost there. Stay quiet and I’ll help you along.”
“对不起。我知道这很痛苦，“他说。“尽量不要说话或呼吸太深。我们快到了。安静点，我会帮你。
Oh weeping God
哦，哭泣的上帝
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much, Del!” he called out to someone who must’ve seen us staggering, and him half-carrying me, for he was having trouble supporting my weight now.
“你不该喝那么多的，德尔！”他对一个一定看到我们踉踉跄跄、半抱着我的人喊道，因为他现在很难支撑我的体重。
I wished I could stop my weeping. Was this how it had felt for the people I’d planted? Jesus, the horror. At least I was quick. And the shame of it. I could have gone to see my grandson and daughter in Lexington. Oh, that little girl running into my arms. Shame weep shame goddamn Spokane morbs, sorry for it all, sorriest for me, shame weep God panic weep shame weep
我希望我能停止哭泣。这就是我栽培的人的感受吗？天哪，太可怕了。至少我反应很快。还有它的耻辱。我本可以去列克星敦看望我的孙子和女儿。哦，那个跑进我怀里的小女孩。羞愧 哭泣 羞慌 该死的 斯波坎 莫伯斯，对不起这一切，我最悲痛，羞愧 哭泣 上帝恐慌 哭涸 羞涕 哭泣.
We walked east and then turned north. He had me step over railroad tracks. We were moving toward the river.
我们向东走，然后转向北。他让我跨过铁轨。我们正朝着河边走去。
He laid me down in some wild grass and the pain nearly undid me. I opened my eyes. We were in a little grassy strip between railroad sidings, just above the south channel of the river. He was crouched, a little winded from carrying me so far.
他把我放在一些野草上，疼痛几乎使我崩溃。我睁开了眼睛。我们在铁路侧线之间的一小片草地上，就在河南通道的上方。他蹲着，抱着我走这么远，有点喘不过气来。
“Exhale,” he said, and when I did, he pulled the knife from my side, and I felt blinding pain and then a loosening and a relief, that blade and handle out of me. But the burbling of blood in my breath was enough to know I would drown one way or another. He took my hand and pressed it against the wound. “Hold your hand here. And take shallow breaths. It’s okay now. I will put you out quickly once you answer some questions.”
“呼气，”他说，当我这样做时，他从我身边拔出刀子，我感到刺眼的疼痛，然后松动和解脱，那把刀和刀柄从我身上出来。但是我呼吸中嗡嗡作响的血液足以让我知道我无论如何都会淹死。他握住我的手，按在伤口上。“把手伸到这儿。并浅呼吸。现在没事了。等你回答了一些问题，我就会赶紧把你赶出去。
I opened my eyes. He was standing above me, wiping clean the blade, which was smaller than I’d have thought, long and narrow, barely wider than an ice pick. The sky was low and gray behind him.
我睁开了眼睛。他站在我上方，擦干净那把刀，这把刀比我想象的要小，又长又窄，比冰锥宽一点。他身后的天空低沉而灰暗。
“What are you going to do?”
“你打算做什么？”
“Me? Finish the job I was hired for and go collect my money.”
“我？完成我被雇的工作，然后去收我的钱。
“I didn’t know”—wince weep shame—“he said you were a dangerous bum—said you punched a cop.”
“我不知道”—— 畏缩、哭泣、羞愧 ——“他说你是个危险的流浪汉——说你打了警察一拳。
“Oh, I did more than that,” he said.
“哦，我做的不止这些，”他说。
It hit me then. “The cop who was shot?”
那时我就被打动了。“被枪杀的那个警察？”
He said again, “You hire me to rile, I rile.”
他又说：“你雇我来里尔，我里尔。
It became clear then: Brand hires Reston, but he kills a cop, so Brand hires me to fix that problem. I pictured his consortium. “If anyone found out he hired you—” I didn’t finish the sentence.
然后情况就变得很清楚了：布兰德雇佣了雷斯顿，但他杀死了一名警察，所以布兰德雇佣我来解决这个问题。我想象着他的财团 。“如果有人发现他雇用了你——”我没有把这句话说完。
“Hey! Look at there.” A smile crept over Reston’s face. “The great Del Dalveaux has solved his last crime.”
“嘿！看看那儿。雷斯顿的脸上露出了笑容。“伟大的 Del Dalveaux 解决了他最后的罪行。”
Weeping sorrow.
哭泣的悲哀。
“I’m sorry, Del,” he said, and started to come at me again.
“对不起，Del，”他说，然后又开始向我走来。
“The kid,” I said. “Brand got to him, too.”
“那个孩子，”我说。“布兰德也找到了他。”
This stopped him. “What?”
这让他停了下来。“什么？”
“The kid. Dolan. I met with him in Seattle. He’s the one who told me you were going to Wallace. Brand bought him for twenty bucks.”
“那个孩子。多兰。我在西雅图见了他。就是他告诉我你要去找华莱士。布兰德以 20 美元的价格买下了他。
The look on his face. “Ryan?”
他脸上的表情。“Ryan？”
“Yeah.” I hoped he’d kill the kid. Hoped he’d finish the whole lot, the bums, Gurley Flynn, Brand. I imagined him going door-to-door, killing the whole city, marching those millionaires into that big fireplace, all that pig-fat wealth crackling and melting, him killing every booster and setting fire to that bloated theater stage. I imagined the whole city gone, and it was a great feeling, picturing Reston wiping the morb town from the planet. He was like no Pinkerton I’d ever known, those priggish bookkeepers—and I felt a terrible respect for whatever he was—
“是的。”我希望他能杀了那个孩子。希望他能完成所有的事情，流浪汉，Gurley Flynn，Brand。我想象着他挨家挨户地走访，杀死整个城市，把那些百万富翁赶进那个大壁炉，所有那些猪油财富噼啪作响，融化，他杀死了每一个助推器，放火烧了那个臃肿的剧院舞台。我想象着整个城市都消失了，这是一种很棒的感觉，想象着雷斯顿将莫布小镇从地球上抹去。他和我所认识的平克顿人都不一样 ，那些自负的簿记员——我对他是什么人都感到极度的尊重——
“You’re not—” Even to my own ears, my burbling words made no sense. “I need to—” I stared at the sky. Old prayers.
“你不是——”就连我自己也觉得我咕噜咕噜的话语毫无意义。“我需要——”我盯着天空。古老的祈祷。
“Okay, quiet, now,” he said. He bent over me and blocked the sky, looked in my eyes—such warm eyes, you’d never know—and then I felt one of his hands open my coat. He reached for my wallet, but I got the strength to push his hand away. Terrible form while a man still breathed. Would he go for my fillings next?
“好了，安静，现在，”他说。他弯下腰来，挡住了天空，看着我的眼睛——多么温暖的眼睛，你永远不会知道——然后我感觉到他的一只手打开了我的外套。他伸手去拿我的钱包，但我有力气推开他的手。可怕的形态，而一个男人还在呼吸。他接下来会去给我补牙吗？
“Sorry, Del,” he said. “You’re right.”
“对不起，Del，”他说。“你说得对。”
Oh blessed weeping shame—“Wait,” I said, “wait—” Oh cold morbs—and he bent again and covered my eyes, and I tried again, “W—” but he drew the blade across my throat and the warmth spread and my arms went out in wide embrace and that’s when—
哦，真是幸福的哭泣羞愧——“等等，”我说，“等等——” 哦，冰冷的哀悼 ——他又弯下腰来捂住我的眼睛，我又试了一次，“哇——”但他把刀划过我的喉咙，温暖蔓延开来，我伸出双臂拥抱起来，就在那时——
Rye stared out the window as they crossed the Idaho border. Winter air had blasted down from Canada and dropped the temperature forty degrees in two days. A thick band of fog belted the valley. That morning, a freight train had slammed a junk wagon at a foggy crossing, its cowcatcher tearing an old dray in two, and so the Great Northern 1356 slowed to a crawl. The passenger train eased into Spokane like a man feeling his way into a dark room—ghost buildings, pale faces in the mist.
Rye 在他们越过爱达荷州边境时盯着窗外。冬天的空气从加拿大吹下来，气温在两天内下降了 40 度。一条厚厚的雾带笼罩着山谷。那天早上，一列货运火车在一个雾蒙蒙的十字路口撞上了一辆垃圾货车，它的捕牛人将一辆旧货车撕成两半，因此 Great Northern 1356 号减速缓慢。客运列车缓缓驶入斯波坎，就像一个男人摸索着走进一个黑暗的房间——幽灵般的建筑，薄雾中苍白的面孔。
They’d left Missoula before dawn, Gurley spending the whole trip writing articles for the Industrial Worker and penning letters to supporters. She’d decided at the last minute to come to Spokane instead of going to Butte and had convinced the train agent to exchange her ticket. “I’ll go home when this is done,” she told Rye.
他们在黎明前离开了米苏拉，格利花了整整一趟旅程为 《产业工人 》写文章 ，并给支持者写信。她在最后一刻决定来斯波坎而不是去比尤特，并说服火车工作人员换票。“完成后我会回家，”她告诉 Rye。
“What about your husband?”
“那你丈夫呢？”
“He knows who he married.”
“他知道自己娶了谁。”
The closer they got to Spokane, the more energized she became. She read lines from her articles aloud. She looked up from her writing to tell Rye new ideas. Five days wasn’t much time, but she could go to nearby granges to rally farmhands; wire organizers in nearby towns for immediate help; recruit better in Chinatown and among the Negro hotel and street workers, and at the new Balkan hotel. In the meantime, she’d give a daily speech in the hall, maybe even on the street.
他们离斯波坎越近，她就越有活力。她大声朗读了她文章中的台词。她从写作中抬起头来，告诉 Rye 新的想法。五天的时间不多，但她可以去附近的田庄召集农场工人;向附近城镇的电线组织者提供即时帮助;在唐人街、黑人旅馆和街头工人中，以及在新的巴尔干酒店中更好地招聘。与此同时，她每天都会在大厅里发表演讲，甚至可能在街上。
“I’ll give the first today,” she said.
“我今天会给出第一个，”她说。
She sounded a little frantic, Rye thought, and he worried something was wrong with her. “Today?”
她听起来有点疯狂，Rye 想，他担心她出了什么问题。“今天？”
“We’ll be back by noon. I’ll speak at seven.”
“我们会在中午回来。我七点就说。
“I just mean, you don’t want to take a day to rest?”
“我只是说，你不想休息一天吗？”
“I don’t have a day, Ryan. We have to keep the pressure up.”
“我没有一天，瑞安。我们必须保持压力。
“But you said yourself, we have no money and no bodies.”
“但你自己说，我们没有钱，也没有尸体。”
“The other side doesn’t know that,” she said. “We could have another five hundred floaters coming to town.”
“对方不知道这一点，”她说。“我们可以再有 500 只漂浮物来镇上。”
But they didn’t, and Rye thought about his conversation with Early, who sat two rows back, slumped in his seat, hat pulled over his eyes. He’d spent most of the trip like this, after a few hours in a Missoula saloon. He was still drunk at five-thirty in the morning when they boarded the train, and announced it would be “my last official duty. All due respect, I tenderly tender my resignation.”
但他们没有，Rye 想起了他和 Early 的谈话，Early 坐在后两排，瘫坐在座位上，帽子遮住了眼睛。他就这样度过了大部分旅程，在米苏拉的一家酒吧里呆了几个小时。早上五点半，当他们登上火车时，他仍然喝得酩酊大醉，并宣布这将是“我最后的公务。恕我直言，我温柔地提出辞职。
Now, as they pulled into the Spokane station, Early coughed, leaped up like he’d remembered an appointment, grabbed his pack from the luggage rail, and patted Rye on the shoulder. “I’m off, kid,” he said. “Take care.” He tipped his hat to Gurley. “Good luck, believers,” he said, then darted down the aisle. The train hadn’t even come to a full stop when Early dropped to the platform outside. Through the window, Rye watched his friend slide away again.
现在，当他们驶入斯波坎车站时，Early 咳嗽了一声，像想起了约会一样跳了起来，从行李栏上抓起他的背包，拍了拍 Rye 的肩膀。“我走了，孩子，”他说。“小心。”他向 Gurley 致敬。“祝你好运，信徒们，”他说，然后飞快地沿着过道走去。火车甚至还没有完全停下来，Early 就降落在外面的月台上。透过窗户，Rye 看着他的朋友再次滑走。
“He does that,” Rye said.
“他就是这样做的，”Rye 说。
“We don’t need him,” Gurley said, Rye thinking, Maybe it’s time to blow up the castle. He helped Gurley up and got both of their bags down from the luggage rack. She rose belly first, pushing on her lower back. With the other hand, she took Rye’s arm, and he carried their bags through the crowded station, like husband and pregnant wife, past newsboys hawking the dailies and men selling ales and sandwiches. By the time they were outside, Early was long gone. Like being friends with a storm cloud, thought Rye.
“我们不需要他，”格利说，莱伊想， 也许是时候炸毁城堡了 。他把 Gurley 扶起来，把他们的两个包都从行李架上拿下来。她先挺起腹部，推着她的下背部。她用另一只手挽着 Rye 的手臂，他像丈夫和怀孕的妻子一样，拎着他们的包穿过拥挤的车站，经过兜售日报的报童和卖麦芽酒和三明治的男人。当他们到外面时，Early 早已不见了。 就像是与暴风云的朋友一样，Rye 想。
Cars and carriages lined the station curb like cattle at a salt block. Rye walked Gurley through the smoking, shitting traffic and across the bridge, two icy blocks to the union hall, which was empty, desolate.
汽车和马车在车站路边排成一排，就像盐场的牛一样。Rye 带着 Gurley 穿过炙炙烤、屎屎的交通，穿过桥，两个冰冷的街区来到空旷、荒凉的工会大厅。
“Where is everyone?” Gurley asked.
“大家都在哪里？”格利问道。
They’d only been gone a few days. The door was open, but there was no one in the canteen or the newsstand. The big hall was empty, too. Finally, they found Charlie Filigno in the cold meeting room, playing cards with the cook and the newsstand clerk.
他们才走了几天。门是开着的，但食堂和报刊亭里没有人。大厅里也空无一人。最后，他们发现 Charlie Filigno 在冰冷的会议室里，正在与厨师和报刊亭店员打牌。
Filigno gave Gurley the grim update: union coffers depleted, membership flat, cops patrolling the streets and rail yards, picking up anyone with a foreign accent and running them out of town before they could protest. No one had been arrested in four days. The union was basically out of men, word having gone out among the floating class that railing to Spokane meant a beating. The last editor of the Worker had been arrested three days earlier and, like the editors before him, charged with conspiracy for luring protestors to Spokane.
菲利尼奥向格利报告了一个严峻的消息：工会金库耗尽，会员人数持平，警察在街道和铁路站场巡逻，抓走任何有外国口音的人，并在他们抗议之前将他们赶出城外。四天内没有人被捕。工会基本上没有男人，在流动阶级中传出消息，说对斯波坎的抱怨意味着殴打。《 工人报 》的最后一位编辑在三天前被捕，和他之前的编辑一样，他被指控阴谋引诱抗议者到斯波坎。
Charlie shrugged. “We can’t run this without a paper.”
查理耸耸肩。“没有论文，我们就无法运行。”
“I’ll edit the paper,” said Gurley. “We’ll publish this afternoon.”
“我来编辑报纸，”格利说。“我们将在今天下午发布。”
Filigno looked at the other two men. “Publish what?”
菲利尼奥看着另外两个男人。“发布什么？”
Gurley tossed the articles she’d written on the table, the pages scattering the cards from their poker game. Rye had read them on the train—announcing the second free speech action and promising waves of support from Seattle, Idaho, and Montana. There was no mention of the robbery in Taft or the canceled speech in Missoula, just a story about full donation buckets and men promising to come fight. Filigno read aloud: “ ‘We welcome the ranks of organized labor in our battle against the corrupt Hibernian Police Chief Sullivan and his brutal bunkmate, the Drunken Judge Mann, these monstrous minions of the mining millionaires.’ Elizabeth—”
Gurley 把她写的文章扔在桌子上，书页散落着他们扑克游戏中的牌。Rye 在火车上读了这些信——宣布了第二次言论自由行动，并承诺来自西雅图、爱达荷州和蒙大拿州的一波又一波的支持。没有提到塔夫脱的抢劫案或米苏拉的取消演讲，只是一个关于满额捐款桶和承诺前来战斗的人的故事。菲利尼奥大声朗读道：“'我们欢迎有组织的劳工队伍与我们对抗腐败的希伯尼安警察局长沙利文和他残忍的同床异仁，醉酒的曼恩法官，这些矿业百万富翁的可怕爪牙。伊丽莎白——”
She smiled. “I know, the alliteration.”
她笑了。“我知道，头韵。”
She told the cook to fire up the canteen so that floaters could see they were open, and she told the newsstand clerk to take her stories to be typeset. She scribbled headlines on top: SECOND SPEECH ACTION IN SPOKANE! and GURLEY FLYNN TO SPEAK TONIGHT! The one-page paper would feature these two huge headlines, the second story announcing, “Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, organizer for the Industrial Workers of the World, is giving the first of a series of speeches leading up to Friday’s Free Speech Action tonight at 7 p.m. Will detail city’s brutality and the Union’s response. Free, at the IWW Hall, 240 Front Street, Spokane. Apple, cherry, mincemeat pie & coffee.”
她让厨师把食堂开火，这样飞蚊者就能看到他们开着了，她还告诉报刊亭店员把她的故事排版。她在上面潦草地写下了标题： 斯波坎的第二次演讲行动！ 和 GURLEY FLYNN 今晚将发表演讲！ 这份单页报纸将刊登这两个巨大的标题，第二个故事宣布，“世界产业工人的组织者伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 将在今晚 7 点发表一系列演讲中的第一场，以迎接周五的言论自由行动。将详细介绍该市的残暴行为和工会的反应。免费，地点：IWW Hall， 240 Front Street， Spokane。苹果、樱桃、肉馅饼和咖啡。
“Tonight?” Filigno looked up at Rye as if to ask, Is she okay?
“今晚？”菲利尼奥抬头看着莱伊，仿佛在问道， 她还好吗？
“It’s one o’clock,” she said. “If we get this typeset and run the press, there’s no reason we can’t get newsboys on the street by five.”
“现在是一点钟，”她说。“如果我们得到这个排版并运行新闻，我们没有理由不能在 5 点之前让报童上街。”
“And the pies?” asked the canteen cook.
“那馅饼呢？”
“You have six hours to figure that out,” she said. She took the cards from the cook’s hand and tossed them on the table. A pair of eights. Rye couldn’t believe her energy, after all they’d been through, and more than that, how the hardship in Montana seemed to have fired her up even more. She sent Rye to gather newsboys to distribute the Worker and to get copies of the daily newspapers to see what news they’d missed while they were gone.
“你有六个小时的时间来弄清楚，”她说。她从厨师手里接过卡片，把它们扔在桌子上。一对 8。Rye 不敢相信自己的精力，毕竟他们经历了这一切，不仅如此，蒙大拿州的艰辛似乎让她更加兴奋。她派 Rye 召集报童分发 Worker， 并获取日报的副本，看看他们离开时错过了什么新闻。
It was a cold and foggy afternoon, the sun skirting the hills and a snow so light and dry that Rye couldn’t tell if it was falling or blowing up from the street. He fixed his coat around his shoulders and buried his hands in his pockets, but still the cold took his breath. He walked to the train station first, where a regular clutch of newsboys was selling dailies.
那是一个寒冷多雾的下午，阳光从山上掠过，雪是如此轻盈干燥，以至于 Rye 分不清它是在坠落还是从街上吹来的。他把外套披在肩上，双手埋在口袋里，但寒冷仍然让他喘不过气来。他先走到火车站，那里有一群普通的报童正在那里卖日报。
They formed in crews around an older boy, and Rye recognized the leader of this crew, a kid named Lidle, who ran six younger newsboys and who liked to hang out in front of the union hall. Although he was a foot shorter than Rye, Lidle was only a year younger.
他们围绕着一个年长的男孩组成了团队，Rye 认出了这个团队的领导，一个名叫 Lidle 的孩子，他经营着六个年轻的报童，喜欢在工会大厅前闲逛。虽然他比 Rye 矮一英尺，但 Lidle 只小一岁。
“Hey, Ryan. I like your bowler.” Lidle self-consciously patted his own nest of unruly brown hair.
“嘿，Ryan。我喜欢你的投球手。Lidle 不自觉地拍了拍他自己那一窝不羁的棕色头发。
Rye explained to Lidle what was happening. In a few hours, they’d need five newsboys to go out and sell a hundred papers each—a special edition of the Worker. They could keep the money they made, and they’d each get an additional nickel for putting posters on walls and light poles.
Rye 向 Lidle 解释了发生的事情。几个小时后，他们需要五个报童出去，每人卖一百份报纸——一本特别版的 《工人 》。他们可以保留自己赚到的钱，而且在墙壁和灯杆上贴海报会得到额外的五分钱。
“I’ll take care of it, Rye,” Lidle said. He still had copies of the afternoon Chronicle and the morning Spokesman-Review, so Rye got one of each.
“我会处理的，Rye，”Lidle 说。他还有下午的 Chronicle 和早上的 Spokesman-Review 的副本， 所以 Rye 各拿了一份。
Rye hurried back to the hall, glad to be out of the cold. Through the front door, he saw the old cook in the canteen, busily stirring pie filling. He went through the doors into the main hall. At the end of the hall, the office door was open, and Gurley and Filigno were bent over the table, planning. Rye plopped down in the pews to look through the newspapers for IWW stories.
Rye 匆匆忙忙地回到大厅，很高兴能摆脱寒冷。透过前门，他看到食堂里的老厨师，正忙着搅拌馅饼馅。他穿过门进入了大厅。在大厅的尽头，办公室的门是开着的，Gurley 和 Filigno 弯着腰坐在桌子上，计划着。Rye 扑通一声坐在长椅上，翻阅报纸上 IWW 的故事。
But the union’s fight was old news now, the front pages on to a brakemen’s strike and the announcement of a big heavyweight bout in New York between the old champ, Jim Jeffries, and the new one, Jack Johnson. A Chronicle cartoon portrayed Johnson as a baboon training with fried chicken, and a local story had the six hundred colored troops at Fort George Wright planning to bet heavy on Johnson.
但工会的斗争现在已经成为旧新闻，头版上是刹车员罢工，并宣布老冠军吉姆·杰弗里斯 （Jim Jeffries） 和新冠军杰克·约翰逊 （Jack Johnson） 在纽约进行一场重量级大战。《 纪事报 》的一幅漫画将约翰逊描绘成一只用炸鸡训练的狒狒，而当地的故事说乔治赖特堡的 600 名有色人种士兵计划对约翰逊下重注。
Rye flipped to the Spokesman’s Labor News page and found a short bit headlined FOREIGN BUMS LEAVE; DISAVOW IWW. After being served bread and water for Thanksgiving, three men had told the judge they were no longer with the union. “We was tricked into this,” one of them was quoted as saying. The story gleefully pointed out that more than sixty men had now been released after agreeing to disavow the union and immediately leave town. After a high of five hundred in lockdown, the numbers were falling.
Rye 翻到发言人的劳工新闻页面，发现了一个简短的标题 FOREIGN BUMS LEAVE;DISAVOW IWW. 在感恩节吃了面包和水后，三名男子告诉法官，他们已经不在工会了。“我们被骗了，”其中一位被引述说。该报道兴高采烈地指出，在同意否认工会并立即离开该镇后，现在已经有 60 多名男子被释放。在封锁了 500 人之后，这个数字一直在下降。
The Spokesman-Review also had a small story about the successful prosecutions of four union leaders on conspiracy charges. These were one-day summary trials in front of six-man juries, in spite of the objection of what the paper called “the young Socialist mouthpiece Fred Moore.” Walsh and Little had both been found guilty and sentenced to six months’ hard labor in the state prison, as had the first two editors of the Worker, James Wilson and E. B. Foote. The last line of the story listed the upcoming conspiracy trials of four more union leaders this week, “those involved in organizing the Nov. 2 riot.” The last name on the list was Gregory T. Dolan.
《 发言人评论》（The Spokesman-Review）还报道了四名工会领导人以阴谋罪成功起诉的短篇报道。这是在六人陪审团面前进行的为期一天的即决审判，尽管该报称之为“年轻的社会主义喉舌弗雷德·摩尔”（Fred Moore）反对。沃尔什和利特尔都被判有罪，并被判处在州监狱服役六个月 ，《 工人报 》的前两位编辑詹姆斯·威尔逊（James Wilson）和 E.B.富特（E. B. Foote）也是如此。报道的最后一行列出了本周即将对另外四名工会领导人的阴谋审判，这些人是“参与组织 11 月 2 日骚乱的人”。名单上的最后一个名字是 Gregory T. Dolan。
In the empty hall, Rye’s head fell to his chest. Six months?
空荡荡的大厅里，Rye 的头落在了他的胸口。 六个月？
He felt like such a fool. Lem Brand had said he’d get Gig out early. And Rye had believed it.
他觉得自己真是个傻瓜。莱姆·布兰德（Lem Brand）曾说过，他会早点让吉格离开。Rye 相信了。
He thought he might get sick.
他觉得自己可能会生病。
He looked around the dark union hall.
他环顾了一下黑暗的工会大厅。
In the office, Gurley had straightened up from the table and was staring at him. “Ryan?”
在办公室里，Gurley 已经从桌子上站起来，盯着他看。“Ryan？”
Christ. What were they doing here? What were they pretending they could do? He thought of Early: You don’t believe this shit, do you, that it’s possible?
基督。他们在这里做什么？他们假装自己能做什么？他想到了 Early： 你不相信这狗屎，对吧，这是可能的？
And Lem Brand: You’re a pawn.
还有 Lem Brand： 你是个棋子。
And Gurley? Did she ever have a plan other than having them throw themselves at the cops and rotting in jail? They had no money, no men, no pressure, no Clarence Darrow, no hope.
那么 Gurley 呢？除了让他们投奔警察并在监狱里腐烂之外，她有没有其他计划？他们没有钱，没有男人，没有压力，没有克拉伦斯·达罗，没有希望。
Gig was going to jail for six months. Or worse, he’d die in there, like Jules had. And if Gig did get out, what would he be like? He’d been gone a month already, on hunger strike for part of that time. Rye looked around the empty union hall. He felt like his chest might collapse.
Gig 要坐牢六个月。或者更糟糕的是，他会像 Jules 一样死在里面。如果 Gig 真的出来了，他会是什么样子？他已经走了一个月了，有一部分时间都在绝食。Rye 环顾空荡荡的工会大厅。他觉得自己的胸口要塌陷了。
He stood and left the newspapers open on the pew.
他站起来，让长椅上的报纸敞开着。
Gurley came to the office doorway. “Ryan, is everything okay?”
Gurley 来到办公室门口。“Ryan，一切都还好吗？”
He lurched toward the door. “I just need some air.” By the time he reached the street, Rye felt like his sternum was cracking. Six months. He gasped at the cold air, needles in his lungs. What would he do? Tramp around and try to find work himself? Where would he go? Rye doubled over but couldn’t catch his breath. He glanced to his left and saw a policeman on the corner, watching the hall.
他蹒跚地走向门口。“我只是需要一些空气。”当他走到街上时，Rye 感觉自己的胸骨快要裂开了。 六个月。 他喘着粗气，肺里插着针。他会怎么做呢？四处闲逛并尝试自己找工作？他会去哪里呢？Rye 弯下腰，但无法喘口气。他向左瞥了一眼，看到拐角处有个警察，正在看着大厅。
It took a moment to recognize the big cop, Clegg. “Hello, Dolan. Back from Montana already?”
我花了一点时间才认出那个大警察，克莱格。“你好，多兰。已经从蒙大拿州回来了吗？
Rye couldn’t speak, his breathing shallow and pained. He turned away from Clegg and hurried down Front Street. He passed a couple staggering on the street, passed a saloon, a café, a Chinese cleaner.
Rye 说不出话来，他的呼吸浅而痛苦。他转身离开克莱格，匆匆忙忙地沿着前街走去。他经过了一对在街上蹒跚而行的夫妇，经过了一家酒吧、一家咖啡馆、一家中国清洁工。
He passed the newsboy, Lidle, followed by three other boys, like quail crossing Front Street. “Hey, Ryan, we’re ready.”
他经过了报童利德尔（Lidle），后面跟着另外三个男孩，就像穿过前街的鹌鹑一样。“嘿，Ryan，我们准备好了。”
He waved at them from across the street but kept moving, turned south on Stevens, wavering against the flow on the sidewalk, people headed for east-side saloons. He passed job sharks, hired guards on stoops, and an alley where two women stood smoking outside their storefront cribs. He had no idea where he was going. He just kept thinking the word home, although he didn’t think it existed without Gig.
他在街对面向他们挥手，但继续前进，在史蒂文斯（Stevens）向南转，在人行道上逆流而动，人们朝着东边的酒吧走去。他经过了工作鲨鱼，雇来了门口的警卫，还有一条小巷，那里有两个女人站在店面的婴儿床外面抽烟。他不知道自己要去哪里。他只是一直在想家这个词 ，尽管他认为没有 Gig 它就不存在。
He looked back once to see if Clegg had followed him.
他回头看了一眼，想看看 Clegg 是不是跟着他走的。
But no one was there. Had he imagined the big cop?
但那里没有人。他想象过那个大警察吗？
He slowed, his breath returning to normal.
他放慢了速度，呼吸恢复了正常。
He looked up. He was on Sprague Avenue, in the fancier part of downtown, where a better class of steam escaped people’s mouths.
他抬起头。他在斯普拉格大道上，在市中心最高档的地方，那里有更好的蒸汽从人们的嘴里逃脱出来。
Tramps didn’t venture into this part of downtown without getting hassled, so Rye pulled his coat tight and lowered the bowler on his head, trying to blend in, just a man on his way home from work. Even with Mr. Moore’s coat and hat, though, his dungarees and boots gave him away. At Howard Street, he paused for an electric trolley car, its overhead wires crackling, and he was spellbound by the pale-lit, ghostly faces inside the car, people headed to families and meals and fires. Automobiles and horse wagons filled the streetcar’s wake, and Rye stood at that intersection for a long time, staring at the tracks. The whole country was laced together with tracks. He could get on a train and end up in New York City if he wanted, and this felt like another reverie, or a premonition.
流浪汉不会不费吹灰之力就冒险进入市中心的这一部分，所以 Rye 拉紧外套，把圆顶礼帽压低，试图混进去，只是一个下班回家的男人。然而，即使有摩尔先生的外套和帽子，他的工装裤和靴子也暴露了他。在霍华德街（Howard Street），他停下来等到一辆电动无轨电车，车上的电线噼啪作响，他被车内苍白的幽灵般的面孔、前往家庭、用餐和篝火的人们所吸引。汽车和马车挤满了有轨电车的尾迹，Rye 在那个十字路口站了很久，盯着铁轨。整个国家都被铁轨绑在一起。如果他愿意，他可以坐火车，最后到达纽约市，这感觉像是另一种遐想，或者一种预感。
The world was becoming a single place.
世界正在成为一个地方。
He moved deeper into the west side, fancy hotels, restaurants, and theaters. He found himself on the sidewalk in front of Louis Davenport’s frilly white stucco restaurant, pillars at the door, arched windows—inside, the bright lights gleaming off crisp white tablecloths and sparkling on gowns and shoes. He couldn’t stop staring—the light inside was like a vision of heaven.
他深入到西区，高档酒店、餐馆和剧院。他发现自己站在路易斯·达文波特（Louis Davenport）的褶边白色灰泥餐厅前面的人行道上，门口有柱子，拱形窗户——里面有明亮的灯光，在洁白的桌布上闪闪发光，在礼服和鞋子上闪闪发光。他无法停止凝视——里面的光就像天堂的幻象。
Three men in fine suits and leather gloves were walking into a cigar shop next door. At the curb, a young man in tails was helping a drunk woman in a gown into a brand-new automobile. Another man was leading a woman in a fur into the restaurant, and casually slipped the tuxedoed doorman a dollar.
三个穿着精美西装、戴着皮手套的男人走进了隔壁的一家雪茄店。在路边，一名穿着马尾服的年轻男子正在帮助一名穿着长袍的醉酒女子上一辆全新的汽车。另一个男人领着一个穿着皮草的女人进了餐厅，随便给那个穿燕尾服的门卫塞了一块钱。
A day’s wage for opening a door.
开门一天的工资。
Rye stood on the sidewalk and turned a slow circle, taking it all in. It was dusk, early supper hour, and men were leaving offices for a beer together, or taking their wives to a meal before the theater.
Rye 站在人行道上，慢慢地转了一圈，将一切都尽在了眼里。当时是黄昏，早饭时间，男人们离开办公室一起喝啤酒，或者带他们的妻子去剧院前吃饭。
Right now he and Gig would be lining up at a Starvation Army soup kitchen or warming their hands over a rail-yard cook fire or, best case, huddled in their coats on Mrs. Ricci’s sleeping porch, hoping she’d invite them in for dinner.
现在，他和 Gig 会在 Starvation Army 的施粥处排队，或者在铁路站场的篝火上暖手，或者最好的情况是，穿着外套蜷缩在 Ricci 夫人的睡眠门廊上，希望她能邀请他们进来吃晚饭。
“Come on, get!”
“来吧， 快！“
Rye looked back over his shoulder. The Davenport’s doorman was shooing him. He wore a heavy coat over his tuxedo and was waving a gloved hand as though Rye were a stray dog. “Come on, kid, move it.” He was probably only nineteen or twenty himself, hair slicked on either side of a widow’s peak.
Rye 回头看了看。达文波特的门卫正在赶他。他在燕尾服外面穿了一件厚重的外套，戴着手套挥舞着一只手，仿佛 Rye 是一只流浪狗。“来吧，孩子，移动它。”他自己可能只有十九或二十岁，头发梳在寡妇山峰的两边。
But what caught Rye’s eyes were the young man’s hands, encased in a pair of the warmest-looking gloves he’d ever seen. They were heavy black leather and reflected the diamond sparkle of the restaurant. Rye looked around at people on the street, some of them turning to watch. Everyone’s hands were gloriously gloved in fur and pelt and lined leather. One woman wore what looked like a pair of otters to her elbows.
但吸引 Rye 眼球的是这个年轻人的手，他戴着一双他见过的最暖和的手套。它们是沉重的黑色皮革，反射着餐厅的钻石光芒。Rye 环顾街上的人，其中一些人转过身来观看。每个人的手都戴着毛皮和毛皮以及衬里皮革的光荣手套。一名妇女的肘部穿着看起来像一双水獭的东西。
The doorman clapped his gloved hands and made a muffled sound. “Hey! You deaf? You can’t be on the sidewalk. No begging here.”
门卫拍了拍戴手套的手，发出了低沉的声音。“嘿！你聋？你不能在人行道上。不要在这里乞讨。
Rye looked down at his own icy red, calloused hands—pure rebuke, dead giveaway. “I’m not begging,” he said, “I’m just walking.”
Rye 低头看着自己冰冷的红色、布满老茧的手——纯粹的斥责，死气沉沉的赠品。“我不是在乞求，”他说，“我只是在走路。
“Then keep walking!” The man started toward Rye. “You can’t be here.”
“那就继续走！”那个人开始向 Rye 走去。“你不能在这里。”
“Where’d you get your gloves?”
“你从哪儿弄来的手套？”
“What?” The doorman gave Rye a shove, and he lurched into the street.
“什么？”门卫推了 Rye 一把，他蹒跚地走进了街上。
Rye sat down on the sidewalk and began unlacing his boot.
Rye 在人行道上坐下，开始解开他的靴子带。
“Don’t do that, kid! Don’t make me call a cop.”
“别那样做，孩子！别让我叫警察。
Rye reached in his sock and came out with Brand’s twenty-dollar bill. He’d carried it there for over two weeks, the safest bank in the world, a hobo’s sock. “I want to buy some gloves,” he said.
Rye 把手伸进袜子里，拿出 Brand 的 20 美元钞票。他带着它去了两个多星期，这是世界上最安全的银行，一只流浪汉的袜子。“我想买一些手套，”他说。
The doorman grabbed him by the collar, lifted him, and walked him to the end of the block. “I don’t care if you want to buy a Ford, you can’t do it on my curb.” He gave Rye another shove, pushing him down the block. “Now get, before I crack your head open. You’ll put people off their dinner.”
门卫抓住他的衣领，把他抬起来，然后带他走到街区的尽头。“我不在乎你是否想买福特，你不能在我的路边买。”他又推了 Rye 一把，把他推下了街区。“现在赶紧，在我把你的头掰开之前。你会让人们不吃晚饭。
Rye staggered down the block, one boot untied, gripping that rank bill in his hand. It had been like an infection in there. He’d thought about donating it to Gurley’s bucket but hadn’t—thank goodness, or a thief in Taft would have it. It occurred to him that he’d kept it for another reason. He’d convinced himself that as long as he didn’t spend the bill, maybe he could deny what he’d done, betrayed his friends.
Rye 踉踉跄跄地走下街区，一只靴子解开了，手里紧紧握着那张等级钞票。那里就像感染一样。他想过把它捐给 Gurley 的桶，但没有——谢天谢地，否则塔夫脱的贼会得到它。他想到，他保留它还有另一个原因。他说服自己，只要他不花钱，也许他可以否认他所做的一切，背叛了他的朋友。
But he had betrayed them. He had told Lem Brand their plans, and in his Seattle hotel he’d answered Del Dalveaux’s questions: Where are you going next? Is Early Reston with you? He had betrayed them and then tried to convince himself that he hadn’t, or that it was harmless information, or that it was the only way to help Gig.
但他背叛了他们。他告诉了 Lem Brand 他们的计划，在西雅图的酒店里，他回答了 Del Dalveaux 的问题： 你下一步要去哪里？Early Reston 和你在一起吗？ 他背叛了他们，然后试图说服自己他没有，或者这是无害的信息，或者这是帮助 Gig 的唯一方法。
But it was a rock in his conscience, this twenty-dollar bill. And Gig was spending six months in jail anyway.
但这是他良心上的一块石头，这张二十美元的钞票。无论如何，Gig 都在监狱里度过了六个月。
Rye stared at the wrinkled bill. A stray thought: If I spend this, I will no longer have it. This was the crazy thing about wealth: You only had it if you didn’t use it, but if you didn’t use it, there was no value in having it. It was like a riddle. No wonder some men died with more money than they could spend in a second life while other men starved. And him: a fool with twenty dollars and ice-cold hands.
Rye 盯着那张皱巴巴的账单。一个杂乱的想法： 如果我花掉了这笔钱，我就不再拥有它了。这就是财富的疯狂之处：只有 不使用它 ，你才会拥有它，但如果你不使用 它，拥有它就没有价值 。这就像一个谜语。难怪有些人死时身上的钱比他们第二次生命所能花的钱还多，而另一些人却挨饿。还有他： 一个有二十美元和冰冷的双手的傻瓜。
He kept walking west, paying particular attention to the gloved hands of the men and women on the street, gesturing in conversation, climbing on streetcars, opening doors. Finally, he followed a man in a smart suit and warm gloves up a set of stone steps and straight into the dark wood door of a store called Bradley & Graham’s, Fine Clothing and Rich Furnishings.
他继续向西走，特别注意街上男男女女戴着手套的手，在谈话中打手势，爬上有轨电车，开门。最后，他跟着一个穿着聪明西装、戴着保暖手套的男人走上了一组石阶，径直走进了一家名为 Bradley & Graham's， Fine Clothing 和 Rich Furnishings 的商店的深色木门。
It was a corner shop, warm and gently lit. Rye stood in the doorway, unable to move. An older man in a fine suit with a kerchief in his breast pocket looked up, smiled grimly, and began approaching, but before the man could speak, Rye held up the twenty-dollar note. He sputtered, “Gloves?”
那是一家街角的商店，温暖而柔和的灯光。Rye 站在门口，动弹不得。一个穿着华丽西装、胸前口袋里插着一条头巾的老人抬起头来，冷酷地笑了笑，开始走近，但还没等那人说话，莱伊就举起了那张二十美元的钞票。他结结巴巴地说：“手套？
The man looked down at Rye. His plain, thin suit coat, or rather, Fred Moore’s plain, thin suit coat, was dusty and worn from ten days on the road. It wouldn’t have come from a shop like this even when it was new, of course. And his once fine gray bowler had worn edges and a big grease stain on it. Still, that note in his hand was legal tender, and the salesman seemed perplexed by it. He was maybe sixty, with eyeglasses and a gray beard. He glanced down at the bill.
男人低头看着 Rye。他那件朴素而薄的西装外套，或者更确切地说，是弗雷德·摩尔那件朴素而薄的西装外套，在路上走了十天，已经沾满了灰尘，破旧不堪。当然，即使它是新的，它也不会来自这样的商店。他曾经精美的灰色圆顶礼帽已经磨损了边缘，上面有一大块油渍。尽管如此，他手中的那张钞票是法定货币，推销员似乎对此感到困惑。他大概六十岁左右，戴着眼镜，留着灰白的胡子。他低头看了一眼账单。
“It’s real,” Rye said.
“这是真的，”Rye 说。
“What’s your name, son?”
“你叫什么名字，孩子？”
Rye answered, “Ryan Dolan, sir,” and wished he hadn’t added the sir
Rye 回答说，“Ryan Dolan，先生，”并希望他没有添加先生.
“And what kind of gloves are you looking for?”
“那你在找什么样的手套？”
Rye considered again his red, stinging, work-scabbed hands, the mitts of a sixty-year-old man sewn to the arms of a boy. His clothes usually came from the Catholic charity bin or the Starvation Army, and he’d only ever bought one new item of clothing, a pair of warm socks from the bin at Murgittroyd’s. He could probably get a pair of gloves there for four bits. Or, if he was feeling fancy, go to the Emporium’s Saturday sale. One time he had walked into the Crescent, hoping to pinch a biscuit at the lunch counter, but a security guard had hustled him out. He wondered how much gloves were at the Crescent. Two bucks?
Rye 再次考虑了他那双红肿、刺痛、结痂的手，一个六十岁男人的手套缝在一个男孩的手臂上。他的衣服通常来自天主教慈善垃圾箱或饥饿军，他只买过一件新衣服，一双来自 Murgittroyd's 垃圾桶的保暖袜子。他可能会在那里买一双手套。或者，如果他觉得很花哨，可以去参加 Emporium 的周六促销。有一次，他走进新月区，希望能在午餐柜台前捏到一块饼干，但一个保安把他赶了出去。他想知道 Crescent 有多少手套。 两块钱？
“Well,” he said finally, “the warm kind?”
“嗯，”他最后说，“温暖的那种？
“I could sell you a pair of ten-dollar ermine-lined gloves.” The man lowered his voice. “Or I could be a decent fellow and send you to Murgy’s, where you could find a pair almost as nice for under a dollar.”
“我可以卖给你一双 10 美元的貂皮衬里手套。”男人压低了声音。“或者我可以做个正派的家伙，把你送到 Murgy's，在那里你可以花不到一美元找到一双差不多一样好的鞋。”
Rye looked around again. He must be in the finest clothier in town. Rich men sat in velvet chairs while other men retrieved items for them. Here, they didn’t pick over bins for the things they wanted, but got served like guests in a restaurant. A handful of wooden dummies were dressed like they were attending a wedding. There were no prices on anything, no bins announcing six for a dollar, Rye guessing that if a man had to ask how much something cost here, he could not afford it.
Rye 再次环顾四周。他一定在镇上最好的服装店里。有钱人坐在天鹅绒椅子上，而其他男人则为他们取回物品。在这里，他们没有为他们想要的东西挑选垃圾桶，而是像餐厅的客人一样得到服务。几个木制假人穿着得像是参加婚礼。任何东西都没有价格，没有一美元标有六的箱子，Rye 猜测如果一个人非要问这里的东西要多少钱，他就买不起。
He had a feeling similar to the one he’d experienced in Lem Brand’s house—despair that this world existed, and that, normally, he could no more afford one-dollar gloves than he could ten-dollar gloves. That nine dollars, like nine levels of class, existed between the very limit of what he could imagine and what men like Lem Brand bought without a second thought.
他有一种类似于他在莱姆·布兰德家里经历的感觉——对这个世界的存在感到绝望，而且，通常情况下，他买不起一美元的手套，就像他买不起十美元的手套一样。那九美元，就像九个等级一样，存在于他能想象的极限和像莱姆·布兰德这样的人毫不犹豫地购买的东西之间。
“Is that your most expensive pair, then, the ten-dollar jobs?” Rye asked.
“那么，那是你最贵的一双，十美元的工作吗？”Rye 问道。
“The ermine? No,” the salesman admitted. “The ermine comes from the stoat, a kind of weasel. But you could spend as much as you want, really. If you want mink, for instance, I could order you sable fur gloves for twenty or thirty dollars a pair.”
“貂？不，“推销员承认。“貂来自白鼬，一种黄鼠狼。但你可以随心所欲地花多少钱，真的。比如说，如果你想要貂皮，我可以花二三十美元一双给你订购貂皮手套。
Rye shook his head. How naive to think that only nine dollars separated Brand and him. “And do you ever sell them twenty-dollar gloves?”
Rye 摇摇头。认为 Brand 和他之间只有 9 美元之间的差距，这是多么天真。“你有卖过二十块钱的手套吗？”
“Of course.” The salesman leaned in. “There’s a pair of forty-dollar gloves I could order from Milan. I have sold two pairs this year.”
“当然。”推销员靠了过来。“我可以从米兰订购一双四十美元的手套。我今年已经卖出了两双。
Rye looked around the store again. A man and his wife were staring at him, the wife seated, the man behind with his hand on her shoulder, as if he might protect her from whatever Rye was surely carrying.
Rye 再次环顾商店。一个男人和他的妻子盯着他看，妻子坐着，男人在后面，手搭在她的肩膀上，仿佛他可以保护她免受 Rye 肯定携带的东西的伤害。
When Rye looked back, the salesman was chewing his cheek. “You’re one of those Wobblies,” he said.
当 Rye 回头看时，推销员正在咀嚼他的脸颊。“你就是那些摇摆不定的人之一，”他说。
Rye didn’t answer. But at that moment, he felt done with it all—done with the beatings, done with Taft, done with Lem Brand and Ursula, done pretending they could stand on soapboxes and draw justice out of the air. Early was right. Rye didn’t believe in anything but a job, a bed, some soup. A simple farmhouse behind Mrs. Ricci’s boardinghouse. Gig out of jail, living with him.
Rye 没有回答。但在那一刻，他觉得自己已经受够了这一切——受够了殴打，受够了塔夫脱，受够了莱姆·布兰德（Lem Brand）和乌苏拉（Ursula），受够了假装自己可以站在肥皂盒上，从空气中伸张正义。Early 是对的。Rye 除了工作、床和一些汤，什么都不相信。里奇夫人寄宿公寓后面的一座简陋的农舍。Gig 出狱，和他住在一起。
And in that moment, all he wanted was to go back to the doorman in front of Louis Davenport’s place and clap at him in the warmest gloves in the world.
在那一刻，他只想回到路易斯·达文波特家门口的门卫身边，戴着世界上最暖和的手套向他拍手。
“I was there the day of the riot,” the salesman said. “I saw you, shackled in the street. I remember because you seemed younger than the others. Reminded me of my grandson. I’m sorry what they did to you. The police here—” He shook his head but didn’t finish the thought.
“骚乱发生那天我在那儿，”推销员说。“我看到你，戴着镣铐在街上。我记得，因为你看起来比其他人年轻。让我想起了我的孙子。我对他们对你所做的事感到抱歉。这里的警察——“他摇了摇头，但还没有说完。
Over his shoulder, two other salesmen looked their way.
在他的肩膀上，另外两名推销员看着他们的方向。
“Are the ten-dollar gloves warm?” Rye asked.
“那十块钱的手套暖和吗？”Rye 问道。
“They are very warm,” the salesman said, “but really, I think—”
“他们很热情，”推销员说，“但说真的，我觉得——”
“I’ll take two pairs. One for me and one for my brother.”
“我拿两双。一个给我，一个给我哥哥。
The salesman smiled but did not budge.
推销员微笑，但没有让步。
“And can you wrap his pair?” Rye said. “I’d like it to be a gift.”
“你能把他的那双包起来吗？”Rye 说。“我希望它是一份礼物。”
The man hesitated. “Son, you should know, these gloves are not going to be nine dollars warmer than the gloves at the Emporium.”
男人犹豫了。“孩子，你应该知道，这些手套不会比百货店的手套暖和九美元。”
“Yeah,” Rye said, “maybe they will be to me.”
“是的，”Rye 说，“也许他们会对我感兴趣。
It was after five, and outside it was tunnel dark. Just two hours before Gurley’s speech, and Rye rushed to get back to the union hall.
当时是五点多，外面是隧道里一片漆黑。就在 Gurley 演讲前两个小时，Rye 匆匆忙忙地回到了工会大厅。
As he walked, he looked down at his hands, almost stunned to see the rich brown gloves, a band of white fur at the wrist like a bird’s plumage.
他走着走着，低头看着自己的手，几乎惊呆了，因为他看到那双浓郁的棕色手套，手腕上有一条白色的毛皮，就像鸟的羽毛。
How would he explain this? A month’s wages for two pairs of gloves? Gig’s pair was in a slender box with a bowed ribbon. He’d be in jail for six months, and then, what, Rye gives him a pair of white-fur-lined gloves? In July? I’ve lost my mind, he thought. He wondered if Bradley & Graham’s would take the gloves back.
他会怎么解释呢？两双手套一个月的工资？Gig 的那双鞋装在一个细长的盒子里，上面有一条弓形丝带。他会在监狱里呆六个月，然后，什么，Rye 给了他一双白色毛皮衬里的手套？7 月？ 我疯了， 他想。他在想 Bradley & Graham's 会不会把手套拿回来。
He turned down Stevens Street and saw one of Lidle’s newsboys, a skinny black kid already hawking the Worker. “Second Wobbly action!” the boy was yelling. “Free pies tonight at the IWW Hall!”
他转过史蒂文斯街，看到利德尔的一名报童，一个瘦小的黑人孩子已经在兜售工人了 。“第二次摇摇晃晃的行动！” 男孩大喊。“今晚在 IWW 大厅有免费馅饼！”
Rye felt an auto on his left. It was driving slowly next to him. He glanced back and saw the big headlight eyes of a Model T grille. Then the car pulled around him and onto the curb, curls of smoke from the exhaust, the red ash of a cigarette glowing in the window. The driver’s-side door creaked open and a man rose above the car’s roof. It was Brand’s thick security goon, Willard. He tossed the cigarette butt. “Get in.”
Rye 感觉到一辆汽车在他的左边。它在他旁边缓慢地行驶。他回头瞥了一眼，看到了 T 型格栅的大灯眼睛。然后，汽车绕过他，停在路边，排气管冒出一缕缕烟雾，香烟的红色灰烬在车窗里闪闪发光。驾驶座的车门吱吱作响地打开了，一名男子从车顶升起。那是布兰德的粗壮保安暴徒威拉德。他把烟头扔了出去。“进去。”
Rye stood still. “I can’t. I have to be at the hall.”
Rye 站着不动。“我不能。我得在大厅里。
Willard sighed and, as if thinking, This job, reached into his coat pocket and set something on the roof of the Model T. Rye couldn’t see it but guessed by the heavy clank it was a pistol. “Get in,” Willard said. “It’s goddamned freezing out here.”
威拉德叹了口气，似乎在想， 这份工作 ，把手伸进外套口袋，在 T 型车的车顶上放了个东西。Rye 看不见，但从沉重的叮当声中猜到那是一把手枪。“进来，”威拉德说。“这他妈的太冷了。”
It was barely warmer inside than out. Willard sat back in the driver’s seat, his breath coming in heavy bursts of steam. They rumbled along in silence until he finally looked over. “Nice gloves.”
里面几乎不比外面暖和。威拉德坐回驾驶座上，他的呼吸急促。他们沉默地咕噜咕噜地走着，直到他终于看过来。“漂亮的手套。”
Rye looked down. “They’re weasel.”
Rye 低头看。“他们是黄鼠狼。”
“And the box?”
“那盒子呢？”
“A second pair.”
“第二对。”
“In case you lose those?”
“万一你把那些东西弄丢了？”
“Something like that.”
“差不多。”
There was almost no traffic. Willard offered Rye a cigarette from a box he pulled from his coat, but Rye shook it off. Willard stuck one in his own mouth, popped a match across his thumbnail, and lit it. He sighed again, a sound that Rye took to mean: Sorry for this business
几乎没有交通。威拉德从外套里掏出一个盒子递给莱伊一根烟，但莱伊把它甩掉了。威拉德把一根自己的嘴里，在他的拇指上划了一根火柴，然后点燃了它。他又叹了口气，Rye 认为这个声音的意思是：对不起，这事.
“I have to be at the hall in an hour,” Rye said.
“我必须在一个小时后到达大厅，”Rye 说。
Willard said nothing. They motored up the South Hill, the snow getting heavier and the wind through the open side window stinging Rye’s face. This was nothing like the first trip to Alhambra. No hats or scarves, no soft Ursula to hold his arm, just Rye and Willard in an icy automobile.
威拉德什么也没说。他们开车上了南山，雪越来越大，风从敞开的侧窗吹进来，刺痛了 Rye 的脸。这与第一次去阿罕布拉宫完全不同。没有帽子或围巾，没有柔软的乌苏拉来挽着他的手臂，只有 Rye 和 Willard 在一辆冰冷的汽车里。
The gate to Brand’s driveway was closed, guarded by two men in long coats and earflapped hats. One of them was holding a rifle against his chest, the other had his gun strapped over his shoulder. They were standing around a burning ashcan in front of the gatehouse. The one with the strapped rifle walked over.
布兰德车道的大门是关着的，由两个穿着长外套、戴着耳罩帽子的男人守卫。其中一人将步枪抵在胸前，另一人将枪绑在肩上。他们站在门楼前一个燃烧的灰桶周围。那个拿着绑着步枪的家伙走了过来。
“How’s he doing?” Willard asked.
“他怎么样了？”威拉德问道。
“Birdshot,” the man said, and wiggled his fingers.
“鸟弹，”男人说，然后摆动着他的手指。
“He alone?” Willard asked.
“只有他一个人？”威拉德问道。
“She left an hour ago.”
“她一个小时前就走了。”
Rye wondered which she. Ursula? Brand’s wife?
Rye 想知道是她 。乌苏拉？布兰德的妻子？
They were waved through. One man watched from the window of the carriage house gate. Another man guarded the front door of the house. “What’s going on?” Rye asked.
他们被挥手通过。一个男人从马车房门的窗户望着。另一个男人守着房子的前门。“怎么回事？”Rye 问道。
Willard parked the T, killed the motor, and opened his door.
威拉德停好了 T 形，关掉了发动机，然后打开了他的门。
There was no tour this time, no doors thrown open, no Amazonian redwood or African onyx. Willard led Rye into the house, the front-door security man nodding them through. Down a long hallway, past a dark dining room, they went through a pantry and into a plain room behind the kitchen.
这次没有参观，没有敞开大门，没有亚马逊红木或非洲玛瑙。威拉德领着莱伊进了屋子，前门的保安点头示意他们进来。沿着一条长长的走廊，经过一个黑暗的餐厅，他们穿过一个储藏室，进入厨房后面的一个普通房间。
At the servants’ table sat Lem Brand, a glass of something dark and a half-eaten meat pie in front of him. He was on a stool, facing a leaded-glass window, coat off, suspenders over an undershirt, reading what looked like a stack of letters.
仆人的桌子上坐着莱姆·布兰德，面前放着一杯黑酒和一个吃了一半的肉馅饼。他坐在凳子上，面对着一扇含铅玻璃窗，脱掉了外套，汗衫外面套着吊带，读着看起来像一叠信的东西。
“Mr. Brand,” Willard said, but he didn’t answer. “Mr. Brand,” he said, louder.
“布兰德先生，”威拉德说，但他没有回答。“ 布兰德先生 ，”他大声说。
Brand finally turned. His face was pale, shiny with sweat.
布兰德终于转过身来。他的脸色苍白，汗水闪闪发光。
“I’ll be in the study,” Willard said.
“我会在研究里，”威拉德说。
Brand pointed with the papers to a stool on his left. Rye remained standing. “How are you, Ryan?” Brand asked. “None too worse for wear, I hope?”
布兰德拿着文件指向他左边的一张凳子。Rye 仍然站着。“你好吗，Ryan？”布兰德问道。“我希望不会太糟糕吧？”
And if Rye hadn’t known before, he knew then: Lem Brand was behind what had happened in Taft, what had almost happened.
如果 Rye 以前不知道，他那时就知道：Lem Brand 是塔夫脱发生的事情的幕后黑手，几乎发生的事情 。
“I’m not a man who apologizes very often,” Brand said. “But things occasionally get beyond my control.” He took and let go a deep breath, as if that had been the apology. “Where’s Early Reston?”
“我不是一个经常道歉的人，”布兰德说。“但事情偶尔会超出我的控制范围。”他深吸了一口气，仿佛这就是道歉。“Early Reston 在哪里？”
“I don’t know,” Rye said. He cleared his throat. “And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“我不知道，”Rye 说。他清了清嗓子。“如果我这样做了，我不会告诉你。”
Brand flinched. He held out the pages he’d been reading. Rye hesitated, then took what looked to be some kind of report. The first page featured a photograph of a young man with the words: “Ennis R. Cooper. Pinkerton Agency. San Francisco, California. May 1, 1894.” There were other names listed below that one: William Baines. Ennis Crane. Thomas Baines. William Crane. Ennis David Baines. Ennis Thomas. Thomas Reston. Ennis Reston. And the last one. Early Reston.
布兰德畏缩了一下。他拿出他一直在阅读的书页。Rye 犹豫了一下，然后拿起了一份看起来像是某种报告的东西。第一页刊登了一张年轻人的照片，上面写着：“恩尼斯·库珀。平克顿机构。加利福尼亚州旧金山。1894 年 5 月 1 日。在那个人下面还列出了其他名字：威廉·贝恩斯（William Baines）。恩尼斯·克兰。托马斯·贝恩斯。威廉·克兰。恩尼斯·大卫·贝恩斯。恩尼斯·托马斯。托马斯·雷斯顿。恩尼斯·雷斯顿。还有最后一个。早期雷斯顿。
Rye’s thoughts came together like badly shuffled cards. “Wait.” He looked up from the pages. “This is Early?”
Rye 的思绪像洗牌一样汇集在一起。“等等。”他从书页中抬起头来。“这很早？”
Brand took a drink of the whiskey.
布兰德喝了一口威士忌。
Rye looked back at the photo. Could it really be him? Suddenly, he was having trouble remembering Early’s features. He could recall his hat, his clothes, a certain look in his eyes. But was this his face? It seemed close, sure, but it made Rye realize how strangely similar all faces were—nose, mouth, eyebrows—really, what made a person himself?
Rye 回头看了看照片。真的是他吗？突然间，他记不清 Early 的特征了。他能想起他的帽子，他的衣服，他眼中的某种神情。但这是他的脸吗？这看起来确实很接近，但它让 Rye 意识到所有的面孔都是多么奇怪的相似——鼻子、嘴巴、眉毛——真的，是什么造就了一个人？
“I hired him two months ago. I was told he could go deeper than most agency men. Rile things up, get the union throwing bombs and the public turned against them, keep the police from going easy like they did in Missoula. We agreed to a price, half up front, half to be paid later.” Brand swirled his drink. “He told me, ‘When it’s anarchy you need, best to hire an anarchist.’ ”
“我两个月前雇用了他。有人告诉我，他可以比大多数代理人员更深入地了解。激怒事态，让工会投掷炸弹，让公众反对他们，防止警察像在米苏拉那样轻易行动。我们商定了一个价格，一半是预先支付的，一半是以后支付的。布兰德旋转着他的饮料。“他告诉我，'当你需要无政府状态时，最好雇一个无政府主义者。'”
Rye flipped through the pages—interviews, newspaper clippings, an arrest report.
Rye 翻阅了几页——采访、剪报、逮捕报告。
“He went too far, though, and I came to regret it. So I sent my man Willard to figure out what, exactly, I’d hired: a detective posing as an anarchist or an anarchist posing as a detective. The stories you hear: that he’s an agent who got in so deep he forgot which side he was on. Or that he was never on a side. The Pinkertons won’t even acknowledge that he worked for them. And the rumors? That he planted bombs. Caused a cave-in that killed six miners. Blew up a town marshal. Killed a labor man’s pregnant wife.”
“不过，他做得太过分了，我开始后悔了。所以我让我的手下威拉德去弄清楚我到底雇了什么：一个冒充无政府主义者的侦探，或者一个冒充侦探的无政府主义者。你听到的故事：他是一个深入到忘记了自己站在哪一边的特工。或者说他从来没有站在一边。平克顿夫妇甚至不承认他为他们工作过。谣言呢？他埋下了炸弹。导致 6 名矿工死亡。炸毁了一名镇长。杀死了一名工人怀孕的妻子。
Rye looked up from the report.
Rye 从报告中抬起头来。
“And some say it was his wife who was killed. Or that there was no wife, it’s just a story he tells. That he’s killed scabs and millionaires and loggers and bounty hunters and children. The stories are like his names—every possibility and combination. Or he’s just a thief who doesn’t care about anything. That’s Willard’s thinking—that he’s in it for the sport. Or the money.”
“有人说是他的妻子被杀害。或者说没有妻子，这只是他讲的一个故事。他杀死了结痂、百万富翁、伐木工、赏金猎人和儿童。这些故事就像他的名字——每一种可能性和组合。或者他只是一个什么都不在乎的小偷。这就是威拉德的想法——他是为了这项运动而参与的。或者钱。
Rye recalled his conversation with Early on the train—Everyone does everything for a little bit of money—
Rye 回忆起他在火车上与 Early 的对话—— 每个人都为了一点点钱做任何事情——
“This was delivered to my house this evening.” Brand handed Rye what appeared to be an identification card from a decade earlier. It read: “Dalveaux, Delbert, Allied Detective Agency.” It was the old detective Rye had met in Seattle.
“这是今天晚上送到我家的。”布兰德递给莱伊一张似乎是十年前的身份证。上面写着：“Dalveaux， Delbert， Allied Detective Agency。那是莱伊在西雅图遇到的老侦探。
“Del was last seen downtown this afternoon. Being helped out of a café by his brother.” Brand laughed bitterly. “Of course, he doesn’t have a brother.”
“德尔最后一次出现在市中心是在今天下午。被他哥哥从咖啡馆里搀扶出来。布兰德苦笑着。“当然，他没有弟弟。”
Rye handed the pages back. He tried to be firm, “Doesn’t have anything to do with me,” but his voice cracked.
Rye 把书页还给他。他试图坚定地说，“与我无关，”但他的声音沙哑了。
“Sure it does,” Brand said.
“当然可以，”布兰德说。
“I don’t work for you!” Rye sputtered. “It was a mistake.” He felt frantic. He pressed the box of gloves into Brand’s hands.
“我不为你工作！”Rye 结结巴巴地说。“这是一个错误。”他感到疯狂。他把手套盒塞进布兰德的手里。
“What’s this?” Brand opened the box.
“这是什么？”Brand 打开了盒子。
“It’s half of your twenty dollars. I’ll get the rest, but I’m done.”
“这是你二十块钱的一半。剩下的我都会得到，但我已经完成了。
“I don’t think a pair of gloves gets you out of this, Ryan.” Brand tossed the box on the table. “What if your union friends knew that I had you on retainer, that you were the one who told Del about Montana?”
“我不认为一副手套能让你摆脱困境，Ryan。”布兰德把盒子扔在桌子上。“如果你的工会朋友知道我把你当了个法律顾问，知道是你告诉了德尔关于蒙大拿州的事情呢？”
Rye felt sick.
Rye 感到不舒服。
“Or if your brother knew? Imagine if Ursula were to mention our meeting. How would Gregory feel about it?”
“或者你哥哥知道吗？想象一下，如果 Ursula 提到我们的会面。格雷戈里会有什么感觉呢？
“You said you’d get him out of jail.”
“你说过你会把他从监狱里救出来。”
“I said I’d try. And I will.” Brand reached in his coat, took out an envelope, and set it on the table. “But I need you to get this message to Early Reston. Or Ennis Cooper, or whatever his name is.”
“我说我会试试。我会的。布兰德伸手从外套里拿出一个信封，放在桌子上。“但我需要你把这个消息告诉 Early Reston。或者 Ennis Cooper，或者他叫什么名字。
Rye stared at the thick envelope.
Rye 盯着厚厚的信封。
“It’s five hundred dollars,” Brand said, “the second half of what I agreed to pay him. It might not be enough, after what happened, but tell that I’m willing to reopen our contract, settle our differences. Tell him to give me a number.”
“是五百美元，”布兰德说，“这是我同意付给他的后半部分。在发生的事情之后，这可能还不够，但要告诉大家我愿意重新签订合同，解决我们的分歧。告诉他给我一个号码。
A number. Rye thought about the armed men outside. Early’s fake names, the stories, it must be unbearable for a man like Brand, so used to being in control. “You’re afraid of him,” Rye said. “You’re scared to death.”
一个数字。 Rye 想着外面的武装人员。Early 的假名，那些故事，对于像 Brand 这样习惯了掌控的人来说，一定是无法忍受的。“你怕他，”Rye 说。“你吓死了。”
“Of death,” Brand said, “yes, like any man.”
“ 关于死亡，”布兰德说，“是的，就像任何男人一样。
Rye looked from the envelope to the stack of pages to Del Dalveaux’s ID card. He remembered the questions Brand had asked, and then Del’s questions—how many of them had been about Early. “It was him you were after—Early? In Taft?”
Rye 从信封看向一摞书页，再到 Del Dalveaux 的身份证。他想起了布兰德问过的问题，然后又想起了德尔的问题——其中有多少是关于 Early 的。“就是 你要找的他——早点？在塔夫脱？
Brand muttered something into his drink.
布兰德在他的饮料里喃喃自语。
“So it wasn’t even about Elizabeth or the union?”
“所以这甚至不是关于伊丽莎白或工会的？”
“It was both,” Brand admitted. “She is a problem. My partners certainly thought so. And I wouldn’t have minded solving that, too.” He shrugged as if they were talking about mice in his barn. “But I got greedy, two birds . . .”
“两者都是，”布兰德承认。“她是个问题。我的合作伙伴当然是这么认为的。我也不介意解决这个问题。他耸耸肩，仿佛他们在谈论他谷仓里的老鼠。“但我变得贪婪了，两只鸟......”
“And me?”
“那我呢？”
Brand shrugged again, which Rye took to mean, You? You were nothing.
布兰德又耸了耸肩，莱伊明白了这句话的意思， 你？你什么都不是。
Rye’s arms went slack against his sides. He looked down the long hallway. Then he turned back to Brand. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to do it. I’m done with all of this.” He started to walk away.
Rye 的手臂松弛地靠在他的身体两侧。他望向长长的走廊。然后他又转向布兰德。“不，”他说。“我不会这样做。我已经受够了这一切。他开始走开。
“That’s not really a choice you can make,” Brand said to his back. Then: “What if I get your brother out two days from now?”
“那真的不是你可以做出的选择，”布兰德对着他的背影说。然后：“如果我两天后让你哥哥出去怎么办？
Rye turned again.
Rye 又转过身来。
Brand was holding the envelope out. “Take this message to Early Reston, I’ll get Gregory released, and you and I are done forever. No one will ever know what you did.”
布兰德把信封拿出来。“把这个信息带给早期的雷斯顿，我会释放格雷戈里，你和我就永远结束了。没有人会知道你做了什么。
Rye stood in the hall, breathing heavily. “I don’t even know if I’ll see Early again.”
Rye 站在大厅里，喘着粗气。“我什至不知道我是否会再次看到 Early。”
“I’m willing to bet you will.”
“我愿意打赌你会的。”
Rye stood staring at an envelope with five hundred dollars in it. He just needed time, to think. “I have to get back to the union hall.”
Rye 站在那里，盯着一个装着 500 美元的信封。他只是需要时间去思考。“我得回工会大厅去了。”
Brand turned and looked at the grandfather clock behind him. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The raid will have already started by now.”
布兰德转过身来，看了看身后的老爷钟。“恐怕现在说已经太晚了。突袭现在已经开始了。
LISTEN: I come for the fight. I come from rebels, from blood nationalists, Molly Maguires, fiery socialists. I come from a New York suffragist and a New England quarryman, Irish parents who saved me the humiliation and hypocrisy of Our Blessed Church so that I might see the world clearly and burn with other fires. I have sought a paradise in this life, from the window of a train traversing a starkly beautiful land where a man’s skin is still criminalized and a woman’s body enslaved, where workers are thrown away like coal slag.
LISTEN： 我是来打架的。我来自叛逆者，来自血腥的民族主义者，来自莫莉·马奎尔（Molly Maguires），来自火热的社会主义者。我来自纽约的女权主义者和新英格兰的采石场主，他们的父母是爱尔兰人，他们拯救了我圣教会的羞辱和虚伪 ，使我能清楚地看到世界，并与其他的火焰一起燃烧。我从火车的窗户前寻找今生的天堂 ，火车穿过一片荒凉美丽的土地，那里的男人的皮肤仍然被定罪，女人的身体被奴役，工人们像煤渣一样被扔掉。
Injustice burns in me like a fever. Take away the Catholicism, and a little Gaelic heart like mine still beats martyr’s blood.
不公正像发烧一样在我心中燃烧。去掉天主教，像我这样的小小的盖尔人心仍然跳动着烈士的血液。
From the first days of grammar school, I was haunted by an adage the nuns had us copy on our slate boards: There but for the grace of God go I. The sixteenth-century reformer John Bradford was said to have uttered those words upon seeing a criminal led to his execution. Bradford was clearly on to something, because he did go eventually, burned at the stake for a crime that is my own, stirring up a mob, although I’d propose his real offense was another of mine: first-degree aggravated empathy.
从文法学校的第一天起，我就被一句谚语所困扰：修女让我们在石板上抄写： 如果没有上帝的恩典，我就去那里 。据说 16 世纪的改革家约翰·布拉德福德 （John Bradford） 在看到罪犯被处决后说了这些话。布拉德福德显然说得对，因为他最终还是去了，因为一个属于我自己的罪行而被烧死在火刑柱上，煽动了一群暴徒，尽管我认为他真正的冒犯是我的另一个冒犯：一级加重的同情心。
I was thinking of Bradford as I sat in the Spokane IWW office that cold winter night, an hour before I was to speak. Two loud crashing sounds came from outside, yelling in the main hall, the sound of doors being bashed in.
那个寒冷的冬夜，当我坐在斯波坎 IWW 的办公室里时，在我要演讲的一个小时前，我想到了布拉德福德。两声巨大的撞击声从外面传来，在大厅里大喊大叫，是门被砸碎的声音。
Charlie Filigno and I stood and looked at each other.
查理·菲利尼奥和我站着，面面相觑。
“Raid,” he said simply.
“突袭，”他简单地说。
I thought for a moment of those five hundred already in jail in Spokane, and the millions fighting every day around the world for fairness and justice, risking limb and life, and I repeated Bradford’s words like a prayer (There but for the grace . . . ) as the yelling drew closer and an ax cleaved our office door with a great cracking sound, the wood exploding in chips and splinters.
我想了一会儿，想起了已经在斯波坎监狱里的那五百人，以及每天在世界各地为公平和正义而战的数百万人，冒着肢体和生命的危险，我像祈祷一样重复了布拉德福德的话（ 那里，但为了恩典...... ）随着喊叫声越来越近，一把斧头劈开了我们办公室的门，发出巨大的噼啪声，木头爆炸成碎屑和碎片。
The broken door was flung from the hinges, and I could see in the great hall that cops were smashing windows and having at our printing press, and another man was taking a splitting maul to the small piano. I put an arm out to keep Charlie from moving, from getting beaten.
破损的门从铰链上甩了下来，我可以在大厅里看到警察正在砸碎窗户，砸碎我们的印刷机，另一个男人正在用劈开的槌子砸向那架小钢琴。我伸出一只手臂，防止 Charlie 移动，不被打。
And then that awful Sergeant Clegg stepped through the broken doorway into our office. He smiled. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy, you fat labor cunt.”
然后那个可怕的克莱格警长从破损的门口走进了我们的办公室。他笑了。“你因为阴谋而被逮捕了，你这个胖胖的劳动婊子。”
“I assume you’re addressing me,” I said, and smiled calmly, in my mind editing the devout Bradford with a brevity and clarity he would have had to admire as those first flames licked his feet: There—go I.
“我猜你是在对我说话，”我说，然后平静地笑了笑，在我的脑海中，他以一种简洁明了的方式编辑着虔诚的布拉德福德，当那些最初的火焰舔舐他的脚时，他将不得不佩服： 好了——我走了。
They aimed to finish us. I don’t know how else to say it. Ten stick-wielding police thugs sent to arrest a pregnant girl and glum Charlie Filigno, a handful of newsboys and an old cook making pies. They meant to shutter us forever. Less than an hour after we sent newsboys out to announce my speech and the second labor action, the police were ready with a full raid. I suppose they’d been waiting for it, having weathered our first attack, jailing five hundred, scuttling our attempts to raise funds and recruit. Now came the death blow.
他们的目标是干掉我们。我不知道还能怎么说。十名挥舞棍棒的警察暴徒被派去逮捕一名怀孕的女孩和闷闷不乐的查理·菲利尼奥（Charlie Filigno）、一小撮报童和一名正在制作馅饼的老厨师。他们打算永远关闭我们。在我们派出报童宣布我的演讲和第二次劳工行动后不到一个小时，警方就准备好进行全面突袭。我想他们一直在等待它，经受住了我们的第一次攻击，监禁了 500 人，破坏了我们筹集资金和招募的尝试。现在，致命一击来了。
After Clegg, that brute police chief, Sullivan, came inside. “Afternoon, sister.” He held up a newspaper with a story of a speech I had given to the Women’s Club of Spokane. “You’re under arrest for furthering a conspiracy inside the city limits.”
在克莱格之后，那个野蛮的警察局长沙利文走了进来。“下午，姐姐。”他举起一张报纸，上面写着我在斯波坎妇女俱乐部（Women's Club of Spokane）的演讲。“你因为在城市范围内推进阴谋而被逮捕。”
“Speaking is an act of conspiracy?”
“说话是阴谋行为吗？”
“Calling for violence against the city is.”
“呼吁对城市使用暴力就是。”
“I have called only for peaceful protest. You’re the ones beating men and breaking down doors, Acting Chief Sullivan.”
“我只呼吁和平抗议。你是殴打男人和破门而入的人， 代理沙利文局长。
He had two cops drag us outside in the swirling dry snow. We stood on the sidewalk, Charlie, me, and our old cook, Alan. Across the street, they were arresting newsboys, three twelve-year-olds led by an older boy named Lidle, the cops treating them like a gang of criminals.
他让两个警察在旋转的干雪中把我们拖到外面。我们站在人行道上，查理、我和我们的老厨师艾伦。在街对面，他们正在逮捕报童，三个 12 岁的孩子，由一个名叫 Lidle 的大男孩带领，警察把他们当作一伙罪犯对待。
A crowd was gathering on the street. “Are you seeing this?” I yelled as the cops broke windows and threw pie pans in the street. “These are your police! Arresting children!” Two cops dragged our printing press out into the street, where they resumed beating it to scrap. They carried out chairs and pots and pans, coffee cups and plates, and smashed them on the sidewalk. They confiscated posters, newspapers, and threw everything into a smoking burn barrel.
街上聚集了一群人。“你看到这个了吗？”我大喊大叫，警察打破窗户，把馅饼盘扔在街上。“这些是你们的警察！逮捕儿童！两个警察把我们的印刷机拖到街上，在那里他们继续把它打成废品。他们搬走了椅子和锅碗瓢盆、咖啡杯和盘子，并在人行道上砸碎了它们。他们没收了海报、报纸，把所有东西都扔进了冒烟的燃烧桶里。
Fred Moore had arrived and was pacing in the snow, cease-and-desisting, but the cops weren’t paying him any attention until Clegg pointed with his stick and said that if he didn’t shut up, he’d be charged, too, with resisting arrest.
弗雷德·摩尔（Fred Moore）来了，他在雪地里踱步， 停顿不停 ，但警察并没有理会他，直到克莱格用棍子指着他说，如果他不闭嘴，他也会被指控拒捕。
“Am I under arrest?” Fred asked.
“我被逮捕了吗？”弗雷德问道。
“Not yet,” Clegg said.
“还没有，”克莱格说。
“Then how can I be resisting?”
“那我怎么能反抗呢？”
The riddle was too much for Clegg, who turned back to the newsboys.
这个谜语对 Clegg 来说太难了，他转身看向报童。
Finally, to keep me from jawing on the street, Sullivan had a cop load me in the back of a wagon, onto a hard bloodstained bench. I put my head in my hands. There were rings for shackling hands, and the wagon smelled of horse and sweat and piss. I thought of my mother back in New York and what she would think, her pride and disgust and fear always mixed up. And I thought of Jack, in Butte, sitting at our table, waiting for me to bring him his dinner, and for just a moment, I wished—
最后，为了不让我在街上大吃一惊，沙利文让一名警察把我抬到马车后座上，放在一张沾满血迹的坚硬长凳上。我把头放在手里。有用于镣铐的手的戒指，马车闻起来有马、汗和尿的味道。我想起了我在纽约的母亲，她会怎么想，她的骄傲、厌恶和恐惧总是混杂在一起。我想起了杰克，在比尤特，坐在我们的餐桌旁，等着我给他端晚饭，有那么一刻，我希望——
It was freezing in that wagon, and through the frosted back window, I could see them leading newsboys away while cops battered the last of our doors and chairs. A small cop with a red beard climbed in and sat next to me. A moment later, Chief Sullivan stuck his head in and smiled.
那辆马车里很冷，透过磨砂的后窗，我可以看到他们领着报童走了，而警察则砸碎了我们最后的门和椅子。一个留着红胡子的小警察爬了进来，坐在我旁边。片刻之后，沙利文局长探出头来，露出了笑容。
“Well, look at this,” Sullivan said to the other police officer. “We’ve managed to do the impossible: We’ve shut up Elizabeth Gurley Flynn.”
“嗯，看看这个，”沙利文对另一名警官说。“我们成功地做到了不可能的事情：我们让伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn）闭嘴。”
The bearded patrolman laughed. I’ve always been surprised at how it stings, the laughter of small men. The smaller the man, the more the laughter hurts, as if saying, I may be nothing, but you are less.
大胡子巡警笑了起来。我总是对它的刺痛感到惊讶，小个子男人的笑声。男人越小，笑声就越伤人，彷佛在说， 我可能什么都不是，但你是少。
The wagon rumbled over streetcar tracks, and they took me to the women’s jail, where I was unloaded and booked on a charge of “conspiracy to incite men to violate the law.” I asked to see my lawyer, but the clerk stared as if I’d asked for a cannon. “You’ll see him tomorrow,” he said, “when you’re arraigned.”
马车在有轨电车的轨道上隆隆作响，他们把我带到女子监狱，在那里我被卸下来，并被指控为“串谋煽动男性违法”。我要求见我的律师，但办事员瞪着眼睛，好像我要了一门大炮。“你明天会见到他，”他说，“当你被传讯的时候。
A pigeon-toed jailer led me down a long, dark hallway. He turned once and looked me up and down, as if considering a purchase, and I felt a wave of disgust. Unlike most cities, Spokane did not employ a jail matron, Chief Sullivan saying jail was no place for a decent woman to work. This sloth led me to a heavy iron door, a single electric bulb illuminating it. “Back up!” he called through the door. Then he keyed it open. A few socialist ladies had spent the night in the women’s cell in Spokane for our cause, and I’d heard them describe it as a cold, dark dungeon, filled with prostitutes arrested on late-night raids for not having the twenty-five-dollar fine ready.
一个鸽子趾狱卒领着我走过一条长长的、黑暗的走廊。他转过身来，上下打量我，好像在考虑买东西，我感到一阵厌恶。与大多数城市不同，斯波坎没有雇用监狱女护士长，沙利文局长说，监狱不是体面女性工作的地方。这只树懒把我带到一扇沉重的铁门前，一个电灯泡照亮了它。“退后！”然后他用钥匙打开了它。为了我们的事业，几位社会主义女士在斯波坎的女子牢房里过夜，我听到她们把它描述成一个冰冷、黑暗的地牢，里面挤满了，她们因为没有准备好 25 美元的罚款而在深夜突袭中被捕。
True to form, two tavern girls were lying on cots when I came in. One of the women was facing the wall, skirts bunched, her back to me. The other was younger and sat up when I came in. “You’re that Elizabeth Gurley,” she said with a heavy Austro-Hungarian accent. “No, I seen you speak one day.”
一如既往，当我进来时，两个酒馆女孩躺在婴儿床上。其中一个女人面朝墙壁，裙子束成束，背对着我。另一个更年轻，我进来时坐了起来。“你就是那个伊丽莎白·格利，”她带着浓重的奥匈帝国口音说。“没有，我有一天看到你说话了。”
I had been in jail cells before, but this one made New York’s holding pen seem like the Waldorf Astoria. Heavy rock walls and an iron door—a freezing draft and a faint light through two barred windows, a stone floor beneath us, and on my cot, a single blanket, thin and scratchy as old leaves, and a pillow that was little more than rice in a sock.
我以前进过牢房，但这次让纽约的牢房看起来像华尔道夫酒店。沉重的岩壁和一扇铁门——冰冷的气流和微弱的光线透过两扇带栅栏的窗户，我们脚下是石地板，我的小床上放着一条毯子，像旧树叶一样薄而刺痛，还有一个枕头，它只不过是袜子里的大米。
“Here, you take mine,” said the woman with the accent. And she held out her blanket to me.
“来，你拿我的，”那个带着口音的女人说。“她把毯子递给我。
“I couldn’t,” I said, “thank you.”
“我不能，”我说，“谢谢你。
She raised her skirts and showed me what looked like men’s pants beneath them. “My barman give me these before the police come yesterday.”
她掀起裙子，向我展示裙子下面看起来像男裤的东西。“昨天警察来之前，我的酒保把这些给我。”
“He knew the police were coming?”
“他知道警察要来了？”
She whispered: “My barman is behind to pay the police—” She shrugged. “He get the money, buy us back tomorrow, hope tomorrow—”
她低声说：“我的酒保在后面付钱给警察——”她耸耸肩。“他拿到钱了，明天把我们买回来，希望明天——”
The other one rolled half over to shush her. “Katya, shut up. You’ll get us in more trouble.” She shot me a look.
另一个人半翻过来让她安静下来。“卡佳，闭嘴。你会给我们带来更多的麻烦。她瞪了我一眼。
A few minutes later, Pigeon-Toed was back and the heavy door opened. “Elizabeth Jones,” he said. He led me out, back down the dark hall, to a room with no windows.
几分钟后，Pigeon-Toed 回来了，沉重的门打开了。“伊丽莎白·琼斯，”他说。他带我出去，沿着黑暗的走廊回到一个没有窗户的房间。
The prosecutor Pugh was sitting at a table, Sullivan against the wall. They sat me at the table across from Pugh. The needling prosecutor read from a thick notepad as he slowly questioned me for the next hour. Who was funding our chapter? Who sent me? Would I confess to conspiring to violate the anti-speaking law, to inciting violence, to causing a riot, to disturbing the peace? Did I know that I faced two years in prison? How many more men were coming to protest? How many had I rallied in Seattle? In Wallace? In Taft? Was it true that Vincent Saint John was planning to come to Spokane? And what about the murderer Big Bill Haywood? Was my husband, Jack, bringing mining toughs from Montana? Who was leading this conspiracy?
检察官皮尤坐在一张桌子旁，沙利文靠墙。他们让我坐在 Pugh 对面的桌子上。针刺检察官从厚厚的记事本上读着，然后慢慢地询问了我接下来的一个小时。谁资助了我们的分会？谁派我来的？我是否承认密谋违反反言论法、煽动暴力、引起骚乱、扰乱治安？我知道我面临两年的监禁吗？还有多少男人来抗议？我在西雅图集会了多少人？在华莱士？在塔夫脱？文森特·圣约翰 （Vincent Saint John） 真的打算来斯波坎吗？那么凶手大比尔·海伍德呢？我的丈夫 Jack 是从蒙大拿州带来的采矿硬汉吗？谁在领导这个阴谋？
My face heated up as he spoke, anger blessedly replacing my fear. “I am conspiring to exercise my right to speak freely, if that’s what you mean.” I began interrupting his questions. “Bill Haywood was framed by Pinkertons and acquitted of murder. You should read the newspapers, they are quite informative.” I laughed as he pressed me: which men were coming, which men were leading the fight, which men were pulling my strings. Even the sentence he threatened me with, two years in jail, was for conspiring to incite men to violate the law.
他说话时，我的脸发热了，幸运的是，愤怒取代了我的恐惧。“我正在密谋行使我自由发言的权利，如果你是这个意思的话。”我开始打断他的问题。“比尔·海伍德被平克顿陷害，被判谋杀罪名不成立。你应该读读报纸，它们信息量很大。当他追问我时，我笑了起来：哪些男人来了，哪些男人在领导战斗，哪些男人在拉我的绳子。甚至他威胁我判处两年监禁，也是因为他密谋煽动男人触犯法律。
“And what if I promise to incite only women?” I said.
“如果我承诺只煽动女性呢？”我说过。
Mr. Pugh was unamused. “You do not seem to appreciate the severity of this situation, Mrs. Jones.”
皮尤先生并不觉得好笑。“你似乎没有意识到这种情况的严重性，琼斯夫人。”
“Nor you, Mr. Pugh.”
“你也不行，皮尤先生。”
Sullivan came off the wall. “See—now this manner of yours is what I don’t understand, sister. The shrillness. Disrespect. It doesn’t have to be this way. You could be ladylike. You’re not bad-looking, not one of those dried-up milk cows like Emma Goldman or Mother Jones.”
沙利文从墙上下来。“你看——现在你的这种方式是我不明白的，姐姐。尖锐。不敬。事情不必是这样的。你可以像个淑女。你长得还不错，不是像 Emma Goldman 或 Mother Jones 那样的干涸奶牛。
“They are champions of—”
“他们是——”
He acted as if I hadn’t spoken. “I don’t see why you’d throw your life off like this. Do you want to have your husband’s baby in jail? Raise it among fallen women when, with a little cooperation, Mr. Pugh might be convinced to contact your husband and have him come get you? Forget this whole mess?”
他表现得好像我没说话一样。“我不明白你为什么会这样抛弃你的生活。你想让你丈夫的孩子进监狱吗？在堕落的女人中提出这个问题，当 Pugh 先生可能会被说服联系你的丈夫并让他来接你时？忘了这整团糟吧？
“My husband is proud that I am fighting for—”
“我丈夫为我为之奋斗而感到自豪——”
“No, no, no. Don’t start with me. I’m not talking about that.” He bent so that he was at eye level. “I don’t see your husband as a man at all, Mrs. Jones. I don’t approve of your rabble-rousing, and I would forbid my wife from making a whore’s spectacle of herself—but if she did? If it was my wife out here? I would sure as hell not let her fight alone.”
“不，不，不。不要从我开始。我不是在谈论那个。他弯下腰，与眼睛齐平。“我根本不把你丈夫看作个男人， 琼斯太太 。我不赞成你煽动乌合之众，而且我会禁止我的妻子把自己当作妓女的奇观——但如果她这样做了呢？如果这是我的妻子在外面呢？我肯定不会让她孤军奋战。
This cut me, as he must’ve known it would, and I felt even greater shame at the sharpness of it. He’d found the spot that stung, the romantic girl who once rode toward dragons with her prince. He had not come from Butte. Three weeks I had been here and nothing. Not so much as a letter.
这让我很伤心，他一定知道这会让我感到更羞愧，而我对它的尖锐程度感到更加羞愧。他找到了那个刺痛的地方，那个曾经和她的王子一起骑马冲向龙的浪漫女孩。他不是从比尤特来的。我在这里呆了三个星期，什么都没有。与其说是一封信。
For a moment I couldn’t breathe. And then I could.
有那么一刻，我无法呼吸。然后我就可以了。
“My husband has nothing to do with this,” I said. “Just as whatever poor girl you have enslaved back at your stove has nothing to do with your rank corruption. As for ‘whore’s spectacle,’ ask your wife what bargains she made to live in your house, Acting Chief Sullivan.”
“我丈夫跟这件事没关系，”我说。“就像你在炉子前奴役的那个可怜的女孩，与你的等级腐败无关。至于'妓女的奇观'，问问你的妻子，她为了住在你家里做了什么讨价还价 ， 代理沙利文局长。
A storm went over his face, and then a surprising vulnerability.
一场暴风雨扑面而来，然后是令人惊讶的脆弱。
But I was not done. “And when your pretty wife answers, watch her eyes closely, because whatever she says, there will be another truth she won’t speak, for fear of breaking her acting husband’s fragile heart.”
但我还没有结束。“当你漂亮的妻子回答时，要仔细观察她的眼睛，因为无论她说什么，都会有另一个真相她不会说，生怕伤了她演戏丈夫脆弱的心。”
Sullivan straightened. “Take this trash to her cell.”
沙利文直起身来。“把这些垃圾带到她的牢房去。”
My anger had dissipated, and with it, hope. I lay back on the cot in my jail cell. I could not sleep. The only light came from the small barred windows. The breathing of the older woman in the cell was labored, and as soon as the door closed, I began to hear the scurrying down the hall of large, industrious rats.
我的愤怒已经消散，随之而来的是希望。我躺在牢房的婴儿床上。我无法入睡。唯一的光线来自带铁栅栏的小窗户。牢房里年长的女人呼吸很困难，门一关上，我就开始听到大而勤劳的老鼠在走廊里窜来窜去的声音。
There were faint voices, too, men’s laughter, the opening and closing of cell doors. I thought of Chief Sullivan and of Jack. Why hadn’t Jack come?
还有微弱的声音，男人的笑声，牢房门的开合声。我想到了沙利文酋长和杰克。 杰克怎么没来呢？
The saloon girls snored beneath their thin blankets.
酒吧的女孩们在她们薄薄的毯子下打呼噜。
And then, at some point in the night, the heavy door pushed open and a man with a gas lantern came in. It was a new jailer, one who hadn’t been on the earlier shift, a man with gray teeth and a patchy beard that covered his cheeks.
然后，在夜里的某个时候，沉重的门推开了，一个提着煤气灯的男人走了进来。那是一个新来的狱卒，一个没有上过早班的人，一个牙齿花白的男人，脸颊上有斑驳的胡须。
“Who’s up?” He held his lantern over me. “This one?”
“谁在起床？”他把灯笼举在我身上。“这个？”
“Not for that,” said Katya, the younger girl, with the accent. “Leave her alone.” She rose with a sigh.
“不是那个，”年轻的女孩卡佳带着口音说。“别管她。”她叹了口气。
This repeated three more times, like an uneasy dream. The heavy jail door would open, and the gray-toothed jailer would come in and take one of the women away. “Sweetheart’s here,” he said to the unfriendly one. She rose without making a sound and, twenty minutes later, plopped back down on her cot.
这样又重复了三遍，就像一场不安的梦。沉重的监狱门会打开，灰牙白齿的狱卒会进来带走其中一个女人。“甜心来了，”他对那个不友好的人说。她一声不吭地站了起来，二十分钟后，扑通一声回到了她的小床上。
“Sweetheart’s here,” the man would say again, and now Katya rose with a deep sigh, left, and returned half an hour later.
“甜心来了，”男人又说了一遍，这时卡佳深深地叹了口气，站起来，离开了，半小时后又回来了。
At some point, I must have slept, for at dawn I woke to find a different jailer sitting on my bed, a younger man, his hand on my cheek. “Cold, are you?”
在某个时候，我一定睡着了，因为黎明时分我醒来，发现我的床上坐着另一个狱卒，一个年轻的男人，他的手放在我的脸颊上。“冷，是吗？”
I sat up straight. I had two blankets on.
我坐直了身子。我身上盖着两条毯子。
“Leave her be!” said Katya, who must have put her blanket on me after I went to sleep. She rose and walked over. “I am coming.”
“别管她吧，”卡佳说，她一定是在我睡着后把毯子盖在我身上的。她站起来走过去。“我来了。”
It was almost an hour before the jailer brought Katya back. She carried two pieces of stale bread and two cups of coffee. I sat up and she gave me one of the measly breakfasts. The jailer brought another hunk of bread and a cup of coffee for the quiet woman in our cell, but she faced the wall, her back to him. “Hey,” he said, and when she didn’t budge, he set the coffee and bread on the ground in front of her.
差不多一个小时后，狱卒才把卡佳带回来。她拿着两块不新鲜的面包和两杯咖啡。我坐起来，她给了我一顿微不足道的早餐。狱卒又给我们牢房里那个安静的女人带来了另一大块面包和一杯咖啡，但她背对着他，面向墙壁。“嘿，”他说，当她没有动弹时，他把咖啡和面包放在她面前的地上。
I sipped the cool, oily coffee and gnawed at the hard bread.
我啜饮着凉爽的油咖啡，啃着硬面包。
“When will your baby come?” Katya asked.
“你的孩子什么时候来？”卡佳问道。
I looked down at my belly, surprised each day by how evident my condition was becoming. “April, hopefully,” I said. “I lost a baby last year, so . . . I don’t know.”
我低头看着自己的肚子，每天都对自己的病情变得如此明显感到惊讶。“希望是四月，”我说。“我去年失去了一个孩子，所以......我不知道。
“Lost a baby.” She looked me up and down. “Lost a baby,” she repeated in a singsong way, as if trying to place the phrase. “Lost.” Up close, she was thin, with black hair and lovely pale skin. Her eyes were dark and mirthful. “You have choose a name for baby?”
“失去了一个孩子。”她上下打量了我一番。“失去了一个孩子，”她以歌唱的方式重复着，仿佛想把这句话放在首位。“迷路了。”近距离看，她很瘦，有一头黑发和可爱的苍白皮肤。她的眼睛漆黑而欢笑。“你给宝宝取个名字了？”
“Not yet,” I said.
“还没有，”我说。
“After your husband if a boy? Or your father?”
“如果你丈夫是个男孩吗？还是你爸爸？
“I hadn’t thought of it.”
“我没想过。”
“My father’s name. It is Oleksander. You know this name?”
“我爸爸的名字。是 Oleksander。你知道这个名字吗？
“Alexander,” I said. “Yes.”
“亚历山大，”我说。“是的。”
“O-leksander,” she corrected. “Is very good name. Very strong for boy.”
“ 噢 -莱克桑德，”她纠正道。“这是个非常好的名字。对男孩来说非常强壮。
“You should take this back,” I said, and I handed her the blanket.
“你应该把这个拿回去，”我说，然后把毯子递给她。
“No, please,” she said. “You.” And I could tell it meant something to her, that I use the blanket.
“不，拜托，”她说。“你。”我看得出来，我使用毯子对她来说意味着什么。
“Thank you,” I said. “Can I ask you—last night, is it always like that?”
“谢谢你，”我说。“我能问你——昨晚，总是这样吗？”
She shrugged. “Is here, is there, is same, yes? Different boss but same.” She held up the bread. “Food is worse.”
她耸耸肩。“在这里，那里，一样吗，是吗？不同的老板，但一样。她举起面包。“食物更糟。”
The other woman had stirred, and she cleared her throat as she rose. “I swear to God, if you say another word about it, Katya—”
另一个女人动了起来，她站起来清了清嗓子。“我向上帝发誓，如果你再说一句，卡佳——”
“Be quiet, cow,” Katya muttered.
“安静点，奶牛，”卡佳咕哝道。
The other woman sat up now. “You’re gonna get us killed.” She took a drink of the coffee and stood. She shook her head. “Christ’s sake, you two.” She walked to the corner of the cell, raised her skirts, and squatted over a bucket in the corner.
另一个女人现在坐了起来。“你会害死我们的。”她喝了一口咖啡，站了起来。她摇了摇头。“看在基督的份上，你们俩。”她走到牢房的角落，掀起裙子，蹲在角落里的一个桶上。
Katya patted my arm and stood to return to her own bunk. “Oleksander,” she said quietly. “Very strong name.”
卡佳拍了拍我的胳膊，站起来回到了她自己的铺位上。“奥列克桑德，”她轻声说。“非常强的名字。”
By the time of my arraignment that morning, Fred Moore had done champion lawyer work. The newsboys—after four hours of threats and questioning by the police—had been released to parents and orphanages. No charges had been filed against the old cook. “Not unless the state plans to charge him for dry pie crust,” Fred said. Only Charlie Filigno and I were being held, on conspiracy charges.
那天早上我被传讯时，弗雷德·摩尔已经完成了冠军律师的工作。在警方的四个小时的威胁和审问之后，这些报童已经被释放给父母和孤儿院。没有对这位老厨师提出指控。“除非州政府打算向他收取干馅饼皮的费用，否则不会，”弗雷德说。只有查理·菲利尼奥和我被关押，罪名是阴谋罪。
Fred said he’d gone around town all night trying to raise the money to bail me out. He’d approached the other labor leaders—AFL, WFM, even the porters’ union, but everyone had told him no. One man had said that he would, but his wife found me indecent. Instead, the entire six hundred dollars—against an outrageous bond of six thousand—came from a single woman of means, the wife of a wealthy doctor in town. I recalled meeting her at a women’s club luncheon where I’d gotten such tepid applause that I’d blamed the members’ white gloves.
弗雷德说他整晚都在镇上转来转去，试图筹集到救助我的钱。他已经联系了其他劳工领袖——AFL、WFM，甚至搬运工会，但每个人都告诉他不。一个男人说他会，但他的妻子觉得我很不雅。相反，整整六百美元——对着六千美元的离谱债券——来自一个有钱的单身女人，镇上一位富有医生的妻子。我记得在一次妇女俱乐部午餐会上遇见她，那次掌声不温不火，我责怪会员们的白手套。
“Keep the money for the fees you haven’t charged,” I said. “Leave me in here.”
“把你没收的钱留着，”我说。“把我留在这儿。”
“Elizabeth, you know I can’t do that,” Fred said. “Not in your condition.”
“伊丽莎白，你知道我不能那样做，”弗雷德说。“不是在你的情况。”
The small courtroom was packed with onlookers and reporters craning their necks to see me. “What do you say, Gurley?” one reporter yelled.
小法庭里挤满了围观者和记者，他们伸长脖子想见我。“你说什么，格利？”
“I say the time has come for the working classes of Spokane to stand up to this thievery and brutality!” The reporters bent and wrote like I was the president. Then the jailers brought in Charlie, who was bearing it quite well, in fact, even looking somewhat relieved to be on this side of things instead of doing the impossible job of running that dying union all by himself.
“我说，现在是斯波坎工人阶级站出来反对这种盗窃和残暴行为的时候了！”记者们弯着腰写，就像我是总统一样。然后，狱卒们带来了查理，他忍受得相当不错，事实上，他甚至看起来有点松了一口气，因为站在事情的这一边，而不是独自完成不可能的工作，独自管理那个垂死的工会。
The charges were read, and Mr. Pugh offered as preliminary evidence the seized copies of the Industrial Worker, quotes I had given reporters and lines from earlier speeches I’d made, and my plans for the second free speech action. All listed as parts of the conspiracy to break the law against speaking on the street.
指控被宣读后，皮尤先生提供了被没收的 《产业工人》 副本 、我给记者的引述和我之前演讲中的台词，以及我对第二次言论自由行动的计划作为初步证据。所有这些都被列为违反禁止在街头演讲的法律的阴谋的一部分。
“An illegal law,” I said, and Fred put his hand on my arm to quiet me.
“非法的法律，”我说，弗雷德把手放在我的手臂上，让我安静下来。
Then Fred entered the pleas for Charlie and me—not guilty—and began arguing against the legality of the raid, “the unprecedented violation of not only the rights of these defendants but the rights of an entire community, Your Honor—”
然后弗雷德为查理和我——无罪——开始争论突袭的合法性，“不仅史无前例地侵犯了这些被告的权利，而且侵犯了整个社区的权利，法官阁下——”
“Enough, Mr. Moore,” the judge said, and rapped his gavel, “you’ll have plenty of time to bore this court later.”
“够了，摩尔先生，”法官说着，敲响了他的木槌，“你以后会有足够的时间来打理这个法庭的。
When Fred explained that I planned to pay the bail, the prosecutor, Pugh, asked the judge to stipulate that my release be conditioned on my not speaking publicly or in any way further antagonizing police or city officials.
当弗雷德解释说我打算支付保释金时，检察官皮尤要求法官规定，我被释放的条件是我不公开说话或以任何方式进一步激怒警察或市政府官员。
“If your plan is to shut me up, you’d better keep me in jail,” I said.
“如果你的计划是让我闭嘴，你最好把我关在监狱里，”我说。
There was laughter, and again the gavel rapped. “Mrs. Jones, you will refrain from making speeches, and you will address this court with respect.”
一阵笑声，木槌又响了起来。“琼斯夫人，你不要发表演讲，你要尊重地向这个法庭讲话。”
“I will respect this court when it respects my rights.”
“当这个法院尊重我的权利时，我会尊重它。”
The judge pointed the gavel. “Mr. Moore.”
法官指向了木槌。“摩尔先生。”
Fred’s hand landed on my arm again, and I went quiet for him. Then the judge remanded Charlie over to custody and said, “Against my better judgment, and with strict regulations on her behavior, Mrs. Jones is released until her trial date.”
弗雷德的手又落在了我的手臂上，我安静地为他走去。然后法官将查理还押，并说：“违背我更好的判断，并且对她的行为有严格的规定，琼斯夫人被释放，直到她的审判日期。
“You should have left me in there,” I said to Fred.
“你应该把我留在那儿，”我对弗雷德说。
“I can’t do that,” he said again.
“我不能那样做，”他又说。
There was a copy of the Chronicle on our defense table and I read the headline: OFFICERS SEIZE IWW LEADERS IN DARING RAID: ARRESTED INCLUDES WOMAN
我们的辩护桌上有一份《纪事报》，我读了标题：警官在大胆的突袭中抓住了 IWW 领导人：被捕的人包括女性.
“Daring raid,” I said to Fred. “Includes woman? Who do they think was running the show?”
“ 大胆的突袭，”我对弗雷德说。“ 包括女人？他们认为谁在主持这场演出？
But if our goal had been to get back in the newspapers, it worked. The Chronicle, Press, Spokesman-Review—IWW stories were all over the front pages: FEMALE AGITATOR ARRESTED WITH OTHER WOBBLIES, and OFFICIALS RAID UNION HALL, and even a story about the newsboys being arrested: YOUTHFUL PRISONERS KEPT CROWDED IN A DELINQUENT ROOM ALL NIGHT.
但是，如果我们的目标是重返报纸，它就奏效了。《 纪事报》（The Chronicle）、新闻界（Press）、《发言人评论》（Spokesman-Review）——IWW 的头版到处都是这样的报道： 女煽动者和其他流氓一起被捕 ， 官员突袭联合大厅 ，甚至还有一篇关于报童被捕的报道： 年轻的囚犯整夜挤在一个罪犯的房间里。
“They’ve gone too far,” I said to Fred Moore. After a month of the cops painting us as foreign agitators, it didn’t look good for them to go after a bunch of poor Spokane newsboys and a pregnant red-cheeked Irish-American girl. “It’s too much.”
“他们走得太远了，”我对弗雷德·摩尔说。一个月后，警察把我们描绘成外国煽动者，他们去追捕一群可怜的斯波坎报童和一个怀孕的红脸爱尔兰裔美国女孩，看起来并不好。“这太过分了。”
Outside the courthouse, a handful of reporters had gathered. I allowed Fred to help me from the building, thrust forward my pregnant belly, and made sure to shiver in the cold as Fred led me through a cluster of men with notebooks. He had warned me that I was not to comment to these reporters outside the courthouse, not to say anything that might aggravate the police and prosecutors.
法院外聚集了几名记者。我让弗雷德从大楼里扶着我，把我怀孕的肚子往前推，并确保在弗雷德带领我穿过一群拿着笔记本的男人时，我在寒冷中发抖。他警告我，我不能在法院外对这些记者发表评论，不要说任何可能激怒警察和检察官的话。
“You do understand that I came to aggravate police and prosecutors,” I reminded him.
“你确实明白我是来激怒警察和检察官的，”我提醒他。
“She has no comment to make,” Fred said, helping me into a waiting coach.
“她没什么可说的，”弗雷德说，扶着我坐进了一辆等候的马车。
I covered my mouth. I went weak-kneed. I did everything but pass out from the vapors. “Mr. Moore is correct, I will not speak about my case, out of respect for the judge’s orders,” I said, “but I cannot be silent about the plight of this city, and those poor newsboys, held and sweated all night in a crowded delinquent cell! Are the people of Spokane going to stand by while the police arrest children now?” I touched my belly as if to remind them another child lay here.
我捂住了嘴。我变得虚弱。我做了所有的事情，但还是从蒸汽中昏了过去。“摩尔先生说得对，出于对法官命令的尊重，我不会谈论我的案子，”我说，“但我不能对这个城市的困境保持沉默，那些可怜的报童，整夜被关押在一个拥挤的罪犯牢房里，汗流浃背！斯波坎的人们现在会袖手旁观警察逮捕儿童吗？我摸了摸自己的肚子，仿佛在提醒他们，这里躺着另一个孩子。
Fred eased me into the coach and climbed in with me. And like some prison Cinderella, I was spirited away. I asked Fred to take me to the union hall, but there was nothing left of it, boarded up and empty. In fact, said Fred, the city council had passed an ordinance banning the IWW from operating within city limits.
弗雷德让我缓缓上马车，和我一起爬进去。就像某个监狱灰姑娘一样，我被鬼魂带走了。我让弗雷德带我去工会大厅，但里面什么都没有留下，被木板封住了，空无一人。弗雷德说，事实上，市议会已经通过了一项法令，禁止 IWW 在城市范围内运营。
“Can they do that?”
“他们能做到吗？”
He laughed bitterly. “We’re beyond the point of asking what they can do. It’s a question now of what they won’t do.”
他苦笑着。“我们超出了询问他们能做什么的地步。现在的问题是他们不会做什么。
Something else was bothering me. “Have you heard from Ryan?”
还有一件事困扰着我。“你收到 Ryan 的消息了吗？”
“No,” he said. “He wasn’t arrested. Why?”
“不，”他说。“他没有被捕。为什么？
“It’s nothing,” I said. But I kept picturing him leaving the union hall, in a hurry, just an hour before the raid. I did not like what I was thinking. I sat back in the coach and looked out the window at the reporters, at men in suits moving in and out of that fairy-tale courthouse. At the bustle of this burgeoning city. Cars and horses and streetcars, apartment buildings going up, a scurry of construction and destruction. Layers and layers. This place was a termites’ nest.
“没什么，”我说。但我一直在想象他在突袭前一个小时匆忙离开工会大厅。我不喜欢我当时的想法。我坐回马车里，看着窗外的记者，看着西装革履的男人在那个童话般的法院里进进出出。在这座繁华的城市中。汽车、马匹和有轨电车，拔地而起的公寓楼，匆匆忙忙的建设和破坏。图层和图层。这个地方是白蚁的巢穴。
“What do you think of the name Oleksander?” I asked Fred.
“你觉得奥列克桑德这个名字怎么样？”我问弗雷德。
He looked up. “Alexander? I think it’s nice.” He gave the driver the address of the boardinghouse where I was staying. “I’m taking you home to rest now,” he said.
他抬起头。“亚历山大？我觉得这很好。他给了司机我住的寄宿公寓的地址。“我现在带你回家休息，”他说。
“I don’t care where you take me,” I said, “as long as it has a typewriter.”
“我不在乎你带我去哪里，”我说，“只要它有打字机就行。
The night of the raid, Willard motored Rye back to Mrs. Ricci’s house. They drove past the union hall so Rye could see for himself, Willard craning his neck, too: doors and windows broken, glass and wooden splinters all over the sidewalk, an ashcan smoldering on the corner. Two men were boarding up doors. No sign of Gurley or anyone else.
突袭当晚，威拉德开车送莱伊回到了里奇夫人的家。他们开车经过工会大厅，让 Rye 能亲眼看到，Willard 也伸长了脖子：门窗破损，人行道上到处都是玻璃和木头碎片，角落里的灰烬桶冒着烟。两名男子正在用木板封住门。没有 Gurley 或其他任何人的迹象。
“Can we stop?” Rye asked, but Willard kept driving. He crossed the river, drove through Little Italy, and parked on the street down the block from Mrs. Ricci’s house. He sighed—and something about the sound, almost an animal grunt, felt sympathetic to Rye.
“我们能停下来吗？”Rye 问道，但 Willard 继续开车。他过了河，开车穿过小意大利，把车停在了 Ricci 夫人家附近街区的街道上。他叹了口气——而那声音中的某种东西，几乎是动物的咕噜声，让人对 Rye 感到同情。
Willard reached in his coat and handed Rye the envelope with Early Reston’s five hundred dollars in it. “You got a safe place for this?” he asked.
威拉德伸手从外套里拿出信封递给莱伊，里面装着早期雷斯顿的五百美元。“你有个安全的地方吗？”
“No,” Rye said.
“不，”Rye 说。
“Right,” Willard said. Then he handed him the box with Gig’s gloves in it.
“是的，”威拉德说。然后他把装着 Gig 手套的盒子递给他。
Inside the sleeping porch, Rye looked around for a hiding place before finally sliding the envelope and the gloves under his cot. He barely slept. He heard noises, sensed shadows across the yard. He dreamed that Early was behind him on a train.
在睡觉的门廊里，Rye 四处寻找藏身之处，最后将信封和手套滑到他的婴儿床下。他几乎没睡着。他听到了声音，感觉到院子对面有影子。他梦见 Early 在他身后的火车上。
In the morning, he heard voices from the kitchen and sat up in bed just as Mrs. Ricci’s older son, Marco, was stepping onto the enclosed sleeping porch.
早上，他听到厨房里传来的声音，在床上坐起来，这时 Ricci 夫人的大儿子 Marco 正踏上封闭的睡眠门廊。
Marco was short and square, wearing a big wool coat, with curly hair below his hat, around his ears. “Cold out here,” he said. Any heat came from two vents cut in the kitchen wall. “Anyways, Ma says you could use a job.”
马可身材矮小方正，穿着一件大羊毛大衣，帽子下面有一头卷发，绕着耳朵。“外面很冷，”他说。任何热量都来自厨房墙壁上的两个通风口。“不管怎样，马说你可以找份工作。”
Marco said he had a friend named Joseph Orlando who ran a machine shop on Garland Street, on the North End. The day before, his stock boy had whacked off a couple of fingers with a table saw, and they needed someone to fill in. “Joe said the kid’s a real goob,” Marco said, “but if the goob comes back to work tomorrow with eight fingers, you’re probably out a job.”
Marco 说他有一个名叫 Joseph Orlando 的朋友，他在北端的 Garland Street 经营一家机械店。前一天，他的库存小伙子用台锯敲掉了几根手指，他们需要有人来填补。“乔说这孩子真是个傻瓜，”马可说，“但如果这个傻瓜明天带着八根手指回来上班，你可能就失业了。
“That’s fair,” Rye said.
“这很公平，”Rye 说。
Rye got cleaned up and dressed, and Marco chuddered him up the Division Street hill in an old Model N.
Rye 清理干净并穿好衣服，Marco 开着一辆旧的 N 型车把他推上了 Division Street 的山坡。
Marco kept glancing over. “Hey, where’d you get the gloves?” he finally asked, probably thinking they looked stolen.
Marco 一直瞥了一眼。“嘿，你从哪儿弄来的手套？”他终于问道，可能觉得它们看起来像是偷来的。
Rye looked down at the gloves and the band of white fur hinting at the luxury inside. He was like a tramp in a tiara. “Murgittroyd’s,” he said finally.
Rye 低头看着手套和白色毛皮带，暗示着里面的奢华。他就像一个戴着头饰的流浪汉。“穆吉特罗伊德的，”他终于说。
“Fancy gloves for Murgy’s,” said Marco.
“给 Murgy's 的花哨手套，”Marco 说。
“They’re weasel,” Rye said.
“他们是黄鼠狼，”Rye 说。
Marco parked the auto on Garland Street, in front of a business called North Hill Fittings and Machine Shop.
Marco 将汽车停在 Garland Street，一家名为 North Hill Fittings and Machine Shop 的企业前面。
“One other thing,” Marco said. “Ma said she agreed to sell our orchard to you and your brother. You know that won’t happen, right?”
“还有一件事，”Marco 说。“马说她同意把我们的果园卖给你和你哥哥。你知道这不会发生，对吧？
Rye said nothing.
Rye 什么也没说。
“How much you pay her so far?”
“到目前为止，你付给她多少钱？”
“Not much,” Rye said, “six dollars, maybe.”
“不多，”Rye 说，“也许六美元。
“I’ll have her apply it to your boarding costs.” He shrugged. “Anyways, that’s all I can do. But there’s no way we’re selling that land to . . . well, to you.”
“我会让她用它来支付你的寄宿费用。”他耸耸肩。“总之，这就是我能做的。但我们不可能把那块地卖给 . . .嗯，对你来说。
Rye thanked Marco, got out, and went into North Hill Fittings and Machine. Joseph Orlando was a short, wiry man who toured Rye around the store with great pride. He seemed to be under the impression that Rye was Mrs. Ricci’s nephew, and Rye didn’t correct him. The first building was a storeroom where Rye would get the bolts and bushings and other parts that customers needed while Joseph took their orders and their money at the front desk. Joseph explained which parts the shop manufactured, which they ordered, and how many were needed to die-and-cast. He showed Rye where to find invoices, order sheets, and inventory forms. Rye could barely keep track of the pads, flanges, washers, and pins, let alone the paperwork, Joseph spending five minutes alone on bolts—rim bolts, hub bolts, spindle bolts—and he was about to confess that he might not be smart enough for this job when Joe said, “But a broom and a mop are the only tools you’ll need to master today.”
Rye 感谢了 Marco，下车，走进了 North Hill Fittings and Machine。约瑟夫·奥兰多 （Joseph Orlando） 是一个矮小、结实的人，他非常自豪地在商店里参观了 Rye。他似乎觉得 Rye 是 Ricci 夫人的侄子，而 Rye 没有纠正他。第一座建筑是一个储藏室，Rye 可以在那里获取客户需要的螺栓和衬套以及其他零件，而 Joseph 则在前台接受他们的订单和钱。Joseph 解释了车间生产哪些零件、他们订购了哪些零件，以及需要多少来压铸。他向 Rye 展示了在何处可以找到发票、订单表和库存表。Rye 几乎无法跟踪垫片、法兰、垫圈和销钉，更不用说文书工作了，Joseph 独自花了五分钟处理螺栓——轮辋螺栓、轮毂螺栓、纺锤螺栓——他正要承认他可能不够聪明，无法胜任这份工作，这时 Joe 说：“但扫帚和拖把是你今天唯一需要掌握的工具。
Then Joe led him to a second building, behind the first one, a machine shop where two men ran cutters and grinders, threaders, presses, lathes, taps and dies, and the table saw that had taken the goob’s fingers. “Stay away from that goddamn saw,” Joe said.
然后乔带他去了第二栋楼，在第一栋楼后面，一个机械车间，有两个人在那里作切割机和磨床、螺纹机、压力机、车床、丝锥和模具，还有那把拿走了粘布手指的台锯。“离那该死的锯子远点，”乔说。
Joe’s brother, Paul, worked in back with a big machinist named Dominic; Rye’s job was to go between storefront, storeroom, and machine shop. He liked being around the machines, the smell of oil and metal. Dominic was especially nice, stopping his drill press and raising his goggles to explain to Rye what he was doing. That day Rye cleaned up metal tailings and rubber shavings, oiled the saws and presses, and mostly fetched nuts, bushings, and bolts to take up front. He swept the floor so clean the men could’ve eaten dinner on it.
乔的兄弟保罗 （Paul） 与一位名叫多米尼克 （Dominic） 的大机械师一起工作;Rye 的工作是在店面、储藏室和机械车间之间穿梭。他喜欢在机器周围，喜欢油和金属的气味。多米尼克特别友善，他停下他的钻床，举起他的护目镜向 Rye 解释他在做什么。那天，Rye 清理了金属尾矿和橡胶屑，给锯子和压力机上了油，大部分时间都拿来了螺母、衬套和螺栓来装好。他把地板扫得很干净，男人们可以在上面吃晚饭。
“Kid’s a fast learner,” said Dominic at the end of the day, and Joe agreed and said he wouldn’t mind if the eight-fingered goob found other employment. He gave Rye a dollar for the day and another half for what he called “a bonus for coming in on short notice.” He said, “Check back Monday; if the goob don’t show, the job’s yours.”
“孩子学得很快，”多米尼克在一天结束时说，乔同意并说他不介意这个八指傻瓜找到其他工作。他给了 Rye 一天的一美元半，作为他所谓的“临时进来的奖金”。他说，“周一回来查看;如果 goob 没有出现，那份工作就是你的了。
“Thank you,” Rye said. He put the money in his pocket and pulled on his coat, his bowler, and his ermine gloves.
“谢谢你，”Rye 说。他把钱放在口袋里，穿上外套、圆顶礼帽和貂皮手套。
Big Dominic was getting dressed to leave, too, and he looked at Rye and opened his mouth to say something, but Rye cut him off. “Weasel,” he said.
大多米尼克也穿好衣服准备离开，他看着莱伊，张口想说些什么，但莱伊打断了他。“黄鼠狼，”他说。
Back at Mrs. Ricci’s house, she fed him dinner like he was part of the family, “Mangiare!” she said when she caught Rye thinking about Gig, staring out the window with his fork in the air. After dinner, Rye built them a fire and sat drinking tea and reading the afternoon Chronicle, like a regular fellow home from work.
回到 Ricci 太太家，她像家里的一员一样给他喂晚饭，“Mangiare！ 她说，当她发现 Rye 想着 Gig，他的叉子悬在空中盯着窗外时。晚饭后，Rye 为他们生了一堆火，坐下来喝茶，阅读下午的纪事报 ，就像一个普通的下班回家的人一样。
There was a front-page story about the raid and Gurley’s arraignment: “With the arrest of the petite and startlingly pretty agitator Mrs. Jones, and the permanent closure of their hall, the city has struck a final blow against the IWW’s dangerous insurrection.” Rye read the phrase “petite and startlingly pretty agitator” again, as if Gurley were a debutante. The Industrial Worker had been shuttered for good, the story went on, and more than a thousand copies burned. The paper was banned within the city limits. Any printer who took it on would do so under threat of prosecution. Eight union officers and five newspaper editors had already been found guilty of conspiracy and sentenced to six months in county lockup, with the preliminary trial for Gurley Flynn and Charlie Filigno set to start in two weeks. In the meantime, she was under house arrest, forbidden by the judge from publishing or speaking publicly about the case. “We’ve whipped the IWW,” Police Chief Sullivan was quoted as saying. “We took the fight to them and it’s over.”
头版报道了这次突袭和格利的传讯：“随着娇小而漂亮的煽动者琼斯夫人的被捕，以及他们的大厅被永久关闭，这座城市对 IWW 的危险叛乱进行了最后一击。Rye 又读了一遍“娇小而惊人地漂亮的煽动者”这句话，仿佛 Gurley 是一个初来乍到的人。《 产业工人 》已经永远关闭了，故事还在继续，一千多本被烧毁。该报纸在城市范围内被禁止。任何接受它的印刷商都会在被起诉的威胁下这样做。八名工会官员和五名报纸编辑已被判犯有共谋罪，并被判处六个月的县监禁，对格利·弗林和查理·菲利尼奥的初步审判将在两周内开始。与此同时，她被软禁，被法官禁止发表或公开谈论此案。“我们已经鞭打了 IWW，”警察局长沙利文说。“我们向他们发起了战斗，一切都结束了。”
It certainly felt over, Rye thought as he stared into the fire. There was no mention of Gig in the news story, and he wondered if Lem Brand had lied about getting his brother out of jail.
感觉确实结束了，Rye 盯着火堆想。新闻报道中没有提到 Gig，他想知道 Lem Brand 是否在让他的兄弟出狱方面撒了谎。
He slept uneasily again, repeating over and over in his mind what he’d say to Early if he came back (Look, I don’t want any trouble for Gig and me . . . ).
他又睡得不安，在脑海中一遍又一遍地重复着如果他回来，他会对 Early 说什么（ 你看，我不想给 Gig 和我带来任何麻烦...... ）。
In the morning, another skiff of snow had fallen, like sugar onto a biscuit. After breakfast, Rye swept Mrs. Ricci’s steps and walked downtown along the old hobo highway. It was rare to walk the trail and see no one, but with so many men in jail or wintered up, Rye felt alone in the world. He emerged in the fuel and freight yards east of downtown, then walked the tenderloin into the center of downtown and eventually to the building where Fred Moore had a small office on the second floor, and where Rye took off his bowler and asked to see his old lawyer.
早上，又下了一小小的雪，就像糖落在饼干上一样。早餐后，Rye 扫过 Ricci 夫人的台阶，沿着古老的流浪汉高速公路走在市中心。走在小径上很少见到任何人，但有这么多人在监狱里或过冬，Rye 在这个世界上感到孤独。他出现在市中心以东的加油和货运场，然后走着里脊肉进入市中心，最后来到弗雷德·摩尔 （Fred Moore） 在二楼的一个小办公室所在的大楼，莱伊在那里脱下他的圆顶礼帽，要求见他的老律师。
Fred came out of his office in shirtsleeves. He clapped Rye on the shoulder. “What great timing, Rye,” he said. “I just got some news.”
弗雷德穿着衬衫袖子从办公室出来。他拍了拍 Rye 的肩膀。“真是个好时机，Rye，”他说。“我刚刚得到一些消息。”
“How’s Gurley?” Rye asked.
“Gurley 怎么样？”Rye 问道。
“Climbing the walls,” said Mr. Moore. “We’ve got her preparing for trial, but she’d rather be out there fighting.”
“爬墙，”摩尔先生说。“我们已经让她为审判做准备，但她宁愿在外面战斗。”
He led Rye back to his office and explained that, two weeks earlier, he’d petitioned the court to dismiss the conspiracy charge against Gregory, since, unlike some other union leaders, he wasn’t an elected officer. Moore had argued that since Gig had already been found guilty of disturbing the peace, he should be released after thirty days, like the other nonleaders arrested in the original free speech riot, and not charged again with conspiracy.
他把莱伊带回了他的办公室，解释说，两周前，他已经向法院请愿，要求撤销对格雷戈里的阴谋指控，因为与其他一些工会领导人不同，他不是民选官员。摩尔曾辩称，既然吉格已经被判犯有扰乱治安的罪名，他应该在三十天后被释放，就像在最初的言论自由骚乱中被捕的其他非领导人一样，而不是再次被指控犯有阴谋罪。
“It was a sound argument,” Fred said, “but the last thing I ever expected was this judge responding to a sound argument.”
“这是一个合理的论点，”弗雷德说，“但我最不希望看到的是这位法官对一个合理的论点做出回应。
While the lawyer spoke, Rye was looking down at Mr. Moore’s desk, at what appeared to be a coffee stain on the swirls of dark wood grain.
在律师说话的时候，莱伊正低头看着摩尔先生的办公桌，看着深色木纹漩涡上似乎有咖啡渍的东西。
Fred cleared his throat. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Ryan? The judge ruled in our favor. Thirty days is today. Your brother’s getting out this afternoon.”
弗雷德清了清嗓子。“你明白我在说什么吗，Ryan？法官做出了对我们有利的裁决。三十天就是今天。你哥哥今天下午要出去。
Rye looked up to see Fred Moore’s disappointment at his reaction. “Oh. That’s great news. Thank you, Mr. Moore.”
Rye 抬起头，看到 Fred Moore 对他的反应感到失望。“哦。这是个好消息。谢谢你，摩尔先生。
Fred smiled and shrugged, rearranged some papers on his desk, covering the coffee stain. “I haven’t had a lot of victories to celebrate in this fracas, but I’m two for two with you Dolans.”
Fred 微笑着耸耸肩，重新整理了桌上的一些文件，遮住了咖啡渍。“在这场比赛中，我没有太多值得庆祝的胜利，但我和你 Dolans 是二对二的。”
“No, it’s great,” Rye said. “I was just surprised is all.” Even if he could tell Mr. Moore about his deal with Lem Brand, Rye realized he wouldn’t want to take away his lawyer’s sense of accomplishment.
“不，这太好了，”Rye 说。“我只是很惊讶。”即使他能告诉摩尔他与莱姆·布兰德的交易，莱伊也意识到他不想剥夺律师的成就感。
“The city is altering its strategy,” Mr. Moore said. He explained that the first prisoners, like Gig, had done their month in jail for disturbing the peace and were being released, hundreds more expected to go in the coming weeks. These men had been beaten and put on bread and water, or had gone on voluntary hunger strikes, and most were in no shape to protest again. Others were eager to move south for work or bed down for winter. With the union rethinking its strategy and the Industrial Worker shuttered for good, the protests had dwindled to the occasional hobo who made his way past the railroad guards. So now the city could concentrate on prosecuting the leaders and sending them to state prison.
“这座城市正在改变自己的策略，”摩尔说。他解释说，第一批囚犯，像吉格一样，已经因扰乱治安而在监狱里度过了一个月，即将被释放，预计未来几周还会有数百人被释放。这些人被殴打，被人吃面包和水，或者自愿绝食抗议，大多数人都无法再次抗议。其他人则渴望搬到南方工作或过夜过冬。随着工会重新考虑其战略， 产业工人永远关闭，抗议活动已经减少到偶尔绕过铁路警卫的流浪汉。因此，现在该市可以集中精力起诉这些领导人并将他们送进州监狱。
“After your brother’s release, the only two left are Filigno and Elizabeth. If Pugh convicts them, it’ll be a clean sweep.”
“你哥哥获释后，只剩下菲利尼奥和伊丽莎白两个人。如果皮尤将他们定罪，那将是一次彻底的扫荡。
Mr. Moore got his hat and coat, and he and Rye left the office and walked the four blocks to the jail. It was a cold, sunny day, few people out on the streets. There was a café a block from the jail, and Mr. Moore gave Rye two bits and suggested he wait there. “I don’t know how long it will take to get him released.”
摩尔拿到帽子和外套，他和莱伊离开办公室，走了四个街区来到监狱。那是一个寒冷、阳光明媚的日子，街上人寥寥无几。离监狱一个街区有一家咖啡馆，摩尔给了莱伊两块，建议他在那里等着。“我不知道需要多长时间才能让他获释。”
Rye was relieved not to have to go to the jail. He sat in the window of the café with a cup of coffee, watching people in scarves and heavy coats hurry down the sidewalk, trailing dusty clouds of light new snow.
Rye 因为不必去监狱而松了一口气。他端着一杯咖啡坐在咖啡馆的窗户上，看着戴着围巾和厚重外套的人们匆匆忙忙地走在人行道上，拖着尘土飞扬的新雪云。
Everything Rye had done the last month had been with this in mind—the day his brother got out of jail. Meeting with Ursula and Lem Brand, going to Seattle with Gurley to raise money to hire Clarence Darrow, talking to Del Dalveaux, Wallace and Taft, Early Reston and Brand’s man Willard—all for this moment.
Rye 上个月所做的一切都是为了这件事——他哥哥出狱的那一天。与 Ursula 和 Lem Brand 会面，与 Gurley 一起去西雅图筹集资金聘请 Clarence Darrow，与 Del Dalveaux、Wallace 和 Taft、Early Reston 和 Brand 的男人 Willard 交谈——一切都是为了这一刻。
But now that it was here, knowing that all it had taken was a flick of Lem Brand’s wrist, Rye felt demoralized. It didn’t matter what he did, what Gurley did, what Fred Moore did, what any of them did. Somewhere there was a roomful of wealthy old men where everything was decided. Beliefs and convictions, lives and livelihoods, right and wrong—these had no place in that room, the scurrying of ants at the feet of a few rich men.
但现在它来了，知道只需要轻弹 Lem Brand 的手腕，Rye 就感到士气低落。他做了什么，格利做了什么，弗雷德·摩尔做了什么，他们中的任何一个人做了什么，这都无关紧要。在某个地方，满屋子的富有老人都在那里决定一切。信仰和信念，生活和生计，对与错——这些在那个房间里都没有立足之地，蚂蚁在几个富人脚下乱窜。
It made him think that Early Reston was right, in his way—even if Early wasn’t really Early—that maybe it was the castle that needed to be blown up, and that was when Rye looked up and saw, through the light haze, his lawyer walking down the street with a tall, gaunt man in a snow-dusted coat, a patchy beard climbing his sallow cheeks to his bruised eyes.
这让他觉得 Early Reston 是对的，以他的方式——即使 Early 并不是真的 Early——也许是需要炸毁的城堡，就在这时，Rye 抬起头，透过薄雾看到他的律师和一个穿着雪尘外套的高大、憔悴的男人走在街上， 斑驳的胡须爬上他蜡黄的脸颊，一直到他瘀伤的眼睛。
Rye rose and met them at the door, and he and Gig fell into each other. The smell was overpowering, and Gig was bones beneath his baggy coat. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeak, then “Rye-boy,” and then he was crying and Rye was crying, and for a long time, they just did that.
Rye 站起来，在门口迎接他们，他和 Gig 陷入了彼此。气味很浓，Gig 在他宽松的外套下是骨头。他试图说话，但只发出吱吱声，然后是“Rye-boy”，然后他哭了，Rye 也哭了，在很长一段时间里，他们就是这样做的。
The eight-fingered goob decided he wasn’t cut out for machinery work, and on Monday, Rye became the full-time stock boy of North Hill Fittings and Machine Shop. Each morning Rye got up, checked the envelope under his cot, and said goodbye to Gig, who had spent the weekend days curled up on his cot and the nights sitting in front of Mrs. Ricci’s fire. “I’ll be back around six,” Rye said as he put on his coat, hat, and gloves. Gig said nothing.
这个八指傻瓜决定他不适合从事机械工作，周一，Rye 成为了 North Hill Fittings and Machine Shop 的全职库存员。每天早上，Rye 起床，检查他小床下的信封，然后向 Gig 告别，他周末蜷缩在他的小床上，晚上坐在 Ricci 太太的火炉前。“我六点左右回来，”Rye 一边说，一边穿上外套、帽子和手套。吉格什么也没说。
Rye loved being a workaday guy: Grab a grip on the streetcar, arrive before eight, and wait for Joe to open the shop. “You don’t have to beat me to work, kid,” Joe said, Rye smiling: “I don’t mind.” He’d hang his coat, put on his shop apron, turn on the lights, warm the machines, and watch everything come to life, a rhythm to all of it, the flow of customers, the banter with Dominic, the precise order of cleanup at the end of the day. He liked to anticipate which parts customers needed, showing up with a toilet flange before the plumber from Millwood had a chance to ask for it. This garnered a nickname from Joe—Seer. A mechanic’s wagon would pull up and Joe say, “Seer?” Rye gazing into the future: “Hub roller bearings.”
Rye 喜欢上班：拉上有轨电车，在 8 点之前到达，然后等待 Joe 开店。“你不用打我去上班，孩子，”乔说，莱伊微笑着说：“我不介意。他会挂上外套，穿上店里的围裙，开灯，给机器加热，看着一切都变得栩栩如生，一切都有节奏，顾客的流动，与 Dominic 的玩笑，一天结束时的精确清理顺序。他喜欢预测客户需要哪些零件，在 Millwood 的水管工有机会要求之前就带着马桶法兰出现。这获得了 Joe—Seer 的绰号 。机械师的马车会停下来，乔说：“先知？Rye 展望未来：“轮毂滚子轴承。
Joe’s brother, Paul, rarely spoke except to ask for things he needed. But Dominic, the big machinist, was even friendlier than he’d been on Rye’s first day. He asked where Rye was from and about his parents and siblings. “Well, you’ve had a tough go,” he said when Rye told his story. By Wednesday, he was inviting Rye to share his prodigious three-sandwich lunches, which he spread over the cutting table as carefully as a surgeon. And by Thursday, when Dominic’s wife found out the new stock boy was eating a half-sandwich from her husband’s lunch every day, she began putting a fourth sandwich in the basket. “Soon she’ll just send the whole loaf of bread,” Dominic said.
乔的哥哥保罗很少说话，只是要他需要的东西。但大个子机械师 Dominic 比他在 Rye 的第一天还要友好。他问 Rye 来自哪里，以及他的父母和兄弟姐妹。“嗯，你过得很艰难，”当 Rye 讲述他的故事时，他说。到了周三，他邀请 Rye 分享他美味的三明治午餐，他像外科医生一样小心翼翼地把午餐摊在切割台上。到了周四，当 Dominic 的妻子发现这个新来的畜牧员每天都吃她丈夫午餐的半个三明治时，她开始在篮子里放第四个三明治。“很快她就会把整条面包送来，”多米尼克说。
But Rye worried about leaving Gig alone all day. His brother was hollowed out by thirteen days on hunger strike, on top of the beatings and privations of jail. Rye couldn’t believe how frail he seemed; even Gig’s hair was thinner. He had a bath at Mrs. Ricci’s, and a meal, but after that, he slept all day, rising only to pick at his food and sit by the fire Rye built each night, a blanket around his shoulders, his new fur-lined gloves on his hands. “Thanks” was all he’d said when Rye gave him the fancy box with the gloves in it. He didn’t even ask where they came from.
但 Rye 担心让 Gig 整天独自一人。他的弟弟在绝食抗议中被掏空了 13 天，此外还被殴打和监狱剥夺。Rye 不敢相信他看起来有多么虚弱;甚至 Gig 的头发也更稀疏了。他在利玛窦太太家洗了个澡，吃了一顿饭，但之后，他睡了一整天，起床只吃东西，坐在黑麦每天晚上生的火堆旁，肩上盖着毯子，手上戴着新的毛皮衬里手套。“谢谢”是他唯一说的话，当 Rye 把那个装着手套的花哨盒子递给他时。他甚至没有问他们来自哪里。
At night, Gig’s breathing was raspy and uneven. He made noises in his sleep like he was being startled. The only time he spoke was late at night, when the brothers lay in the dark. Once he talked about the hunger strike: “We started after they put the rank and file on bread and water. The jailers thought this was pretty rich, so instead of our normal rations, they sent out for steaks and potatoes, fresh vegetables. They’d leave our fancy meals outside our cells all night. Then, after lights out, the rats came. We’d lay there listening to those rats eating our dinner.”
晚上，Gig 的呼吸沙哑且不均匀。他在睡梦中发出声音，就像他受到了惊吓一样。他唯一一次说话是在深夜，当时兄弟俩躺在黑暗中。有一次他谈到绝食抗议：“我们在他们让基层员工吃面包和水之后就开始了。狱卒们觉得这很有钱，所以他们没有给我们正常的口粮，而是出去买了牛排、土豆和新鲜蔬菜。他们会整晚把我们的美味佳肴放在牢房外面。然后，熄灯后，老鼠来了。我们躺在那里听那些老鼠吃我们的晚餐。
Another night, he talked about Jules. “I met a Swede who was in his cell, said Jules went out good and strong, laughing, making jokes. Two other men I knew died in there, one with diabetes, the other I don’t know what he had. When the cops saw someone dying, they’d release the man so they wouldn’t have to explain a corpse in jail. The man with diabetes didn’t even have a family. They just released him to some woman who agreed to take him in for a dollar a day. He only made it two days, but I heard they gave her five bucks.”
另一个晚上，他谈到了 Jules。“我遇到了一个在他的牢房里的瑞典人，他说朱尔斯出去时很好，很强壮，很开心，开玩笑。我认识的另外两个人死在那里，一个患有糖尿病，另一个我不知道他得了什么病。当警察看到有人死去时，他们会释放这个人，这样他们就不必解释监狱里的尸体。这位糖尿病患者甚至没有家庭。他们只是把他放给了某个女人，这个女人同意以每天一美元的价格收留他。他只熬了两天，但我听说他们给了她五美元。
The next night, he said simply, “I shouldn’t have gotten us into this, Rye.”
第二天晚上，他简单地说，“我不该把我们搞成这样，Rye。
Rye didn’t hesitate. “It was the best thing I ever did, Gig.”
Rye 没有犹豫。“这是我做过的最好的事情，Gig。”
“Nah, it was pointless,” Gig said. “Little kids shitting our own pants trying to teach our parents a lesson.”
“不，这毫无意义，”吉格说。“小孩子拉屎我们自己的裤子，试图给我们的父母一个教训。”
“Don’t say that,” Rye said.
“别这么说，”Rye 说。
“It’s the truth,” Gig said.
“这是事实，”吉格说。
Rye had been waiting for the right time to tell Gig about Early, about Lem Brand and Ursula, about Del Dalveaux, about what he had done—but Gig seemed so broken by what had happened that Rye was worried about how he’d react if he knew the truth. He imagined his brother calling him a spy, or running out to confront Ursula, or going to try to kill Lem Brand or something crazy—so he decided to keep quiet until Gig had regained his strength.
Rye 一直在等待合适的时机告诉 Gig 关于 Early、Lem Brand 和 Ursula、Del Dalveaux 和他所做的事情——但 Gig 似乎对所发生的事情感到非常崩溃，以至于 Rye 担心如果他知道真相会有什么反应。他想象着他的哥哥称他为间谍，或者跑出去与乌苏拉对峙，或者试图杀死莱姆·布兰德或什么疯狂的事情——所以他决定保持沉默，直到吉格恢复体力。
They barely talked about the union. Each night, Rye brought newspapers home from the shop to read by the fire after dinner. Gig might flip through the sports and theater sections, but he had no interest in stories about the IWW. Rye devoured them, especially stories about Gurley.
他们几乎不谈论工会。每天晚上，Rye 都会从商店带报纸回家，晚饭后在火炉旁阅读。Gig 可能会翻阅体育和戏剧部分，但他对有关 IWW 的故事不感兴趣。黑麦吞噬了他们，尤其是关于格利的故事。
She was everywhere, granting interviews in the labor-friendly Press and the establishment Chronicle and Spokesman-Review. To get around the judge’s ruling that she not speak about her case, she talked about the city’s arrest of the newsboys, “poor twelve-year-olds hauled off by the Spokane police goons to be sweated like bank robbers!” When all charges against the boys were dropped, she proclaimed victory: “The city’s war against children is over. Maybe now they will declare a cease-fire against its workers, too.” She railed against the decision to ban the Industrial Worker, saying that, as the sixth editor of the newspaper (with the first five now convicted of conspiracy), “I have no intention of abiding by this clearly illegal order! They’ve already detained and sweated and confined me, so I’m not sure what I have to lose, except my constitutionally guaranteed right to free speech.”
她无处不在，接受了对劳工友好的新闻社（Press Press）和建制派 《 纪事报》（Chronicle） 和 《发言人评论》（Spokesman-Review）的采访 。为了绕过法官不允许她谈论她的案子的裁决，她谈到了该市逮捕报童的事情，“可怜的 12 岁孩子被斯波坎警察暴徒拖走，像银行劫匪一样汗流浃背！当对男孩的所有指控都被撤销后，她宣布胜利：“这座城市对儿童的战争已经结束。也许现在他们也会宣布对工人停火。她抨击禁止产业工人的决定， 说，作为该报的第六任编辑（前五名现在被判犯有阴谋罪），“我无意遵守这个明显非法的命令！他们已经拘留了我，流汗了，把我关起来了，所以我不确定我能失去什么，除了宪法保障的言论自由权。
“You’d like her, Gig,” Rye said. “She’s got a lot of fight.”
“你会喜欢她的，吉格，”莱伊说。“她有很多战斗。”
But Gig said nothing. He sat, each night, as close to the fire as he could get, staring at the crackling flames.
但吉格什么也没说。每天晚上，他都尽可能地坐在火堆旁边，盯着噼啪作响的火焰。
One day, a week after Gig got out, Rye was downtown, making a delivery for the shop, when he walked past the big new Carnegie Library. It was a stately two-story pillared building—more like a church than any church Rye had ever seen. He stepped inside the big doors and watched well-dressed people move among the tall stacks. He felt intimidated. He was about to turn and leave when a young librarian, all neck and no chin, approached and asked if he could help in some way.
一天，在 Gig 出狱一周后，Rye 在市中心为商店送货，这时他路过新建的大型卡内基图书馆。这是一座庄严的两层柱子建筑——比 Rye 见过的任何教堂都更像一座教堂。他走进大门，看着衣着考究的人们在高高的书架之间移动。他感到害怕。他正要转身离开，这时一位年轻的图书管理员走过来，问他是否可以帮上忙。
Rye explained that his brother was in the process of reading Count Tolstoy’s War and Peace but had only read volumes one and three so far.
莱伊解释说，他的哥哥正在阅读托尔斯泰伯爵的 《战争与和平》， 但到目前为止只读了第一卷和第三卷。
The librarian looked confused. “Books one and three? Of the four?”
图书管理员看起来很困惑。“第一卷和第三卷？这四个人中？
“I thought there were five.”
“我以为有五个。”
“Ah. I see,” the librarian said, nodding. “I’m guessing he’s reading the ’03 Scribner. Tolstoy’s collected, of which War and Peace makes up five of twenty volumes.” The librarian made a face as if tasting something rancid. “It’s a reprint of Gottsberger, from 1886, translated from the French by Clara Bell. Don’t get me wrong, Clara Bell is a real talent, her Dante impeccable, but an English translation of a French translation of a Russian novel? Isn’t that more like reading a rumor than a book?”
“啊。我明白了，“图书管理员点点头说。“我猜他在读 03 年的 Scribner。托尔斯泰的文集，其中 《战争与和平 》占了 20 卷中的 5 卷。图书管理员做了个鬼脸，仿佛在品尝什么腐臭的东西。“这是 1886 年戈茨伯格的再版，由克拉拉·贝尔 （Clara Bell） 从法文翻译过来。不要误会我的意思，克拉拉·贝尔 （Clara Bell） 是一个真正的天才，她的但丁无可挑剔，但俄罗斯小说的法语翻译的英文翻译呢？那不是更像是读谣言而不是读书吗？
It seemed as if Rye was supposed to laugh, so he did. This pleased the librarian, who took him by the arm. “Come on. I want to show you something.” He led Rye to a tall bookshelf near a window overlooking the river. With a practiced movement, he eased three volumes out inches from the other books, so that they seemed to float out from the shelf. They had dark blue boards, the color of a lake in winter, with a lighter blue and gold design down the spine, and a gold inlaid crown on top with the raised words WAR AND PEACE, TOLSTOY I, II, AND III, and below that what appeared to be a blue and gold heart-shaped scepter.
看起来 Rye 应该笑，所以他就笑了。这让图书管理员很高兴，他拉着他的胳膊。“来吧。我想给你看点东西。他把莱伊带到一个高大的书架前，靠近俯瞰河流的窗户。他熟练地将三卷书从其他书中缓缓地伸出几英寸，使它们看起来就像从书架上飘出来一样。他们有深蓝色的木板，是冬天湖的颜色，书脊上有浅蓝色和金色的图案，上面镶嵌着一个金色的皇冠，上面有凸起的“战争与和平”、“托尔斯泰一世”、“二世”和“三”字样， 下面是一个蓝色和金色的心形权杖。
They were the loveliest books Rye had ever seen.
它们是 Rye 见过的最可爱的书。
“Aren’t they something?” the librarian asked. “The 1904 McClure, Phillips and Company edition. The four books and epilogue are in three volumes, translated directly from the Russian by Constance Garnett.” He leaned in as if sharing a secret. “She nearly went blind doing the translation.”
“他们不是什么吗？”“1904 年 McClure， Phillips and Company 版。这四本书和结语分为三卷， 由 Constance Garnett 直接从俄文翻译过来。他靠了过来，仿佛在分享一个秘密。“她差点在翻译时失明。”
The librarian handed over the first volume and Rye opened it, careful with the onionskin title page. He looked around. “Is it . . . I mean, can I just . . .”
图书管理员递过来第一卷，Rye 打开它，小心翼翼地处理洋葱皮扉页。他环顾四周。“是不是 . . .我的意思是，我能不能就这样 . . .
The librarian seemed uncertain what he was asking.
图书管理员似乎不确定他在问什么。
“I don’t know how this works,” Rye said.
“我不知道这是怎么回事，”Rye 说。
“A library?” The man smiled.
“图书馆？”男人笑了。
That day, Rye checked out Volume I of Constance Garnett’s newer translation of War and Peace and proudly presented it to Gig as they sat by the fire. Rye tried to explain all the librarian had told him: “Reading a book translated from Russian to French to English is like— It’s like—” But he couldn’t remember the librarian’s droll comment. “Anyway, it’s not as good,” he said. “But the man at the library said this is the best one. And I can check out the next volume when I return this one.”
那天，Rye 查阅了 Constance Garnett 新译本的 《战争与和平 》第一卷 ，并在他们坐在火炉旁时自豪地将其展示给 Gig。Rye 试图解释图书管理员告诉他的一切：“阅读一本从俄语翻译成法语再到英语的书就像——就像——”但他不记得图书管理员的滑稽评论。“总之，情况没有那么好，”他说。“但图书馆的那个人说这是最好的。当我归还这本书时，我可以查看下一卷。
Gig said nothing. He looked pained. He held the book to his chest. “Rye, I don’t—” He shook his head. “You can’t keep doing this. Gloves. And books. I’m not—I can’t.” He just shook his head and didn’t speak again. He went to bed that night without cracking the book.
吉格什么也没说。他看起来很痛苦。他把书举到胸前。“黑麦，我不——”他摇摇头。“你不能一直这样。手套。还有书籍。我不是——我不能。他只是摇摇头，没有再说话。那天晚上他上床睡觉时没有打开这本书。
Gig was still asleep the next day when Rye left for work.
第二天，Rye 去上班时，Gig 还在睡觉。
As Rye walked toward the streetcar, he saw a familiar car parked at the end of the block. He leaned in the window and startled Willard, finger up his nose to the knuckle.
当 Rye 走向有轨电车时，他看到一辆熟悉的汽车停在街区的尽头。他靠在窗户上，把威拉德吓了一跳，用手指把鼻子伸到指关节上。
“Jesus!” Willard said. “Make some noise, kid.”
“耶稣！”威拉德说。“大声喧哗，孩子。”
“Sorry,” Rye said. “Shouldn’t you be—” He didn’t finish the sentence but thought, Better at this?
“对不起，”Rye 说。“你不应该——”他没有把这句话说完，但心想， 这个更好吗？
Willard reached in his coat and offered him a cigarette, but Rye shook it off.
威拉德伸手从外套里递给他一根烟，但莱伊把它甩掉了。
“Anything yet?” Willard asked.
“还有什么吗？”威拉德问道。
“From Early,” Rye said. “No.”
“从 Early 开始，”Rye 说。“不。”
“And the money?”
“那钱呢？”
“Still there.”
“还在那儿。”
Willard looked at him suspiciously. “And has your brother heard from Reston?”
威拉德怀疑地看着他。“你哥哥有没有收到雷斯顿的消息？”
“No,” Rye said. “Gig hasn’t left his bed.”
“不，”Rye 说。“Gig 还没下床。”
Willard looked concerned. “Is he bad off?”
威拉德看起来很担心。“他的情况不好吗？”
“He’ll be fine,” Rye said. “He just needs some rest.”
“他会没事的，”Rye 说。“他只是需要休息一下。”
But that night, when Rye got home from work, Gig was gone. Rye checked to see that the money was still there—it was—then ate dinner alone with Mrs. Ricci. Afterward, Rye sat by the fire reading the papers for stories about Gurley and the union. There was a story in the Chronicle about police raiding a printer in Hillyard, confiscating and burning three thousand copies of the Industrial Worker. The newspaper had tried to publish “a crude and libelous story alleging wholly fabricated charges against city officials, an account so vile as to shred the very cloth of decency that shrouds this city,” the Chronicle story said. Even the labor-friendly Press wouldn’t characterize what was in this scandalous story that had gotten the Industrial Worker confiscated, except to say that it had been written by Gurley Flynn, and the judge in her case was considering revoking her bail because of it.
但那天晚上，当 Rye 下班回家时，Gig 已经走了。Rye 检查了一下钱还在——它确实在那儿——然后和 Ricci 太太单独吃了晚饭。之后，Rye 坐在火炉旁阅读报纸，了解关于 Gurley 和工会的故事。《 纪事报 》上有一个故事 ，说警察突袭了希尔亚德的一家印刷厂，没收并焚烧了三千本《 产业工人》。《纪事报》的报道称，该报曾试图发表“一篇粗俗和诽谤的报道，指控对市政府官员的指控完全是捏造的，这种说法如此卑鄙，以至于撕碎了笼罩着这座城市的体面外衣 ”。即使是对劳工友好的新闻界也不愿描述这个导致 《产业工人 》被没收的丑闻故事中的内容 ，只是说它是格利·弗林 （Gurley Flynn） 写的，而她案的法官正在考虑因此撤销她的保释。
Rye went to bed and was asleep when Gig finally staggered in sometime after midnight, smelling like booze and vomit and woodsmoke. He moaned and farted his way under the blanket on his cot, and a few minutes later, he began vomiting again. Rye ran over and tilted Gig’s head over the side of the cot. He got a basin and went to the outhouse, came back, and cleaned the floor, Gig muttering the whole time: “Leave me alone.” Rye tried washing his face, but Gig pushed his hands away. “Goddamn it, Rye, leave it. I didn’t want this. Any of it.”
Rye 上床睡觉，当 Gig 终于在午夜后的某个时候踉踉跄跄地走进来时，闻起来像酒、呕吐物和木烟。他在婴儿床上的毯子下呻吟着放屁，几分钟后，他又开始呕吐了。Rye 跑过来，把 Gig 的头歪到婴儿床的侧面。他拿了个盆子去了外屋，回来打扫地板，Gig 一直在喃喃自语：“别管我。Rye 试图洗脸，但 Gig 推开了他的手。“该死的，Rye，走吧。我不想要这个。任何一个。
He was sleeping it off, still snoring, when Rye left for work on Saturday.
他正在睡觉，还在打鼾，周六 Rye 去上班时。
The shop was only open until noon on Saturday, and Rye was distracted all morning. When his shift ended, he hurriedly hung his shop apron and sprinted to the streetcar. And when he got home that afternoon, Gig was already gone again. Mrs. Ricci had no idea where he’d gone, just that “He wake up. He walk away.” Sitting on Rye’s cot were the ermine gloves and the beautiful blue edition of War and Peace, Volume I.
这家店只营业到周六中午，Rye 整个上午都心不在焉。下班后，他匆匆忙忙地挂上商店的围裙，冲向有轨电车。当他那天下午回到家时，Gig 已经再次走了。利玛窦太太不知道他去了哪里，只知道“他醒了。他走开了。Rye 的婴儿床上放着貂皮手套和美丽的蓝色版《 战争与和平 ，第一卷》。
Rye walked downtown, along the hobo highway, looking for Gig. He stuck his head into a couple of east-end saloons, tried Dutch Jake’s and Jimmy Durkin’s place, but couldn’t find his brother anywhere.
Rye 走在市中心，沿着流浪汉高速公路寻找 Gig。他把头探进了几家东区的酒吧，尝试了 Dutch Jake's 和 Jimmy Durkin 的住处，但在任何地方都找不到他的兄弟。
Finally, at dusk, he gave up and walked to the lower South Hill, where Gurley was staying in a fine Victorian house with a progressive lawyer and his wife. A police wagon was parked across the street, but as he got closer, Rye saw the cop bundled up inside, sound asleep. He walked to the house and rang the bell.
最后，在黄昏时分，他放弃了，走到较低的南山，格利在那里与一位进步的律师和他的妻子住在一栋漂亮的维多利亚式房子里。一辆警车停在街对面，但当他走近时，Rye 看到警察被捆绑在里面，睡着了。他走到房子前，按响了门铃。
A stout man with a gray beard and a pipe answered the door, and Rye removed his hat. “I was hoping Mrs. Jones would see me.”
一个留着灰胡子、拿着烟斗的粗壮男人应了门，Rye 摘下了他的帽子。“我希望琼斯夫人能看到我。”
“You a newspaperman? You look awfully young.”
“你是个报人？你看起来非常年轻。
“No, I’m a friend of hers. Ryan Dolan.”
“不，我是她的朋友。瑞安·多兰。
The man let Rye into the foyer and excused himself. A minute later, he came back. “She’ll see you in the drawing room.”
那个人让 Rye 进门厅并告辞。一分钟后，他回来了。“她会在客厅见。”
Rye followed the man inside and sat nervously on a leather chair in the drawing room. He put the gloves in his bowler. He looked all around the room. Then he saw something strange: a high shelf, built above the windows, with knickknacks on it, fancy plates and clocks. He was staring at it, wondering why someone would build a shelf so high, when she came in.
Rye 跟着男人进了屋，紧张地坐在客厅的皮椅上。他把手套戴进了他的圆顶礼帽里。他环顾了一下房间。然后他看到了一个奇怪的东西：一个高高的架子，建在窗户上方，上面有小玩意儿、花哨的盘子和钟表。他盯着它，想知道为什么当她进来时，有人会把架子建得这么高。
“Hello, Ryan,” Gurley said. Her hair was pulled back, and she was wearing nightclothes with a heavy robe over them. “I was having a bath.”
“你好，Ryan，”Gurley 说。她的头发向后拉，穿着睡衣，外面罩着一件厚重的长袍。“我当时正在洗澡。”
Rye blushed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t just come by.”
Rye 脸红了。“我很抱歉，”他说。“我不该随便过来。”
“I’m glad you did,” she said. “What were you looking at?”
“我很高兴你这样做了，”她说。“你在看什么？”
“That shelf.” He pointed. “I’ve never seen one so high.”
“那个架子。”“他指了指。“我从来没有见过这么高的。”
She looked up. “The plate rail?”
她抬起头。“板轨？”
“I guess,” he said. “I was just wondering why someone would build a shelf so high you can’t reach it.”
“我猜，”他说。“我只是在想，为什么有人会把架子建得这么高，你够不着。”
She smiled. “And I’ve been wondering when you might come see me.”
她笑了。“我一直在想你什么时候会来看我。”
“I’m sorry. It was the first chance I got.” Rye told her about the job he’d gotten and about Gig getting out of jail. “He’s not himself,” he said. “It’s like they beat the Gig right out of him.”
“对不起。这是我得到的第一个机会。Rye 告诉她他得到了这份工作，以及 Gig 出狱的事情。“他不是他自己，”他说。“就像他们直接从他身上打败了 Gig。”
“That’s too bad,” Gurley said. She looked at the window. “It’s odd the police just let you come in. They’ve been running off union members ever since that flap with the Worker.”
“那太糟糕了，”格利说。她望着窗户。“警察就让你进来，这很奇怪。自从与工人发生争执以来，他们就一直在赶走工会成员 。
“Yeah, I read about that in the Chronicle,” Rye said.
“是的，我在 《纪事报 》 上读到过，”Rye 说。
She shook her head. “A newspaper celebrating the censure of a newspaper!”
她摇了摇头。“一份庆祝报纸受到谴责的报纸！”
“I read about your trial, too. Does Mr. Moore think you have a chance?”
“我也读到过你的审判。摩尔先生觉得你有机会吗？
“Not much of one,” she said. “He keeps reminding me the city has sixteen straight conspiracy convictions against every IWW leader and editor, and of course, I am both. Six-month sentences for every leader or member of the strike committee.” She looked up. “Except your brother.”
“不多，”她说。“他不断提醒我，这座城市对每一位 IWW 领导人和编辑都有 16 次连续的阴谋定罪，当然，我两者都是。罢工委员会的每位领导人或成员将被判处六个月的徒刑。她抬起头。“除了你哥哥。”
Rye wondered if that was suspicion he was hearing in her voice—why did the cops let Rye in, why wasn’t Gig charged with conspiracy? He looked at the ground. “Well,” he said, “I wouldn’t bet against you.”
Rye 想知道这是不是他从她的声音中听到了怀疑——为什么警察让 Rye 进来，为什么 Gig 没有被指控犯有阴谋罪？他看了看地面。“嗯，”他说，“我不会跟你打赌。
She said nothing.
她什么也没说。
Rye was unsure how to ask his next question or if he even should. “Has your husband come?”
Rye 不确定如何提出下一个问题，或者他是否应该这样做。“你丈夫来了吗？”
“No,” she said. “Maybe for the trial.” Then she cleared her throat. “He knows who he married,” she said again, but it was flat this time. She looked up at the plate rail that had transfixed him earlier. “Sometimes I think I’ve gotten everything wrong, Ryan. With Jack. The union. Spokane. You see something as corrupt as the job sharks in this town, something as clearly wrong as police cracking heads over free speech—and you say, ‘Well, if we can’t win that one, what can we ever win?’
“不，”她说。“也许是为了审判。”然后她清了清嗓子。“他知道他娶了谁，”她又说了一遍，但这次是平淡无奇的。她抬头看了看早些时候让他目瞪口呆的板栏杆。“有时候我觉得我什么都搞错了，瑞安。和 Jack.工会。斯波坎。你看到的东西像这个镇上的工作鲨鱼一样腐败，像警察对言论自由的猛烈攻击一样明显错误——然后你说，'好吧，如果我们不能赢得那场比赛，我们还能赢什么呢？
“But nothing here is as it seems.” She held up one end of a blanket. “You think the union is over here.” She held up the other end of the blanket. “And the mining companies and cops over here.” She pulled the blanket taut. “But they’re all the same. Pull one string and the whole thing unravels. The sharks, mines, flops, brothels, taverns, cops—it’s all one fabric. How do you fight that? Go right at it? Or come at an angle? Fight hard or fight smart?” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, Ryan.”
“但这里没有什么是看起来那样。”她举起毯子的一端。“你以为工会已经结束了。”她举起毯子的另一端。“还有这里的矿业公司和警察。”她拉紧了毯子。“但他们都是一样的。拉动一根绳子，整个事情就会解开。鲨鱼、矿井、失败者、妓院、小酒馆、警察——都是一块布料。你怎么解决这个问题？直接开始？还是以某个角度来？努力战斗还是聪明地战斗？她的声音沙哑了。“我不知道。老实说，我不知道，瑞安。
It was similar to what Gig had said. That it ran too deep. Rye thought of what he knew, about Lem Brand, and he wondered if his brother was thinking similar things, sitting in some saloon, pointing to his empty glass. “Maybe after a while you don’t fight it,” he said.
这与 Gig 所说的相似。它太深了。Rye 想起了他所知道的关于 Lem Brand 的事情，他想知道他的兄弟是否也在想类似的事情，他坐在某个酒吧里，指着他的空杯子。“也许过一段时间你就不抗争了，”他说。
Gurley was staring at the gloves in his lap. She took a deep breath. “Fred Moore is afraid we’ve had someone on the inside, giving them information.”
Gurley 盯着他腿上的手套。她深吸了一口气。“弗雷德·摩尔担心我们内部有人向他们提供信息。”
Rye swallowed.
Rye 咽了口口水。
“Sixteen union leaders sent to state prison, more than three hundred other convictions for disturbing the peace. But you and your brother are out.”
“16 名工会领导人被送进州监狱，还有 300 多人因扰乱治安而被定罪。但你和你哥哥出去了。
His mouth went dry. “Elizabeth—” he began.
他的嘴巴干涩。“伊丽莎白——”他开始说。
“Ryan, I have to ask, the night of the raid, where did you go?”
“Ryan，我得问一下，突袭的那天晚上，你去哪儿了？”
He had come here to tell her everything, about Brand and Del and Early, about his own mistakes—but now, sitting across from her, he didn’t know where to begin. He held up the gloves. His voice broke. “I went to buy these.”
他来这里是为了告诉她一切，关于布兰德、德尔和厄利，关于他自己的错误——但现在，坐在她对面，他不知道从哪里开始。他举起手套。他的声音嘶哑了。“我去买了这些。”
She looked directly at him, her mouth tight, eyes implacable. Rye felt as if she were seeing right through him, that whatever he’d come to admit, she already knew. For a moment he couldn’t speak, but he also couldn’t look away. He felt gutted and, inexplicably, wished she would never stop staring at him.
她直视着他，嘴巴紧闭，眼神无情。Rye 觉得自己仿佛看穿了他，无论他要承认什么，她都已经知道了。有那么一刻，他说不出话来，但也无法移开视线。他感到很伤心，莫名其妙地希望她永远不要停止盯着他看。
“Elizabeth,” he began, “I didn’t know—”
“伊丽莎白，”他开始说，“我不知道——”
She looked down at her lap. “It’s okay, Ryan.”
她低头看着自己的大腿。“没事的，Ryan。”
“I thought I was just—”
“我以为我只是——”
“Ryan, please don’t—”
“Ryan，请不要——”
“I thought I was helping Gig—”
“我以为我在帮助 Gig——”
She held her hands up. “Don’t say any more.” She looked back at the plate rail. And then she looked at him. “Would you do something for me?”
她举起了双手。“别再说了。”她回头看了看板栏杆。然后她看着他。“你能帮我点什么吗？”
“I would do anything for you,” he said.
“我愿意为你做任何事情，”他说。
The cop watching the house was leaning on a porch pillar when Rye came out. “What were you doing in there, kid?” He was tall and thin, with a scar running over his forehead and right eye.
当 Rye 出来时，看守房子的警察正靠在门廊的柱子上。“你在那儿干什么，孩子？”他又高又瘦，额头和右眼上有一道疤痕。
“I’m her friend,” Rye said. “I just came to see her.”
“我是她的朋友，”Rye 说。“我只是来看她的。”
The cop said, “Take off your coat,” and Rye did, handing it to the cop, who went through the pockets and sleeves.
警察说，“脱掉你的外套，”Rye 照做了，把它递给警察，警察翻遍了口袋和袖子。
“She’s under house arrest,” the cop said. “She’s not allowed visitors except her lawyer. Turn out your pants pockets.”
“她被软禁了，”警察说。“除了她的律师之外，她不允许访客。把你的裤子口袋翻出来。
Rye did, and a confetti of lint and crumbs came out. “You were asleep when I came up earlier,” he said.
黑麦照做了，一堆棉绒和面包屑的五彩纸屑出来了。“我早些时候醒来的时候，你已经睡着了，”他说。
The cop shot him a look. “I wasn’t asleep. I wanted you to think I was.”
警察瞪了他一眼。“我没有睡着。我想让你觉得我是。
“Why would you want me to think you were asleep?” Rye asked.
“你为什么想让我觉得你睡着了？”Rye 问道。
The cop couldn’t seem to think of a reason. “Lift your shirt.”
警察似乎想不出理由。“掀起你的衬衫。”
Gurley had told him the cop would probably search him this way. They were desperately trying to keep her from publishing her story about what she had seen during her night in the Spokane jail. “It’s outrageous,” she said. “They arrest these girls for not paying off the police, and if they can’t pay the fines, they force them to work it off in jail. They’re essentially running a brothel in there, which is why the chief won’t hire jail matrons. It’s the worst-kept secret in the city and yet no one will touch it.” She had tried to give the story to local reporters, but none would print it or even characterize Gurley’s allegations. “There are some things you just can’t say in a newspaper,” a Press editor had told her. When she tried to publish a piece in the Industrial Worker detailing what she’d seen, police had confiscated and burned thousands of copies and charged the printer with conspiracy, lewd conduct, and libel. Even Fred Moore was leery of handling the story for fear of being held in contempt or involved in a libel suit.
格利告诉他，警察可能会以这种方式搜查他。他们拼命阻止她发表她在斯波坎监狱当晚所见所闻的故事。“这太离谱了，”她说。“他们逮捕这些女孩，因为他们没有付清警察的钱，如果她们付不起罚款，他们就会强迫她们在监狱里工作。他们基本上在里面经营一家妓院，这就是为什么监狱长不会雇用监狱管理员的原因。这是城里最保守的秘密，但没有人会碰它。她曾试图将这个故事提供给当地记者，但没有人愿意刊登它，甚至没有人愿意描述格利的指控。“有些事情你就是不能在报纸上说，”一位新闻编辑告诉她。当她试图在 《产业工人 》上发表一篇文章详细描述她的所见所闻时，警方没收并焚烧了数千份，并指控印刷商犯有阴谋、猥亵行为和诽谤罪。就连弗雷德·摩尔（Fred Moore）也对处理这个故事持谨慎态度，因为害怕被判藐视法庭或卷入诽谤诉讼。
The cop poked Rye with his nightstick and had him lower his pants. He patted him down and, when he was satisfied Rye wasn’t smuggling any papers out, told him to fix his clothes and move on. “Okay. Go on, get out of here.”
警察用他的夜棍戳了戳 Rye，让他放低裤子。他拍了拍他，当他确信 Rye 没有偷偷带走任何文件时，告诉他整理好衣服并继续前进。“好的。走吧，离开这里。
Rye took the streetcar back to Mrs. Ricci’s house. Gig still wasn’t there. Out on the sleeping porch, Rye reached under his cot and pulled out the envelope Lem Brand had given him for Early. It was a plain off-white envelope, no writing on it. He’d never even looked inside. But the envelope was unsealed. Rye took a deep breath and opened it. There was a typed note addressed to “Ennis Cooper,” apologizing for “events that got out of hand” and offering to “abide by our original agreement.” The note suggested Cooper “communicate through the boy what we might do to further keep our arrangement confidential and beneficial to us both.”
Rye 乘坐有轨电车回到了 Ricci 夫人的家。Gig 仍然不在。在睡觉的门廊上，Rye 把手伸到他的小床下面，掏出了 Lem Brand 给他 Early 的信封。那是一个普通的灰白色信封，上面没有字。他甚至从来没有看过里面。但信封被拆封了。Rye 深吸一口气，打开了它。有一张写给“恩尼斯·库珀”的打字条，为“失控的事件”道歉，并提出“遵守我们最初的协议”。该便条建议库珀“通过男孩传达我们可以做些什么来进一步保密我们的安排并对我们双方都有利”。
Clipped to the note were ten fifty-dollar bills. Rye thumbed them. A fifty was even fancier than the twenty-dollar note he’d carried in his sock for two weeks. Rye wondered if Marco would reconsider selling his mother’s orchard for this much money. He took the top bill and put the others back. He turned it over in his hands. It was issued by the Seaboard National Bank of San Francisco, stamped in blue, with a photo of Secretary of State John Sherman in the upper-left corner.
钞票上夹着十张 50 美元的钞票。Rye 对他们竖起了大拇指。50 甚至比他袜子里装了两个星期的 20 美元钞票还要花哨。Rye 想知道 Marco 是否会重新考虑以这么多钱卖掉他母亲的果园。他拿走了最高的账单，把其他的都放回去了。他把它在手里翻了过来。它由旧金山海岸国家银行发行，印有蓝色印章，左上角有国务卿约翰·谢尔曼的照片。
Rye found a pen and paper among his brother’s things. He tore the paper in two and on one half wrote, “Gig, I’ll be back Sunday. Rye.” On the other half, he wrote, “IOU. $50. Ryan J. Dolan.” He put that note in the envelope with the other bills. Then he tucked it back between his cot and blankets. He shoved the fifty-dollar bill in his pocket, grabbed his hat and coat and his gloves off the bed, and started out.
Rye 在他哥哥的东西中找到了一支笔和一张纸。他把纸撕成两半，一半写道：“吉格，我周日回来。黑麦。在另一半，他写道：“借据。50 美元。瑞安·多兰。他把那张纸条和其他钞票一起放在信封里。然后他把它塞回他的小床和毯子之间。他把五十元钞票塞进口袋里，从床上抓起帽子、外套和手套，出发了。
He walked through the orchard, even though it wasn’t on his way, the icy ground crunching beneath his boots. He stood in the cold trees a moment, imagining a house among them. Finally, he started walking, catching the old hobo highway to downtown. He thought about looking for Gig in his usual saloons, but even if he found him, he’d be long past drunk now and probably just tell Rye to leave him alone. So he went straight to the train station, arriving in plenty of time to catch the overnight. The Great Northern station was nearly deserted, just three other passengers waiting.
他穿过果园，尽管它并不在他的路上，冰冷的地面在他的靴子下嘎吱作响。他在寒冷的树林中站了一会儿，想象着他们中间有一座房子。最后，他开始步行，赶上了通往市中心的旧流浪汉高速公路。他想过在他平常的酒吧里找 Gig，但即使他找到了他，他现在也早就喝醉了，可能只是告诉 Rye 别管他。所以他直接去了火车站，赶上了充足的时间赶上过夜。大北方车站几乎空无一人，只有另外三名乘客在等着。
At the window, Rye bought a nine-dollar ticket for the Cascadian. It was cheaper than the Empire Builder because it made more stops.
在窗口，Rye 买了一张 9 美元的 Cascadian 票。它比 Empire Builder 便宜，因为它的停靠次数更多。
He was too nervous to sleep on the train, so he sat up in his seat as the train lurched off. They built up speed, and out the window he sensed more than saw the dark wooded terrain fall away amid the faint shadows of crags and ledges of central Washington. Each station they pulled into seemed ghostlier than the last, gaslight shadows of water and coal stops, rail signal switches and lonely figures on platforms, the electric lamps of rail agents in the windows. Rye had the sense of moving not just across the land but in and out of time, and at one point he fell asleep and dreamed he was old and looking back on his life.
他太紧张了，在火车上睡不着觉，所以当火车摇摇晃晃地离开时，他在座位上坐了起来。他们加快了速度，他感觉到窗外，他看到的不仅仅是看到黑暗的树木繁茂的地形在华盛顿市中心的峭壁和壁架的微弱阴影中消失了。他们驶入的每个车站似乎都比上一个更幽灵，煤气灯下水站和煤站的阴影，铁路信号开关和站台上孤独的身影，窗户上铁路工作人员的电灯。Rye 不仅能穿越大地，而且能穿越时空，有一次他睡着了，梦见自己老了，回顾自己的一生。
It was morning when he jolted awake just outside of Seattle.
那天早上，他在西雅图郊外惊醒。
He stepped off the train into a wet, drizzly Puget Sound day. His second time in Seattle this month. He had bacon, eggs, and coffee in the King Street Station diner and, when he was done, asked the waiter if he knew how to find the offices of the Agitator newspaper.
他走下火车，进入了普吉特海湾潮湿、下着毛毛雨的日子。他本月第二次来到西雅图。他在国王街车站的餐厅吃了培根、鸡蛋和咖啡，吃完后，问服务员是否知道如何找到 Agitator 报纸的办公室。
A man at the next table knew it. “What do you want with that batty crew?” He gave Rye the names of two reputable newspapers. “I’d try the Post-Intelligencer,” he said. “They got a cartoonist draws a dog that wears a suit and drives a motorcar.”
隔壁桌的一位男士知道这一点。“你想对那些蝙蝠团伙做什么？”他给了 Rye 两家著名报纸的名字。“我会试试 Post-Intelligencer，”他说。“他们让一位漫画家画了一只穿着西装、开着汽车的狗。”
“I have business with the Agitator,” Rye said.
“我和 Agitator 有生意往来 ，”Rye 说。
The man told Rye he believed the Agitator was run out of a saloon on Cherry Street, so Rye walked there. The bartender, who was just opening for the day, pointed him to a back staircase off the alley. Rye went up the rickety outdoor staircase and came to a wood door with a smoked glass window. Painted on it in red block letters was the word AGITATOR. It was a Sunday, and it dawned on Rye that no one might be at the office, but when he knocked, a woman’s voice called out, “Yeah?”
这名男子告诉 Rye，他认为 Agitator 是从 Cherry Street 的一家酒吧里跑出来的，所以 Rye 走到了那里。刚开门的酒保指给他指了指小巷外的后楼梯。Rye 走上摇摇晃晃的户外楼梯，来到一扇带有烟熏玻璃窗的木门前。上面用红色的大写字母画着 AGITATOR 字样。那天是星期天，Rye 突然意识到办公室可能没有人，但当他敲门时，一个女人的声音喊道：“是吗？
“I’m looking for Olen Parr,” Rye yelled through the closed door.
“我在找奥伦·帕尔，”莱伊隔着紧闭的门喊道。
“He’s in jail!” the woman yelled back. “In Everett!”
“他在监狱里！”“在埃弗雷特！”
“What for?”
“干什么？”
“I don’t know, a week probably!” she called back. “That’s up to the judge!”
“我不知道，大概一个星期吧！”“这取决于法官！”
“What I mean is, what did he do?”
“我的意思是，他做了什么？”
“That’s up to the judge, too!”
“这也取决于法官！”
“Please let me in!” Rye called through the door. “I have something for him!”
“请让我进来！”Rye 从门口喊道。“我有东西要给他！”
“I told you, he isn’t here!”
“我告诉过你，他不在这里！”
Rye looked around in frustration. “I was here a few weeks ago!” he yelled through the door. “With Elizabeth Gurley Flynn! I’m with the Wobblies in Spokane! I’m the orphan Mr. Parr interviewed!”
Rye 沮丧地环顾四周。“我几周前来过这里！”“与伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 一起！我和斯波坎的 Wobblies 在一起！我是 Parr 先生采访的孤儿！
Finally, the woman opened the door. She was short, with wiry gray hair and glasses at the end of her nose. She squinted over the frames. “You’re the orphan? From the story, I was picturing someone nine or ten years old.” She was holding sheets of loose paper as if she’d been reading something.
最后，那个女人打开了门。她个子矮小，有一头纤细的灰发，鼻尖戴着眼镜。她眯着眼睛看着画框。“你是孤儿？从故事中，我想象的是一个九岁或十岁的人。她手里拿着几张散落的纸，好像在读什么。
“No, it’s me,” Rye said. “I just turned seventeen.”
“不，是我，”Rye 说。“我刚满 17 岁。”
Then he removed his bowler, flipped the brim liner, and dug around in the satiny lining of the crown. “I apologize,” he said, “it might be a little sweaty.” Rye pulled out three typed pages, folded and mashed, from the crown of his hat.
然后他取下他的圆顶礼帽，翻转帽檐衬里，在皇冠的缎面衬里上挖来挖去。“我很抱歉，”他说，“可能会有点出汗。Rye 从帽冠上掏出三页打字的书页，折叠捣碎。
“You an orphan magician, then?” the woman asked.
“那么，你是个孤儿魔法师吗？”
Rye did his best to flatten and smooth the pages. “This is from Gurley Flynn. She’s under house arrest in Spokane, so I had to smuggle it out. They confiscated and burned the Industrial Worker to keep her from printing this. She wants me to ask Mr. Parr if he will consider running this story in the Agitator.”
Rye 尽最大努力将书页压平和平滑。“这是来自 Gurley Flynn。她被软禁在斯波坎，所以我不得不把它偷偷带出去。他们没收并烧毁了 Industrial Worker，以防止她打印这些。她要我问问帕尔先生，他是否会考虑在《煽动者》杂志上刊登这个故事 。
The woman opened her mouth—
女人张开了嘴——
“I know. He’s in jail. In Everett. Please. Just read it.”
“我知道。他在监狱里。在埃弗雷特。请。读读就好了。
She began reading. Slowly, her face changed. “Jesus,” she said. “Can you prove this?” She looked up at him. “No, of course you can’t.” She read a little more and then flipped to the second page. “Jesus,” she said, then “Jesus” again. And finally, “Shit.”
她开始阅读。慢慢地，她的脸色变了。“天哪，”她说。“你能证明这个吗？”她抬头看着他。“不，你当然不能。”她又读了一会儿，然后翻到第二页。“耶稣，”她说，然后又说“耶稣”。最后是“Shit”。
She invited Rye in. The apartment was dark and cramped, two typewriters on small tables, and news pages clipped on a hanging clothesline. This front room was apparently the offices of the Agitator. Behind were a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small galley kitchen. Rye could smell onions frying.
她邀请 Rye 进来。公寓又黑又挤，小桌子上放着两台打字机，挂着的晾衣绳上夹着新闻页。这个前厅显然是 Agitator 的办公室 。后面是一间卧室、一间浴室和一个小厨房。黑麦可以闻到洋葱煎炸的味道。
He looked up at the clothespinned news page. Beneath the Agitator flag was a banner headline calling for GENERAL STRIKE! The woman excused herself and left, returning ten minutes later with two older men. Neither one said anything as they leaned over a table to read Gurley’s story. When they were done, they looked up at the woman and nodded.
他抬头看了看那张晾衣夹的新闻版面。Agitator 旗帜下方是呼吁 GENERAL STRIKE！ 那个女人找了个借口离开了，十分钟后和两个年长的男人一起回来了。两人都没有说什么，他们靠在桌子上读着格利的故事。当他们完成后，他们抬头看着那个女人，点了点头。
“Give us a minute,” she said to Rye, and they retreated to the bedroom to talk. When they emerged, the woman said they would remake the front page of the Agitator with Gurley’s allegations, and would print a special edition of the Industrial Worker the following week and distribute it all over the West Coast.
“请给我们一分钟，”她对 Rye 说，然后他们回到卧室交谈。当他们出现时，这位女士说，他们将用格利的指控重新制作《 煽动者 》的头版，并将在下周印刷一份特别版的 《产业工人》， 并在西海岸分发。
“You’re not going to wait for Mr. Parr?” Rye asked.
“你不打算等帕尔先生吗？”Rye 问道。
The woman looked at Rye over the rims of her glasses. “I love Olen, but the man can barely knot his shoes.”
女人透过眼镜框看着 Rye。“我爱奥伦，但这个男人几乎不会打结他的鞋子。”
Soon another woman and two men came up to the apartment, and by early afternoon, the office was a flurry of activity.
很快，另一个女人和两个男人来到了公寓，到了下午早些时候，办公室里已经热闹起来。
Rye stood and put on his coat. He could still catch the three p.m. back over the mountains.
Rye 站起来，穿上他的外套。他仍然可以赶上下午三点的时光，翻山越岭。
“Where are you going?” the woman asked.
“你要去哪里？”
“Catch a train back to Spokane,” Rye said. “I have to work tomorrow.” Then, almost an afterthought: “And I need to go find my brother.”
“坐火车回斯波坎，”Rye 说。“我明天得上班。”然后，几乎是事后才想起来的：“我需要去找我哥哥。
IT’S ALWAYS the same, first drink of the day: uisce beatha. Our da called it that. Water of life. Deep pull of air, eyes pop, and it’s a goddamn clear world on the other side of the glass.
IT's Always the same （我总是一样的），当天的第一杯饮料：UISCE BEATHA。我们的爸爸是这么称呼的。 生命之水。 深深的空气拉扯，眼睛睁开，玻璃的另一边是一个该死的清晰世界。
Hello there
嗨，你好.
But here’s the rub, Rye-boy. Second drink’s better.
但问题是，Rye-boy。第二杯更好。
Of course, it’s going to turn at some point, but when? The first is good, the second better, and sometimes the third makes me a goddamn genius or lands me in a woman’s bed. To wit, it’s a blind roll past two. Four, six, nine—eventually, I might wake soiled on a railroad siding or, in this case, with my wasp of a little brother on the sleeping porch floor, wiping up the water of life I’ve just gagged—me saying, “Don’t goddamn do that. For once, leave me alone.”
当然，它会在某个时候发生变化，但什么时候呢？第一个很好，第二个更好，有时第三个会让我成为一个该死的天才，或者让我躺在女人的床上。也就是说，这是 2 岁以上的盲目滚动。四、六、九——最终，我可能会在铁路侧板上醒来，或者，在这种情况下，我一个小弟弟的黄蜂躺在睡觉的门廊地板上，擦掉我刚刚堵住嘴的生命之水 ——我说，“他妈的别那样做。这一次，别管我。
But the words don’t actually come out, and when you leave that morning for your job—my baby boy brother has a job and is caring for me like I’m the child—that’s when I knew I just couldn’t do it anymore.
但这些话并没有真正说出来，当你那天早上去上班时——我的男弟弟有工作 ，像照顾孩子一样照顾我 ——那时我知道我不能再这样做了。
I’m sorry, Rye, I was cold and tired and done with it all.
对不起，Rye，我又冷又累，一切都结束了。
An rud nach leigheasann im ná uisce beatha níl aon leigheas air. That was Da’s old adage: What cannot be cured by whiskey and butter cannot be cured. I used to believe it meant that butter and whiskey were the cures for everything, but I have come to realize that saying is about something else, about that which cannot be cured by whiskey or butter or anything in this world, namely, life. That steaming fly-covered shit pile of heartache, life.
An rud nach leigheasann im ná uisce beatha níl aon leigheas air. 那是 Da 的老话： 威士忌和黄油无法治愈的，就无法治愈 。我曾经认为这意味着黄油和威士忌是解决一切问题的良药，但我逐渐意识到，这句话是关于其他东西，关于威士忌或黄油或这个世界上的任何东西都无法治愈的东西，即生命。那堆热气腾腾的苍蝇覆盖的狗屎堆，里面装满了心痛，生命。
Real hunger shuts everything down. By day five in jail I couldn’t remember why I liked to eat. By day ten I couldn’t remember anything. Dull-witted and numb. Took a week after getting out of jail for Thirst and Hunger to return. But they did, old friends waiting on the curb outside the boardinghouse.
真正的饥饿会让一切都关闭。到了监狱的第五天，我不记得我为什么喜欢吃东西了。到第十天，我什么都记不起来了。愚蠢而麻木。出狱后花了一个星期才回来。但他们做到了，老朋友在寄宿公寓外的路边等着。
Hello, boys, where have you been?
哈喽，孩子们，你们去哪儿了？
You had a good job, Rye, and I didn’t want to crumb it for you, but Christ I had a tightness in my neck. I couldn’t sit at that old Italian woman’s table three times a day, pretending to be her son and eating slippery noodles. When you brought home that fancy volume of War and Peace from the library, honestly, that was the final blow. This was my life now? Sit by the fire and eat dinner while my little brother borrows books for me to read in bed?
你干得不错，莱伊，我不想替你毁掉它，但天哪，我的脖子紧绷。我不能一天三次坐在那个意大利老太太的桌子旁，假装是她的儿子，吃着滑溜溜的面条。当你从图书馆带回那本精美的 《战争与和平 》时 ，老实说，那是最后一击。这就是我现在的生活？坐在火炉旁吃晚饭，而我的弟弟借书让我在床上看书？
So while you were at the machine shop, I went out for a round: a pint and a shot of uisce. A bartender sympathetic to our labor cause served me up—toasted me and set me up again. And again. I told the bartender the great realization I’d had after a month of beating and starvation in jail—that none of it mattered. That we were flies buzzing around the heads of millionaires, fooling ourselves that we had power because they couldn’t possibly swat us all
所以当你在机械车间的时候，我出去玩了一轮：一品脱和一杯 uisce。一位同情我们劳工事业的调酒师为我服务——敬酒并再次为我服务。又一次。我告诉酒保，在监狱里经历了一个月的殴打和饥饿之后，我有了深刻的体会——这些都不重要。我们是百万富翁头上嗡嗡作响的苍蝇，自欺欺人地认为我们有权力，因为他们不可能拍打我们所有人.
The man could think of nothing to say about that except to fill my glass.
这个男人想不出什么可说的，只能给我的杯子斟满。
After ten days of rest, and the return of Thirst and Hunger, the old road soul began to stir. I felt the pull again, to go, fly, ride a rattler lumber rack, wind in my face on the way to some new rail stem. Thought maybe I’d go find Early Reston down Lind way, where he said he holed up sometimes.
经过十天的休息，以及渴与饥饿的回归，古老的道路灵魂开始激荡。我再次感受到了拉力，要走，要飞，要骑一个嘎嘎作响的木材架，在去某个新轨道杆的路上，风吹在我的脸上。我想也许我会去 Lind 路找到 Early Reston，他说他有时会在那里躲起来。
I was done with Spokane. Done with jail and done with Walsh and done with his martyr Wobblies, done with your fiery girl, Flynn. Done with Ursula and her cougar and her millionaire, Brand. Done with it all, Rye, and you, too, if I’m being honest, at least for a while. Done with your faithful heart, your good job, your warm fireplace, your goddamn library card.
我已经受够了斯波坎。受够了监狱，受够了沃尔什，受够了他的殉道者 Wobblies，受够了你火热的女孩弗林。结束了 Ursula 和她的美洲狮以及她的百万富翁 Brand。说实话，你也受够了，至少暂时是这样。你忠实的心，你的好工作，你温暖的壁炉，你他妈的借书证都完蛋了。
During the days, my thoughts would not give me rest: Why was I here? Why did I get out of jail while the rest of the committee got six months? Was Early right, was a rambling soul like mine better served by anarchy than labor union? And then, when the thoughts got heavy, I knew how to lighten them, uisce, and I left Mrs. Ricci’s boardinghouse to drink about it all for a while, until either clarity came or the thoughts leaked away.
在那些日子里，我的思绪不会让我休息：我为什么在这里？为什么我出狱了，而委员会的其他成员却被判了六个月的时间？Early 是对的吗，像我这样漫无边际的灵魂比工会更适合吗？然后，当思绪变得沉重时，我知道如何减轻它们， 嗯， 我离开了 Ricci 夫人的寄宿公寓，喝了一会儿，直到清晰起来或思绪溜走。
Like our dear departed da, I hit it hard that night, went to every sympathetic saloon in the city and asked for doubles on me troubles, Irish pubs and labor joints, and I gave the flies-on-millionaires speech, finished half-drunk glasses, bummed smokes and walked the streets, retched and pissed, and was shocked to find myself in the alley of the Comique, yelling at the doorman that inside was the most disloyal woman in the world, and he said, “Move on, drunk,” and I said, “Are you the one to move me?” and he said, “Sure I am,” and suddenly, there she was, the show ended, cat put away, robe pulled tight, and all my anger bled away in her eyes. I thanked her for coming to see me in jail that time, but my tongue was thick and my words jibbery, and I told her I had vowed to stay away until I felt my old self, for I didn’t want her to see this wretched me, but I didn’t know where else to go, drunk like this, I’d get my kid brother kicked out of our boardinghouse if I went back there and—
就像我们亲爱的离去的爸爸一样，那天晚上我受到了重创，去了城里每一个同情我的酒吧，要求给我加倍的麻烦，爱尔兰的酒吧和劳工联合，我发表了关于百万富翁的演讲，喝完了半醉的玻璃杯，抽了根烟，走在街上，干呕和生气，震惊地发现自己在喜剧的小巷里， 他对门卫大吼大叫，说里面是世界上最不忠的女人，他说，“走吧，喝醉了，”我说，“你是那个让我动的人吗？”他说，“当然是，”突然间，她就在那里，表演结束了，猫被收起来，长袍拉得很紧，我所有的愤怒都在她的眼睛里流走了。我感谢她那次来监狱看我，但我的舌头很粗，我的话也颤抖着，我告诉她，我发誓要远离我，直到我感觉到以前的自我，因为我不想让她看到这个可怜的我，但我不知道还能去哪里，像这样喝醉， 如果我回到那里，我会把我的弟弟赶出我们的寄宿公寓，然后——
“Be quiet,” Ursula said, and she took me by the hand to her dressing room and set me in a chair in front of her lighted mirror. I could barely look at myself there: dirty, hollow cheeks, and rat beard up to my bruised eyes. She fed me coffee and bread and meat left over from the cast room. “Look at you,” she said. “What have they done to my beautiful Gregory. I just hope they left a bit of the soul in there.”
“安静点，”乌苏拉说，她牵着我的手去了她的更衣室，把我放在她点亮的镜子前的椅子上。我几乎无法看着那里的自己：肮脏、凹陷的脸颊，老鼠胡子一直长到我瘀伤的眼睛。她给我喂咖啡、面包和演员室剩下的肉。“看看你，”她说。“他们对我美丽的格雷戈里做了什么。我只是希望他们在其中留下一点灵魂。
This nearly made me weep, for I suspected the soul had taken the worst of it.
这几乎使我哭泣，因为我怀疑这个灵魂已经承受了最糟糕的后果。
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“你现在要做什么？”
“Get back on the road,” I said. “Rattle out.”
“回去上路吧，”我说。“嘎嘎作响。”
“Where?”
“在哪儿？”
I shrugged, thinking of Early Reston. “I’m beginning to think I’m cut out more for the darker side of this thing.”
我耸耸肩，想起了早期的雷斯顿。“我开始觉得我更适合这件事的阴暗面。”
“Do they employ a lot of drunks, that side?”
“那边，他们雇佣了很多醉汉吗？”
I laughed. “Suppose I’ll find out.”
我笑了。“如果我能找出答案。”
“And Rye?”
“那黑麦呢？”
“He’s better without me,” said I, and believed it. I told her you would do anything to survive, and good on you, the way you came up, our parents dying out from under you, the rest of us leaving you alone to scratch for food.
“没有我，他会好些，”我说，并且相信了。我告诉她，为了生存，你会不惜一切代价，对你很好，你长大后的样子，我们的父母从你的脚下死去，剩下我们剩下你一个人去抓挠吃。
“Once, Rye and I were bedded in a jungle this side of Ellensburg,” I told her. “The apple crews were full, so he went to bump lumps, because a begging kid does better alone, least that’s what I told myself. I stayed in camp and got drunk with a couple of fellas until Rye came back with a fat lip and said he’d found an open back door and got us two chickens out of an icebox. The woman of the house had hit him pretty good with a broom, but he got away. We celebrated that little thief like he was goddamn Ty Cobb. That’s the best I’ve got for Rye if I stay, Ursula, stealing chickens.”
“有一次，我和 Rye 睡在埃伦斯堡这边的丛林里，”我告诉她。“苹果队已经满了，所以他去撞块，因为一个乞讨的孩子一个人过得更好，至少我是这么告诉自己的。我呆在营地里，和几个家伙喝得酩酊大醉，直到 Rye 带着肥大的嘴唇回来，说他找到了一个敞开的后门，从冰箱里拿了两只鸡。家里的女人用扫帚打了他一巴掌，但他逃脱了。我们赞美那个小贼，就像他妈的 Ty Cobb 一样。如果我留下来偷鸡，那就是我能给黑麦最好的了，乌苏拉。
She smiled. “And all of this melancholy means you don’t have to try anymore. Throw off your life and die in an alley somewhere. Is that the plan?”
她笑了。“所有这些忧郁意味着你不必再尝试了。扔掉你的生命，死在某个小巷里。这是计划吗？
“I don’t have the particulars worked out,” I said, “which alley, for instance.”
“我没有弄清楚具体细节，”我说，“比如哪条小巷。
I was sobering, and hated that most of all. Drunk, I could bear this lecture, but sober, it was starting to sting. “Hey, darlin’, what do you say you shut up and buy an old consort a pint? For good times?”
我很清醒，最讨厌这一点。喝醉了，我能忍受这个讲座，但清醒后，它开始刺痛了。“嘿，亲爱的，你说你闭嘴给老配偶买一品脱呢？为了好时光？
She turned and wrote on a slip of paper: “The Phoenix Hotel” and “Edith.” And then she signed it: “Ursula.” She said she’d bought this hotel and that Edith was the manager and I could stay for a few days.
她转过身来，在一张纸条上写下：“凤凰酒店 ” 和“伊迪丝”。“然后她签了名：”乌苏拉。“ 她说她买下了这家酒店，伊迪丝是经理，我可以住几天。
I stared at the page. “You bought a hotel?”
我盯着那页。“你买了旅馆？”
“I am going to come see you in three days. You’ve got two days to get sober. If you can’t do that, don’t ever come see me again.”
“我三天后会来看你。你有两天的时间来清醒。如果你做不到，就不要再来找我了。
The Phoenix was the old Bailey Hotel with a new sign and, inside, a new coat of paint. I stood outside for a minute before going in. This manager, Edith, was an older woman, attractive enough, and she looked me up and down and said, simply, “Huh.” She had the desk clerk give me a second-floor room in the men’s wing. It was a single-occupancy bed and bureau, water closet down the hall. Better than I deserved. And all of it covered by Ursula. Best of all, there was a saloon in the basement, a private club Edith had started for men and women to get around the law that they could not consort inside a drinking establishment.
凤凰酒店是旧的贝利酒店，有新的招牌，内部涂上了新的油漆。我在外面站了一分钟才进去。这位经理，伊迪丝，是一位年长的女人，足够有魅力，她上下打量着我，简单地说：“嗯。她让前台服务员给我在男生翼的二楼房间。那是一张单人床和书桌，大厅里有抽水马桶。比我应得的要好。而这一切都由 Ursula 承担。最棒的是，地下室里有个酒吧，这是伊迪丝开办的一家私人俱乐部，男男女女都可以规避他们在饮酒场所不能交往的法律。
Now, if a woman gives me three days to sober up, it generally means I will spend the first two potted, and I did, eating and drinking in that basement saloon—and never once did a bill come, “Thank you, Mr. Dolan,” and “It’s on your account, Mr. Dolan,” and I thought I might live at the Phoenix forever.
现在，如果一个女人给我三天的时间来清醒，通常意味着我会在前两天泡澡，我确实在那个地下室的酒吧里吃喝——从来没有收到过账单，“谢谢你，多兰先生”和“这是你的责任，多兰先生”，我想我可能会永远住在凤凰城。
I figured you would come looking for me, Rye-boy. But there was a good shop job and a boardinghouse for you if I stayed away. And if you flew off with me? What then? Another hobo camp, another saloon, another icebox to pilfer, another cop to roust us from sleep, and in the end, another Dolan gone Drunk.
我以为你会来找我，黑麦男孩。但是如果我不走的话，那里有一份不错的商店工作和一间寄宿公寓。如果你和我一起飞走呢？那又如何呢？又一个流浪汉营地，又一个酒吧，又一个可以偷的冰柜，又一个警察把我们从睡梦中拉出来，最后，又一个喝醉了的多兰。
What cannot be cured cannot be cured. Not by uisce, or by self-pity, or love or family or anything else. I had a good two days of that which could not be cured and woke in full light at the Phoenix. I did not remember getting myself to bed. They had given me a room with a window. One of those cold sharp winter suns was cracking the shades. There was a light rap at the door.
不能治愈的就不能治愈。不是出于自怜，也不是出于爱，也不是出于家庭或其他任何事情。我度过了美好的两天，无法治愈，在凤凰城的阳光下醒来。我不记得自己上床睡觉了。他们给了我一个带窗户的房间。那些寒冷刺耳的冬日阳光之一正在打破阴影。门口传来轻微的敲击声。
“Yes,” I said.
“是的，”我说。
The door opened. It was the hotel manager, Edith, with a fresh set of clothes for me. “Good morning,” she said.
门开了。是酒店经理 Edith 为我准备了一套新衣服。“早上好，”她说。
“If you say so.”
“如果你这么说。”
She set the clothes on the bureau, left, and returned a minute later with a basin of steaming hot water. Then she left and returned with another basin. Then three towels, a bar of soap, a straight razor, and a mug of shaving cream.
她把衣服放在桌子上，走了，一分钟后又拿着一盆热气腾腾的热水回来了。然后她离开了，又带着另一个盆子回来了。然后是三条毛巾、一块肥皂、一把直剃须刀和一杯剃须膏。
“Are you preparing for surgery?” I asked. “Is that the price of this room, a kidney? Because I’ll gladly pay.”
“你准备手术吗？”我问。“那是这个房间的价格吗，一个肾？因为我很乐意付钱。
“You are funny.” Edith turned and considered me. “I must say, I didn’t see it when you first came in here. I just thought, Oh, God, she’s got a weakness for bums.”
“你真有趣。”伊迪丝转过身来，打量着我。“我必须说，你刚来这里的时候我没看到。我只是想， 哦，上帝，她对流浪汉有弱点 。
This stung more than I let on.
这比我所说的更刺痛。
Next, Edith brought in a chair and set it next to the bed. I lay there watching all of this without moving, without a word.
接下来，伊迪丝拿来一把椅子，放在床边。我躺在那里看着这一切，一动不动，一言不发。
Then she left again.
然后她又走了。
And when the door opened this time, it was Ursula who came in.
而这一次，当门打开时，是乌苏拉进来了。
I sat up. “I thought I had three days.”
我坐了起来。“我以为我有三天的时间。”
“Today is the third.”
“今天是第三个。”
“Your math is suspect.”
“你的数学很可疑。”
“You came to see me Saturday night. Today is Monday.”
“你周六晚上来看我。今天是星期一。
“I guess I was thinking of a day as more of a twenty-four-hour period . . . a discrete unit of—”
“我想我当时想的一天更像是 24 小时......一个离散的单位——”
“Should I leave?”
“我应该走吗？”
“No, it’s just, I’m afraid I’m not—”
“不，只是，恐怕我不是——”
“Quiet,” she said. And she laid me back down on the pillow. Then she took one of the towels and pressed it down into the hot water. She wrung it out and then put the towel on my face. It nearly burned at first, then the heat seeped into my teeth. Eye sockets. My thoughts, bones, regrets, all hot and open, and I teared up beneath the hot cloth. Nothing in the world has ever felt as good. When she lifted the cloth away, she had the brush from the shaving mug, and she began putting the cream on my face. She spread it carefully on my cheeks and neck, using the tips of her fingers to clear it from my nose and lips. Then she had me hold the bowl of hot water on my chest and she gently shaved me, the whiskers falling into the bowl. She dipped the razor into the hot water and glided it across my cheeks, the pelt of whiskers falling away. She was a whiz with that straightedge, sure and fast as any barber.
“安静，”她说。然后她把我放回枕头上。然后她拿起一条毛巾，把它压进热水里。她拧干了毛巾，然后把毛巾放在我的脸上。起初它几乎被烧焦，然后热量渗入我的牙齿。眼窝。我的思绪、骨头、遗憾，全都炙热而开放，我在热布泪。世界上没有任何东西比这感觉更好。当她把布掀开时，她从剃须杯里拿出刷子，开始把面霜涂在我的脸上。她小心翼翼地把它涂抹在我的脸颊和脖子上，用指尖把它从我的鼻子和嘴唇上清除出来。然后她让我把一碗热水放在胸前，她轻轻地给我刮胡子，胡须掉进碗里。她把剃须刀浸入热水中，滑过我的脸颊，胡须的毛皮脱落。她是个拿着直刀的天才，跟任何理发师一样果断又快。
I watched her eyes as she shaved me, careful and intent, looking for what she might be thinking, but she seemed as distant as if she were onstage. She shaved nearly up to my eyes and all the way down my neck. When my beard was gone, she used the wet towel again, wiped away the last of the cream.
我看着她的眼睛，她为我刮胡子，小心翼翼，专注地寻找她可能在想什么，但她似乎就像在舞台上一样遥远。她剃得几乎一直刮到我的眼睛，一直刮到我的脖子。当我的胡子掉了，她又用湿毛巾擦掉了最后一滴乳霜。
Then she touched my cheek. She smiled. “There he is.” Next she told me to stand and undress.
然后她摸了摸我的脸颊。她笑了。“他在那儿。”接下来，她让我站起来脱衣服。
“Ursula, I don’t even know if—”
“乌苏拉，我什至不知道是不是——”
“Just be quiet,” she said.
“安静点，”她说。
So I got out of bed and stripped to nothing. I threw my rank long johns in a pile next to my dirty clothes. I stood before her, shaking and ashamed, flaccid, ribs sticking out. I closed my eyes and I kept them that way.
所以我下床，脱光了衣服。我把我的军衔长裤扔成一堆，放在我的脏衣服旁边。我站在她面前，浑身发抖，羞愧不已，松弛不安，肋骨伸出来。我闭上眼睛，保持这种状态。
She was even more careful in the washing of my body, dipping the towels and dabbing under my arms, across my neck, my chest, over the purple and yellow of jail beatings. Ursula used the soap and the water from both basins. I kept my eyes closed and I let myself be washed and rinsed and dried by her. And when she began washing my legs and torso, I felt myself roused.
她在清洗我的身体时更加小心，蘸着毛巾，在我的腋下，在我的脖子上，在我的胸部，在监狱里被殴打的紫色和黄色上。乌苏拉使用了肥皂和两个盆中的水。我闭上眼睛，让她清洗、冲洗和擦干自己。当她开始清洗我的腿和躯干时，我感觉自己被唤醒了。
“There he is,” she said again, and I felt her mouth close around me and I must have made a noise like this was too much, because she put a hand on my stomach to support me and it wasn’t a minute before I was gasping and shuddering, and I let go, doubled over like I’d been kicked. When I straightened up, she went right back to cleaning me like nothing had happened.
“他在那儿，”她又说了一遍，我感觉到她的嘴紧紧地搂着我，我一定发出了这样的声音，好像这太过分了，因为她把手放在我的肚子上支撑着我，没过一分钟，我就喘着粗气，颤抖着，我松开了手，像被踢了一脚一样弯下腰。当我直起身来时，她马上回去给我洗澡，就像什么都没发生过一样。
When she was done, she went out and got one more bowl of warm water. She rinsed me again and patted me dry. She got powder and oil and cream and rubbed these into my arms and chest and hair and face. I watched her walk across the room to the bureau to get the clothes that Edith had brought earlier—her narrow waist and back, her long neck—and when Ursula returned to the bed, I was roused again.
当她吃完后，她出去又拿了一碗温水。她又给我冲洗了一次，然后拍干了我。她拿来粉末、油和乳霜，把这些擦到我的手臂、胸部、头发和脸上。我看着她穿过房间走到办公室去拿伊迪丝早些时候带来的衣服——她窄腰和背部，她的长脖子——当乌苏拉回到床上时，我又被惊醒了。
“There he is.” She whispered it this time, and she let me remove her clothes and we went at each other, soft and hard, slow and frenzied. We played like fancy honeymooners in that flophouse bed.
“他在那儿。”这次她低声说了一句，她让我脱掉她的衣服，我们互相靠近，柔软而坚硬，缓慢而疯狂。我们在那张破牌屋的床上像花哨的蜜月旅行者一样玩。
When we were done, she lay with her head on my chest. We talked quietly, her words buzzing my skin. She said if I managed to put some weight back on and went easy on the drink, she might see me again.
当我们完成后，她躺在我的胸前。我们悄悄地交谈，她的话在我的皮肤上嗡嗡作响。她说如果我设法恢复了一些体重并减轻了饮料的摄入量，她可能会再次看到我。
“I’ll try,” I said. “But maybe . . .”
“我试试，”我说。“但也许 . . .
There was no need to finish that sentence.
没有必要把这句话说完。
I looked around the room. “Is this really your hotel?”
我环顾了一下房间。“这真的是你的酒店吗？”
“A woman owns nothing in this world except her memories,” she said.
“女人在这个世界上除了她的记忆，什么都没有，”她说。
“What’s that mean?” We lay there another moment, breathing each other in. If I could’ve stayed anywhere in the world, it was there. But I couldn’t.
“这是什么意思？”我们又躺在那里一会儿，互相呼吸。如果我能住在世界上的任何地方，那就在那里。但我做不到。
I looked down at the top of her head. “Tell me everything,” I said.
我低头看着她的头顶。“告诉我一切，”我说。
For almost an hour, she talked. Told me where she grew up. How she became an actress. How she fell in love with a grifter. How she met Edith and how she became Ursula the Great. And how, once she’d arrived in Spokane, Lem Brand offered her part of this hotel. Through it all, I just listened.
她谈了将近一个小时。告诉我她在哪里长大。她是如何成为一名演员的。她是如何爱上一个骗子的。她是如何认识伊迪丝的，以及她是如何成为乌苏拉大帝的。以及她一到斯波坎，Lem Brand 就如何为她提供了这家酒店的一部分。在整个过程中，我只是倾听。
When she was done, I asked, “Is that everything?”
当她完成后，我问道：“这就是全部吗？
“No.” She laughed and fell back onto my chest. “It’s never everything, Gig. But it’s probably enough.”
“不。”她笑了起来，又倒在了我的胸口。“这从来都不是一切，吉格。但这可能已经足够了。
The wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.
野性仍然在他心中徘徊，而他体内的狼只是沉睡着了。
—Jack London, White Fang
—Jack London，《白牙》
In the days after Gig left, Rye began to see that he was living in a particular moment in history.
在 Gig 离开后的几天里，Rye 开始看到他生活在历史上的一个特定时刻。
Maybe this was obvious to other people, but it had never occurred to him. It was a strange, unwieldy thought, like opening a book and seeing yourself in its pages. Seemingly unrelated events—meeting Early Reston at the river that day, the free speech riot, Ursula the Great taking him to meet Lem Brand, traveling with Gurley Flynn, smuggling her story out to Seattle, maybe even Gig’s disappearance—these moments seemed linked, like events leading up to a war. And he supposed that was what they were in, a war—this skirmish between the IWW and the city was part of a larger battle fought in a thousand places, between company and labor, between rich and poor, between forces and sides he wasn’t sure he had understood before.
也许这对其他人来说是显而易见的，但他从未想过。这是一个奇怪、笨拙的想法，就像打开一本书，在书页中看到自己。看似无关的事件——那天在河边遇到 Early Reston，言论自由骚乱，乌苏拉大帝带他去见莱姆·布兰德，与格利·弗林一起旅行，将她的故事偷运到西雅图，甚至可能是吉格的失踪——这些时刻似乎是相互关联的，就像导致战争的事件一样。他以为这就是他们所处的，一场战争——IWW 和这座城市之间的这场小规模战斗是一场在一千个地方进行的更大规模战斗的一部分，在公司和劳工之间，在富人和穷人之间，在力量和各方之间，他不确定自己以前是否理解过。
Part of this new perspective came from the fact that Rye was trying to read War and Peace in the evenings at Mrs. Ricci’s house and on his lunch breaks at the machine shop. He’d started the book when he realized that Gig was not coming back, in the hope that it would tell him something about his brother—if not where he’d gone, at least maybe why.
这种新视角的部分原因是，Rye 试图在晚上在 Ricci 夫人家和机械车间的午休时间阅读 《战争与和平 》。当他意识到 Gig 不会回来时，他开始写这本书，希望它能告诉他一些关于他哥哥的事情——如果不是他去了哪里，至少也许是为什么。
Over the next few weeks, he read slowly, five or six pages a day, jotting down words he didn’t know on a small notepad, then looking them up on Saturday afternoons in the big Carnegie Library dictionary. At the shop, the Orlando brothers took little interest in the book he was reading during breaks, but Dominic tried to follow along at least with the basic plot, and he would look over Rye’s shoulder and ask, “What’s happening in your book now?” and Rye would say, “Andrey’s about to leave,” and Dominic would say, “Where’s Napoleon?” and Rye would say, “Still on his way,” and Dominic would answer, “Well, keep me posted,” and go back to his work.
在接下来的几周里，他慢慢阅读，每天五六页，在小记事本上记下他不认识的单词，然后在周六下午在卡内基图书馆的大词典中查找它们。在商店里，奥兰多兄弟对他在休息时读的书没什么兴趣，但多米尼克至少试图跟上基本的情节，他会越过莱伊的肩膀问：“你的书现在发生了什么？”，莱伊会说，“安德烈快要走了”，多米尼克会说， “拿破仑在哪里？”，Rye 会说，“还在路上”，而 Dominic 会回答，“好吧，请通知我”，然后回去做他的工作。
One day Dominic’s wife came in with a rhubarb pie for lunch while Rye was reading in the shop. He looked at the tall, dark-haired woman and she stared back at him, recognition arriving for both of them at the same moment.
有一天，Dominic 的妻子带着一个大黄派进来吃午饭，而 Rye 正在商店里看书。他看着那个高大的黑发女人，她也回头盯着他，他们俩同时认出了自己。
“You were Jules’s friend!” Gemma Tursi said.
“你是朱尔斯的朋友！”“杰玛·图尔西说。
“I’m sorry,” Rye said, feeling again the sorrow of her uncle’s death and the guilt of him and Fred Moore trying to convince her to further the IWW cause.
“我很抱歉，”Rye 说，她再次感受到了她叔叔去世的悲痛，以及他和 Fred Moore 试图说服她推进 IWW 事业的内疚。
“No,” she said, “I should have invited you in for a meal. Jules would’ve liked that.” And now she smiled. “But look. I get to remedy that. Won’t you come for dinner this Sunday?”
“不，”她说，“我应该请你进来吃顿饭的。朱尔斯会喜欢的。现在她笑了。“但是你看。我可以解决这个问题。这个星期天你不来吃晚饭吗？
“Thank you,” Rye said. He was happy for the invitation. Sundays were the hardest days because he didn’t work. Rye would do chores for Mrs. Ricci and then spend most of the day reading War and Peace by the fire, staring out the window and wondering what his brother was doing—maybe sitting around some jungle cook fire, drinking from a communal bottle. He wondered if Gig wished he’d taken War and Peace with him, or if he’d found another book in the big floater library.
“谢谢你，”Rye 说。他对这个邀请感到高兴。星期天是最难熬的日子，因为他不工作。Rye 会为 Ricci 夫人做家务，然后花大部分时间在火炉旁阅读 《战争与和平》， 凝视着窗外，想知道他的兄弟在做什么——也许是围坐在丛林篝火旁，用公共瓶子喝水。他想知道 Gig 是否希望他带着 《 战争与和平 》， 或者他是否在大型漂浮图书馆中找到了另一本书。
Rye wasn’t always sure he understood Tolstoy, but he was surprised at how much he enjoyed reading him, from the first moments of Anna Pavlovna’s soiree to meeting the beautiful Natasha and the dashing Prince Andrey and the thoughtful Pierre. He liked picturing the fancy clothing and fabulous mansions and grand palaces, larger even than Lem Brand’s big house (When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only ran as far as the conservatory). He tried to imagine a house so big you got tired running from one room to the next. The language seemed musical, and he found himself humming sentences like songs (The coach with six horses stood at the steps. The coach with six horses stood at the steps . . . ).
莱伊并不总是确定自己是否理解托尔斯泰，但他惊讶地发现他如此喜欢阅读托尔斯泰，从安娜·巴甫洛夫娜 （Anna Pavlovna） 晚会的第一刻到见到美丽的娜塔莎 （Natasha） 和潇洒的安德烈王子 （Prince Andrey） 以及体贴的皮埃尔 （Pierre）。他喜欢想象华丽的服装、华丽的豪宅和宏伟的宫殿，甚至比莱姆·布兰德的大房子还要大（ 当娜塔莎跑出客厅时，她只跑到温室 ）。 他试图想象一个如此大的房子，以至于从一个房间跑到另一个房间都会很累。这种语言似乎很悦耳，他发现自己像歌曲一样哼唱着句子（ 那辆驮着六匹马的马车站在台阶上。那辆载着六匹马的马车站在台阶上...... ）。
And the deeper he got into the story, the more he began to imagine his own life as part of an epic story. It was the thing he felt the count got right, the comings and goings of all of these characters, in and out of each other’s lives, as if Tolstoy were able to re-create the breadth of life as well as its depth.
他对故事的了解越深入，他就越开始将自己的生活想象成一个史诗故事的一部分。他觉得伯爵做对了，所有这些人物的来来去去，在彼此的生活中进进出出，仿佛托尔斯泰能够重现生活的广度和深度。
Sometimes, late at night, the count’s words swirled around with Rye’s own thoughts, and descriptions of characters became descriptions of Rye and his brother, as if some tramp Tolstoy had created them (Prince Andrey possessed in the highest degree just that combination of qualities in which Pierre was deficient . . . ), and it was in one of these swirling late-night thoughts (At moments of starting off and beginning a different life, persons given to deliberating on their actions are usually apt to be in a serious frame of mind) that Rye came to the conclusion that, instead of merely waiting for Gig to come back, he had to do something
有时，在深夜，伯爵的话语与莱伊自己的思想交织在一起，对人物的描述变成了对莱伊和他兄弟的描述，仿佛是某个流浪汉托尔斯泰创造了他们（安德烈王子在最高程度上拥有皮埃尔所缺乏的那种品质的组合......），而正是在这些漩涡般的深夜思想中（在开始和开始不同生活的时刻， 那些被用来深思熟虑自己行为的人通常很容易处于严肃的心态中），Rye 得出的结论是，他不仅要等待 Gig 回来，而且必须做点什么.
That Sunday, he had dinner with Dominic and Gemma and their two shy daughters. After talking about Jules, and remembering the stories he always told, Mrs. Tursi had asked about Rye’s family.
那个星期天，他与 Dominic 和 Gemma 以及他们的两个害羞的女儿共进晚餐。在谈到了 Jules，并记住了他经常讲的故事之后，Tursi 夫人询问了 Rye 的家庭。
Rye explained that they were all gone except his brother, whom he’d tramped around with the last two years but who had recently lit out on his own.
Rye 解释说，除了他的哥哥之外，他们都走了，他过去两年和他一起四处游荡，但最近他自己出去了。
“And no idea where he might have gone?” Mrs. Tursi asked.
“不知道他去了哪里？”图尔西夫人问道。
“No,” Rye said.
“不，”Rye 说。
But then he realized he did have one idea.
但后来他意识到他确实有一个想法。
And the next day, after work, he took the streetcar downtown and walked to the Comique Theater.
第二天，下班后，他乘坐市中心的有轨电车步行前往 Comique 剧院。
Rye stood beneath the dark marquee: HELD OVER—THIRD FABULOUS MONTH—URSULA THE GREAT.
黑麦站在黑暗的帐篷下： 被搁置——第三个美妙的月份——乌苏拉大帝。
The show ran Tuesday through Saturday nights, meaning Monday was her day off. The theater doors were closed and locked, but Rye walked around to the side door, which was propped open with a garbage can. The big security guard was nowhere to be found, but when Rye looked inside, a janitor was in the dark hallway, emptying smaller trash cans into the big one.
该节目从周二到周六晚上举行，这意味着周一是她的休息日。剧院的门是关着的，锁着的，但 Rye 走到侧门，侧门被垃圾桶撑开着。那个高大的保安无处可寻，但当 Rye 向里面看时，一个看门人正在黑暗的走廊里，把小垃圾桶倒进大垃圾桶里。
“I’m looking for Ursula the Great,” Rye said.
“我在找乌苏拉大帝，”莱伊说。
“No show on Monday,” the janitor said without looking up.
“周一没有出现，”看门人头也不抬地说。
“I was wondering if you know where she’s staying?”
“我在想你是否知道她住在哪里？”
“I know it ain’t this broom closet.”
“我知道那不是这个扫帚柜。”
“It’s just . . . I think my brother might be with her.”
“这只是 . . .我想我哥哥可能会和她在一起。
The janitor looked back. He was sixty or so, bald with drooping brown eyes. “Oh yeah, I saw him. Few weeks back. Looked like a big drunk you.” He straightened up. “Tall raggedy bum, pissed as a fish in gin. Our doorman was about to kill him when Ursula came and took him back to her dressing room, I think to sober him up.”
看门人回头看了一眼。他六十岁左右，秃顶，棕色的眼睛下垂。“哦，是的，我看到了他。几周前。看起来像个喝得酩酊大醉的你。他直起身来。“高大破烂的流浪汉，像杜松子酒里的鱼一样生气。我们的门卫正要杀了他，这时乌苏拉来了，把他带回了她的更衣室，我想是为了让他清醒一下。
“Do you know where they might have gone after that?”
“你知道他们之后可能去了哪里吗？”
“Maybe she fed him to the cougar?”
“也许她把他喂给了美洲狮？”
“Please,” Rye said. “I need to find him.”
“拜托，”Rye 说。“我需要找到他。”
The janitor looked him up and down. He chewed on his cheek and sighed. “She stays over the Savoy.”
看门人上下打量了他一番。他咬了咬自己的脸颊，叹了口气。“她住在萨沃伊河上。”
It was only a couple of blocks away, a nice hotel above the Inland Bar. Rye asked at the front desk for Ursula the Great. The clerk didn’t even pretend to look in his book. “Nobody under that name.”
离这里只有几个街区的路程，是内陆酒吧（Inland Bar）上方的一家不错的酒店。莱伊在前台询问乌苏拉大帝（Ursula the Great）。店员甚至没有假装看他的书。“没有人用那个名字。”
“I don’t know her real name,” Rye said.
“我不知道她的真名，”Rye 说。
“You’re looking for Ursula?”
“你在找乌苏拉？”
Rye turned. The woman in front of him was older than Ursula, maybe fifty, dressed in a black coat over a red dress and a yellow and red scarf tied around her head, a shock of gray hair visible in the front.
Rye 转过身来。他面前的女人比乌苏拉年长，大概五十岁左右，穿着黑色外套，外面套着红色的连衣裙，头上系着一条黄红相间的围巾，前面可以看到一头灰白的头发。
“I’m Edith,” the woman said. “I was just bringing Ursula some soup.”
“我是伊迪丝，”女人说。“我只是给乌苏拉带了一些汤。”
“Could you tell her Ryan Dolan is here?”
“你能告诉她 Ryan Dolan 在这里吗？”
She smiled. “Of course.”
她笑了。“当然。”
A few minutes later, the woman returned with Ursula the Great, in a long mustard-colored coat and a fine feathered-and-bowed hat, dressed in the dead of winter as if she had just come back from a picnic. She reached out and took his hand. “Ryan. How are you?”
几分钟后，那个女人和乌苏拉大帝一起回来了，她穿着一件芥末色的长外套，戴着一顶精美的羽毛和蝴蝶结帽，穿着严冬的衣服，就像她刚野餐回来一样。她伸出手握住了他的手。“瑞恩。你好吗？
“I’m fine. I’ve been looking for Gig.”
“我很好。我一直在找 Gig。
“I haven’t seen him in . . .” Ursula looked at Edith.
“我没见过他......”乌苏拉看着伊迪丝。
“Three weeks?” Edith suggested.
“三周？”伊迪丝提议道。
“Yes, thank you, Ursula.” And with that, Ursula turned back to Rye. “He came to see me one night. He was quite . . .”
“是的，谢谢你，乌苏拉。”说完，乌苏拉又转向莱伊。“有一天晚上他来看我。他很 . . .
Edith helped again. “Skimished.”
伊迪丝又帮了忙。“略过。”
“Yes. I put him up at my hotel for a couple of nights.”
“是的。我把他在我的酒店住了几个晚上。
Rye was confused, not least by Ursula calling this other woman Ursula. “Your hotel?”
Rye 感到困惑，尤其是 Ursula 称另一个女人为 Ursula。“你的酒店？”
“The old Bailey Hotel. Edith here manages it for me.”
“老贝利酒店。伊迪丝在这里帮我管理。
Rye remembered the Bailey as one of the worst flops in town, a five-dollar-a-month SRO and a row of whore cribs on the second floor.
Rye 记得 Bailey 是镇上最糟糕的失败者之一，一个每月 5 美元的 SRO 和二楼的一排妓女婴儿床。
“Gig stayed there a couple of nights, maybe three?” She looked back at Edith, who nodded. “But I haven’t seen him since then, Ryan.”
“Gig 在那里住了几个晚上，也许三个？”她回头看向伊迪丝，伊迪丝点了点头。“但从那以后我就没见过他了，Ryan。”
“Do you know where he went?”
“你知道他去了哪里吗？”
“He just said he wanted to get back out on the road.”
“他只是说他想重新上路。”
“Without me.”
“没有我。”
Ursula looked at Edith again and then back to Rye. “He doesn’t want to ruin the life you’ve made for yourself. He’s proud of you.”
乌苏拉又看了看伊迪丝，然后又看向莱伊。“他不想毁了你为自己创造的生活。他为你感到骄傲。
Rye scoffed.
Rye 嘲笑道。
“Ryan,” she said, “your brother has always felt a great deal of responsibility for you. It was difficult having to take care of you after your parents died.”
“瑞安，”她说，“你哥哥一直觉得对你有很大的责任。在你父母去世后，不得不照顾你是很困难的。
“Take care of me?” Rye’s face flushed. “He ran off! I pulled him out of bars and cleaned him up. I take care of him!”
“照顾我 ？”Rye 的脸涨得通红。“他跑掉了！我把他从铁栅栏里拉出来，给他清理干净。我照顾他 ！
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Ursula said calmly. “And you’re right. You do take care of him. Imagine for a moment how much worse that is for him.”
“对不起，瑞安，”乌苏拉平静地说。“你说得对。你确实会照顾他。想象一下这对他来说有多糟糕。
Rye’s chin fell to his chest. She was right. He didn’t want to go back out on the skid. And he knew Gig couldn’t stay away from it. Rye wondered if loving another person was a trap—that eventually you had to either lose them or lose yourself.
Rye 的下巴落在胸前。她说得对。他不想再回到滑行中去了。他知道 Gig 无法置身事外。Rye 想知道爱另一个人是否是一个陷阱——最终你不得不要么失去他们，要么失去自己。
He cleared his throat and looked up. There was nothing else to say. “Thanks.”
他清了清嗓子，抬起头来。没什么可说的了。“谢谢。”
He turned to leave, and was a few steps down the hall when Ursula called after him.
他转身离开，就在走廊上走了几步时，乌苏拉在他身后喊道。
He turned back. She looked pained. This wasn’t the Ursula who had squeezed his arm and taken him to see Lem Brand. He couldn’t place the look on her face.
他转过身来。她看起来很痛苦。这不是那个捏着他的胳膊带他去见莱姆·布兰德的乌苏拉。他无法将这种表情放在她的脸上。
“It’s easy to be disappointed in people,” she said, “but we do our best. And maybe what a person is and what they do—is not always the same.”
“人们很容易对人感到失望，”她说，“但我们会尽力而为。也许一个人是什么 和他们做什么 ——并不总是一样的。
“Yeah,” he said. “But maybe it is.”
“是的，”他说。“但也许是这样。”
The newspapers were filled with the upcoming trial of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn and her explosive allegations against the city. Each day after work, Rye brought home copies of the Press, the Chronicle, and the Spokesman-Review, sat by Mrs. Ricci’s fire, and followed the latest developments. At the shop, Dominic would see Rye grab the newspaper and ask, “How’s your girl doing today, Ryan?” On Sundays, Rye would tell Dominic and Gemma stories about what Gurley had done on the road, talking them out of trouble in Taft and telling an angry priest that, “um, female parts” should be emancipated.
报纸上充斥着即将对伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 的审判以及她对这座城市的爆炸性指控。每天下班后，Rye 都会把 Press、The Chronicle 和 Spokesman-Review 带回家 ，坐在 Ricci 夫人的火炉旁，关注最新的发展。在商店里，多米尼克会看到莱伊拿起报纸问道：“瑞安，你的女孩今天怎么样？星期天，Rye 会给 Dominic 和 Gemma 讲 Gurley 在路上所做的事情，劝他们摆脱在塔夫脱的麻烦，并告诉愤怒的牧师，“嗯，女性部分”应该解放。
Her case had become the biggest story in the west after her exposé was published by the Agitator and in a special edition of the Industrial Worker, distributed in western Washington and over the border in Idaho. The story, in turn, was picked up by progressive newspapers, and then by mainstream papers all over the country, which hinted at her “bestial and barbaric accusations.”
她的案件在《 煽动者》（Agitator）杂志和《 产业工人》（Industrial Worker）的特别版上发表后，成为西方最大的新闻 ，在华盛顿西部和爱达荷州边境发行。反过来，这个故事被进步报纸报道，然后被全国各地的主流报纸报道，暗示了她“野蛮和野蛮的指控”。
Still, within weeks of her arrest, the whole country knew that a pregnant nineteen-year-old labor agitator was accusing Spokane police and jailers of misusing women, extorting madams, pimps, and saloon owners, and then, if they didn’t pay the cops, jailing prostitutes and making them “work off” their fines.
尽管如此，在她被捕后的几周内，整个国家都知道一个怀孕的 19 岁劳工煽动者正在指控斯波坎警察和狱卒虐待妇女，勒索女士、皮条客和酒吧老板，然后，如果他们不付钱给警察，就会把关进监狱，让她们“用钱”支付罚款。
Chief Sullivan insisted that her charges were “scurrilous lies” and that there “has never been a single complaint” filed against the women’s jail. And when the Press unearthed two earlier complaints similar to Gurley’s, Sullivan said those were scurrilous lies, too. When the Chronicle followed up with a story that, for two years, Sullivan had resisted appointing a jail matron, and that he’d rejected women’s groups who had offered volunteers to do the job, the mayor said he had no alternative but to promise a thorough investigation.
沙利文局长坚称，她的指控是“卑鄙的谎言”，而且“从未有过任何投诉”针对女子监狱。当媒体发现早些时候的两项与格利类似的投诉时，沙利文说，这些也是卑鄙的谎言。当 《纪事报 》 跟进报道称，两年来，沙利文一直拒绝任命一名监狱长，并且他拒绝了提供志愿者从事这项工作的妇女团体时，市长表示，他别无选择，只能承诺进行彻底调查。
Gurley’s corruption story also began to shift the city’s sympathies. Religious groups and temperance reformers picketed the courthouse, demanding action. They showed up, too, at the home where Gurley Flynn was under house arrest, and with the police unsure what to do, she came out and gave an impromptu rally from her front porch. By early February, as her trial was opening, both the Spokane Garden Society and the Spokane Women’s Club had offered to testify on her behalf, saying that they’d found nothing untoward in her message.
格利的腐败故事也开始改变这座城市的同情心。宗教团体和节制改革者在法院前纠察，要求采取行动。他们也出现在格利·弗林被软禁的家中，当警察不确定该怎么办时，她走出来，在自家前廊上即兴举行了集会。到 2 月初，当她的审判开始时，斯波坎花园协会和斯波坎妇女俱乐部都提出代表她作证，称他们在她的信息中没有发现任何不妥之处。
When the trial started, reporters, portraitists, and photographers came from as far away as New York and Washington, D.C., to do drawings and hand-colored photos of her striking, youthful face and her hood of black hair—this pretty young martyr fighting alone against an entire corrupt Old West town. They drew her from the shoulders up, tastefully, as she had entered her eighth month of pregnancy.
审判开始时，记者、肖像画家和摄影师从遥远的纽约和华盛顿特区赶来，为她引人注目的年轻面孔和她的黑发兜帽进行绘画和手绘彩色照片——这位漂亮的年轻烈士独自与整个腐败的旧西部小镇作战。他们从肩膀上拉起她，很有品味，因为她已经怀孕第八个月了。
As the story spread throughout the country, Spokane’s boosters complained in letters to the editor that the city’s reputation was suffering, that Spokane was in danger of becoming known as a backwoods outpost where the police traded in vice and harassed young women who objected. Prominent businessmen suggested replacing Acting Chief Sullivan and launching a full review of police practices.
随着这个故事传遍全国，斯波坎的支持者在给编辑的信中抱怨说，这座城市的声誉受到了损害，斯波坎有可能被称为一个偏僻的前哨，警察在那里交易恶习并骚扰反对的年轻女性。知名商人建议撤换代理局长沙利文，并启动对警察做法的全面审查。
What was bad for the city was good for the IWW, and it attracted new volunteers and donations, although, because the union had been banned in Spokane, new members were routed to the closest IWW office, thirty-five miles over the border in Coeur d’Alene. Emboldened, Gurley announced that the next Free Speech Day in Spokane would be March 15, no matter the outcome of her trial or her pregnancy. “If I’m in jail, I will exercise my right to speak there, and I will listen at the bars for the cries of freedom coming from the streets outside.”
对城市不利的事情对 IWW 有利，它吸引了新的志愿者和捐款，尽管由于工会在斯波坎被禁止，新成员被路由到最近的 IWW 办公室，该办公室位于科达伦边境 35 英里处。格利大胆地宣布，斯波坎的下一个言论自由日将是 3 月 15 日，无论她的审判结果如何或她怀孕了。“如果我在监狱里，我会在那里行使我的权利，我会在酒吧里倾听外面街道上传来的自由呼声。”
Hobos even began venturing back to town, the Press running a story about two floaters from the Taft, Montana, labor camp who had walked all the way to Spokane to donate sixty dollars they’d raised for Gurley Flynn’s defense.
流浪汉甚至开始冒险回到镇上， 新闻社刊登了一篇关于蒙大拿州塔夫脱劳动营的两名漂浮物的故事，他们千里迢迢来到斯波坎，捐出他们为格利·弗林辩护筹集的 60 美元。
All of this made the conspiracy trial of Elizabeth G. F. Jones and Charles L. Filigno the biggest spectacle in the west. By the time she took the stand to testify on her own behalf, in late February, Gurley was startlingly pregnant, her lawyer helping support her as she rose in the courtroom. She made the most of her two days on the stand, delivering lectures to simple yes-no questions like “Where were you born?”
所有这一切使伊丽莎白·琼斯（Elizabeth G. F. Jones）和查尔斯·菲利尼奥（Charles L. Filigno）的阴谋审判成为西方最大的奇观。当她在 2 月下旬出庭作证时，格利已经怀孕了，她的律师在她站起来时帮助支持她。她充分利用了在证人席上的两天时间，对简单的是不是问题进行了演讲，例如“你在哪里出生？
“All of my life, from my early childhood in New York and near Boston, where my father worked, to my more recent travels in the glorious west, I have seen my people, my family and my class, suffer under the inequalities of a system that produces paupers at one extreme and multimillionaires at the other, and nothing in the middle but space. That’s why I am in this work.”
“在我的一生中，从我在纽约和我父亲工作的波士顿附近的童年，到我最近在光荣的西部旅行，我看到我的人民、我的家庭和我的阶级在一个极端产生乞丐、另一个极端产生千万富翁的制度的不平等下受苦，中间除了空间之外什么都没有。这就是我从事这项工作的原因。
The judge interrupted her speeches and argued with her and on the second day demanded, “What makes you think you can say whatever you want about anyone?”
法官打断了她的发言，与她争论，并在第二天质问道：“是什么让你觉得你可以对任何人说任何你想说的话？
She gave her shortest answer yet: “The Bill of Rights, sir.”
她给出了她迄今为止最短的回答：“权利法案，先生。
Someone applauded, and the judge rapped his gavel and asked where had she gotten the law degree that allowed her to do his job, interpreting the legal application of constitutional amendments, and Gurley responded not to him but to the jury and the courtroom: “They are written in plain English, anyone can understand them. They were written not for lawyers but for the people.”
有人鼓掌，法官敲响他的木槌，问她从哪里获得的法律学位，让她能够做他的工作，解释宪法修正案的法律适用，格利不是回答他，而是回答陪审团和法庭：“它们是用通俗易懂的英语写的，任何人都可以理解。它们不是为律师写的，而是为人民写的。
The prosecutor, Pugh, worked hard to remind the jury that the IWW was made up not of young, charming Elizabeth Gurley Flynns but of suspicious foreigners like Charlie Filigno. Soon Pugh was stretching out Filigno’s name to four syllables in every question he asked: “On January eleventh, Mrs. Jones, did you and Mr. Fil-ig-i-no send this telegraph to the Butte office of the WFM?” and “Does this article accurately reflect the radical views of Mr. Fil-ig-i-no and yourself?”
检察官皮尤努力提醒陪审团，IWW 不是由年轻迷人的伊丽莎白·格利·弗林斯 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynns） 组成的，而是由查理·菲利尼奥 （Charlie Filigno） 等可疑的外国人组成的。很快，皮尤在他提出的每一个问题中都把菲利尼奥的名字伸成四个音节：“琼斯夫人，1 月 11 日，您和 Fil-ig-i-no 先生有没有把这封电报送到 WFM 的比尤特办公室？”以及“这篇文章是否准确地反映了 Fil-ig-i-no 先生和您的激进观点？
“Well, you should ask Charlie his views,” she said, “but if calling for fairness and justice is radical, then I am about the radicalest woman in the world.”
“嗯，你应该问问查理他的看法，”她说，“但如果呼吁公平和正义是激进的，那么我就是世界上最激进的女性。
Pugh tried everything to shake the witness, one day asking if her husband was in the courtroom, and when she began to answer, “No—” he interrupted with “And what do you suppose Mr. Jones thinks of his wife traveling to labor camps and mining towns in the company of such unsavory men?”
皮尤想尽一切办法来震撼证人，有一天她问她的丈夫是否在法庭上，当她开始回答时，“没有——”他打断道，“你觉得琼斯先生怎么看他的妻子和这些令人讨厌的男人一起去劳动营和采矿城镇？
“Well, I don’t know,” she said, “but if he doesn’t like it, I doubt he’d like it any better if I traveled with savory men such as yourself.” Over the laughter, Pugh asked if her husband would find it so humorous, “you summoning every foreign scoundrel and savage to Spokane to harass our poor citizenry.”
“嗯，我不知道，”她说，“但如果他不喜欢 ，我怀疑如果我和像你这样的好男人一起旅行，他会不会更喜欢 。在笑声中，皮尤问她的丈夫会不会觉得这很幽默，“你把所有外国流氓和野蛮人都叫到斯波坎来骚扰我们可怜的公民。
Gurley didn’t answer right away. “I guess I’m wondering how you arrived at this theory that I can summon men from all over the world yet can’t seem to convince my own husband to catch a train and come here?”
格利没有立即回答。“我想我在想你是怎么得出这个理论的，我可以从世界各地召唤男人，但似乎无法说服我自己的丈夫赶火车来这里？”
Pugh was more effective cross-examining grim Charlie Filigno, mostly by asking forty different ways where Filigno was from. “Sicily,” he’d answer each time. “And your country of origin, then, Mr. Fil-ig-i-no?” “Sicily.” “So you arrived here in 1906 from—” “Sicily.” Pugh asked long, involved questions meant to confuse the union secretary and expose his weak command of English. “Are there not, in fact, criminal elements of the Industrial Workers of the World in this very city who have resorted to violence, beating up police officers, threatening public figures, committing untold numbers of crimes to further the cause of your radical agenda—in fact, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Filigno, that as secretary of the Spokane IWW, that despite your union’s repeated claims of nonviolence, you personally have done nothing to deter these individuals and, in fact, have expressed only the utmost respect and sympathy for your vile compatriots and countrymen?”
皮尤对冷酷的查理·菲利尼奥（Charlie Filigno）的盘问更有效，主要是通过询问四十种不同的方式来询问菲利尼奥来自哪里。“西西里岛，”他每次都会回答。“那么，Fil-ig-i-no 先生，你的原籍国呢？”“西西里岛。”“所以你是 1906 年从——”“西西里岛的。”皮尤提出了很长的问题，旨在迷惑工会秘书，暴露他的英语水平低下。“事实上，在这个城市里，世界产业工人的犯罪分子不是吗，他们诉诸暴力，殴打警察，威胁公众人物，犯下无数罪行，以推进您的激进议程——事实上，菲利尼奥先生，您不是说，作为斯波坎 IWW 的秘书， 尽管你们的工会一再声称非暴力，但你们个人并没有采取任何措施来阻止这些人，事实上，你们只对你们卑鄙的同胞和同胞表达了最大的尊重和同情？
Fred Moore rose in objection: “Your Honor, if the prosecutor is done testifying, perhaps he could ask a question.” While Moore’s objections were never sustained, Pugh agreed to rephrase that particular question: “Remind this court again where you are from, Mr. Fil-ig-i-no.”
弗雷德·摩尔站起来反对道：“法官阁下，如果检察官作证完毕，也许他可以提出一个问题。虽然摩尔的反对意见从未得到支持，但皮尤同意改写这个特定问题：“再次提醒本法院你来自哪里，Fil-ig-i-no 先生。
Rye followed the trial in the city’s dailies, his view of who was winning depending on which paper he’d just read, as if each were covering only one boxer in a match, the establishment Chronicle and Spokesman-Review cheering the hits that Pugh got in, the labor Press making it seem that Fred Moore and Gurley Flynn were mopping the floor with him. Still, Rye became increasingly nervous as the trial wore on, as countless union flyers, newspapers, and telegrams were entered as evidence that Gurley Flynn and Filigno were trying to cause a riot in the city. In an editorial, the Spokesman-Review vaguely referred to her pregnancy by noting that jurors are “clearly scandalized by this brash woman wearing the bustle wrong” and that the city, “having achieved eighteen straight convictions against union leadership, appears headed for nos. nineteen and twenty.”
莱伊在这座城市的日报上关注审判，他对谁赢的看法取决于他刚刚读过的哪家报纸，就好像每家报纸都只报道了一场比赛中的一名拳击手，建制派的 《纪事报》（Chronicle） 和 《发言人评论》（Spokesman-Review）为皮尤的热门报道欢呼，劳工媒体让弗雷德·摩尔（Fred Moore）和格利·弗林（Gurley Flynn）看起来似乎在和他一起拖地。尽管如此，随着审判的进行，Rye 变得越来越紧张，因为无数的工会传单、报纸和电报被输入作为 Gurley Flynn 和 Filigno 试图在该市引起骚乱的证据。在一篇社论中，《 发言人评论》（Spokesman-Review） 含糊地提到了她的怀孕，指出陪审员们“显然对这个傲慢的女人穿错了衣服感到震惊”，而且这座城市“已经连续 18 次被定罪反对工会领导层，似乎正走向否决。十九岁和二十岁。
Finally, on a Friday in late February, both sides rested, and the judge announced that on Monday, the case would go to the jury.
最后，在 2 月下旬的一个星期五，双方都休息了，法官宣布周一，案件将交由陪审团审理。
As Joe closed up the machine shop that Saturday, Rye nervously asked if he might have Monday off to go down to the courthouse to be there for the verdict. By then, the whole shop knew Rye had been involved in the Wobbly riot back in November, and while Dom and Paul were union machinists and expressed support, Joe was uneasy about having hired a kid from an outfit as rough as the IWW.
当乔在那个星期六关门时，莱伊紧张地问他是否可以在周一休息去法院听判决。那时，全店都知道 Rye 参与了 11 月的 Wobbly 骚乱，虽然 Dom 和 Paul 是工会机械师并表示支持，但 Joe 对从 IWW 这样粗暴的组织中雇用了一个孩子感到不安。
“The goob only had eight fingers, but at least I never had to worry that he’d dynamite the place,” Joe said.
“那个傻瓜只有八根手指，但至少我从来不用担心他会炸毁这个地方，”乔说。
“I would never do something like that,” Rye said. “And anyway, Wobblies don’t dynamite things. That’s more the anarchists you’re thinking of, Joe.”
“我永远不会做这样的事情，”Rye 说。“无论如何，Wobblies 不会炸药。那更像是你在想的无政府主义者，乔。
“You aren’t one of them, are you?”
“你不是他们中的一员，对吧？”
“No, Joe!” Rye said. “I don’t know what I am.” He thought of his brother and of Early Reston, out there somewhere. “Except the shop boy at North Hill Fittings and Machine.”
“不，乔！”Rye 说。“我不知道我是什么。”他想起了他的兄弟和早期的雷斯顿，在外面的某个地方。“除了 North Hill Fittings and Machine 的店员。”
Paul and Dominic watched from behind the counter. Finally, Joe said, “Well, you can’t wear that to court.”
保罗和多米尼克在柜台后面看着。最后，乔说：“嗯，你不能戴着它去法庭。
Rye looked down at his worn work shirt and dungarees. That afternoon he took the streetcar downtown to look for a new shirt. He was in an unprecedented position in regard to money. With Gig gone, and Marco insisting that their six-dollar down payment on the orchard be applied to room and board, Rye was paid up at the boardinghouse until May. Mrs. Ricci had even let him move inside to the warmer first-floor bedroom. Since he was earning nearly ten dollars a week at the machine shop, and Mrs. Ricci provided his breakfasts and dinners, and Gemma Tursi sent his lunches to work with Dominic, Rye had money for the first time in his life. He’d even opened a bank account.
Rye 低头看着他破旧的工作衬衫和工装裤。那天下午，他乘坐有轨电车去市中心寻找一件新衬衫。他在金钱方面处于前所未有的地位。随着 Gig 的离开，Marco 坚持要用他们在果园的 6 美元首付来支付食宿，Rye 在寄宿公寓里一直付到 5 月。Ricci 太太甚至让他搬到更温暖的一楼卧室。由于他在机械车间每周赚近十美元，里奇夫人为他提供早餐和晚餐，杰玛·图尔西将他的午餐送给多米尼克上班，莱伊有生以来第一次有钱。他甚至开了一个银行账户。
He stood on the corner of Post and Riverside, hands in his pockets, staring into the window at Murgittroyd’s. The all-everything drugstore had a single row of stiff, boxy suit coats in between the pocket watches and fishing boots. A white $4 sign was pinned to the first jacket. A streetcar rattled past, and Rye left the window to walk down to the Crescent. He looked in that window at a rack of $13 sack-coat suits, gray, with a fine crosshatching of blue thread. A card on the floor of the window display read: THE HOME OF DIGNIFIED CREDIT. Had any phrase ever sounded better than dignified credit? Still, more than a week’s salary for something he might wear once? He glanced up the street and kept moving, eventually finding himself back on Sprague, at the window of Bradley and Graham’s, the corner shop where he’d bought his fancy gloves. He stared through the glass at swaths of fabric and pieces of vests and pants, a coat with tails that didn’t have a price on it. These suits weren’t even built yet. What would they cost? Fifty dollars? A hundred? The levels between people.
他站在波斯特街和河滨街的拐角处，双手插在口袋里，盯着窗外的穆吉特罗伊德家。这家万能药店在怀表和钓鱼靴之间有一排僵硬、四四方方的西装外套。第一件夹克上别着一个白色的 4 美元标志。一辆有轨电车嘎嘎作响地驶过，Rye 离开窗户，向 Crescent 走去。他从窗户里望着一架 13 美元的麻布大衣西装，灰色的，有一条细细的蓝色交叉线。橱窗展示地板上的一张卡片上写着：THE HOME OF DIGNIFIED CREDIT。 有没有哪句话听起来比庄重的信用更好 ？不过，他可能只穿一次的东西就够一个星期的薪水吗？他抬头看了一眼街道，继续前进，最终发现自己回到了斯普拉格，在布拉德利和格雷厄姆的橱窗前，那家街角的商店是他买了一双花哨的手套。他透过玻璃盯着大片的布料和背心和裤子，一件没有价钱的尾巴外套。这些套装甚至还没有制造出来。他们要花多少钱？五十美元？100 个？人与人之间的层次。
“Well, hello there. Ryan, was it?”
“嗯，你好。Ryan，是吗？
Rye turned and saw the old salesman who had helped him. He was putting his hat on as he came out of the shop.
Rye 转过身来，看到了帮助他的老推销员。他从商店出来时戴着帽子。
“Sorry,” Rye said, “I was just looking.” He started to move along.
“对不起，”Rye 说，“我只是在看。他开始向前走。
“It’s all right,” the salesman said. “How are those gloves holding up?”
“没关系，”推销员说。“那些手套怎么样了？”
Rye looked down at his bare hands. He’d left the gloves at home. “Fine.”
Rye 低头看着他赤裸的双手。他把手套留在家里了。“好吧。”
“What are you looking for now?”
“你现在在找什么？”
“Nothing,” Rye said, then added quickly, “I wanted a new shirt, but then I started looking at suits.”
“没什么，”Rye 说，然后很快补充道，“我想要一件新衬衫，但后来我开始考虑西装。
“A suit! Well, yes!” He looked Rye up and down. “Every young man should own a suit.” He gestured to his store. “But honestly, you shouldn’t go here for that. Enough I sold you those gloves. We can get you a nice suit for much less.”
“西装！嗯，是的！他上下打量着 Rye。“每个年轻人都应该拥有一套西装。”他指了指自己的商店。“但老实说，你不应该为了那个而去这里。够了，我把那些手套卖给你了。我们可以花更少的钱给你买一套漂亮的西装。
The man’s name was Chester, and he talked the whole time as they walked down Sprague. “Normally, I’d suggest having a bespoke coat made, something distinctive yet classic, and build the components around it. But you’re a young man, thin and active, your body’s still growing. I think we can find something on the rack for much less. I’m thinking high neck, shorter lapels, to display your height. I’d go narrower than a morning coat. Single-breasted vest. A tailor will try to talk you into better wool, but it’s a working suit, for God’s sake, we don’t need to strangle a merino lamb for you to look swell on the streetcar!”
这个人名叫切斯特，他们走在斯普拉格上时，他一直在说话。“通常，我会建议制作一件定制外套，独特而经典，并围绕它构建组件。但你是一个年轻人，瘦弱而活跃，你的身体还在成长。我认为我们可以花更少的钱在货架上找到一些东西。我想用高领、短翻领来展示你的身高。我宁愿穿得比晨间外套还窄。单排扣背心。裁缝会试着劝你买更好的羊毛，但这是一套工作服，看在上帝的份上，我们不需要掐死一只美利奴羊羔，让你在有轨电车上看起来膨胀！
They went to a midlevel men’s clothier called Burks and Feyn where Chester knew the salesman. “Kid’s had a rough go, Dale,” he said. “Give him your discount.”
他们去了一家名叫 Burks and Feyn 的中级男装店，Chester 在那里认识这位推销员。“孩子过得很艰难，戴尔，”他说。“给他打折。”
“Give him your discount!” Dale said.
“给他打折！”戴尔说。
“Come on! I’ll owe you. I know you have something good back there.”
“来吧！我欠你的。我知道你那里有好东西。
Finally, the salesman sighed, measured Rye’s arms and chest, and emerged with five coats. The salesman and Chester talked about them, Rye trying to follow. Even the words sounded rich to Rye—the Regent, the Winston? Worsted? Tweed? Herringbone or houndstooth? Berrycorn or birdseye? Rye found it dizzying, embarrassed by how much he liked all of it. He nodded. He blushed. He listened.
最后，售货员叹了口气，量了量 Rye 的手臂和胸部，然后穿着五件外套出来。推销员和 Chester 谈论了他们，Rye 试图跟上。就连这些词对 Rye 来说听起来也很丰富—— 摄政王 ， 温斯顿 ？绒线？粗花呢？人字形还是千鸟格？Berrycorn 还是 birdseye？Rye 觉得这令人头晕目眩，因为他如此喜欢这一切而感到尴尬。他点点头。他脸红了。他听着。
“Okay.” Chester was in Rye’s ear. “Last question: pockets.” He showed Rye the first jacket. “Patch pocket. Simple. So called because it’s sewn on the coat just like a patch. Opens at the top. Eyeglasses, house key. Versatile, smart.” He switched coats. “This is a flap pocket, same thing but with a flap on top of the patch. And this—” He gestured to the third coat. “This is style. The jetted pocket, sewn inside the coat so that all you see from the outside is this slit opening. Add a third pocket below it, here, a theater ticket pocket, a key pocket, and this says, ‘I am a gentleman, a morning-to-night, go-anywhere, do-anything gentleman.’ ”
“好的。”切斯特在莱伊的耳边。“最后一个问题：口袋。”他向 Rye 展示了第一件夹克。“贴袋。简单。之所以这样称呼，是因为它像补丁一样缝在外套上。在顶部打开。眼镜，房子钥匙。多才多艺，聪明。他换了外套。“这是一个翻盖口袋，同样的东西，但补丁顶部有一个翻盖。还有这个——“他指了指第三件外套。“ 这就是风格。外套内缝有嵌线口袋 ，从外面可以看到的就是这个开衩开口。在它下面加上第三个口袋，在这里，一个剧院票袋，一个钥匙袋，上面写着，'我是一名绅士，从早到晚，去任何地方，做任何事情的绅士。“
Rye could see it. The clean line. The slant to the pocket. He whispered to Chester, “How much do you think—”
Rye 可以看到。简洁的线条。斜向口袋。他悄悄地对切斯特说，“你觉得多少——”
“Eighteen,” said the salesman, glancing at Chester, “but sixteen this week and . . .” He lowered his voice: “I could do twelve as long as—”
“十八个，”推销员说，瞥了切斯特一眼，“但这个星期是十六个，而且......”他压低了声音：“我能做十二次，只要——”
Chester cleared his throat.
切斯特清了清嗓子。
“Fine. I could do ten,” the salesman conceded. “You’re a bastard, Chester.”
“好吧。我能做十个，“推销员承认。“你是个混蛋，切斯特。”
Chester smiled, swept around, and lowered the coat onto Rye. It settled on his shoulders like the first snow on a hillside.
切斯特微笑着，扫了一眼，把外套放到莱伊身上。它像山坡上的第一场雪一样落在他的肩膀上。
“Of course, you can’t wear those boots,” the salesman said.
“当然，你不能穿那些靴子，”推销员说。
“No, you’ll need shoes,” said Chester. “And that old hat will likely have to go.”
“不，你需要鞋子，”切斯特说。“而那顶旧帽子可能不得不去掉。”
Rye turned back to the mirror. He felt a rush, and then some shame, at just how badly he wanted to be the gentleman in the glass.
Rye 转身看向镜子。他感到一阵冲动，然后又感到有些羞愧，因为他多么想成为玻璃杯中的绅士。
Rye sat on the streetcar, a long cloth bag draped over his lap, in it, his new suit and tie, white shirt, and calfskin dress shoes. The bag was, itself, nicer than most of his clothes. He ended up keeping the bowler, out of fondness, the salesman agreeing to spiff it up for him, running a de-linter over it, shining it with oil, and buffing out the grease stain. Rye bought the clothes on credit, five dollars down, the rest due over six months, though he wasn’t entirely sure how much the rest entailed.
莱伊坐在有轨电车上，膝盖上挂着一个长布袋，里面有他的新西装和领带、白衬衫和小牛皮正装鞋。这个包本身就比他的大部分衣服都好。出于喜爱，他最终保留了这个圆顶礼盒，推销员同意为他闻一闻，在上面擦掉绒毛，用油擦亮它，擦掉油渍。Rye 赊购了这些衣服，首付 5 美元，其余的在六个月内到期，尽管他不完全确定其余的需要多少 。
He got off the streetcar and walked the four blocks toward Mrs. Ricci’s house, the clothing bag slung over his shoulder like a sailor returning from duty. It was a cool, snowless afternoon, the street full of welcoming smoke from neighbors’ fireplaces.
他下了有轨电车，走了四个街区，向 Ricci 夫人的家走去，衣袋扛在肩上，就像一个下班回来的水手。那是一个凉爽、无雪的下午，街道上到处都是邻居壁炉冒出的欢迎烟雾。
He was approaching Mrs. Ricci’s when Rye saw a figure through the window of the sleeping porch—Gig! Sitting on his bed in the dark. Rye ran around the side to the back door, and the silhouetted figure turned.
当他走近 Ricci 太太的家时，Rye 从睡廊的窗户看到一个人影——Gig！在黑暗中坐在他的床上。Rye 绕过侧面跑到后门，那个剪影转过身来。
But when he opened the back door, it was Early Reston sitting on his brother’s cot. “Hey, Little Brother.”
但当他打开后门时，是 Early Reston 坐在他哥哥的婴儿床上。“嘿，小弟弟。”
Rye stared dumbly. Early looked different. He’d grown a close beard, streaked with gray, and was wearing a suit of his own, rough tweed, Rye thinking of the photo of the Pinkerton agent, Ennis Cooper, and all of those names he used.
Rye 呆呆地盯着。Early 看起来不一样了。他留了一把浓密的胡子，上面有灰色的条纹，穿着一套属于自己的西装，粗花呢，Rye 想着平克顿经纪人 Ennis Cooper 的照片，以及他用过的那些名字。
“What’ve you got there?” Early stood and took the clothing bag from Rye.
“你那里有什么？”Early 站起来，从 Rye 手中接过衣服袋。
“A suit,” Rye said.
“一套西装，”Rye 说。
“A suit! Well.” Early unbuttoned the bag and felt the fabric. “Fancy! Look at Rye Dolan. You switching sides, Rye? Like a snake shedding his skin?”
“西装！嗯。Early 解开包的扣子，摸了摸布料。“花哨！看看 Rye Dolan。你换边了，Rye？就像一条蜕皮的蛇一样？
“I needed something to wear to court Monday. For Gurley’s verdict.”
“我周一需要穿点衣服去法庭。为了 Gurley 的判决。
“Ah, right. Mrs. Jones’s verdict. You do recall that she’s married, right, Rye? And with child? And about to go to prison. Fancy a challenge, don’t you?”
“啊，对。琼斯夫人的判决。你还记得她结过婚了，对吧，Rye？还有孩子呢？而且快进监狱了。你喜欢挑战，不是吗？
Rye blushed and took back the clothing bag.
Rye 脸红了，拿回了衣服袋。
“Sorry,” Early said. “Was that mean?”
“对不起，”Early 说。“那是不是很刻薄？”
“I’m supposed to give you something,” Rye said. “From Lem Brand.”
“我应该给你点东西，”Rye 说。“来自 Lem Brand。”
“How is our old friend?” Early asked.
“我们的老朋友怎么样？”Early 问道。
“I don’t know,” Rye said. “I told him weeks ago I’d give you this message, and after that, I didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“我不知道，”Rye 说。“几周前我告诉他我会给你这个信息，在那之后，我不想和他有任何关系。”
“Did you grow unhappy with your position?”
“你对自己的地位感到不满了吗？”
Rye flushed. “I didn’t have a position. It was a mistake. I didn’t know—”
Rye 涨红了脸。“我没有位置。这是一个错误。我不知道——”
“You didn’t know, Rye?”
“你不知道吗，Rye？”
Rye said nothing.
Rye 什么也没说。
“Come on—what didn’t you know?”
“得了吧——你不知道什么？”
Rye just shook his head.
Rye 只是摇摇头。
“You knew,” Early said. “We always know. Whatever happens, we know.”
“你知道的，”Early 说。“我们总是知道。无论发生什么，我们都知道。
Rye hated that we, as if they were the same kind of man. “Your letter is inside. Can I—”
Rye 讨厌我们 ，仿佛他们是同一类人。“你的信在里面。我能不能——”
He wasn’t sure he needed permission, but Early nodded and Rye went through the kitchen to his bedroom. There was a bread knife out on the counter, and for a moment, Rye thought about grabbing it. In the bedroom, he hung his new clothes in the closet. He’d used Lem Brand’s envelope as a bookmark, and it was sticking out from a page early in the second volume of Constance Garnett’s translation of War and Peace, which Rye had recently checked out, after returning the first. He walked back with the book and handed the envelope to Early, who sat back down on Gig’s cot.
他不确定自己需要得到许可，但 Early 点了点头，Rye 穿过厨房来到了他的卧室。柜台上有一把面包刀，有那么一刻，Rye 想抓住它。在卧室里，他把新衣服挂在壁橱里。他用莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 的信封作为书签，在康斯坦斯·加内特 （Constance Garnett） 翻译的《战争与和平》第二卷的第二卷中，它从前面的一页伸出 ，莱伊最近在归还第一卷后借阅了该信封。他拿着书走回来，把信封递给 Early，后者坐回了 Gig 的床上。
“Aw, I didn’t get you anything,” Early said. He opened the envelope, and thumbed through the bills. “You believe this son of a bitch, acting like nothing happened, like he didn’t try to have me killed? I almost admire him.”
“噢，我什么都没给你，”Early 说。他打开信封，用拇指翻阅着账单。“你相信这个婊子的儿子，装作什么都没发生过，好像他没有想杀了我一样？我几乎佩服他。
“I borrowed some, but I paid it back,” Rye said.
“我借了一些，但我还了，”Rye 说。
“Of course you did,” Early said. He unfolded Lem Brand’s note and read it, occasionally shaking his head. “He’d like to stick to our original agreement. I’ll bet he would. The original agreement where I don’t come find him, cut out his fucking liver, and feed it to his kids.” He held up the note. “Tell me, Rye, did he seem scared?”
“你当然知道，”Early 说。他展开莱姆·布兰德的便条读了起来，偶尔摇摇头。“他想遵守我们最初的协议。我敢打赌他会的。最初的协议是我不来找他，把他妈的肝脏切掉，然后喂给他的孩子。他举起了那张纸条。“告诉我，Rye，他看起来害怕吗？”
“Yeah,” Rye said. “He did.”
“是的，”Rye 说。“他做到了。”
“Good,” Early said. “Armed men?”
“很好，”Early 说。“武装人员？”
Rye tried to remember. “Two at the gate. One above his carriage house. Another at the door. And his man, Willard.”
Rye 试图回忆起来。“门口有两个。一个在他的马车房上方。另一个在门口。还有他的人，威拉德。
Early read the note again.
Early 又读了一遍这张纸条。
Rye watched Early’s face. “Who are you?” he asked quietly.
Rye 看着 Early 的脸。“你是谁？”
Early looked up. His eyes were cold. “Who are you?”
Early 抬起头来。他的眼神很冷。“ 你是谁 ？”
“No, I mean which side—” But Rye didn’t finish the thought, for he knew Early could turn that one on him, too.
“不，我是说哪一边——”但 Rye 并没有把这个想法说完，因为他知道 Early 也可以把那个人对准他。
Early took a deep breath. “I’m on my side, Rye. Always have been. Like any man, if he’s being honest.”
Early 深吸了一口气。“我站在我这边，Rye。一直都是。就像任何男人一样，如果他是诚实的。
Early stood, folded the money, and shoved it into his pocket. Then he folded the note and put it in his small suit-coat pocket, the ticket pocket, Rye remembered, although that detail felt wrong now.
Early 站起来，把钱叠好，塞进了口袋。然后他把纸条折叠起来，放进他的西装外套小口袋里，那个票袋，Rye 记得，尽管这个细节现在感觉不对劲。
Early looked around the sleeping porch. “Cold out here. I can’t believe this is where you boys lived.”
Early 环顾着沉睡的门廊。“外面很冷。我真不敢相信这就是你们男孩住的地方。
“I sleep inside now,” Rye said.
“我现在睡在里面，”Rye 说。
“Do you?” Early looked around the room and landed on Rye again. “And tell me, now that you’re a man of means, with his own suit and a good job and an indoor bedroom, what side are you on, Rye?”
“是吗？”Early 环顾房间，再次落在 Rye 身上。“告诉我，既然你是个有钱人，有自己的西装，有一份好工作，还有一间室内卧室，你站在哪一边 呢，莱伊？”
Rye said nothing.
Rye 什么也没说。
“Come on. What stuff are you made of?”
“来吧。你是用什么东西做的？
Something about the question reminded him of a line he’d read in War and Peace the day before—Pierre contemplating his life. Rye opened to the page and handed the book over, pointing to a paragraph.
这个问题让他想起了前一天在 《战争与和平》 中读到的一句话 ——皮埃尔在思考自己的生活。Rye 打开书页，将书递过来，指着一段。
Early cleared his throat and read, “ ‘Sometimes he consoled himself by the reflection that it did not count, that he was only temporarily leading this life. But later on, he was horrified by another reflection, that numbers of other men, with the same idea of being temporary, had entered that life with all their teeth and a thick head of hair, only to leave it when they were toothless and bald.’ ”
Early 清了清嗓子，读道：“'有时他安慰自己，这不算数，他只是暂时过着这种生活。但后来，他对另一个想法感到震惊，即许多其他男人，怀着同样的暂时性想法，带着所有的牙齿和浓密的头发进入了那个世界，只是在他们没有牙齿和秃顶时离开了那个世界。”
Early looked up and smiled with what Rye thought might be amusement or condescension. “You surprise me, Rye,” he said. “Every time. You really are the smart one, you know that?” He flipped through the book, considered its spine. Then he held it to his chest. “And are you ready to stop being temporary?”
Early 抬起头来，露出了 Rye 认为可能是逗乐或居高临下的笑容。“你让我大吃一惊，Rye，”他说。“每次。你真的是个聪明人，你知道吗？他翻阅着这本书，思考着它的书脊。然后他把它放在胸前。“你准备好不再临时了吗？”
Rye shrugged.
Rye 耸耸肩。
“Because I need you to do something.”
“因为我需要你做点什么。”
Rye opened his mouth to say no.
Rye 张开嘴说没有。
“It’s for your brother and me,” Early said.
“这是给你和我哥哥的，”Early 说。
“You’ve seen Gig?”
“你见过 Gig？”
“I have,” Early said.
“我有，”Early 说。
“How is he?”
“他怎么样？”
“He’s fine,” Early said. “He’s gotten his strength back.”
“他没事，”Early 说。“他已经恢复了体力。”
“Is he here? Can I see him?”
“他在吗？我能见见他吗？
“After you do this favor for me.”
“你帮我这个忙之后。”
“What is it?”
“什么事？”
“I need you to deliver a message back to Brand.”
“我需要你把信息转达给布兰德。”
“What’s the message?” Rye asked.
“什么信息？”Rye 问道。
“Tell him I said yes. I will abide by our original agreement. But I want five thousand dollars, not five hundred. After that, he’ll never hear from me again.”
“告诉他我说是的。我将遵守我们最初的协议。但我想要 5000 美元，而不是 500 美元。在那之后，他就再也听不到我的消息了。
Rye felt sick, pulled back into this.
Rye 感到不舒服，被拉回去。
“Tell him to give you the money Monday morning. I’ll meet you in front of the courthouse at noon. You give me the money and I’ll give you all the evidence of my deal with Brand, the paperwork, his idiotic dossiers. But tell him that if anyone follows you, the deal is off. And he can spend the rest of his life waiting for a visit from me.”
“告诉他周一早上把钱给你。中午我会在法院前见你。你把钱给我，我就把我和布兰德交易的所有证据、文书工作、他那些愚蠢的档案都给你。但告诉他，如果有人跟踪你，交易就结束了。他可以用他的余生等待我的来访。
“And then I can see Gig?”
“然后我能看到 Gig？”
“We’ll all go for a beer afterward.” Early smiled. “First round’s on me.”
“之后我们都去喝杯啤酒。”Early 笑了。“第一轮由我来。”
Rye could do nothing but nod.
Rye 只能点点头。
“Look at that.” Early handed War and Peace back. “The old gang rides again.”
“看看那个。”早早地将 War and Peace 交还。“老帮派又骑了。”
I STEPPED off the train when it slowed outside Lind, in the gold rolling hills of the Palouse. It was midwinter and the wheat fields were stubble-cut, dusted by frost. The sun was out, though, lighting up old barns and wagons, an abandoned plow. I was alert and alive, and I walked into that town the king of all possibility.
当火车在林德外减速时，我走下了火车，在帕卢斯 （Palouse） 金色连绵起伏的丘陵中。当时是隆冬，麦田被割掉了残茬，被霜冻覆盖。不过，太阳出来了，照亮了古老的谷仓和马车，还有一把废弃的犁。我很警觉，活着，我走进了那个小镇，成为了所有可能的国王。
Do you remember, Rye-boy, that part of tramping? The track-side stroll into some new burg, nothing weighing you down but a pair of gloves, a shirt, extra socks, maybe a book bindled in your bedroll. On the lookout for smoke from a camp cook fire. Anything could happen with a town in front of you, maybe a Lind maiden takes you to bed, or you find some old pal from down the line, or, at the very least, strike it up with a barman who has read a thing or two in his life. The world feels open for business. I’m not sure what else you could even ask for.
你还记得吗，黑麦男孩，那部分跋涉吗？在赛道边漫步到某个新的堡垒，除了一双手套、一件衬衫、额外的袜子，也许还有一本装在床上卷上的书，没有什么让你感到沉重。留意营地篝火产生的烟雾。你面前的小镇什么都可能发生，也许一个 Lind 少女带你上床睡觉，或者你找到一些老朋友，或者，至少，与一个一生中读过一两本书的酒保打交道。世界对商业开放。我不确定你还能要求什么。
In Lind, there was a two-story redbrick bar and grill called Slim’s, and I went there with the ten dollars I’d gotten from Ursula. I saw they had Schade from Spokane, my favorite lager, and I said, “I’d favor one of them Shoddies,” and spun a dollar coin on the bar top. Beer-not-whiskey the closest I had to a plan.
在林德，有一家两层楼的红砖酒吧和烧烤店，名叫 Slim's，我带着从 Ursula 那里得到的 10 美元去了那里。我看到他们有我最喜欢的斯波坎啤酒 Schade，我说，“我更喜欢他们中的一个 Shoddies”，然后在吧台上旋转了一枚美元硬币。啤酒不是威士忌是我最接近计划的。
I inquired of the barman, aptly named Slim, about work and a room.
我向那位名叫斯利姆的酒保询问了工作和房间。
“The room will be easier to find than the work,” he said. “Wheat’s all up. You are . . . let’s see.” He consulted his pocket watch. “Six months late.”
“房间会比工作更容易找到，”他说。“小麦都长了。你是。。。让我们看看。他看了看他的怀表。“晚了六个月。”
“Or,” I said, “I am six months early.”
“或者，”我说，“我提前了六个月。
Slim had a bed upstairs as long as I needed it—he looked at me—“or as long as you can pay twenty cents a night.”
斯利姆在楼上有一张床，只要我需要——他看着我——“或者只要你能付一晚二十美分。
“I can pay fifteen,” I countered, and he said, “Why not,” no doubt figuring I’d spend the rest of my money on beer anyway. “I’ll take it for tonight,” I said.
“我可以付十五英镑，”我反驳道，他说，“为什么不呢，”毫无疑问，我无论如何都会把剩下的钱花在啤酒上。“我今晚就吃吧，”我说。
“What brings you to Lind,” he asked, “other than the rods of a freighter?”
“是什么把你带到林德身边，”他问，“除了货船的杆子吗？
“Oh, I’m no rod man,” I said. “I don’t have the nerve for it, holding an undertruss for two hours with those rocks kicking up. I prefer flying on top, a flatcar if I can get it, though today I came nestled like a baby bird in a soft grainer.”
“哦，我不是棒子人，”我说。“我没有勇气，在那些石头踢起的情况下，捡着一个 undertruss 两个小时。我更喜欢在上面飞行，如果我能买到的话，我就坐平车，不过今天我像一只小鸟一样窝在柔软的谷物机里。
“A discerning hobo.”
“一个有眼光的流浪汉。”
“Only kind,” I said, and gave him the real reason I was in Lind. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a man named Early Reston?”
“只是好心，”我说，并告诉他我在林德的真正原因。“说吧，你不会碰巧认识一个叫早期雷斯顿的人吧？”
“No,” he said. “Don’t think so.”
“不，”他说。“别这么想。”
I started to describe him—and then realized it would be like describing a stalk of wheat, thin and pale and, well, that’s it. “I’m an old friend of his from up Spokane. He said to look him up if I was ever here.”
我开始描述他——然后意识到这就像描述一秨麦秆，又细又苍白，嗯，就是这样。“我是他在斯波坎的老朋友。他说如果我在这里的话，就去找他。
“Well, you are here,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”
“嗯，你在这里，”他说。“我给你。”
I finished my beer, then walked the town, which took only a few minutes, three blocks this way and three that. I returned to Slim’s, had a plate of liver, and took to that upstairs bed. With food and board, even easy on the beer, I’d spend Ursula’s ten dollars in less than two weeks. She’d offered more, but pride had kept me from taking it. I slept restless that night, agitating about the way she had washed and shaved and bedded me. I dreamed of buying new clothes and going back and taking her in my arms again.
我喝完了啤酒，然后走了一圈，只花了几分钟，这边三个街区，那个三个街区。我回到 Slim's，吃了一盘肝脏，然后上了楼上的床。吃，吃得好，甚至不喝啤酒，我都会在不到两周的时间内花掉 Ursula 的 10 美元。她提供了更多，但骄傲让我无法接受。那天晚上我睡得不安，为她洗漱、刮胡子和给我上床的方式而烦恼。我梦想着买新衣服，然后回去把她再次抱在怀里。
The next day, I tried a couple of farms around Lind, but nobody had heard of Early. The next town over was Ritzville, seventeen miles north. I walked half toward it, then caught on a hay wagon the rest. Ritzville was a Volga German town, and I ate a fine plate of sausage and potatoes in a café. I inquired about Early, but the cook there had never heard the name.
第二天，我尝试了 Lind 周围的几个农场，但没有人听说过 Early。下一个城镇是里茨维尔，位于北部 17 英里处。我向它走了一半，然后赶上了一辆干草车。里茨维尔是德国伏尔加河的一个小镇，我在一家咖啡馆吃了一盘精美的香肠和土豆。我打听了 Early，但那里的厨师从未听说过这个名字。
At the next table, a man leaned over and asked if I was looking for work.
在隔壁桌，一个男人俯身问我是不是在找工作。
“Almost always,” I said.
“几乎总是，”我说。
He ran a scrap mill on a creek just outside town and had orders for raw boards and firewood. But his hired man had left for the week to bury his father down in Oregon. “It’s only five days, but I can give you six dollars,” he said.
他在城外的一条小溪上经营着一家废料厂，并接到原板和木柴的订单。但他的雇工已经离开了一周，将他的父亲埋葬在俄勒冈州。“只有五天，但我可以给你六美元，”他说。
“And a room?” I asked.
“还有个房间？”我问。
He said there was a wood boiler in the sawmill, and I could sleep there and he would bring me a meal in the morning and one at night. But, he said, if I went near his house or if I went into town to booze it up, I was finished.
他说锯木厂里有一个柴锅炉，我可以睡在那里，他会早上给我送一顿饭，晚上给我送一顿饭。但是，他说，如果我靠近他的房子，或者如果我进城喝酒，我就完蛋了。
Not in top negotiating position, I accepted his offer.
我没有处于谈判的最高位置，我接受了他的提议。
The man’s name was Schulte, and he struck me as dour and incurious. His sawmill was little more than a shop with a rusty boiler that powered an old steam drop saw, like something he’d brought with him from the old country.
那个人名叫舒尔特，他给我的印象是阴郁和好奇。他的锯木厂只不过是一家商店，里面有一台生锈的锅炉，为一台旧的蒸汽锯提供动力，就像他从旧国家带来的东西一样。
I tried to engage him in conversation, but he worked quiet. At night in that cold shop, I found myself thinking of you, Rye-boy, and wishing I’d taken that volume of Tolstoy you checked out. It was a thoughtful thing, bringing me that book, and I should’ve thanked you instead of going off drunk like I did.
我试着和他交谈，但他安静地工作。晚上在那家冰冷的商店里，我发现自己在想你，黑麦男孩，真希望我能拿走你借阅的那本托尔斯泰书。把那本书带给我是一件体贴的事情，我应该感谢你，而不是像我那样喝醉了。
On the second day, I asked if Schulte had anything to read in the house. He said they were strict Anabaptists. “Only the Good Book.”
第二天，我问舒尔特家里有什么可读的。他说他们是严格的重洗派。“只有好书。”
“I have never found that to be a particularly good book,” I said, and if I’ve ever gotten a colder response from a joke, I don’t recall it.
“我从来没有觉得这是一本特别好的书，”我说，如果我从一个笑话中得到过更冷淡的回应，我不记得了。
Three days I sawed and edged and treated boards, split logs and loaded up the wagon, but Schulte insisted on doing the deliveries himself. Each time he set off for town, his admonition about staying away from the house got harsher. If I went near the house, he would have the sheriff run me off the property. If I went near the house, he would get his shotgun and shovel and bury me upstream. If I went near the house— “Yeah, I get it, Schulte,” I said.
我花了三天时间锯、磨边、处理木板、劈开原木并装车，但 Schulte 坚持自己送货。每次他动身去镇上时，他关于远离房子的告诫都会变得更加严厉。如果我靠近房子，他会让警长把我赶出房子。如果我靠近房子，他就会拿起他的猎枪和铁锹，把我埋在上游。如果我走到房子附近——“是的，我明白了，舒尔特，”我说。
The fifth or sixth time someone tells you not to do something, it becomes the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do, and when he left in the wagon, I lit a smoke and walked halfway up the drive. I glanced at the simple wood-framed house and wondered what manner of woman he was protecting in there. But something about the gray house felt oppressive, too, and I kept my distance. Finally, on the fourth day, Schulte came back from town and said his hired man had returned early, but as I had done a fine job and minded his admonitions, he would pay me all six dollars. He had one more delivery to make and would take me back to Ritzville on the way.
第五次或第六次有人告诉你不要做某事时，这就成了你唯一想做的事情，当他坐马车离开时，我点燃了一根烟，走了一半。我瞥了一眼那栋简陋的木结构房子，想知道他在里面保护什么样的女人。但灰色的房子也让人感到压抑，我保持了距离。最后，在第四天，舒尔特从镇上回来，说他的雇工已经提前回来了，但既然我做得很好，而且听从了他的劝告，他会付给我六美元。他还有一次送货要送货，会在路上带我回里茨维尔。
We loaded the wagon with cut tamarack and butt ends, and I grabbed my bindle and climbed on the seat next to him. We approached the house, and I glanced over without turning my head. Like a lot of lumbermen’s houses, his was doomed to go unfinished and unpainted, windows and doors not even properly framed. As we passed, a young woman came onto the back porch, thin and lank-haired and, I assumed, his wife. She was carrying a massive boy child, arms under his butt, his head over her shoulder. The kid was eight or nine, far too old to be carried like a baby. He was in a diaper so big it might have been a tablecloth, and his long legs hung like loose skin. He made a flat sound like a lamb.
我们在马车上装上切开的落叶松和枪托末端，我抓起我的束缚，爬上他旁边的座位。我们走近房子，我头也不回地瞥了一眼。像许多伐木工的房子一样，他的房子注定要完工和粉刷，窗户和门甚至没有适当的框架。当我们经过时，一位年轻女子走上了后廊，她瘦削而稀疏的头发，我猜是他的妻子。她抱着一个高大的男孩，双臂放在他的屁股下，他的头靠在她的肩膀上。这个孩子八九岁，太老了，不能像婴儿一样被抱着。他穿着一块大到可能是桌布的尿布，他的长腿像松弛的皮肤一样垂下来。他发出像羔羊一样平淡的声音。
“Cornmeal and lard,” the woman said simply, and Mr. Schulte said, “Yes, Sarah,” and clicked at his team, the horses lurched, and she said, “Goodbye, sir,” and I nodded, and then she carried that huge baby back into the house. I felt for Schulte then, and even found myself regretting my joke about his Bible, for I suspected he made good use of that faith.
“玉米面和猪油，”女人简单地说，舒尔特先生说，“是的，莎拉，”然后咔嚓一声，马匹摇摇晃晃，她说，“再见，先生，”我点点头，然后她把那个大婴儿抱回了屋子里。那时我对舒尔特有同感，甚至发现自己对我拿他的圣经开的玩笑感到后悔，因为我怀疑他很好地利用了这种信仰。
In town, Schulte stopped his wagon in front of a hotel on Main Street, took off a glove, and offered me a worn hand. “God bless,” he said. “I am going to pray for you, Gregory.”
在镇上，舒尔特把他的马车停在主街的一家旅馆门前，摘下一只手套，递给我一只破旧的手。“上帝保佑，”他说。“我要为你祈祷，格雷戈里。”
“Thank you,” I said, and normally, I would have made some joke, Ask him for an extra pint, but I did not. I just watched him ride that loaded wagon through town. A squalling sleet was moving in, so I went inside that Ritzville hotel to bunk up for the night.
“谢谢你，”我说，通常情况下，我会开些玩笑， 向他要额外的一品脱 ，但我没有。我只是看着他骑着那辆满载的马车穿过城镇。一场狂风雨夹雪正在袭来，所以我走进里茨维尔的那家酒店过夜。
I had a meal and two beers and then one more, and the barkeep said they had whiskey downstairs, and who should show up but my old pal Thirst, Get in here, you son of a bitch, and he talked me into four of those dirty glasses, and I woke the next day sick and already down half my pay from the Anabaptist lumberman with the giant baby. If I didn’t leave Ritzville, I would be busted fast. At the café, another farmhand agreed to run me partway down the Lind road, and I walked the rest, over wet rolling hills, into needles of driving icy rain.
我吃了一顿饭，喝了两杯啤酒，然后又喝了一杯，酒吧老板说他们楼下有威士忌，除了我的老朋友渴，谁能出现呢， 进来吧，你这个婊子， 他劝我喝四个脏杯子，第二天醒来时我生病了，已经从重洗派伐木工那里拿下了一半的工资，带着那个大婴儿。如果我不离开里茨维尔，我很快就会被逮捕。在咖啡馆里，另一个农场工人同意带我沿着林德路走一半，剩下的我走过湿漉漉的连绵起伏的山丘，进入冰冷的雨针。
I dropped happily from the upper road down into the draw where that little farm town lay like eggs in a nest. Walked through that brick downtown and stepped happy into Slim’s toasty bar and grill. I called out, “Heaven!”
我高兴地从上路下降到平地上，那个小农场小镇像鸡蛋一样躺在巢里。穿过市中心的那块砖砌建筑，高兴地走进 Slim 的烤面包吧和烧烤店。我喊道：“天堂！
“You again,” Slim said. “What happened to you?”
“又是你，”斯利姆说。“你怎么了？”
“Worst thing possible,” I said, “work.” I pulled off my soaked coat, hat, and gloves and laid them next to the boiler, spun another dollar on the bar top, and said, “The usual, Slim.”
“最糟糕的事情，”我说，“工作。我脱下湿透的外套、帽子和手套，把它们放在锅炉旁边，在吧台上又旋转了一美元，然后说：“平常的，斯利姆。
“Can a man have a usual if it’s only his second time in my bar?” He pulled me a glass of Schade.
“如果一个男人只是第二次来我的酒吧，他能有平常吗？”他给我倒了一杯 Schade。
“Well, as we’re about to get engaged, that beer and me, I would say yes.”
“嗯，既然我们马上就要订婚了，那杯啤酒和我，我会说是的。”
I sneaked in a cup of bean soup amid two more drafts, and the bar grew more crowded, two hands coming in, and then a couple of old farmers with their sons, younger men debating the upcoming boxing match between Jeffries and the champ Johnson. I was in the mood for a book or at least a smart conversation, but I just nodded in agreement when the more evolved of the boys said the champ was likely to kill Jeffries and that the old alfalfa farmer should’ve stayed on his farm.
在另外两杯生啤中，我偷偷喝了一杯豆汤，酒吧里越来越拥挤，两只手进来，然后是一对老农民和他们的儿子，年轻的男人在争论即将到来的杰弗里斯和冠军约翰逊之间的拳击比赛。我本来想写一本书，或者至少是一次聪明的谈话，但当那些更进化的男孩说冠军可能会杀死杰弗里斯，而那个老苜蓿农民应该留在他的农场时，我只是点头表示同意。
“Not a chance,” the other boy said. “Jeffries lost a hundred pounds to come out of retirement and fight for the white race.”
“不可能，”另一个男孩说。“杰弗里斯减掉了一百磅，才从退休中走出来，为白人种族而战。”
“He’s come out of retirement to fight for a hundred thousand dollars,” said a familiar voice behind me, “that’s what he’s come back for.”
“他退休后出来是为了争夺十万美元，”我身后一个熟悉的声音说，“这就是他回来的目的。
I turned and there was Early Reston in the doorway. He had grown a beard and was wearing a new-looking rain slicker. Otherwise, it was him, that welcome plain stalk of wheat. “Hello, Gig,” he said. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
我转过身来，门口有 Early Reston。他留了胡子，穿着一件看起来崭新的雨衣。否则，就是他，那棵受欢迎的普通麦秆。“你好，Gig，”他说。“我听说你一直在找我。”
We had a drink and a good clap of the shoulders. I told him about the riot, about jail, about Clegg beating us, about the hunger strike by the union leaders.
我们喝了一杯，拍了拍肩膀。我告诉他关于骚乱、关于监狱、关于克莱格殴打我们的关于工会领导人的绝食抗议。
“That must’ve taught them quite a lesson,” he said, “you fellas starving yourselves that way. Did you think of knocking yourselves in the heads, too?”
“那一定给他们上了不小的教训，”他说，“你们这些家伙就是这样饿死的。你也想过要敲自己的脑袋吗？
“They had that part covered pretty good.”
“他们把那部分覆盖得很好。”
He said he’d gone to Idaho and Montana with my brother and with Gurley Flynn, and I said yes, so I’d heard.
他说他和我哥哥以及格利·弗林一起去了爱达荷州和蒙大拿州，我说是的，所以我听说了。
“I gave your union a shot,” he said, “but it wasn’t for me. Too much traveling preacher in that business, and I’m not sure I believe in Gurley Flynn’s religion any more than I believe in the others.”
“我试过你们的工会，”他说，“但那不适合我。在那个行业里有太多的旅行传教士，我不确定我是否比相信其他人更相信格利·弗林的宗教。
I said, “I’ve become something of a union agnostic myself.”
我说，“我自己也变成了一个工会不可知论者。
He considered the whiskey in front of him and then turned to me. “And how are you with an automobile, Gig?”
他端详着面前的威士忌，然后转向我。“那你开的车怎么样了，Gig？”
I told him I’d operated a truck once or twice in log camps and farm jobs. “I’m no mechanic, but I know my way around a wheel.”
我告诉他，我在原木营地和农场工作中开过一两次卡车。“我不是机械师，但我知道自己如何驾驭轮子。”
We paid up, Slim nodding goodbye at Early without ever having said a word to him. My clothes were dry and I settled into my coat, buttoned it to my neck. Outside, the rain had stopped.
我们付了钱，Slim 在 Early 点头告别，什么话也没和他说。我的衣服已经干了，我穿上外套，把它扣在脖子上。外面，雨已经停了。
Early went straight to a Tin Lizzy parked on the street, the cover and front glass on it.
Early 径直走到停在街上的一辆 Tin Lizzy，车罩和前玻璃都在上面。
“This your Ford, Early?”
“这是你的福特车，Early？”
“For the time being,” he said. He climbed inside, set the hand brake, and adjusted the float while I primed and cranked the handle under the grille. The first pull nearly broke my forearm, but then the engine caught.
“暂时，”他说。他爬进去，设置手刹，调整浮子，而我则给格栅下的手柄打底和摇动。第一次拉动几乎折断了我的前臂，但随后发动机卡住了。
When I came around, Early was in the passenger seat. “Let’s see what kind of driver you make. That’s the only opening I got right now.”
当我回来时，Early 坐在副驾驶座上。“让我们看看你是什么样的司机。这是我现在唯一的机会。
It took me a moment to reacquaint myself with the instruments. “Switch over the magneto,” he said, and I said, “Uh-huh,” and tested out the three pedals on the floor, brake on the right, reverse in the middle, and clutch on the left. A hand brake was between my legs, the up-down hand throttle next to the steering wheel.
我花了一点时间重新熟悉这些乐器。“切换磁电机，”他说，我说，“嗯”，然后测试了地板上的三个踏板，右侧刹车，中间倒车，左侧离合器。我的两腿之间有一个手刹，方向盘旁边是上下的手油门。
“Clutch all the way down for first. Up for high, and neutral in the middle.”
“首先一直抓紧。高位，中立。
“How long you had this car?” I asked.
“你拥有这辆车多久了？”我问。
“Just got it,” he said.
“刚明白了，”他说。
I lurched it a block but had it smooth by the time we left Lind. I veered us off an old wagon road, northeast toward Spokane. It was icy cold, even with the top and front glass on, and we had to yell over the wind. I worked the accelerator with my hand, got us up to top speed, and it felt good to be gliding at pace, flying under our own power.
我把它颠簸了一会儿，但当我们离开 Lind 时，它已经很平稳了。我离开了一条古老的马车路，向东北方向驶向斯波坎。即使打开了顶部和前玻璃，天气也很冷，我们不得不在风中大喊大叫。我用手踩下油门，让我们达到最高速度，快速滑行，靠自己的力量飞行，感觉很好。
On such a black night, the two lamps in front of the car cast an unsettling cockeyed glow, lighting up a tree here, a basalt column there, like we were tunneling into the earth. The two-track road crossed a shallow creek bed, ice crackling under the tires, but the car handled the rough terrain. We shadowed the railroad tracks awhile, driving at an angle below the humped ties. We passed the lights of Ritzville and I thought of old Schulte and his wife and his son just up that creek north of town. I wondered if I could ever manage a life like that—or if it was another jail.
在这样一个漆黑的夜晚，车前的两盏灯投下令人不安的歪眼光芒，照亮了这边的一棵树，那边的一根玄武岩柱，就像我们在地上挖隧道一样。这条双轨公路穿过一条浅浅的河床，轮胎下结冰噼啪作响，但汽车可以应对崎岖的地形。我们在铁轨上躲了一会儿，在驼峰的枕木下面以一个角度行驶。我们经过里茨维尔的灯光，我想起了老舒尔特和他的妻子和他的儿子，就在镇北那条小溪的上游。我想知道我是否能过上那样的生活——或者那是另一个监狱。
We skirted Sprague Lake and caught a lumber path that spilled us out on the state road. On good gravel, we could hear each other speak.
我们绕过斯普拉格湖，赶上了一条林木路，这条小路把我们带到了国道上。在好的砾石上，我们可以听到彼此的交谈。
“You’re a natural driver, Gig.”
“你是个天生的司机，Gig。”
“Thank you.” I had to say, I did like piloting that Ford and thought I ought to learn the mechanical side of it. Maybe that would be the job for me—a way to be on the road but not jumping trains or sleeping in fields.
“谢谢你。”我不得不说，我确实喜欢驾驶那辆福特，并认为我应该学习它的机械方面。也许这就是我的工作——一种在路上，而不是跳火车或睡在田野里的方式。
We rattled an hour on that state road, until the lights of Spokane began to show over the horizon. We stopped to refill the tank from a five-gallon can he kept on the floorboard of the backseat.
我们在那条国道上嘎嘎作响地行驶了一个小时，直到斯波坎的灯光开始从地平线上显现出来。我们停下来，从他放在后座地板上的一个五加仑罐子里装满油箱。
“You’re living in Spokane?” I asked as I poured the gas. “Why the hell did I go all the way to Lind looking for you?”
“你住在斯波坎？”我一边倒汽油一边问。“我为什么要千里迢迢去找林德找你？”
He said, “Why the hell did you go looking for me?” There was a real question in it, perhaps even some suspicion.
他说，“你他妈为什么要找我？这其中有一个真正的问题，甚至可能有一些怀疑。
“Well,” I said, “I almost died in that jail, or thought I would. Singing and refusing to eat or work. We were doing nothing in there but irritating the cops and their rich bosses. Like flies at a picnic. And lying there, starving, I thought back to the last time I felt anything like a man. And it was that day on the river, when you knocked that cop back and I hit the other man with my shoulder. That was the last time. So I came looking for you.”
“嗯，”我说，“我差点死在那座监狱里，或者说我以为我会死。唱歌，拒绝吃饭或工作。我们在里面什么都没做，只是激怒了警察和他们的富老板。就像野餐时的苍蝇一样。躺在那里，饿着肚子，我想起了上一次我感觉自己像个男人的时候。那天在河上，你把那个警察打回去，我用肩膀打了另一个人。那是最后一次了。所以我来找你。
We climbed back in the Ford and kept on. I could feel him looking over at me. We rounded a corner and came onto the Sunset Hill, overlooking the valley that contained Spokane, all those electric lights and the brick and steel and wood and smoke and, through the center of it all, the deep river gorge.
我们爬回福特并继续前进。我能感觉到他在看着我。我们绕过一个拐角，来到日落山上，俯瞰着斯波坎的山谷，所有的电灯、砖块、钢铁、木头和烟雾，穿过这一切的中心，可以看到深深的河谷。
“You want that feeling again,” Early said.
“你想要再次获得那种感觉，”Early 说。
“Christ, Early.” I looked over. “You bet I do.”
“天哪，早点。”我看了看。“你打赌我会的。”
The rest of the drive, he explained what he was doing. He’d put together a small crew, three men. They were making two bombs, to be planted the same day. Meeting up with me and hearing my story had given him a new idea for the targets, he said. He’d been thinking the police chief, Sullivan, “but we’d probably have better luck getting to your friend Sergeant Clegg.”
在剩下的车程中，他解释了他在做什么。他召集了一个小团队，三个人。他们正在制造两枚炸弹，准备在同一天安放。他说，与我见面并听到我的故事让他对目标有了新的想法。他一直在想警察局长，Sullivan，“但我们找到你的朋友 Clegg 警长可能会运气更好。
“And the other?”
“另一个呢？”
“Lem Brand.”
“莱姆·布兰德。”
I thought of what Ursula had told me—and maybe what she hadn’t told me—about getting a stake in Brand’s hotel. I got a tightness in my chest but said, “Well, I can’t think of two men who deserve it more.”
我想起了乌苏拉告诉我的——也许她没有告诉我的——关于入股布兰德酒店的事。我胸口发紧，但还是说：“嗯，我想不出两个男人更应该得到它。
We skirted the north end and drove along the ridge below Beacon Hill east of town. There was an outcrop of boulders, an old Indian site where a natural spring burbled up. Early had a place just beyond that. An old spa had burned down there in the ’90s, in an area too rocky for grading or farming. That was where he’d been hiding out, in the spa’s old outbuildings, not five miles from Mrs. Ricci’s place.
我们绕过北端，沿着镇东灯塔山下的山脊行驶。那里有一块露出地面的巨石，这是一个古老的印第安遗址，那里有一口天然泉水。Early 在那之后有一个地方。上世纪 90 年代，那里有一座古老的温泉被烧毁，岩石太多，无法分级或耕种。那是他藏身的地方，在水疗中心的旧附属建筑里，离 Ricci 夫人的地方不到五英里。
He had me pull off the road onto a faint drive, trees on both sides, the car rattling over rocks and dry brush. We drove through a windrow of aspens toward what appeared to be a simple block bunkhouse next to a small shop, smoke curling from a tin chimney, the door propped partly open with a brick. Early had me park the Model T next to the shop, and I killed the motor. We were close to town but separated by a wisp of river and those clusters of boulders.
他让我把车停在路上，开着一条微弱的路，两边都是树木，汽车在岩石和干枯的灌木丛上嘎嘎作响。我们开车穿过一堆白杨树，走向一家小商店旁边的一个似乎是简单的街区工棚，烟雾从铁皮烟囱中蜿蜒而出，门用砖头半开着。Early 让我把 T 型车停在商店旁边，然后我就关掉了发动机。我们离城镇很近，但被一缕河流和那些巨石群隔开。
We climbed out and I could hear the gurgling water beyond the trees. Two men came out of the shop. One had been at the riot in November—a thin Negro who introduced himself as Everett, then shook my hand and said, “I remember you and your brother from the free speech day.”
我们爬了出来，我能听到树后潺潺流淌的水声。两个男人从商店里出来。一个是11月的骚乱现场——一个瘦弱的黑人，他介绍自己叫埃弗雷特，然后握着我的手说：“我记得你和你哥哥在言论自由日的情景。
“You get a month for disturbing?” I asked.
“你因为打扰而被判一个月？”我问。
Everett nodded. “In the brig at Fort George Wright. Got fired from the hotel where I was working.”
Everett 点点头。“在乔治赖特堡的双桅帆船上。我从我工作的酒店被解雇了。
The other man, white and thin-lipped with small pinpoint eyes, stuck out his hand and said simply, “Miller.” I got a cold chill off of that one.
另一个男人，白皙的，薄嘴唇，有一双细小的眼睛，伸出手来简单地说：“米勒。我从那次比赛中打了个寒气。
“Miller I knew from Montana and Colorado,” Early said. “He’s a top powder man. Knows his way around a fulminating cap, too.” Before I could say anything, Early patted me on the back. “And this is Gig, our driver. And a good man to have in a row. Assuming you can get him to shut up.”
“我在蒙大拿州和科罗拉多州认识的米勒，”Early 说。“他是一个顶级的火药人。他也知道如何应对一顶令人发指的帽子。我还没来得及说什么，Early 就拍了拍我的背。“这是 Gig，我们的司机。而且是个好人。假设你能让他闭嘴。
I followed the three of them inside the shop. There was a woodstove heating the place and a lantern lighting this front room. But no bombs. The whole room was covered in pelts—deer and moose and bear and raccoon and skunk and beaver and some smaller animals I couldn’t name. There must have been a hundred dead animals in various states, their fur and hide mounted, stacked, tacked to boards, hung on walls. The tables were covered with knives and pliers and fleshers and other tools for skinning and tanning and stretching. I stared into the black eyes of a lynx, stretched flat and mounted on a board.
我跟着他们三个进了店里。有一个柴火炉为这个地方供暖，还有一个灯笼照亮了这个前厅。但没有炸弹。整个房间都布满了毛皮——鹿、驼鹿、熊、浣熊、臭鼬、海狸和一些我叫不出名字的小动物。肯定有一百只不同状态的动物尸体，它们的皮毛和兽皮被装裱、堆放、钉在木板上、挂在墙上。桌子上摆满了刀、钳子、去肉器和其他用于剥皮、鞣制和拉伸的工具。我盯着一只猞猁的黑眼睛，它平躺着，坐在一块板上。
Early pushed the wall at the end of the hide room, and a section opened into a narrow room with no windows. We squeezed in. Everett brought a lantern, and now I could see why they needed a top powder man. There were loose sticks of dynamite, some cotton balls and medicine stoppers, and what I recognized as mercury and silver blasting caps, all spread out on a wooden workbench. Next to it were two old carpetbag satchels, the kind a salesman might carry.
Early 推开了藏身处尽头的墙，有一段通向一个没有窗户的狭窄房间。我们挤进去。Everett 带来了一盏灯笼，现在我明白为什么他们需要一位顶级火药师了。有松散的炸药棒、一些棉球和药塞，以及我认得是水银和银防爆帽的东西，都摊在木制工作台上。旁边是两个旧的地毯包，是推销员可能会携带的那种。
Early explained that the bombs would be small and portable, each contained in a satchel, to be delivered to two locations at the same time—the police station and the Spokane Club. The cases would be packed with four sticks each, about two pounds, enough to kill but not so heavy as to raise suspicion, like, say, a twenty-pound case would. “It needs to feel like someone’s work satchel,” Early said. Because of that, they were carving out any extra weight from the cases—metal frames, hinges, even thinning the leather.
Early 解释说，这些炸弹体积小且便于携带，每枚都装在一个挎包里，可以同时运送到两个地点——警察局和斯波坎俱乐部。这些箱子每个装着四根棍子，大约两磅重，足以杀死人，但又不会重到引起怀疑，就像一个 20 磅重的箱子那样。“它需要感觉像某人的工作包，”Early 说。正因为如此，他们从外壳中去除了任何额外的重量——金属框架、铰链，甚至使皮革变薄。
In the tops of the satchels would be loose papers, and beneath, sticks of dynamite strapped to the bottom of the case with blasting caps pressed into them, the caps covered with cotton soaked in a cyanide of potassium and sugar. A small medicine bottle of sulfuric acid would be secured above the blasting caps, sealed with a cork. When the valise was opened, a wire attached to the latch would pull the cork out, leaking acid and soaking the cotton, causing the caps to detonate and the dynamite to explode.
挎包的顶部是松散的纸张，下面是绑在箱子底部的炸药棒，里面压着爆破帽，盖子上覆盖着浸泡在钾和糖氰化物中的棉花。一个小药瓶硫酸将固定在爆破帽上方，用软木塞密封。当手提箱打开时，连接到闩锁上的电线会将软木塞拉出，泄漏酸液并浸湿棉花，导致瓶盖爆炸和炸药爆炸。
“Two pounds won’t take down a building,” Early said, “but I would not want to be in the room where it’s opened.”
“两磅的重量不会摧毁一栋建筑，”Early 说，“但我不想待在它打开的房间里。
Early said the packages would be delivered by Everett, who had saved his porter’s outfit just for this. They would be left at the police station and the Spokane Club when the recipient wasn’t there but was expected soon. We would be well on our way out of town when the valises were opened and then—
Early 说这些包裹会由 Everett 送来，他为此保存了他的搬运工的衣服。当收件人不在时，他们会被留在警察局和斯波坎俱乐部，但很快就会被预期。当行李箱打开时，我们正要离开城镇，然后——
“Boom,” said Miller.
“砰，”米勒说。
Early watched me to make sure I was up for it. Was I? He said there was one thing they needed from me. Miller wanted sharp metal to pack around the dynamite, to make the small bombs more lethal.
Early 观察我，确保我准备好了。是吗？他说他们需要我做一件事。米勒希望用锋利的金属包裹炸药，使小型炸弹更具杀伤力。
“We could use nails, of course,” Miller said. “But something even lighter would be better. Metal shavings.”
“我们当然可以使用钉子，”米勒说。“但更轻的东西会更好。金属屑。
“I told them you know someone who works in a machine shop,” Early said.
“我告诉他们，你认识一个在机械车间工作的人，”Early 说。
I looked down at my shoes. “I’ll take care of it,” I said.
我低头看了看我的鞋子。“我会处理的，”我说。
I had once tried to get a day job at a tin shop east of downtown, where they did pressing and metal shearing, and that night I took a bucket and walked the hobo highway until I got to their warehouse along the river. They had a slag and scrap pile behind the shop, and I picked through it for the thinnest, lightest pieces. I nicked up my hands pretty good on those sharp metal bits. The thought of those pieces flying around into mens’ bodies made me feel sick. But I knew what Early was asking—someone who works in a machine shop—and there was no way I was going to let him involve you, Rye.
我曾经试图在市中心以东的一家锡店找一份日常工作，他们在那里做压制和金属剪切，那天晚上我拿着水桶走在流浪汉高速公路上，直到我到达他们沿河的仓库。他们在商店后面有一堆炉渣和废料，我从中挑选出最薄、最轻的碎片。我的手在那些锋利的金属碎片上划得非常好。一想到那些碎片飞进男人的身体里，我就感到恶心。但我知道 Early 在问什么—— 一个在机械车间工作的人 ——我不可能让他牵扯到你，Rye。
Miller picked through the bucket and said the pieces were perfect, and he packed them in the sides of the valises, underneath the compartment with the fake paper. He was careful not to get them near the wire or the stopper holding in the acid. “Accidentally cut that stopper and—”
米勒从桶里捡了出来，说这些碎片很完美，然后他把它们装在手提箱的侧面，放在隔间下面的假纸里。他小心翼翼地不让它们靠近电线或装有酸液的塞子。“不小心把那个塞子剪断了，然后——”
“Boom,” said Everett.
“砰，”Everett 说。
Finished, the two valises looked harmless: thin leather upright carpetbags with two straps and a locking latch on top. There was a small key for each.
完成后，两个手提箱看起来无害：薄皮革直立地毯包，有两条带子，顶部有一个锁闩。每个人都有一把小钥匙。
The plan was simple. Everett would deliver the first satchel to the police department, for Sergeant Hub Clegg. He would deliver the case at eleven, three hours before Clegg’s night shift started, and would tell the cop at the desk that it was from one of the saloons where Clegg made his usual pickups.
计划很简单。Everett 将第一个挎包送到警察局，交给 Hub Clegg 警长。他会在 11 点交案，也就是 Clegg 夜班开始前三个小时，并告诉柜台的警察，Clegg 经常在其中一家酒吧接电话。
“And how do we get the other one to Brand?” I asked.
“那我们怎么把另一个人送到布兰德那里？”我问。
“I had an idea about that,” Early said. “I was thinking maybe your friend the lion tamer—”
“我对此有个想法，”Early 说。“我在想，也许你的朋友，那个驯狮师——”
“No,” I said, “no way. I’m not going to involve her. I’ll take it myself if I have to, and open it in front of him.”
“不，”我说，“不可能。我不会让她参与进来。如果有必要的话，我会自己拿走，当着他的面打开它。
“Okay. That’s fine.” Early patted me on the arm.
“好的。没关系。Early 拍了拍我的手臂。
“And it’s a cougar,” I said.
“那是一只美洲狮，”我说。
“We’ll come up with something else,” Early said.
“我们会想出其他办法，”Early 说。
It was quiet. We sat around drinking and playing cards, and Early came and went a few times in the Ford in the ensuing days. I wasn’t sure what we were waiting for or what he was doing on those trips. Miller said he was likely out stealing, that Early was a master thief. Finally, on the last Sunday night, he returned with a bottle of whiskey. “Tomorrow,” he said. The verdict was being read in the big IWW case. It would be the perfect day.
很安静。我们围坐在一起喝酒打牌，在接下来的几天里，Early 开着福特来来去去。我不确定我们在等什么，也不确定他在那些旅行中做什么。米勒说他很可能是出去偷东西的，Early 是一个盗贼大师。最后，在最后一个星期天晚上，他带着一瓶威士忌回来了。“明天，”他说。该判决是在 IWW 大案中宣读的。这将是完美的一天。
He shook our hands and patted us on the shoulders. He gave each man thirty dollars to make his escape.
他握了握我们的手，拍了拍我们的肩膀。他给了每个人三十美元，让他逃跑。
“Where’s this from?” Everett asked, fanning the money.
“这是从哪里来的？”Everett 问道，一边扇着钱。
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Early said.
“如果我告诉你，你不会相信我，”Early 说。
We poured a glass of whiskey and toasted each other, talking about what we’d do next. Early said not to get too specific in sharing our plans, for if one of us was picked up, he didn’t want that man to be able to implicate the others.
我们倒了一杯威士忌，互相敬酒，谈论我们下一步要做什么。Early 说在分享我们的计划时不要太具体，因为如果我们中的一个人被抓走，他不希望那个人能够牵连到其他人。
Everett said he was headed south. “Too cold up here. I’m gonna get me a girl and winter her up.” Miller, too, said he would head for warmer parts.
埃弗雷特说他要向南走。“这儿太冷了。我要给我找个女孩，让她过冬。米勒也表示，他会选择更温暖的部分。
“And what about you?” Everett asked me.
“那你呢？”Everett 问我。
“He’s coming with me,” Early said. “We’re gonna outlaw a little.” He winked at me and I thought it sounded fine, the two of us flying around the west in that Ford, the world quivering at our approach.
“他跟我走，”Early 说。“我们要取缔一点。”他向我眨了眨眼，我觉得听起来不错，我们俩开着那辆福特车在西边飞来飞去，世界因我们的到来而颤抖。
But that night I couldn’t sleep. As a kid, I had thought for a while that I might become an actor, travel the country doing monologues and playing characters. Was that what I was doing now—acting? Playing outlaw? Anarchist? Or was I becoming the real thing, maybe losing my mind like the madman who shot McKinley?
但那天晚上我睡不着。小时候，我曾想过一段时间，我可能会成为一名演员，在全国各地做独白和扮演角色。这就是我现在在做的事情——演戏吗？扮演亡命之徒？无政府主义 者？或者我正在成为真正的人，也许像那个枪杀麦金利的疯子一样失去了理智？
There were satchels with bombs in them. People would be killed. Innocent people, maybe. Clegg and Lem Brand, I bore them as much ill will as one human could bear another, but there was no guarantee someone else wouldn’t get hurt, too. Early kept saying this was a message we were delivering, that things were broken, that this was the only way to fix it, that we weren’t delivering bombs but ideas.
里面有装着炸弹的背包。人们会被杀害。也许是无辜的人。Clegg 和 Lem Brand，我对他们怀有的恶意，就像一个人能承受另一个人一样多，但不能保证其他人也不会受伤。Early 一直说这是我们传递的信息，事情已经坏了，这是修复它的唯一方法，我们传递的不是炸弹，而是想法。
You’re fooling yourself, I thought as I lay there, trying to sleep in the front room of that little blockhouse. You aren’t some actor, some learned man. Some kind of traveling philosopher.
你在自欺欺人， 我躺在那里想，想睡在那个小碉堡的前厅里。 你不是什么演员，什么博学的人。某种旅行哲学家。
This is what you are.
这就是你。
My last thoughts before sleep were about you, Rye-boy. I became rather melancholy, worried that I would never see my brother again. And the hardest part was knowing it was the best thing for you.
我睡前最后的思念是关于你，黑麦男孩。我变得相当忧郁，担心我再也见不到我的哥哥了。最困难的部分是知道这对你来说是最好的。
We rose quietly Monday morning in that little house, everyone alone with his thoughts except Miller, who whistled cheerfully. We all dressed plainly except Everett, who put on his porter outfit.
周一早上，我们在那栋小房子里静静地起床，除了米勒之外，每个人都独自一人在思考，他高兴地吹着口哨。我们都穿着朴素，除了 Everett，他穿上了他的搬运工装。
At nine, Early and I drove Miller to the train station and Everett to a café across the street, where he would eat his breakfast with the first satchel. Everett had just jumped out of the car when Early thought of something and chased him down with some last-minute instructions. He came back to the car. “I forgot to give him the key.”
九点时，我和 Early 开车送 Miller 去火车站，Everett 去街对面的一家咖啡馆，他会在那里用第一个书包吃早餐。Everett 刚从车里跳下来，Early 就想到了什么，并在最后一刻用一些指示追了上去。他回到车上。“我忘了把钥匙给他。”
After breakfast, Everett would deliver Clegg’s case to the police department, the key sealed in an envelope with Clegg’s name on it. The case would hopefully sit under the night sergeant’s desk until he started his shift in the afternoon. After Everett had delivered that first case, he would meet Early and me at the county courthouse at eleven-thirty, and we would give him the second case, which he would deliver to Lem Brand at the Spokane Club, where one of the waiters had told Everett that Brand ate lunch every weekday at two p.m.
早餐后，埃弗雷特将克莱格的案子交给警察局，钥匙密封在一个写有克莱格名字的信封里。这个案子希望能放在夜班警长的办公桌下，直到他下午开始轮班。在 Everett 处理完第一个案子后，他会在 11 点 30 分在县法院与 Early 和我见面，我们将把第二个案子交给他，他会把这个案子交给斯波坎俱乐部的 Lem Brand，那里的一名服务员告诉 Everett，Brand 每个工作日下午 2 点吃午饭。
Everett would then go back to the train station, where Miller would be waiting with a change of clothes and a ticket for him. Everett would change and he and Miller would leave on trains in opposite directions. Early and I would head west in the Ford. If all went well, we’d be long gone by midafternoon, when the cases were opened.
然后，埃弗雷特会回到火车站，米勒会在那里等着他换洗衣物和车票。埃弗雷特会换车，他和米勒会乘坐相反方向的火车离开。早点，我会开着福特向西走。如果一切顺利，到午后时分，当案件打开时，我们早就走了。
Back at the house, Early grabbed the second satchel and placed it gently in the backseat. I smoked as far from the Ford as I could get, while Early cleared the shop and the bunkhouse of any signs that we had been there. He burned our garbage in the woodstove, and I watched the gray smoke roll out into the sky. It was one of those startlingly clear days for February, cold endless blue.
回到家里，Early 拿起第二个挎包，轻轻地放在后座上。我尽可能地在离福特车的地方抽烟，而 Early 则清理了商店和工棚里的任何迹象，表明我们去过那里。他在柴火炉里焚烧我们的垃圾，我看着灰色的烟雾滚向天空。这是二月那些令人惊讶的晴朗日子之一，寒冷无尽的蓝色。
I filled the Ford’s tank with enough gas to get us back to Lind, and filled two more gas cans in case we needed to drive farther. I put our packs in the backseat, between the gas cans and the satchel.
我给福特的油箱加满了足够的汽油，让我们回到林德，又加了两个汽油罐，以防我们需要开得更远。我把背包放在后座上，在汽油罐和背包之间。
“It’d be a good day to not crash this machine,” Early said. I cranked the Lizzy and climbed in. A northeasterly had blown into the valley, and gusts rocked us as I drove toward downtown. “Watch the bumps,” Early said, and he checked his pocket watch. Eleven. The first satchel would have just been delivered.
“今天是个不让这台机器崩溃的好日子，”Early 说。我摇动 Lizzy 并爬了进去。东北风吹进了山谷，当我开车前往市中心时，阵风摇晃着我们。“注意颠簸，”Early 说，他检查了他的怀表。十一。第一个挎包应该刚刚送到。
We drove past the train station. If there was any problem, Miller was supposed to be standing outside. But he wasn’t there. I drove up Howard Street, past taverns and theaters, and although it was a quiet morning, it made me think of Ursula and wild old Spokane.
我们开车经过火车站。如果有什么问题，米勒应该站在外面。但他不在那里。我开车沿着霍华德街行驶，经过小酒馆和剧院，虽然这是一个安静的早晨，但它让我想起了乌苏拉和狂野的老斯波坎。
I thought of you, too, Rye-boy, and I wished I’d gone to see you once more, to apologize for the way I was after I got out of jail. These last days, I wanted to say goodbye. You’d be working up at the machine shop all day. Even if the cops figured out I was involved, there’d be no way to tie you to it. And then, when things calmed down, six months, a year from now, maybe I could come back. Maybe Early and I would have outlawed our way to such wealth that I could buy that little orchard behind Mrs. Ricci’s house for us. Or hell, maybe I’d buy her whole block.
我也想起了你，黑麦男孩，我真希望我能再去见你一次，为我出狱后的样子道歉。这最后的日子，我想说再见。你会整天在机械车间工作。即使警察发现我参与其中，也没有办法将你与此联系起来。然后，当事情平静下来时，六个月，一年后，也许我可以回来。也许 Early 和我会禁止我们获得如此丰富的财富，这样我就可以为我们买下 Ricci 太太房子后面的那个小果园。或者见鬼，也许我会买下她的整个街区。
At Riverside, we turned west, pausing for a horse and carriage. Early tipped his hat to two women waiting on the corner. They smiled and I wished I had a minute to get out of the car and charm them up in my old manner.
在里弗赛德，我们向西转，停下来等待马车。Early 向在街角等候的两个女人致敬。他们微笑着，我希望我有一分钟的时间下车，用我以前的方式迷住他们。
“Take Monroe,” Early said.
“以梦露为例，”Early 说。
The Monroe Street Bridge was a high steel span on the west side of downtown, crossing the deepest part of the two-hundred-foot gorge, just past the waterfalls. The deck was strung with power lines, and down the center ran two sets of streetcar tracks. It was a swaying, shaking old bridge that the city was planning to replace in the spring with a new concrete span. We rattled across it and landed on the north side of the river, the massive Spokane County Courthouse rising on our left. It looked like a French castle, cream brick, with a dozen spires rising from its red gabled roofs and, in the center, a 120-foot tower with American and state flags on top. It always looked so out of place across from downtown, alone on that north bank like the citadel of some neighboring kingdom.
门罗街大桥是市中心西侧的一个高钢跨度，穿过 200 英尺高的峡谷最深处，刚好经过瀑布。甲板上挂满了电线，中间有两组有轨电车轨道。这是一座摇晃的老桥，该市计划在春天用新的混凝土跨度取代它。我们嘎嘎作响地穿过它，降落在河的北侧，巨大的斯波坎县法院在我们的左边升起。它看起来像一座法国城堡，奶油色砖砌成，有十几个尖顶从红色山墙屋顶升起，中间是一座 120 英尺高的塔楼，顶部挂着美国国旗和州旗。在市中心对面，它总是显得格格不入，孤零零地在北岸，就像某个邻国的城堡。
Early had me cross the railroad tracks and drive past the courthouse once, then around back, while he checked things out. We came up from the south and idled on Madison, a tree-lined road across from the front of the courthouse. I pulled in under a bare maple. I looked around for Everett but didn’t see him.
Early 让我穿过铁轨，开车经过法院一会儿，然后绕回去，他检查一下。我们从南边上来，在麦迪逊（Madison）闲逛，这是一条绿树成荫的道路，对面就是法院前面。我在一棵光秃秃的枫树下停了下来。我四处寻找 Everett，但没有看到他。
There was a commotion outside: maybe three dozen people milling about, newspaper reporters and photographers, protestors with placards. Must have been why Early chose this place—it was a circus—the end of the trial of Gurley Flynn and Charlie Filigno.
外面一片骚动：大概有三十多人在走来走去，有报纸记者和摄影师，还有举着标语牌的抗议者。一定是 Early 选择这个地方的原因——这是一个马戏团——对 Gurley Flynn 和 Charlie Filigno 的审判结束。
“Give me your hat,” Early said, and I swapped my flat cap for his fedora. “Keep the car running. I’ll be right back.”
“把你的帽子给我，”Early 说，然后我把我的平顶帽换成了他的软呢帽。“让车继续行驶。我马上回来。
“You think something happened to Everett?” I asked.
“你觉得 Everett 出了什么事？”我问。
“No,” Early said. “Change of plans.”
“不，”Early 说。“计划有变。”
“What are you talking about,” I said. “Who is—”
“你在说什么，”我说。“谁是——”
And then I saw you.
然后我看到了你。
You were thirty yards off, standing away from that clutch of people beneath a maple tree. You were wearing a fancy suit, gray-blue, with shiny new shoes, a vest, and a necktie looped into a perfect knot. Who taught you to knot that necktie without me there to do it? You shifted your weight and I could see it then, my God, you just wanted to belong.
你在三十码远的地方，站在一棵枫树下，远离那群人。你穿着一套花哨的西装，灰蓝色，闪闪发光的新鞋，一件背心，领带打成一个完美的结。谁教你打那条领带，没有我在身边呢？你转移了你的重心，那时我就看得出来了，天哪，你只是想归属。
You looked like a man dressed for a fancy club—
你看起来就像个穿着华丽俱乐部的男人——
“No,” I said to Early, who was reaching around the backseat for the second satchel. “Not Rye.”
“不，”我对 Early 说，他正从后座伸手去拿第二个书包。“不是 Rye。”
“Gig, he’ll be fine,” Early said. “It’s the only way.”
“吉格，他会没事的，”Early 说。“这是唯一的办法。”
“Jesus, Early, no.”
“天哪，Early，不。”
“He wants to do this, Gig.”
“他想做这个，吉格。”
“No.”
“不。”
“He’s the one who can get close to Brand. It’s gotta be him, Gig.”
“他是可以接近布兰德的人。一定是他，吉格。
“How can he get close to Brand?”
“他怎么能接近布兰德？”
He looked over at me. “Jesus, think for just a second, Gig. How is it you got out of jail? When the rest of that crew was getting six months, how did you get out in only a month?”
他看着我。“天哪，想一想，吉格。你是怎么出狱的？当其他船员都用了六个月的时间，你怎么在短短一个月里就出来了？
“I wasn’t an elected official—”
“我不是民选官员——”
“Come on! Rye did that! He’s been Brand’s guy on the inside from the beginning. Him and Ursula.”
“来吧！Rye 做到了！他从一开始就是布兰德的内线人。他和乌苏拉。
I closed my eyes. It’s never the whole truth. But it’s enough
我闭上了眼睛。这从来都不是全部的真相。但这已经足够了.
“And now he wants to make up for it,” Early said. “He’s carrying five thousand dollars from Brand. We take that and he takes this satchel to Brand. He’ll be long gone by the time Brand opens it.”
“现在他想弥补，”Early 说。“他从布兰德那里拿了五千美元。我们拿着那个，他把这个挎包拿给 Brand。当布兰德打开它时，他早就走了。
I looked up at you, Rye-boy, in your fancy suit. And you saw me.
我抬头看着你，黑麦男孩，穿着你那华丽的西装。你看到了我。
“Five thousand,” Early said. “Think of what we can do with that.” And then he reached into the backseat for the satchel again.
“五千，”Early 说。“想想我们能用它做什么。”然后他又把手伸进后座去拿书包。
On Sunday, the day before Gurley’s verdict, and the day before he was to meet Early at the courthouse, Rye took a streetcar up the South Hill, walked six blocks, and stood shivering at Lem Brand’s gate, on the street below Alhambra. A young man stepped out of the gatehouse. He asked Rye to wait, and a minute later, Willard came down the driveway in his Ford. He gestured and Rye got in.
星期天，也就是格利判决的前一天，也是他要在法院见 Early 的前一天，莱伊乘坐有轨电车上南山，走了六个街区，站在阿罕布拉宫下方街道上的莱姆·布兰德门前，发抖。一个年轻人从门房里走了出来。他让 Rye 等一下，一分钟后，Willard 开着他的福特车从车道上下来。他做了个手势，Rye 进了车。
“Mr. Brand’s out of town,” Willard said.
“布兰德先生不在城里，”威拉德说。
Rye delivered Early’s message: “He wants five thousand, and for that, he says he’ll give Mr. Brand the evidence of their deal and disappear forever.”
Rye 传达了 Early 的信息：“他想要五千美元，为此，他说他会把他们交易的证据交给布兰德先生，然后永远消失。
Willard wrote in a small notebook as he said, “What evidence?”
威拉德在一个小笔记本上写道，“什么证据？
“He didn’t say.”
“他没说。”
“Five thousand?”
“五千？”
“Yes. Delivered to me Monday morning. And then I give it to him.”
“是的。周一早上送到我手上。然后我把它给他。
Willard wrote all of this down. Then he sent Rye back to the gatehouse and drove back to the main house. Rye stood with the guard, who kept blowing on his hands, even though he wore gloves. “Do you like your job?” Rye asked.
威拉德把这一切写下来了。然后他把 Rye 送回门房，开车回到主屋。Rye 和警卫站在一起，尽管他戴着手套，但警卫还是不停地在他的手上吹气。“你喜欢你的工作吗？”Rye 问道。
“Are you kidding?” the man asked.
“你在开玩笑吗？”
Willard came back down the drive ten minutes later. Rye got in the car again.
十分钟后，威拉德从车道上回来了。Rye 又上了车。
“Okay,” Willard said. “I bring you the money Monday, and you give me whatever papers and evidence Reston has regarding his deal with Mr. Brand?”
“好的，”威拉德说。“我星期一给你带来钱，你把雷斯顿手头上关于他和布兰德先生交易的任何文件和证据给我吗？”
“He wants the money first,” Rye said. “Then he gives me the evidence. And I bring that to Mr. Brand at the Spokane Club in the afternoon.”
“他首先要钱，”Rye 说。“然后他把证据给我。下午我会把它带到斯波坎俱乐部的布兰德先生那里。
Willard wrote all of this down. “Where are you meeting Reston?” he asked without looking up.
威拉德把这一切写下来了。“你在哪里见雷斯顿？”
“I’m not supposed to say,” Rye said. “I’m supposed to tell you that if you follow me, the deal is off.”
“我不应该说，”Rye 说。“我应该告诉你，如果你跟着我走，交易就结束了。”
Willard wrote this down. “And what assurance does Mr. Brand have?”
威拉德把这句话写下来。“那么布兰德先生有什么保证呢？”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“我不知道那是什么意思。”
“How do we know this is the end of it,” Willard said, “that Reston won’t keep coming after him?”
“我们怎么知道这就是结局，”威拉德说，“雷斯顿不会继续追捕他？
“I don’t know,” Rye said.
“我不知道，”Rye 说。
Willard wrote this down. He looked over his notes. “Okay,” he said, “give me a minute.” Rye got out and Willard drove to the house again while Rye stood with the guard in the small guardhouse, just a few feet from each other.
威拉德把这句话写下来。他翻看了看自己的笔记。“好的，”他说，“给我一分钟。Rye 下了车，Willard 再次开车去了房子，而 Rye 和警卫站在小警卫室里，彼此之间只有几英尺的距离。
“You got a job?” the guard asked Rye.
“你找到工作了吗？”
“I work in a machine shop,” Rye said.
“我在一家机械车间工作，”Rye 说。
“You like it?”
“你喜欢它吗？”
“Yeah.”
“是的。”
The guard said, “Huh,” as if he’d taken some wrong turn in life.
警卫说，“嗯”，就好像他在人生中走错了什么路。
“Can I ask you something?” Rye asked. “Is Mr. Brand really out of town?”
“我能问你一件事吗？”Rye 问道。“布兰德先生真的不在城里吗？”
The guard glanced at the house, then back at Rye. He shrugged with one shoulder.
警卫看了一眼房子，然后又看了一眼 Rye。他耸了耸肩。
A minute later, Willard drove back down to the guardhouse. “Get in.”
一分钟后，威拉德开车回到警卫室。“进去。”
Rye did and Willard drove him back down the South Hill, through downtown, over the river, toward Mrs. Ricci’s house. “I’ll bring you the money at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said. “Mr. Brand wants you to tell Reston that the only reason he’s agreed to this was that unfortunate business with Del Dalveaux. This closes the books between them forever. If, for some reason, Reston resurfaces, or tells anyone that Mr. Brand hired him, Mr. Brand will spend the rest of his fortune hunting him down and killing him and his compatriots.” He cleared his throat. “And Mr. Brand wants you to know that we’ll start with you.”
莱伊照做了，威拉德开车带他沿着南山（South Hill）走，穿过市中心，越过河流，向里奇太太的房子走去。“明天早上八点我把钱给你拿来，”他说。“布兰德先生希望你告诉雷斯顿，他同意这样做的唯一原因是与 Del Dalveaux 的那笔不幸的交易。这永远关闭了他们之间的账簿。如果出于某种原因，雷斯顿再次出现，或者告诉任何人布兰德先生雇用了他，布兰德先生将花费他剩余的财富来追捕他并杀死他和他的同胞。他清了清嗓子。“布兰德先生想让你知道，我们会从你开始。”
“I’m not—” Rye started to say.
“我不是——”Rye 开始说。
But Willard held up his hand, as if embarrassed to have delivered such a threat. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just what people say.”
但威拉德举起了他的手，仿佛为发出这样的威胁而感到尴尬。“别担心，这只是人们怎么说的。”
Rye looked out the window at the deep sky, thinking of Prince Andrey lying wounded in the battle of Austerlitz, believing he was dying, realizing too late his own insignificance, the emptiness of valor and honor, the finality of death.
莱伊望着窗外深邃的天空，想着安德烈王子在奥斯特里茨战役中负伤躺卧，相信自己快要死了，意识到自己的渺小为时已晚，意识到勇气和荣誉的空虚，死亡的终结。
They drove in silence for a few blocks. Willard parked in front of Mrs. Ricci’s house. He offered his hand and Rye shook it.
他们默默地开了几个街区。威拉德把车停在里奇夫人家门口。他伸出手，Rye 握了握。
“After this, tell Mr. Brand it’s over. I really am done.”
“在这之后，告诉布兰德先生，一切都结束了。我真的完蛋了。
“Sure thing, kid,” Willard said.
“当然，孩子，”威拉德说。
Rye had beef and cabbage with Mrs. Ricci and a new short-term boarder she had taken in, a thin Canadian salesman with a long, open face. “What line are you in, Mr. Dolan?” the Canadian asked.
Rye 和 Ricci 夫人以及她收留的一位新的短期寄宿生一起吃牛肉和卷心菜，他是一位瘦弱的加拿大推销员，长着一张张开着的脸。“Dolan 先生，您是怎么行的？”
“Machinery,” Rye said.
“机械，”Rye 说。
“There’s the future,” the man said. “Machines will do it all one day.” He held up a bite of beef. “A machine will raise the cow and a machine will kill it and another will cook this steak and another will serve it to you. A machine will chew it up and take out the gristle and dribble it down your throat like a baby bird. Another machine will digest it for you. I’ll be gone, and you, too, my young friend. We will be on an assembly line, and then we will be part of the assembly line, and eventually, there will just be a machine.”
“有未来，”那个人说。“机器总有一天会完成这一切。”他举起一口牛肉。“一台机器会养牛，一台机器会杀死它，另一台会煮这块牛排，另一台会给你端上来。机器会把它嚼碎，取出软骨，然后像小鸟一样滴进你的喉咙。另一台机器会为你消化它。我会走的，你也会走的，我的年轻朋友。我们将在装配线上，然后我们将成为装配线的一部分，最终，将只有一台机器。
Rye wasn’t sure what to say.
Rye 不知道该说什么。
“Sta’ zitto,” Mrs. Ricci said.
“Sta' zitto，” 利玛窦太太说。
“Exactly,” said the Canadian man.
“没错，”那个加拿大男人说。
After dinner, Rye sat by the fire and read a chapter of War and Peace
晚饭后，Rye 坐在火炉旁，读了《战争与和平》的一章.
“What are you reading?” the Canadian asked, but when Rye held up the book, the man gave no reaction and went back to his newspaper. Rye had trouble concentrating on the book, and he went to bed early. He fell asleep right away but woke well before dawn and lay in bed waiting for morning.
“你在读什么书？”加拿大人问道，但当 Rye 举起书时，那个人没有反应，回到了他的报纸上。Rye 难以专心写书，他早早就睡了。他马上就睡着了，但在黎明前就醒了，躺在床上等待早晨。
With the sun just beginning to spill across the horizon, Rye rose and went to the outhouse. He cleaned and powdered himself, wet down his hair. He began to get dressed in his new suit. It was winter. Was he supposed to wear his long johns with a suit? He worried they would be too bunchy under his pants, so he put on summer undershorts instead. Then he put on the smooth suit pants, running his hand down the crease in the center. He put on the stiff white collared shirt, braces, the vest, the thin new socks, and the shiny calfskin shoes. He laced and knotted the shoes tight around his feet. He put on his coat. And his bowler. And finally, he grabbed the necktie. Chester the clothier had given him a quick lesson on knotting it, but that had been in front of a mirror, and he couldn’t remember the steps. And there was no mirror in Mrs. Ricci’s house. He felt a moment of panic. He could never loop this tie without a mirror. And anyway, what even was the point of having such clothes if he couldn’t see himself in them?
太阳刚刚开始洒在地平线上，Rye 起身去了外屋。他把自己洗干净，涂上粉，弄湿了头发。他开始穿上他的新西装。那是冬天。他应该穿他的长裤搭配西装吗？他担心裤子下面会太束缚，所以他换上了夏季内裤。然后他穿上光滑的西装裤，把手顺着中间的折痕滑下。他穿上了那件硬挺的白领衬衫、牙套、背心、薄薄的新袜子和一双闪闪发光的小牛皮鞋。他系好鞋带，把鞋子紧紧地系在脚上。他穿上了外套。还有他的投球手。最后，他抓住了领带。服装商切斯特给他上了一堂关于打结的快速课程，但那是在镜子前，他记不清步骤了。而且 Ricci 太太的房子里没有镜子。他感到一阵恐慌。没有镜子，他永远无法将这条领带套起来。不管怎么说，如果他看不到自己穿着这些衣服，那么拥有这些衣服又有什么意义呢？
Mrs. Ricci was making breakfast for the Canadian salesman when Rye came out of his bedroom. “Sharp suit,” the Canadian said. “Single-breasted vest, elegant cut, fine, fine, where’d you get it, the Crescent?”
Ricci 夫人正在为加拿大推销员做早餐，这时 Rye 从他的卧室出来。“利落的西装，”加拿大人说。“单排扣背心，剪裁优雅，精致，精致，你从哪儿弄来的，新月？”
“Burks and Feyn,” Rye said. “Downtown?”
“Burks 和 Feyn，”Rye 说。“市中心？”
“That’s a thirty-dollar suit if I’ve ever seen one, nice, nice, very nice.”
“如果我见过的话，那可是一套三十块钱的西装，不错，很好，非常好。”
Rye’s face was burning. He could ask the Canadian for help with the tie, but the man bothered him. Maybe Mrs. Ricci had helped her sons knot neckties. But she just stared at him, spatula in hand, bacon grease popping behind her.
Rye 的脸在燃烧。他可以向加拿大人请教，但那个人打扰了他。也许 Ricci 夫人帮她的儿子们打了结领带。但她只是盯着他，手里拿着抹刀，培根油脂在她身后弹出。
“I can’t eat this morning, Mrs. Ricci,” Rye said, “no mangia,” and he went into the front room, peeked through the curtains, and saw, at the curb, Willard’s Model T idling in front of the house.
“我今天早上不能吃东西，里奇太太，”莱伊说，“不吃，”他走进前厅，透过窗帘偷看，看到路边的威拉德的 T 型车在屋前空转。
Rye unlocked the front door and walked out, went down the walk. He knocked on the passenger door and startled Willard again.
Rye 打开前门，走出去，沿着小路走去。他敲了敲副驾驶的门，再次吓了威拉德一跳。
“You can’t keep doing that,” Willard said. He ran his hand along the right side of his face. “Glaucoma. No peripheral vision.”
“你不能一直这样做，”威拉德说。他用手抚摸着自己的右侧脸。“青光眼。没有周边视觉。
“How was I supposed to know that?” Rye asked.
“我怎么知道的？”Rye 问道。
Willard looked Rye up and down. “Christ. What happened to you?”
威拉德上下打量着莱伊。“天哪。你怎么了？
“Gurley’s verdict is today. I want to look nice.”
“格利的判决是今天。我想看起来漂亮。
“Well,” Willard said, “you do.”
“嗯，”威拉德说，“你知道。
Rye held out the necktie. “Do you have any idea—”
Rye 伸出领带。“你知道吗——”
“Sure. Get in.” Willard had Rye sit in the passenger seat and face away, toward the house. “Double Windsor?”
“当然。进来。威拉德让莱伊坐在副驾驶座上，面朝房子。“双温莎？”
“Whatever it’s supposed to be,” Rye said, embarrassed that he’d bought clothes that he couldn’t even operate.
“不管它应该是什么，”Rye 说，他为买了连他都无法作的衣服而感到尴尬。
Willard lifted Rye’s collar and draped the tie over his neck. He lowered the collar and narrated as he looped it. “Okay. This is simple.” He put his hands over Rye’s, and they did it together. “Over the top, around, over, through the loop, around again, and once more through the hole. Then pull tight. Adjust. There you go.”
威拉德掀起莱伊的衣领，把领带披在他的脖子上。他放下项圈，一边绕圈一边叙述。“好的。这很简单。他把手放在 Rye's 上，他们一起做了。“越过顶部，绕过，越过，穿过环，再绕，再穿过洞。然后拉紧。调整。你去吧。
He patted Rye’s shoulder and sat back in his seat. Rye settled in and Willard handed him a fat envelope. “You want to count it?”
他拍了拍 Rye 的肩膀，坐回了座位上。Rye 安顿下来，Willard 递给他一个厚厚的信封。“你想数吗？”
“Not really.”
“不是。”
“Good. Put it in your inside pocket.”
“很好。把它放在你的内袋里。
Rye did.
Rye 做到了。
“I’m going to be at the courthouse, watching.”
“我要在法院里看着。”
“No, Willard, he said nobody—” Rye began.
“不，威拉德，他说没有人——”莱伊开始说。
“I know what he said. You won’t know I’m there, and neither will he.”
“我知道他说了什么。你不会知道我在那儿，他也不会。
Rye felt less than confident.
Rye 感到不太自信。
“I’m not doing this for Brand,” Willard said. “He doesn’t even know. He’s scared stupid of this Early Reston, or Ennis Cooper, or whoever he is. Thinks he’s a ghost. But I know he’s not. I worked with sons of bitches like this. He’s no anarchist, no ghost. He’s not even a detective. He’s just a thief and a murderer.”
“我不是为了布兰德做这件事，”威拉德说。“他甚至不知道。他害怕这个早期的雷斯顿，或者恩尼斯·库珀，或者不管他是谁。觉得他是个鬼。但我知道他不是。我和这样的婊子的儿子一起工作。他不是无政府主义者，也不是鬼。他甚至不是一名侦探。他只是一个小偷和一个杀人犯。
“A murderer?” Rye felt a chill.
“杀人犯？”Rye 感到一阵寒意。
“He’s killed at least two men, easy as swatting flies.”
“他至少杀了两个人，就像拍苍蝇一样容易。”
“Who?”
“谁？”
“Doesn’t matter,” Willard said. “But I want you to know, I’ll be watching in case something happens.”
“没关系，”威拉德说。“但我想让你知道，我会看着万一发生什么事情。”
“But what if it’s in your peripheral vision?” Rye asked.
“但如果它在你的周边视野中呢？”Rye 问道。
Willard sat for a moment before a corner of his mouth went up and he made a noise—“Hmm”—that Rye realized was the closest he had to a laugh. The big man patted Rye on the lapel of his jacket. “You look good, kid. A real gentleman.”
威拉德坐了一会儿，然后嘴角上扬，他发出了声音——“嗯 ”——Rye 意识到这是他最接近笑声的声音。大个子拍了拍 Rye 的夹克翻领。“你看起来不错，孩子。一个真正的绅士。
Willard dropped Rye off two blocks from the county courthouse. It was a cool, clear day, wind agitating a row of young maples lining Broadway in front of the courthouse, which sat on a knoll across the railroad tracks, above the river gorge.
威拉德将 Rye 送到离县法院两个街区的地方。那是一个凉爽、晴朗的日子，风吹拂着法院前百老汇两旁的一排年轻的枫树，法院坐落在铁轨对面的一个小山丘上，在河谷上方。
Outside, people were milling about, Wobbly organizers from Idaho and Seattle, tramps from all over, cops, men in work clothes, goateed socialists, newspapermen in fedoras, women from church and temperance societies, lawyers in worn workaday suits with winter rubbers pulled over their shoes. Rye looked down at his own shoes, so shiny they seemed to be lit from within. Rye was the only one here who had come dressed for a soiree.
外面，人们来来往往，来自爱达荷州和西雅图的摇摆不定的组织者，来自各地的流浪汉，警察，穿着工作服的男人，留着山羊胡的社会主义者，戴软呢帽的报人，来自教堂和节制社团的妇女，穿着破旧的工作日西装，鞋子上套着冬季橡胶的律师。Rye 低头看着自己的鞋子，闪闪发光，仿佛从里面被照亮了。Rye 是这里唯一一个穿着盛装参加晚会的人。
He felt so foolish. What had he expected? Some kind of pageantry? He blamed Anna Pavlovna, Prince Andrey, the Rostovs. Now here he was, dressed in fancy new evening wear, with five thousand dollars in his breast pocket—what had Early said, Who are you? It was a fair question. He wondered what Gig would think of him now.
他觉得自己太愚蠢了。他期待什么？某种盛况？他责怪安娜·巴甫洛夫娜、安德烈王子、罗斯托夫夫妇。现在他就在这里，穿着华丽的新晚礼服，胸前的口袋里揣着五千美元——厄利尔说了什么， 你是谁？ 这是一个合理的问题。他想知道 Gig 现在会怎么看他。
He looked for Willard in the crowd, or his Model T on the street, but didn’t see either. He followed some lawyers up the wide courthouse steps. His whole idea had been to come see Gurley on the day of her verdict, but this was all so much more elaborate than he’d imagined, like some kind of production he was attending, like Ursula the Great at the Comique. But if that was the case, who was the cougar?
他在人群中寻找威拉德，或在街上寻找他的 T 型车，但都没有看到。他跟着一些律师走上了法院宽阔的台阶。他整个主意就是在格利判决的那天来见她，但这一切都比他想象的要复杂得多，就像他正在参加的某种演出，就像喜剧中的乌苏拉大帝一样。但如果是这样的话，美洲狮是谁呢？
Up the stairs and inside the courthouse, a uniformed cop was stopping everyone. He asked if Rye had credentials, and Rye said, “For what?” and the cop sent him down the hallway to stand with other hangers-on. Apparently, every seat in the courtroom had long ago been assigned. Rye had imagined this would be like his own courtroom appearance, with just a few onlookers, Mr. Moore, and the prosecutor, Fred Pugh. But the whole building was packed, corridors full of newspaper reporters and lawyers, unionists and curious people from all over the country. Rye found himself pushed to the end of a hallway with a group of lawyers around a spittoon, none of them with decent aim. A splatter of tobacco juice crossed the bow of one of Rye’s new shoes, and he dropped to wipe it away with his bare hand.
在楼梯上和法院内，一名身穿制服的警察拦住了所有人。他问 Rye 有没有证件，Rye 说，“为了什么？”然后警察让他走到走廊上，和其他挂架子一起站着。显然，法庭上的每个座位早就被分配好了。莱伊曾以为这就像他自己在法庭上的露面，只有几个围观者，摩尔和检察官弗雷德·皮尤（Fred Pugh）。但整栋大楼都挤满了人，走廊里挤满了报纸记者和律师、工会成员和来自全国各地的好奇人士。Rye 发现自己被推到了走廊的尽头，一群律师围着一个痰盂，他们都没有像样的瞄准。一团烟汁划过莱伊的一只新鞋的鞋弓，他蹲下身子，徒手擦去。
These lawyers were a scraggly bunch, reminding him of a pack of tramps around a cook fire. They were debating how badly the union was going to lose—six-month to one-year sentences the consensus, although a lawyer with a massive boiler of a gut said Pugh planned to argue that these were the masterminds of all the trouble and to seek exceptional sentences of five years. “The judge would have them drawn and quartered if the prosecutor could find a precedent,” he said.
这些律师是一群邋遢的律师，让他想起了一群围着篝火堆的流浪汉。他们正在争论工会会输得有多惨——六个月到一年的刑期是共识，尽管一位直觉充沛的律师说，皮尤打算争辩说这些人是所有麻烦的主谋，并寻求五年的特殊判决。“如果检察官能找到先例，法官会把他们抽出来四分五裂，”他说。
One of the lawyers said that Gurley Flynn had succeeded in distracting from the state’s case, but the heavy lawyer leaned in and confided that it didn’t matter because Pugh’s own neighbor was the jury foreman “and he’s got no sympathy for unions, bums, foreigners, or wives who run out on husbands.” Another lawyer said Gurley had so angered the judge that the jury’s instructions had basically been about how far they could go in sentencing. The third lawyer pointed out that Pugh had won every case against the IWW this year and wasn’t likely to lose the biggest yet.
其中一名律师说，格利·弗林成功地分散了对该州案件的注意力，但这位身材魁梧的律师俯身吐露说，这并不重要，因为皮尤自己的邻居是陪审团团长，“他对工会、流浪汉、外国人或离家出走的妻子没有同情心。另一名律师说，格利非常激怒了法官，以至于陪审团的指示基本上是关于他们可以在量刑方面走多远。第三位律师指出，Pugh 今年赢得了针对 IWW 的所有案件，而且不太可能输掉最大的案件。
All of this angered Rye, and he had the urge to tell the spitting lawyers that Pugh hadn’t won them all, that Fred Moore had gotten at least one Wobbly out of jail, but he kept his tongue.
这一切都激怒了莱伊，他有一种冲动，想告诉那些吐口水的律师，皮尤并没有赢得他们所有人的胜利，弗雷德·摩尔至少把一个摇摆不定的人从监狱里救了出来，但他保持了沉默。
People moved in and out of the hall, but the cops wouldn’t let anyone go upstairs. They stood for over an hour, and then a commotion arose, people yelling from the floor above, newspapermen like birds startled off a wire. “A shocker!” someone yelled, although Rye couldn’t tell which way, someone yelling, “Guilty!” and someone else yelling, “Acquitted!” He tried to get closer but was pushed even farther back as the hall was filled by more reporters and onlookers, a sea of fedoras, and a cheer went up and then there was some angry yelling, and Rye might not have known what was happening except a newspaperman turned and yelled right into his face, “Filigno’s guilty, Gurley Flynn’s let go!”
人们在大厅里进进出出，但警察不让任何人上楼。他们站了一个多小时，然后发生了骚动，人们从楼上大喊大叫，报人像鸟儿一样被电线惊醒。有人喊道，尽管 Rye 分不清是哪边，有人大喊“ 有罪 ！”，还有人大喊“ 无罪释放！他试图靠近，但被推得更远了，因为大厅里挤满了更多的记者和围观者，一片软呢帽的海洋，欢呼声响起，然后是一些愤怒的吼叫，Rye 可能不知道发生了什么，除了一个报人转过身来，对着他的脸大喊， “菲利尼奥有罪，格利·弗林被释放了！”
Rye was pushed against the wall and he saw the prosecutor, Pugh, come down the staircase, red-faced and furious, chasing after a man in a gray suit. “You let the worst of them go free!” On the steps, a man who was apparently a juror turned to the prosecutor. “Aw, she ain’t a criminal, Fred. You want us to send some pretty Irish girl to jail for being bighearted and idealistic?”
Rye 被推到墙上，他看到检察官 Pugh 从楼梯上走下来，红着脸，愤怒地追赶着一个穿着灰色西装的男人。“你放过他们中最坏的人！”在台阶上，一名显然是陪审员的男子转向检察官。“噢，她不是罪犯，弗雷德。你想让我们把一个漂亮的爱尔兰女孩送进监狱，因为她心胸宽广和理想主义？
There was more yelling, people pushing, and someone stomped on Rye’s new shoes, scuffing them. He stood at the end of the first-floor hallway for another half hour, with the lawyers chattering about this great upset—a defeat for the city, shame for the mayor and Police Chief Sullivan, who now could not ignore Gurley Flynn’s allegations about the jail.
更多的是大喊大叫，人们推搡，有人踩踏 Rye 的新鞋，擦伤了它们。他在一楼走廊的尽头又站了半个小时，律师们喋喋不休地谈论着这个巨大的不安——这座城市的失败，市长和警察局长沙利文的耻辱，他们现在无法忽视格利·弗林（Gurley Flynn）关于监狱的指控。
Then, from down the hall, Rye saw Fred Moore descend the stairs, his arm around Gurley, who looked angry, nothing like a person who had just been acquitted. Rye was surprised at both how pregnant she was—her belly well out in front—and how small she seemed in the crowd around her. She was yelling back up the stairs to a scrum of reporters following her. “We should have both been convicted or both cleared!” She vowed to appeal, and at Rye’s end of the hall, the spittoon lawyers began debating whether a defendant could actually appeal her own acquittal.
然后，从走廊的另一边，Rye 看到 Fred Moore 走下楼梯，他的手臂搂着 Gurley，Gurley 看起来很生气，一点也不像一个刚刚被无罪释放的人。Rye 对她怀孕的程度感到惊讶——她的肚子远远地露在前面——以及她在周围的人群中看起来是多么渺小。她在楼梯上对着一群跟在她后面的记者大喊大叫。“我们俩都应该被定罪或都被洗脱！”她发誓要上诉，在大厅的 Rye 尽头，痰盂律师开始争论被告是否真的可以对自己的无罪判决提出上诉。
“I don’t think that’s even possible,” one of them said.
“我认为这甚至不可能，”其中一人说。
“We are not done fighting for justice here!” Gurley yelled. “Nor am I done exposing the venal corruption of the police and prosecutors, and the millionaire mining concerns that own them!” At that, Mr. Moore pulled Gurley by the arm, and the whole spectacle moved down the steps and spilled out the doors.
“我们在这里为正义而战还没有结束！”格利大喊。“我也没有结束揭露警察和检察官的贪婪腐败，以及拥有他们的百万富翁采矿企业！”这时，摩尔先生拉着格利的胳膊，整个景象沿着台阶走下来，洒在了门外。
Rye tried to follow, but people coming down the staircase kept pushing him farther away from Gurley and his old lawyer. He’d hoped to see her, to talk to her, to say, to say—
Rye 试图跟上，但从楼梯上下来的人不断将他推得离 Gurley 和他的老律师更远。他希望能见到她，和她说话，说，说——
To say what?
说什么？
In the commotion, his own thoughts froze him: What were you hoping to say? Rye stood stone-still in the swirling crowd. He had created a whole fantasy in his mind—her seeing him dressed like this, thanking him for delivering her story to the Agitator, for saving the movement. She would no longer see him as a mole and a traitor, a desperate, unsophisticated orphan bum, but as a man who had done the right thing.
在骚动中，他自己的思绪让他定格了： 你想说什么 ？ Rye 一动不动地站在漩涡般的人群中。他在脑海中创造了一个完整的幻想——她看到他穿成这样，感谢他把她的故事告诉了煽动者 ，拯救了这场运动。她不会再把他看作一个内奸和叛徒，一个绝望的、不成熟的孤儿流浪汉，而是一个 做了正确事情的人。
And how far did this fantasy go? That she would no longer be married and pregnant? That Lem Brand wouldn’t still be rich, that Charlie Filigno wouldn’t be going to prison, that the speaking ban wasn’t still in effect and the IWW still banned? That his brother wasn’t off somewhere being a drunk? That Early Reston wasn’t out there waiting for him? He’d read in the newspaper that since the free speech riots, the number of job agencies had actually grown, from thirty to forty. What good were they doing out here, any of them? Even her?
这个幻想走了多远？她不会再结婚和怀孕了？莱姆·布兰德（Lem Brand）不会仍然富有，查理·菲利尼奥（Charlie Filigno）不会进监狱，演讲禁令仍然有效，IWW 仍然被禁止？他的兄弟不是在某个地方喝醉了？那个早期的雷斯顿不是在外面等他吗？他在报纸上读到，自从言论自由骚乱以来，职业介绍所的数量实际上已经增加了，从三十家增加到了四十家。他们在这里做了什么好事，他们中的任何一个？甚至她？
He thought of Count Tolstoy’s book and how, after the horrific, bloody battle of Borodino, the war just seemed to peter out, ending not in bravery but in retreat—exhaustion and the change of seasons having as much to do with the final Russian victory as any decisive action. Was that just the way of things? Rye found himself wishing he could talk to Gig about it.
他想起了托尔斯泰伯爵的书，想起了在可怕的血腥博罗季诺战役之后，战争似乎逐渐平息，不是以勇敢而是以撤退告终——疲惫和季节的更替与俄国的最终胜利一样，与任何决定性的行动一样重要。事情就是这样吗？Rye 发现自己希望他能和 Gig 谈谈这件事。
But then he remembered: Gig hadn’t read that far into War and Peace. Only he had done that.
但后来他想起来了：Gig 对 《战争与和平 》没有读得那么深 。只有他做到了。
He felt disoriented as he stepped out into the brisk February air, the sky above him chalky blue, the wind shaking the bare tree limbs. From the top of the stairs, he could see Gurley down at the curb, surrounded by reporters and well-wishers, people calling, “Gurley!” And a few others calling, “Whore!”—a blur of faces and voices and the trees shaking and then she was eased into a long automobile by good Fred Moore, the lawyer calming the crowd: “That’s enough! No more questions!”
当他踏入二月轻快的空气中时，他感到迷失了方向，头顶的天空是白垩蓝色的，风吹拂着光秃秃的树枝。从楼梯顶端，他可以看到 Gurley 在路边，周围环绕着记者和祝福者，人们喊道：“Gurley！ “还有几个人喊道，” 婊子！“——面孔和声音模糊不清，树木摇晃，然后她被好心的律师弗雷德·摩尔（Fred Moore）缓缓地送上了一辆长长的汽车，安抚了人群：”够了！不要再有问题了！
But right before she slid into the car, Gurley happened to glance up, and she must’ve seen Rye on the courthouse steps, because she smiled just a little and raised her hand to wave—
但就在她滑进车里之前，格利碰巧抬头瞥了一眼，她一定看到了法院台阶上的莱伊，因为她微微一笑，举起手挥手——
Or did she?
或者她是这样吗？
He could never be sure, because then Fred Moore climbed in the car and it pulled away, stopped for a man crossing the street, and sped off.
他永远无法确定，因为随后 Fred Moore 爬上了车，车子开走了，停在一个过马路的男人面前，然后加速离开。
Standing there, alone on the courthouse steps, Rye thought that history was like a parade. When you were inside it, nothing else mattered. You could hardly believe the noise—the marching and juggling and playing of horns. But most people were not in the parade. They experienced it from the sidewalk, from the street, watched it pass, and when it was on to the next place, they had nothing to do but go back to their quiet lives.
Rye 独自站在法院的台阶上，认为历史就像一场游行。当你在里面时，其他一切都不重要。你几乎不敢相信那声音——行进、杂耍和号角演奏。但大多数人都没有参加游行。他们在人行道上，从街上体验它，看着它经过，当它到达下一个地方时，他们别无选择，只能回到他们平静的生活。
On the wide marble steps, someone bumped Rye and he moved down the staircase to the sidewalk. On the lawn in front of the courthouse, the crowd lingered, argued, made cases to people who couldn’t hear a word the other side said. Rye looked east to the big clock tower above the train depot. It was eleven-twenty, ten minutes before he was to meet Early Reston and give him the money in his coat.
在宽阔的大理石台阶上，有人撞了 Rye，他沿着楼梯走到人行道上。在法院前的草坪上，人群徘徊、争论、向听不见对方一句话的人提出案子。Rye 向东望向火车站上方的大钟楼。现在是十一点二十分，十分钟后，他要见到早期的雷斯顿，把他外套里的钱给他。
Newsboys were already selling extra one-sheets from the Chronicle, and Rye bought one for a nickel, amazed at the speed of news nowadays. The verdict had been less than an hour ago, and here he was, holding a story about it in his hands. He walked away from the courthouse with the paper, leaned against a tree, and read the coverage of his friend’s trial. There were three big headlines: IWW GETS DOUBLE DEFEAT! and IRISH REBEL GIRL CUT LOOSE! and ITALIAN AGITATOR TO PRISON!
报童们已经从 《 纪事报 》多卖了一份报纸 ，莱伊花了五分钱买了一份，对现在的新闻速度感到惊讶。判决是在不到一个小时前，他就在这里，手里拿着一个关于它的故事。他拿着报纸走出法院，靠在一棵树上，读着他朋友的审判报道。有三个大标题：IWW 遭遇双重失败！ 和 IRISH REBEL GIRL CUT LOOSE！ 和意大利煽动者入狱！
“The IWW has this day been twice defeated,” the writer opined. “By the conviction of the violent labor leader Mr. Filigno, the power of the law and the action of civil authorities is upheld. By the acquittal of pitiable Mrs. Jones, the organization loses its most delightful chance to coax money and sympathy from people in remote parts of the nation.”
“IWW 今天被击败了两次，”作者认为。“通过对暴力劳工领袖菲利尼奥先生的定罪，法律的力量和民政当局的行动得到了维护。可怜的琼斯夫人被无罪释放后，该组织失去了最令人愉快的机会，可以哄骗全国偏远地区的人们的金钱和同情。
But it was the last line of the story that Rye knew would infuriate Gurley, and which made him go red with anger, too. “May it be hoped that Mr. Jones now will come from Montana and take his wife back to enjoy the beautiful home life which it should be every American woman’s privilege to enjoy.”
但这是故事的最后一句话，Rye 知道这会激怒 Gurley，也让他气得脸红。“希望琼斯先生现在能从蒙大拿州回来，带着他的妻子回去享受美丽的家庭生活，这应该是每个美国妇女都应该享有的特权。”
Rye looked around. The crowd was still here on the lawn in front of the courthouse steps. He thought about that line—the beautiful home life which it should be every American woman’s privilege to enjoy. He thought of his mother, of Mrs. Ricci, of Ursula the Great. Then he turned to the back page of the special edition. It was filled with advertisements. So many companies had wanted to be part of this. Soap and pocket watches and corsets and combs and potatoes and writing desks and fine linens and Remnants! Remnants! Remnants! and one particular ad that caught his attention and seemed somehow as important as the news story on the other side: “SKILLED DENTISTS, CROWNS, PLATES, AND BRIDGEWORK, $5 EACH, EXTRACTION, 50 CENTS.”
Rye 环顾四周。人群仍然在法院台阶前的草坪上。他想起了那句话—— 美丽的家庭生活，这应该是每个美国女人都应该有的特权 。他想起了他的母亲，想起了利玛窦太太，想起了乌苏拉大帝。然后他翻到特别版的封底。里面到处都是广告。很多公司都想参与其中。肥皂、怀表、紧身胸衣、梳子、土豆、写字台、精美的亚麻布和残余物！残余！残余！ 还有一个特别的广告引起了他的注意，似乎与另一边的新闻报道一样重要：“ 熟练的牙医， 牙冠、板和牙桥，每个 5 美元，拔牙，50 美分。“
So, it was ten times harder and more expensive to fix things than it was to extract them, to just take them out—this seemed like some philosophical truth that even Count Tolstoy would have to admit.
所以，修理东西比把东西取出来要困难十倍，成本也要高出十倍——这似乎是连托尔斯泰伯爵都不得不承认的哲学真理。
Rye folded up the newspaper, put it under his arm, and looked up.
Rye 把报纸叠起来，放在胳膊下，抬起头来。
A Model T was idling on the street across from him. Early Reston was in the passenger seat. And his brother was on the driver’s side. Rye’s first thought: When did he learn to drive a car?
一辆 T 型车在他对面的街道上怠速行驶。Early Reston 坐在副驾驶座上。他的兄弟站在司机那边。Rye 的第一个想法是： 他什么时候学会开车的？
“Gig?” He took a step toward the Model T.
“演出？”他向 T 型车迈出了一步。
But the car lurched out of its parking spot into the street. It turned a tight circle, then slowed for a moment, the passenger door flew open, but no one got out, and the car sped up, veering away from Rye and the courthouse. It looked like Gig and Early were fighting inside the cab.
但汽车从停车位冲出，停在了街上。它转了一圈，然后放慢了一会儿，乘客门飞开了，但没有人下车，汽车加速，偏离了 Rye 和法院。看起来 Gig 和 Early 在驾驶室内打架。
The car swerved wildly as it sped away from Rye. It barely missed hitting a light pole, then a buggy, and then the car veered straight down Madison Street, the open passenger door flapping like a broken wing, back toward the web of railroad tracks, and just beyond them, the river gorge.
汽车在加速离开 Rye 时疯狂地转弯。它差点撞上一根灯杆，然后是一辆越野车，然后汽车径直转向麦迪逊街，敞开的乘客门像折断的翅膀一样拍打着，回到铁轨网中，就在他们身后，是河谷。
HE REACHED back for the satchel and I popped the hand brake, yelled, “No!” and jacked the throttle. The car jumped and Early fell back in his seat. He looked over at me with a half-smile. “And what do you think you’re doing?”
HE 伸手向后伸手去拿背包，我按下手刹，大喊：“不！”，然后踩下油门。车子跳了起来，Early 倒在了座位上。他半笑半笑地看着我。“那你觉得你在做什么？”
“Not Rye!”
“不是 Rye！”
He smiled wider and reached for his door handle, but I cranked the steering wheel to the right and he fell against me. I spun the car in a circle away from the courthouse. I was unsure where I was going—just going.
他笑得更灿烂了，伸手去拿他的门把手，但我把方向盘向右摇，他摔在了我身上。我把车转了一圈，离法院很远。我不确定我要去哪里——只是去。
I’d always been going. Since I left Whitehall, maybe since birth. Always running. But in that instant I saw my brother in his new baggy suit—my God, the kid just wants to be somewhere—I was felled by regret and wonder—where was I going all those years? why couldn’t I just be still?
我一直都在去。自从我离开白厅以来，也许从出生开始。一直在运行。但在那一瞬间，我看到了我哥哥穿着他的新宽松西装—— 天哪，这孩子就是想去某个地方 ——我被遗憾和疑惑击倒了—— 这些年我要去哪里？为什么我不能安静下来呢？
“Come on now, Gig,” said Early.
“来吧，吉格，”Early 说。
And I said again, “No. Not Rye.”
“我又说：”不。不是 Rye。
He made a quick thrust with his left hand, and I felt a tightness in my chest and let go of the throttle—my God, he’d put a blade in me, in my rib cage, the snake was murdering me—he was a goddamn murderer—and I wondered if I’d always known what kind of man this was.
他用左手快速抽插，我感到胸口一阵紧绷，然后松开了油门——天哪，他把刀插进了我，插进了我的胸腔，那条蛇在谋杀我——他妈是个杀人犯——我想知道我是否一直都知道这是什么样的人。
We were barely moving now, listing like a boat in chop. He grabbed the satchel and reached for his door again, but I knew something else: that even with his knife in my side, and after a month in jail, I was still stronger than he was, and as he opened his door, I reached over with my right arm and pulled him into a headlock. I held his neck as tight as I’ve ever held anything, cranked my arm like I owned his skull, his hat tumbling to the floor of the car as I held his face just below the knife handle, and then he swung at me—but with his head down, he had no angle and couldn’t get anything behind it. I squeezed his treacherous neck as if juice might come out.
我们现在几乎不动了，像一艘被砍碎的船一样。他抓起书包，再次伸手去开门，但我知道另一件事：即使他的刀在我身边，在监狱里呆了一个月，我仍然比他更强壮，当他打开门时，我伸出右臂，把他拉进了头锁里。我像以前一样紧紧地搂住他的脖子，摇动我的手臂，就像我拥有他的头骨一样，当我把他的脸放在刀柄下面时，他的帽子滚到了车底上，然后他向我挥来——但他低着头，没有角度，也无法从后面得到任何东西。我捏了捏他那诡谲的脖子，仿佛汁液会流出来。
With my knee, I kicked the throttle lever up and the car began moving faster, Early squirming and fighting with me, and I sensed in him a shift as he realized how hard I would go to keep him away from my brother.
我用膝盖踢起油门杆，汽车开始开得更快，Early 蠕动着和我打架，我感觉到他的转变，因为他意识到我会多么努力地让他远离我哥哥。
We ripped down Madison, struggling and squirming in the cab, the car veering and shaking, him grunting and choking and slapping at my legs, my face, anything—still no force behind his blows. I let go of the wheel with my left hand to give him a quick pop to the nose and then grabbed the wheel again.
我们把麦迪逊扯下来，麦迪逊在驾驶室里挣扎着扭动着，汽车摇晃着，他咕噜咕噜地呻吟着，窒息着，拍打着我的腿，我的脸，什么东西——他的打击仍然没有力量。我用左手松开轮子，让他的鼻子快速弹一下，然后再次抓住轮子。
He pawed at the knife, maybe to stab me once more, but I had his neck so tight he could do nothing but kick wildly, one leg out the flapping door, the other forward into the windshield, which cracked and buckled, and now he was crazed, like a dying animal, like anything dying, I guess, and still I squeezed that goddamn neck, choking him, and me, too, choking on the pain in my chest, so sharp now that I cried out, and he cried out, a hacking, bleating sound as we bounced over the first set of tracks—
他用爪子抓着刀子，也许是想再捅我一刀，但我的脖子太紧了，他什么也做不了，只能疯狂地踢着，一条腿伸出拍打的门，另一条腿向前伸进挡风玻璃，挡风玻璃裂开了，弯曲了，现在他发疯了，就像一只垂死的动物，像任何垂死的东西，我猜，我还是捏着那该死的脖子， 他窒息着他，我也窒息着胸口的疼痛，现在我大喊大叫，他也大喊大叫，当我们在第一组轨道上弹跳时，发出咩咩咩的声音——
We rattled over the second set and I hit the roof of the car, and we bounded over the third, then down a small embankment into a field and I slammed against the wheel but I held his neck as we tumbled downhill through weeds and rocks, shaking and falling until we were at the edge of the canyon and that was when I let go of the murderous son of a bitch and he sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, squealed in terror as I yelled in triumph, because for just a moment, Rye, we goddamn flew—
我们在第二组比赛中嘎嘎作响，我撞到了车顶，我们跳过了第三组，然后沿着一个小路堤进入一片田野，我撞上了车轮，但我抓住了他的脖子，当我们在杂草和岩石中翻滚下坡时，我掐住了他的脖子，摇晃着，跌落着，直到我们到了峡谷的边缘，就在那时我放开了那个凶残的婊子儿子，他像一个盒子里的千斤顶一样跳了起来，在我胜利地大喊时惊恐地尖叫着，因为就在那一瞬间，Rye，我们他妈的飞了——
Rye was aware of sounds as he ran, his own breathing and crying, the clap of his new shoes on the street, people yelling, crashing metal, then a thunderous boom! and still he ran, down Madison Street toward the river gorge, over the railroad tracks, and down an embankment as black smoke began to waft up, and finally, he reached the gorge and peered over the edge.
Rye 在奔跑时注意到了声音，他自己的呼吸和哭泣，他在街上新鞋的拍打声，人们的叫喊声，金属的撞击声，然后是雷鸣般的轰鸣声！ 他仍然沿着麦迪逊街向河谷跑去，越过铁轨，沿着黑烟开始飘荡，沿着堤坝跑下去，最后，他到达了峡谷，从边缘往上看。
He’d watched the car speed away, down Madison Street, past buildings, swerving and jerking, the passenger door flapping, and then it had crossed the tracks and then it was just gone.
他看着汽车飞驰而去，沿着麦迪逊街，经过建筑物，转弯和抽搐，乘客门拍打着，然后它越过了铁轨，然后就消失了。
And now he was looking down at what appeared to be the back half of a Model T, burning on a ledge on the steep hillside forty feet below. The front half of the car had been sheared off or blasted away and had cartwheeled over the gorge, another two hundred feet into the river. Smoking pieces of debris littered the banks and floated in the water, moving slowly downstream toward Peaceful Valley.
现在他正低头看着一辆 T 型车的后半部分，在四十英尺以下陡峭的山坡上的壁架上燃烧着。汽车的前半部分被剪断或炸开，翻过峡谷，又进入了 200 英尺的河中。冒烟的碎片散落在河岸上，漂浮在水中，慢慢地向下游移动，朝着和平谷移动。
Rye stood panting at the edge of the canyon. He looked around. People were rushing to both sides of the gorge. On the bridge, a streetcar had stopped, and passengers were running to the railing to look over the side.
Rye 站在峡谷边缘喘着粗气。他环顾四周。人们涌向峡谷的两边。桥上停了下来，乘客们跑到栏杆上看向侧面。
“Did you see that?” a man asked him.
“你看到了吗？”
Rye slumped over, his hands on his knees. He vomited in the grass.
Rye 瘫倒在地，双手放在膝盖上。他在草地上呕吐。
Then he slid over the edge and began picking his way down the canyon wall to the burning wreckage, using his hands to hold on to grass and rocks. The hillside was steep, though, the footing loose, and he slipped and tumbled before catching himself on a tree root. He slid on his belly toward the burning car. “Gig!”
然后他滑过边缘，开始沿着峡谷壁向燃烧的残骸走去，用手抓住草和岩石。不过，山坡很陡峭，地基松动，他滑倒了，翻滚了一会儿，然后撞上了树根。他趴着滑向燃烧的汽车。“吉格！”
He reached the small ledge that had caught part of the car, and Rye stood shielding his face from the smoke. He was staring at the smoldering rear end of a Model T, the torn backseat, two back fenders, one broken wheel, and the twisted frame of the top. The rest of the car had been shorn completely off and tumbled down the canyon or blasted into the river.
他走到那个挡住了汽车一部分的小壁架上，莱伊站在那里，遮住了脸，挡住了烟雾。他盯着一辆闷烧的 T 型车尾、撕裂的后座、两个后挡泥板、一个破损的车轮和扭曲的车顶框架。汽车的其余部分已经完全被剪掉，滚下峡谷或炸入河中。
Down there, he could see part of a tire, floating around the bend, toward Peaceful Valley, where they had all met.
在那儿，他可以看到一个轮胎的一部分，漂浮在弯道上，朝着他们相遇的和平谷走去。
“Ryan!”
“瑞安！”
He looked up. A big man was sliding down the ledge toward him. He braced himself against the canyon wall, leaned over, and offered Rye a hand up.
他抬起头。一个大个子正从窗台上滑向他。他靠在峡谷壁上，俯下身子，向 Rye 伸出手。
“Come on,” Willard said. “We gotta get you out of here.”
“来吧，”威拉德说。“我们得把你带出去。”
THE POLITICIANS are what I hate, them and the newspapermen. In fact, I maybe hate the newspapermen worse than the politicians, and both I hate worse than the vagrants, which I spent a life knocking around. At least a vagrant has the decency to shit on your lawn because he needs to, not like politicians and newspapermen, who shit on your lawn to make a point.
我讨厌政客 ，他们和报人。事实上，我可能比政客更讨厌报人，我也比那些流浪汉更讨厌他们，我花了一辈子的时间都在打磨他们。至少一个流浪汉有体面地在你的草坪上拉屎，因为他需要这样做，而不是像政客和报人那样，在你的草坪上拉屎来表达自己的观点。
They come at me all at once that winter, all the lawn shitters in the world. All that fall, I had beat back the Wobblies, five hundred I’d knocked and thrown in jail, and I’d have made room for another thousand if that labor tart Gurley Flynn brung them. I’d make room for every Slav bum and socialist Jew and old Indian who raised a stink in my streets, streets I was paid to protect.
那个冬天，他们一下子就来找我了，全世界的草坪都乱七八糟。在那个秋天，我击退了 Wobblies，我敲了 500 个，然后扔进了监狱，如果那个劳工蛋挞的 Gurley Flynn 把他们带走，我就会为另外一千个腾出空间。我会为每一个在我的街道上散发恶臭的斯拉夫流浪汉、社会主义犹太人和老印第安人腾出空间，这些街道是我受雇保护的。
But then Gurley Flynn spends one night in the women’s jail and makes a terrible fuss of it, and the church and women’s groups huff and protest, and every paper from here to Boston prints this story that we’re running a brothel down there, and Christ, no one wants to protect women more than me, that’s why I don’t allow them to work in the jail, but they twist it around like I’m Chief Pimp, protecting cops. And do my boys make an occasional play for themselves? Sure, some of them are in on the dip. The city council knew it because their pockets were being lined by the same men who owned the cribs and brothels, the same men who owned the mines, the same men who paid my cops so their birdhouses could run straight.
但后来格利·弗林在女子监狱里度过了一个晚上，并大惊小怪，教堂和妇女团体大发雷霆，抗议，从这里到波士顿的每家报纸都刊登了这个故事，说我们在那儿经营着一家妓院，天哪，没有人比我更想保护女人，这就是为什么我不允许她们在监狱里工作， 但他们把它扭来扭去，就像我是皮条客局长，保护警察一样。我的孩子们偶尔会为自己做一些游戏吗？当然，他们中的一些人正在下跌。市议会知道这一点，因为他们的口袋里装满了那些拥有婴儿床和妓院的同一个人，那些拥有矿场的同一个人，那些付钱给我的警察，让他们的鸟舍能够正常运转的人。
But to put this scandal on me? Me, who was never in on it? Me, who if I had a dollar for every girl who come at me over the years, every dove tried to get off an arrest by opening her legs, I wouldn’t need a pension. Me, who never touched a one. But after Gurley Flynn writes this about the women’s jail, the mayor says, John, we need to do something about this.
但把这个丑闻放在我身上呢？我，谁从来没有参与过？我，如果这些年来每个来找我的女孩都有一美元，每只鸽子都试图通过张开双腿来逃脱逮捕，我就不需要养老金了。我，从来没有碰过一个。但是，在格利·弗林 （Gurley Flynn） 写下关于女子监狱的这篇文章后，市长说，约翰，我们需要做点什么。
Point being I should have never taken the job, I said to Annie in our living room in the flats near the courthouse, and pretty soon, every time I said that she took to patting my arm and saying, I know, John. Especially since I never even got the job I shouldn’t of taken! Acting police chief!
关键是我不应该接受这份工作，我在法院附近公寓的客厅里对 Annie 说，很快，每次我说她都拍拍我的胳膊说，我知道，John。特别是因为我什至从未得到我不应该接受的工作！ 代理警察局长！
And that whole winter of 1910, it’s one buggering thing after another for the acting chief. First they acquit Gurley Flynn! Acquit her! When the judge should turn her over his knee and throw her in jail until she bleeds gray.
而 1910 年的整个冬天，对代理局长来说，这是一件又一件令人烦恼的事情。首先，他们宣布 Gurley Flynn 无罪！无罪释放她！当法官应该把她翻过膝盖，把她扔进监狱，直到她流血发白的时候。
Again the mayor calls me in. John, with her acquitted, we can’t ignore this women’s jail thing anymore. And I say, Who’s ignoring it, Nellie? Not me. I got a hole the size of a fist in me guts over it. And then a patrolman sticks his head in the mayor’s office and says, Chief. You’ll never guess what happened.
市长再次叫我进来。约翰，随着她被无罪释放，我们不能再忽视女子监狱的事情了。我说，谁无视它，Nellie？不是我。我的内脏上有一个拳头大小的洞。然后，一名巡警把头探进市长办公室说，局长。你永远猜不到发生了什么。
Not two hours after the verdict, a Ford Model T has taken flight right into the river gorge. The mayor and I run outside and peer over the edge, and I will be damned, but there is the butt end of a car burning on the hillside across the gorge. My cop tells me the gas tank must have blown, for the front half of the car was shot off and down the canyon into the river.
判决后不到两个小时，一辆福特 T 型车直接飞入了河谷。市长和我跑到外面，从边缘往外看，我会被诅咒的，但峡谷对面的山坡上有一辆汽车的屁股燃烧。我的警察告诉我，油箱一定是炸了，因为汽车的前半部分被射掉了，沿着峡谷掉进了河里。
Drunks, I assume, or the shite kids who steal automobiles, and if there is any justice, it’s there smoldering on the hillside.
我猜是醉汉，或者是那些偷车的狗屎孩子，如果说有什么正义的话，那就是在山坡上闷烧。
But the day’s not even done, for one of my detectives finds a bomb in a satchel left outside the station. It’s sealed in a carpetbag, left suspicious right at the door, like maybe the bomber lost his nerve and ran off, says this detective, a good man named Hage, poor Waterbury’s old pal, and Hage says that when he saw the satchel, he thought it odd on the day of the verdict in the big union case. So rather than open it at the top, which might be wired, he cut into the leather on the side. And what did he find?
但这一天还没结束，因为我的一名侦探在车站外的背包里发现了一枚炸弹。它被密封在一个地毯袋里，可疑地留在门口，就像炸弹袭击者可能失去了勇气并逃跑了，这位侦探说，一个名叫 Hage 的好人，可怜的沃特伯里的老朋友，Hage 说，当他看到这个包时，他在大工会案判决的那天觉得很奇怪。因此，他没有从顶部打开它（可能是有线的），而是在侧面切开皮革。他发现了什么呢？
Dynamite. Hage asks me if I think it’s connected to that car in the river.
炸药。Hage 问我是否认为它与河中的那辆车有关。
Christ, I say, do you think it is? I hadn’t thought of it.
天哪，我说，你觉得是吗？我从来没有想过。
And I really wish I was smarter, because there’s nothing in the bomb to tell us. Just dynamite and a cap stolen from a mine in Montana, and some metal scraps taken from a tin shop, but that’s it. Cold after that.
我真的希望我能更聪明一些，因为炸弹里没有什么可以告诉我们的。只是从蒙大拿州的一个矿井偷来的炸药和一顶帽子，以及从一家锡店偷来的一些金属废料，但仅此而已。之后很冷。
Until a few weeks later, when a note comes for me. Unsigned. Typed.
直到几周后，我收到了一封信。无符号。类型。
The note says, What if a certain prominent mining man in town hired someone to get inside the union, to put them at odds with the police? How far do you think that inside man would go? Would he try to bomb the police station? Would he have another bomb that might blow up a car in the river? Would he even shoot a cop investigating a burglary?
纸条上写着，如果镇上某个著名的矿工雇人进入工会，让他们与警察发生冲突怎么办？你认为那个内在的人会走多远？他会试图炸毁警察局吗？他会不会再有一枚炸弹，可能会炸毁河里的一辆汽车？他甚至会射杀调查入室盗窃案的警察吗？
And that’s it. The whole note.
就是这样。整个音符。
God, I wish I was a smarter man, I tell Annie that night.
上帝啊，我希望我是个更聪明的人，那天晚上我告诉安妮。
Why, she asks.
为什么，她问。
Well for one, I say, to shut up those newspapermen coming at me every day, especially those pot-stirrers at the Press who mock my brogue, Nat on your loife, they quote me saying, like I’m just off the boat, and who wrote that I run the rottenest police system in the nation and must be removed and the whole department reorganized.
好吧，首先，我说，让那些每天来找我的报人闭嘴，特别是那些 嘲笑我的布洛克鞋的新闻界搅局者， 他们引用我的话说，就像我刚下船一样，他们写道，我管理着全国最腐朽的警察系统 ，必须撤职，重组整个部门。
You are smart, John, Annie tells me.
你很聪明，约翰，安妮告诉我。
But I’m not. And the worst is that I know I’m not. I’ve got a car in the river and a bomb outside the police station, both on the day of the unionists’ trial, and a note saying it’s maybe connected to poor Waterbury’s death, and I can’t figure any of it, Annie.
但我不是。最糟糕的是我知道我不是。我在河里有一辆车，在警察局外面有一枚炸弹，都是在工会成员受审的那天，还有一张纸条，上面写着这可能与可怜的沃特伯里之死有关，我想不出任何原因，安妮。
And she says, Maybe there’s nothing to figure, John.
她说，也许没什么可想的，约翰。
And I say, See, even you’re smarter than me.
我说，看，即使你比我聪明。
But here is something I do know. I know when a man’s support and protection have given out on him.
但这是我确实知道的事情。我知道当一个人的支持和保护对他失去了帮助时。
For soon, with Gurley Flynn’s release and the bad publicity and the prospect of another riot and spring coming and those mining and timber men wanting their floating workers back, the city council surrenders to the IWW and sets all the prisoners free. A commission shuts down the worst job sharks and lets the Wobblies operate again, practically gives them the key to the city.
因为很快，随着格利·弗林 （Gurley Flynn） 的获释和负面的宣传，以及另一场骚乱和春天即将到来的前景，以及那些希望他们的流动工人回来的采矿和伐木工人，市议会向 IWW 投降并释放了所有囚犯。一个委员会关闭了最糟糕的工作鲨鱼，让 Wobblies 再次行动，实际上给了他们城市的钥匙。
All because of this women’s jail business. And they blame me for it and threaten to charge me with misconduct. Charge a man what gives his life to be a policeman in your town and been doing it since the Great Fire? Charge the last man standing from that class of twelve cops back in ’89, a man only wants to keep your streets safe, and you charge that man with misconduct?
这一切都是因为这个女子监狱的生意。他们为此责怪我，并威胁要指控我行为不端。指控一个男人，什么付出了生命在你的城镇当警察，并且自大火以来一直在这样做？指控 89 年那个 12 名警察班级中最后一个站着的人，一个人只想保护你的街道安全，你指控那个人行为不端？
I had already agreed to hire a policewoman to shut the noise, but I put her on dance halls and parks and theaters, stuff for a proper woman, and then the mayor says, That’s not the point, John, the city has taken a beating and we want her in the jail and paid the same as a man, and I said, Nellie, that’s where I draw the line, for no one loves a woman more than me, but I’m not going to pay her to pick daisies for the same wage I pay a man who puts his life on the line.
我已经同意雇一个女警察来堵住噪音，但我把她放在舞厅、公园和剧院，一个合适的女人的东西，然后市长说，这不是重点，约翰，这个城市挨了一顿揍，我们想让她进监狱，付和男人一样的薪水。 我说，奈莉，这就是我划清界限的地方，因为没有人比我更爱一个女人，但我不会付钱给她去摘雏菊，就像我付给一个冒着生命危险的男人的工资一样。
And all this time, the preachers and ladies’ clubbers are coming at me in the newspaper: Clean up the city, clean up the city.
一直以来，传教士和女士俱乐部成员都在报纸上对我说：清理城市，清理城市。
What do they think I done my entire life, but I give in on that, too, and I send out my cops to arrest every working girl in town, and rid the streets of vagrants and faro boys and opium dens, and we fill the jail again, just like we did with the unionists, we shut down the brothels and nail up the cribs.
他们认为我一辈子都做了什么，但我也屈服了，我派出我的警察逮捕镇上的每一个女工，清除街上的流浪汉、法鲁男孩和鸦片窝点，我们再次填满监狱，就像我们对工会成员所做的那样，我们关闭了妓院，钉上了婴儿床。
Oh, but I know whose pockets I’m into now.
哦，但我知道我现在进了谁的口袋。
And I know what it means for me.
我知道这对我意味着什么。
So I have no cover at all when this Rose Elliott case comes—a teenage girl raised by this Civil War veteran J. H. Elliott, and he files a complaint that two of my officers, a kid named Hood and that old wart Clegg have had relations with young Rose and took her to get an operation. But when we interview the girl Rose, she says that the stepfather, J.H., is the one had relations, and that he is the father of her six-year-old son which everyone thinks is her little brother. But then Rose changes her tune, says maybe Clegg did what her stepfather did, too, and she names the woman who gave her an operation, an old dove of Clegg’s, so I fire Clegg, and still the Press hounds me and mocks my speech—I have nothin’ t’say to ye, fer I dasn’t believe ye’d print th’ trouth—and that’s when the city council officially charges me with misconduct.
所以，当 Rose Elliott 的案子出现时，我根本没有任何掩护——一个由南北战争老兵 J. H. Elliott 抚养长大的十几岁女孩，他投诉说我的两个警官，一个名叫 Hood 的孩子和那个长着老疣的 Clegg 与年轻的 Rose 发生了关系，并带她去做了手术。但是当我们采访女孩罗斯时，她说继父 J.H. 是有关系的人，他是她六岁儿子的父亲，大家都认为儿子是她的弟弟。但随后罗斯改变了口风，说也许克莱格也做了她继父做过的事情，她说出给她做手术的女人的名字是克莱格的一只老鸽子，所以我解雇了克莱格，但媒体仍然追着我，嘲笑我的演讲—— 我什么也没对你说，因为我敢不相信你会把这封信打印出来 ——就在那时，市议会正式指控我行为不端。
I’m done now. I come home to Annie and say, I should never have taken this job, and she says, I know, John, and I say, I’m not what they say, am I?
我现在说完了。我回到家对 Annie 说，我不应该接受这份工作，她说，我知道，John，我说，我不是他们说的那样，对吧？
No, she says, you’re not, John. You’re a good man, truly.
不，她说，你不是，约翰。你是个好人，真的。
I wonder, am I, though? And I don’t drink, but one night I feel drunk as I leave the house and I walk downtown and past the Spokane Club, and I see the warm lights in there and something breaks in me. I go straight into that rich dining room, four fat millionaires sitting around drinking brandy in front of a roaring fire, and I grab that pork chop Lem Brand and pull him out of the dining room and into the street, and I only mean to question him about the note I got, or to scare him, but Brand is saying, What is the meaning . . . and I will have you brought up . . . and do you know who I am?
我想知道，我是吗？我不喝酒，但有一天晚上，当我走出家门，走到市中心，经过斯波坎俱乐部时，我感到醉醺醺的，我看到里面温暖的灯光，我心里有什么东西坏了。我径直走进那个富有的餐厅，四个胖胖的百万富翁围坐在熊熊燃烧的火堆前喝白兰地，我抓起那块猪排莱姆品牌，把他从餐厅拉到街上，我只是想问他关于我得到的纸条，或者吓唬他， 但布兰德在说，这是什么意思......我会把你养大......你知道我是谁吗？
Yeah, I say, I got a pretty good idea who you are, and though I just mean to scare the man, instead I give him two hard Irish hammers to his fat face, like I’d have done a bum back in the old days, and he crumbles and I get down in the blood and I say I wish I was a smarter man, Brand, but all I got is these, and I give him another right to remember me, leave him whimpering in the street, and walk home to Annie.
是的，我说，我很清楚你是谁，虽然我只是想吓唬那个人，但我还是给了他两把坚硬的爱尔兰锤子在他胖胖的脸上，就像我过去做一个流浪汉一样，他崩溃了，我倒在血泊中，我说我希望我是一个更聪明的人。 布兰德，但我得到的只是这些，我给了他另一个权利，让他记住我，让他在街上呜咽，然后走回家去找安妮。
That’s it, I tell her, I’m done. I’m not going to be chief, I tell her, and she says, That’s fine, John, and the next day, I resign. Go back to being a captain.
就这样，我告诉她，我完成了。我告诉她，我不会当局长，她说，没关系，约翰，第二天，我辞职。回到队长的时代。
I tell the papers I did nothing but stand up straight while others were blowing in the wind, but when the weak look for someone to blame, it’ll be the man standing up.
我告诉报纸，当其他人在风中吹拂时，我什么也没做，只是站直了，但是当弱者寻找可以责怪的人时，那将是站起来的那个人。
We always lived in the flats north of the river, for even on a chief’s salary, the South Hill was beyond us, and I should offer that as proof of my honest heart, for did a policeman ever take a bribe, sure, but as God is my witness, one cop who never took a dime of that city’s whore money was me—and look, I’ll not ask for credit for doing my job without being shite, but sometimes an honest man has the hardest go of it, especially if he’s not perfect, or smart, and God knows I am neither.
我们总是住在河北的平地上，因为即使有个酋长的薪水，南山也离我们不远了，我得拿出这个来证明我诚实的心，因为警察从来没有收过贿赂，当然，但既然上帝是我的证人，一个从来没有拿过那个城市妓女钱一分钱的警察就是我——你看， 我不会因为不被人吝啬而要求我的工作得到赞扬，但有时一个诚实的人会遇到最困难的事情，特别是如果他不完美或不聪明，而天知道我两者都不是。
I said so to Annie as she left our house to go to the theater, but she said again, You’re a good man, John, and I sat in my rocking chair facing the fireplace in our little house, hoping it was true. And that’s when the window behind me cracked like a bird hit it and I tried to get up to check, but I had been stung in the back and my chest went tight like five hundred pounds was on me and my first thought was what poor man on this earth gets shot twice?
当安妮离开我们家去剧院时，我对她说了这句话，但她又说，你是个好人，约翰，我坐在我的摇椅上，面对我们小房子的壁炉，希望这是真的。就在这时，我身后的窗户像鸟一样裂开了，我试图起身查看，但我的背部被蜇了一下，我的胸口紧绷着，就像我身上有五百磅一样，我的第一个想法是，这个地球上哪个可怜的人被射了两枪？
The bullet had come out my chest and was in my lap. They shot me? Christ. Through the back and out the chest, a rifle shot by the hole in the glass and the slug in my lap, and I tried again to get out of the chair to go beat the man to death with his own rifle, but I was going nowhere and they shot me?
子弹从我的胸出，落在我的腿上。他们开枪打我 ？基督。一把步枪从玻璃上的洞和我腿上的弹头射出，从后面和胸部射出，我再次试图从椅子上站起来，用他自己的步枪把那个人打死，但我哪儿也去不了，他们开枪打死了我？
I carefully set the bullet on the table. Evidence.
我小心翼翼地把子弹放在桌子上。证据。
I would die if I didn’t move, so I forced myself up, stumbled to the telephone, and remembered that two days earlier our line had been cut, but it was fixed now, for it was department policy no captain be without a phone, and the operator came on and I said, Police desk, and Ed Pearson was the sergeant, and I said, Send a wagon, and Ed said where to and I said 1318 West Sinto and Ed said that’s your house, John, and I said I know it’s my house, Ed, it’s where they shot me. And then I asked him to call the theater and tell Annie to meet me at Sacred Heart.
如果我不动，我会死的，所以我强迫自己站起来，跌跌撞撞地走到电话前，想起两天前我们的线路被切断了，但现在已经修复了，因为这是部门的政策，没有电话的队长是不能的，接线员来了，我说，警察台，埃德·皮尔森是警长， 我说，派一辆马车去，Ed 说去哪里，我说 1318 West Sinto，Ed 说那是你的房子，John，我说我知道这是我的房子，Ed，这是他们开枪打我的地方。然后我让他打电话给剧院，告诉 Annie 在圣心剧院见我。
Then I hung up and waited. I turned to the window but it was black outside. Could of been anyone shot me, I had no shortage of enemies, anarchists, unionists, thieves, pimps, Black Hand or Tong, even a cop or two, could have been about Rose Elliott or that fat pork chop Brand. And it didn’t matter except I wanted to see the man. Look in the eyes of who done this to my family.
然后我挂断了电话，等待着。我转向窗户，但外面一片漆黑。可能有人向我开枪，我不乏敌人、无政府主义者、工会主义者、小偷、皮条客、黑手或钳子，甚至一两个警察，也可能是关于罗丝·埃利奥特或那个肥猪排品牌的。这并不重要，只是我想见那个男人。看看谁对我的家人做了这些。
I’m here! I called through the cowardly little hole in my window. Come inside and meet your maker!
我在这里！我从窗户上怯懦的小洞里喊道。进来见见你的创造者吧！
But I could tell by my breathing that it was me headed to such a meeting and not him. And I did not want to face God with hatred on my heart, so I forgave my enemies, the thieves, vagrants, and unionists. But I did not forgive the politicians and newspapermen, because they are beneath forgiveness. Lastly, I forgave the man who shot me, and prayed for his soul and mine, sorry we’d been born into such a place.
但我从我的呼吸中可以看出，是我而不是他去参加这样的会议。我不想带着心中的仇恨面对上帝，所以我原谅了我的敌人、小偷、流浪者和工会成员。但我没有原谅那些政客和报人，因为他们没有得到原谅。最后，我原谅了那个向我开枪的人，并为他的灵魂和我的灵魂祈祷，很遗憾我们出生在这样的地方。
“It’s okay,” I said to Annie when she came weeping into my room at the hospital, and to little Kathleen and baby John, too, “It’s okay,” I said, and with that, my shift was done.
“没事，”当安妮哭泣着走进我医院的病房时，我对她说，也对小凯瑟琳和婴儿约翰说，“没事，”我说，就这样，我的轮班结束了。
Life did not stop, and one had to live.
生活没有停止，一个人必须活下去。
—Tolstoy, War and Peace
——托尔斯泰，《 战争与和平》
TIME AND patience are the strongest of all warriors.
TIME 和耐心是所有战士中最强的。
Tolstoy wrote that. I used to say it to my boys to get them to do their schoolwork and to practice baseball. I think they thought I made it up, and I never told them otherwise, not because I wanted them to think I’m smarter than I am, but because they wouldn’t have known Count Tolstoy from Count Dracula.
托尔斯泰写道。我曾经对我的孩子们说，让他们做功课和练习棒球。我想他们认为是我编的，我从来没有告诉他们，不是因为我想让他们觉得我比我聪明，而是因为他们不会从德古拉伯爵那里认识托尔斯泰伯爵。
My daughter, Betsy, she’s the one who got my love of books. She’s a high school English teacher and would’ve seen right through me stealing from Tolstoy. In fact, she keeps trying to convince me that Anna Karenina is superior to War and Peace, which she calls “needlessly unwieldy.” Why does it make a father so proud to hear a phrase like that? The mysteries of parenting.
我的女儿 Betsy 是我爱上书籍的人。她是一名高中英语老师，会看穿我从托尔斯泰那里偷东西。事实上，她一直试图说服我，《安娜·卡列尼娜 》 优于 《 战争与和平 》，她称后者“不必要地笨拙”。为什么父亲听到这样的话会如此自豪呢？育儿的奥秘。
Bets never needed a saying like Time and patience because she drew on her own deep well of ambition. Born deaf in one ear, she got all A’s through high school and put herself through teacher’s college. She still works as hard as anyone I’ve ever met—she’s a back, as we would’ve said—even with two little ones at home and a lazy, bottle-tipping husband. She probably would’ve been the best ballplayer in the family, too, if they’d let her play.
Bets 从来不需要像 Time and patiness 这样的谚语 ，因为她汲取了自己深深的雄心壮志。她天生一只耳朵耳聋，高中全 A，并自费完成了师范学院。她仍然像我见过的任何人一样努力工作——正如我们所说，她是一个后卫——即使家里有两个孩子和一个懒惰、喝奶瓶的丈夫。如果他们让她上场，她可能也会成为家里最好的球手。
My youngest, Calvin, might have grown into a reader, too, but he died before turning twenty, in the Pacific, at the Battle of Leyte Gulf in 1944, when his light carrier, the USS Princeton, was bombed by a Japanese warplane. I don’t think he’d ever even shaved before he drowned.
我最小的加尔文（Calvin）可能也长大了，他也长大了，但他在 20 岁之前就死在了太平洋上，1944 年的莱特湾战役（Battle of Leyte Gulf），当时他的轻型航母普林斯顿号（USS Princeton） 被一架日本战机轰炸。我认为他在溺水之前甚至从未刮过胡子。
Of the 1,469 men on board the Princeton, 108 were killed and the rest rescued, so I guess you could say Calvin was unlucky. But I’m not convinced luck has much to do with war or with life. Two of my three sons fought in the Pacific. One returned and one did not. Does that make me lucky or unlucky?
在普林斯顿号上的 1,469 人中，有 108 人丧生，其余的人获救，所以我想你可以说加尔文很不走运。但我不相信运气与战争或生活有很大关系。我的三个儿子中有两个在太平洋作战。一个返回，一个没有。这让我很幸运还是不走运？
I will turn seventy-two in a few weeks. I’ve been having dizzy spells and find myself breathless after walks, or a flight of stairs. My doctor says my heart is giving out, and that I am at the end of things. He has given me nitroglycerin pills to put under my tongue and keeps using phrases like “affairs in order.”
几周后我就要七十二岁了。我一直头晕目眩，发现自己在散步或爬楼梯后喘不过气来。我的医生说我的心脏快要跳动了，我已经走到了事情的尽头。他给了我硝酸甘油药片，让我舌头下吃，还不停地使用“事务井然有序”之类的短语。
But if this is to be my last year, I wouldn’t mind it too much. Other than losing my brother in 1910 and my son twenty years ago, I’d have no complaints. I was an orphan and a tramp who made a home here in Spokane. In 1916, I married a shy, pretty girl named Elena, the daughter of my friends Dom and Gemma, and—we found out a few years later—the granddaughter of my old friend Jules. Gemma told Elena the truth in 1920, not long after Dom passed, near the end of the Spanish flu outbreak. Elena said she’d always suspected it, and that her mother told her the world had just become too fragile for such secrets. When Calvin was born a few years later, we gave him Jules for a middle name, although my mother-in-law was adamantly against it. She thought it would bring the boy bad luck.
但如果这是我的最后一年，我不会太介意。除了在 1910 年失去我的兄弟和 20 年前失去我的儿子之外，我没有任何抱怨。我是一个孤儿和流浪汉，在斯波坎安了家。1916 年，我娶了一个害羞、漂亮的女孩，名叫 Elena，她是我朋友 Dom 和 Gemma 的女儿，几年后我们发现了她——我老朋友 Jules 的孙女。1920 年，杰玛告诉埃琳娜真相，就在 Dom 去世后不久，西班牙流感爆发接近尾声。埃琳娜说她一直都怀疑过，她的母亲告诉她，这个世界已经变得太脆弱了，无法透露这样的秘密。几年后，当 Calvin 出生时，我们给他起了 Jules 这个中间名，尽管我的岳母坚决反对。她认为这会给这个男孩带来厄运。
“It wasn’t his real name, anyhow,” she said, “and Jules was lost in the world without his real name.” Gemma died a few weeks before Calvin was born. As I say, I don’t believe in luck, but I do sometimes wonder if she wasn’t right about that name.
“无论如何，这不是他的真名，”她说，“朱尔斯在没有真名的情况下迷失在世界上。杰玛在加尔文出生前几周去世。正如我所说，我不相信运气，但我有时确实在想她对这个名字的看法是不是对的。
Elena and I raised our kids on the north side of Spokane. We lived for ten years in a little house that I built in an orchard, then we moved to a bigger house along the river canyon. I worked almost fifty years as a machinist, starting as stock boy for a small shop owned by two brothers. I apprenticed, became a journeyman, and eventually the shop steward for my machinists’ local. In ’43, the brothers sold their business and I got a job at a government smelter north of town. When the war ended, Henry Kaiser bought our plant and we went from making aluminum for ships and airplanes to making it for Buicks and TV trays. I became a member of the United Steelworkers, and twice was elected grievance officer of my local.
Elena 和我在斯波坎的北侧抚养我们的孩子。我们在果园里建造的一座小房子里住了十年，然后我们搬到了河峡谷沿岸的一座更大的房子里。我做了将近 50 年的机械师，最初在两兄弟拥有的一家小商店担任库存员。我当过学徒，成为一名熟练工，最终成为我当地的机械师的商店管家。43 年，兄弟俩卖掉了他们的生意，我在镇北的一家政府冶炼厂找到了一份工作。战争结束后，Henry Kaiser 买下了我们的工厂，我们从生产用于船舶和飞机的铝材发展到生产别克和电视托盘。我成为了美国钢铁工人联合会（United Steelworkers）的成员，并两次被选为当地的申诉官。
I retired from Kaiser six years ago. Now we live on my pension. Elena and I putter around the garden and wait for our kids to ask us to babysit. We have eight grandchildren, five of them boys and not a decent ballplayer among them. How’s that for luck? I can’t bowl anymore because of my heart, but on Fridays, I go to Playfair racetrack with my old machinist pal Paul Orlando, and we bet on the last horse to take a piss or the one with the fastest-sounding name. In the afternoons, I read, or rearrange the tools in my garage, or take short walks along the river. I listen to the Dodgers on the radio. I sit on my front porch with the newspaper and a glass of iced tea.
六年前，我从 Kaiser 退休了。现在我们靠我的养老金生活。Elena 和我在花园里推杆，等待我们的孩子请我们照看孩子。我们有八个孙子孙女，其中 5 个是男孩，他们中不是一个像样的球手。运气怎么样？因为我的心脏，我不能再打保龄球了，但在周五，我和我的老机械师朋友保罗·奥兰多 （Paul Orlando） 一起去 Playfair 赛马场，我们押注最后一匹小便的马或名字听起来最快的那匹马。下午，我阅读，或在我的车库里重新布置工具，或者沿着河边散步。我在收音机里听道奇队。我坐在前廊上，手里拿着报纸和一杯冰茶。
That’s what I was doing this afternoon when I opened the Chronicle and read that the chairwoman of the Communist Party USA, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, had died. The story said she kicked around the west as a young labor organizer, was the author of three books and a founding member of the ACLU (along with Helen Keller and Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter). That she became a Communist in ’36 and, during World War II, fought for day care services for women workers. That she ran unsuccessfully for Congress and, in ’51, was arrested with sixteen other members of the Communist Party and served two years in prison for “advocating the overthrow of the U.S. government.” That in the last decade, she fought for civil rights and against McCarthyism, and worked to get her passport restored so she could visit the Soviet Union, where she hoped to write another book. That she was greeted as a hero in Moscow but was diabetic and fell into a coma and died there. That she was seventy-four and had no survivors, her son, Fred, having died in 1940.
今天下午，当我打开 《 纪事报》（Chronicle） 读到美国共产党主席伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn）去世时，我就是这样做的。报道称，她作为一名年轻的劳工组织者在西部各地活动，是三本书的作者，也是美国公民自由联盟（ACLU）的创始成员（与海伦·凯勒（Helen Keller）和最高法院大法官菲利克斯·弗兰克兰克（Felix Frankfurter）一起）。她在 36 年成为一名共产党员，并在二战期间为女工的日托服务而战。她竞选国会议员未成功，并于 51 年与其他 16 名共产党员一起被捕，并因“倡导推翻美国政府”而入狱两年。在过去的十年里，她为民权和反对麦卡锡主义而战，并努力恢复自己的护照，以便她可以访问苏联，她希望在那里写另一本书。她在莫斯科受到英雄的欢迎，但她患有糖尿病，陷入昏迷并在那里去世。她已经 74 岁了，没有幸存者，她的儿子弗雷德于 1940 年去世。
And that’s it.
就是这样。
A life in two paragraphs.
两段人生。
At my age, you don’t cry for the loss of old friends. You make a noise, “Ah,” that is an expression of sorrow, but also of contentment that your friend lived a good life. It is, I suppose, the sound, too, of loneliness—here is yet another person I will never see again.
在我这个年纪，你不会为失去老朋友而哭泣。你发出声音，“啊”，这是一种悲伤的表达，但也是一种对你的朋友过上好日子的满足。我想，这也是孤独的声音——这是另一个我再也见不到的人了。
After that come the memories, and these swirl for days afterward.
在那之后是回忆，这些回忆在之后的几天里盘旋。
It is as sharp as a photograph in my mind, the last time I saw her. February 24, 1910. She is climbing in a car. She has just been acquitted of conspiracy. I am following in the crowd but get left behind on the courthouse steps. Then, as she gets into the car, she sees me and gives a half-wave. A half-smile. Then she’s gone.
在我的脑海中，它就像一张照片一样清晰，我最后一次见到她时。1910 年 2 月 24 日。她正在一辆车里爬。她刚刚被判阴谋罪无罪。我跟在人群中，但在法院的台阶上被抛在后面。然后，当她上车时，她看到了我并挥了挥手。半笑半笑。然后她就走了。
What happened next cemented that day forever in my mind—my brother, Gig, dying with an anarchist spy named Early Reston after their Model T sped away from the courthouse and flew off a cliff into the river gorge.
接下来发生的事情永远在我的脑海中——我的兄弟吉格 （Gig） 与一位名叫 Early Reston 的无政府主义间谍一起死去，因为他们的 T 型车加速离开了法院，从悬崖上飞入了河谷。
Their bodies were never recovered, and Gig and Early were never identified as the men who drove off the cliff, but I knew.
他们的尸体从未被找到，Gig 和 Early 也从未被确认为开车从悬崖上坠落的人，但我知道。
An old Pinkerton named Willard, who was working for the mining magnate Lem Brand, dragged me off the riverbank that day. He led me to his car, put me in the passenger seat, and drove me away. “You don’t want to talk to the cops about this,” he said.
那天，一位名叫威拉德的老平克顿人为矿业大亨莱姆·布兰德 （Lem Brand） 工作，他把我从河岸上拖了下来。他把我带到他的车前，把我放在副驾驶座上，然后开车送我走了。“你不想和警察谈论这个，”他说。
I was wearing the suit I’d bought for Gurley’s verdict. It was covered in mud and soot. It took six months to pay for that suit and I never wore it again.
我穿着我为 Gurley 的判决买的西装。它被泥土和煤灰覆盖。我花了六个月的时间才付了那套西装的费用，我再也没有穿过它。
Willard talked gently as he drove me back to the boardinghouse where I lived. They must have had a bomb in the car, he said, the way it exploded like that. Was it possible they had wanted me to deliver a bomb to Lem Brand? Did I know anything about that?
威拉德在开车送我回我住的寄宿公寓时温柔地说道。他说，他们的车里肯定有炸弹，炸弹是那样爆炸的。他们有没有可能希望我给 Lem Brand 运送炸弹？我对此有所了解吗？
I looked over at him, unable to even comprehend what he was asking.
我看着他，甚至无法理解他在问什么。
“No,” he said. “Of course not. Do you think your brother got cold feet?”
“不，”他说。“当然不是。你觉得你哥哥脚冷了吗？
Then I remembered meeting Gig’s eyes right before he started fighting with Early in the car. “I don’t think he knew,” I said.
然后我想起了 Gig 在车里开始与 Early 打架之前与 Gig 的眼睛相遇。“我想他不知道，”我说。
Willard parked in front of the house. I was crying again. He lit a cigarette and sat smoking until I stopped.
威拉德把车停在房子前面。我又哭了。他点燃了一根烟，坐着抽烟，直到我停下来。
“Here’s what’s crazy,” he said, “you giving them the money right before all of that.”
“这就是疯狂的地方，”他说，“你在这一切之前就把钱给了他们。
“But I didn’t,” I said. I reached in my inside pocket and held out the envelope.
“但我没有，”我说。我把手伸进内袋，拿出信封。
But he wouldn’t look at it. “Crazy,” he said again. “I’ll bet they were fighting over the money. I’ll bet that’s why they went off the cliff.”
但他不愿看它。“疯了，”他又说了一遍。“我敢打赌，他们是为了钱而争吵。我敢打赌，这就是他们跌落悬崖的原因。
Had he not heard me? I held up the envelope again for him to see, but he just kept staring straight ahead, smoking. “No peripheral vision,” he said, “remember?”
他没听见我说话吗？我再次举起信封让他看到，但他只是一直直视着前方，抽着烟。“没有周边视觉，”他说，“记得吗？
I barely recall the rest of 1910, except for its darkness, its emptiness. I mourned. I worked at the machine shop. I read Tolstoy and picked through the newspaper. I wondered if the whole world wasn’t collapsing. The news was all famine and influenza, murder and war, every day some fresh horror.
我几乎不记得 1910 年剩下的事情，除了它的黑暗和空虚。我悲痛道。我在机械车间工作。我读了托尔斯泰的书，翻阅了报纸。我想知道整个世界是否没有崩溃。新闻全是饥荒和流感，谋杀和战争，每天都有一些新鲜的恐怖。
The snow that year just kept coming, and on the first of March, a lightning storm caused an avalanche that swept down the Cascades, picked up a Great Northern passenger train, and tossed it like a toy, tumbling cars down a thousand-foot embankment and burying ninety-six people under forty feet of snow. I had been on that run once, carrying Gurley’s story to Seattle. Ghostly people on the platforms.
那一年的雪一直在下，3 月 1 日，一场雷暴引发了一场雪崩，席卷了喀斯喀特山脉，卷起了一列大北方客运列车，像玩具一样把它扔了出去，将汽车从一千英尺高的路堤上滚下来，将 96 人埋在 40 英尺深的雪下。我曾经经历过一次，把格利的故事带到了西雅图。平台上的幽灵般的人。
In April, a boy went missing near the river, and when they couldn’t find his body, the city decided to dynamite below the falls in Peaceful Valley. They did this every few years to dislodge the tons of construction debris and garbage that collected there, to move it all downstream, and they usually got to clear a few missing persons cases while they were at it.
4 月，一名男孩在河边失踪，当他们找不到他的尸体时，该市决定在和平谷的瀑布下方炸药。他们每隔几年就会这样做一次，以清除那里收集的成吨建筑垃圾和垃圾，将它们全部运到下游，他们通常会在这样做的时候清理一些失踪人员案件。
So, the first Sunday in May, I went downtown to see if my brother was coming up from the riverbed. There was a big crowd, people with picnic baskets and camera tripods, hundreds gathered on the same cliffs where I had watched Gig’s car burn. At noon, the explosives went off, a plume of water blasted into the sky, the boom came a half-second later, and a great cheer rose as bricks and logs and boards and random bits were vomited to the river surface and flushed downstream.
所以，在 5 月的第一个星期天，我去市中心看看我哥哥是否从河床上上来。那里有一大群人，人们拿着野餐篮和相机三脚架，数百人聚集在我看到 Gig 的汽车燃烧的同一个悬崖上。中午时分，炸药爆炸，一股水柱冲向天空， 半秒后爆炸声来了，当砖块、原木、木板和随机碎片被吐到河面上并冲向下游时，一片巨大的欢呼声响起。
Later, police identified three bodies in the risen tumult, none of them small enough to be the missing boy and none of them Gig or Early. There was a woman who had apparently committed suicide. And an old drifter who might’ve just fallen in the river drunk. And finally, there was the bloated, washed-out body of a private detective from Denver named Del Dalveaux, who had gone missing three months earlier, and who the coroner said had died of knife wounds to the chest and throat.
后来，警方在这场骚乱中发现了三具尸体，没有一具小到足以成为失踪男孩，也没有一具是 Gig 或 Early。有一名妇女显然是自杀的。还有一个可能刚刚喝醉了掉进河里的老漂流者。最后，还有一具来自丹佛的私家侦探 Del Dalveaux 的臃肿、褪色的尸体，他三个月前失踪了，验尸官说他死于胸部和喉咙的刀伤。
That spring was bone dry, and summer was the hottest on record, and I read in the newspaper about a traveling preacher who portended that the Great Drought of 1910 was the beginning of the end of the world.
那个春天非常干燥，夏天是有记录以来最热的，我在报纸上读到一位旅行传道人的故事，他预示着 1910 年的大旱灾是世界末日的开始。
It felt like it. Lakes dried up, cattle died, farms went bust, and all summer, trains sparked small brush fires. In August, when the great forests were tinder, a dry typhoon blew down through Canada and fanned a small fire into a conflagration that swept over three states, four mountain ranges, and nine national forests, burning three million acres in two days.
感觉就像这样。湖泊干涸，牲畜死亡，农场破产，整个夏天，火车引发了小小的灌木丛火灾。8 月，当大森林变得火种齐时，一场干燥的台风席卷了加拿大，将一场小火煽风点火，席卷了三个州、四个山脉和九个国家森林，在两天内烧毁了 300 万英亩的土地。
They called it the Devil’s Broom, and it killed eighty-seven people and destroyed half of Wallace and parts of forty other towns. Seventy-eight firefighters died, crews giving up fire lines to run for their lives, only to be swallowed by flames. Tens of thousands were evacuated, fleeing in train cars that ran just ahead of the smoke, or waited out the fire in seething railroad tunnels that heated up like woodstoves. Seven towns were burned completely to the ground and lost forever.
他们称它为魔鬼的扫帚，它杀死了 87 人，摧毁了华莱士的一半和其他 40 个城镇的部分地区。78 名消防员丧生，工作人员放弃了火线逃命，结果却被火焰吞噬。数以万计的人被疏散，他们乘坐在烟雾前方行驶的火车车厢逃离，或者在像柴火炉一样加热的沸腾铁路隧道中等待火势。七个城镇被完全烧毁，永远失去了。
On the second day of the blaze, a desperate fire crew retreated into the ragged old work camp of Taft, Montana, where they tried to rally the men in the dark wooden barracks to dig a break and set backfires to save the town. But the men were more interested in draining Taft’s booze stores, and as firefighters dug trenches, the residents trudged from saloon to saloon. By the time the last drunk staggered onto the evacuation train, hot embers were raining down on the faded wood buildings. The train wasn’t a half mile down the track when the inferno devoured Taft and wiped it from the earth forever.
大火发生的第二天，绝望的消防队员撤退到蒙大拿州塔夫脱破旧的工作营地，在那里他们试图召集黑暗的木制营房里的人，挖一个缺口，并放火以拯救小镇。但这些人对排干塔夫脱的酒类商店更感兴趣，当消防员挖沟时，居民们从一个酒吧跋涉到另一个酒吧。当最后一个醉汉踉踉跄跄地走上疏散列车时，滚烫的余烬如雨点般落在褪色的木结构建筑上。火车沿着轨道行驶不到半英里，地狱吞噬了塔夫脱，将其永远从地球上抹去。
Not a lot of things that I wish I’d gotten to see in my life, but I’d have paid to see that one.
我希望我这辈子能看到的东西并不多，但我愿意花钱去看那一次。
I don’t know when I became convinced that Early Reston was still alive, but over the next year, I began to have nightmares about him. He’d be sitting on Gig’s cot or standing outside the house. And every time I read something terrible in the newspapers, I imagined he was out there, setting fires, causing avalanches.
我不知道我是什么时候开始相信 Early Reston 还活着的，但在接下来的一年里，我开始做关于他的噩梦。他会坐在 Gig 的婴儿床上，或者站在屋外。每次我在报纸上读到可怕的事情时，我都会想象他在外面放火，引发雪崩。
The way his car door had flapped open, I wondered, had I seen a body roll out just before the car went off the cliff? Then, that winter, someone shot big John Sullivan. The old police chief was sitting in his living room, and was shot right through the front window. “This world,” Gemma Tursi said at dinner that Sunday. I could do nothing but nod in agreement.
我想知道，他的车门砰地打开的方式，我有没有在车子冲下悬崖之前看到一具尸体滚了出来？然后，在那个冬天，有人枪杀了大个子约翰·沙利文。老警察局长坐在他的客厅里，正好从前窗被枪杀。“这个世界，”杰玛·图尔西在那个星期天的晚餐上说。我什么也做不了，只能点头同意。
His assassination dominated the news for weeks. The cops rounded up foreign tramps for questioning, and they arrested two labor men, but they let them go. They found a threatening letter from the Black Hand, so they arrested Italians, then they recalled the chief cracking down on the Tongs, so they arrested Chinese. Then a murderer in Seattle confessed, but that same man confessed to shooting President McKinley and being Jack the Ripper. A lawyer was quoted in the Press anonymously saying that Sullivan had been killed by a hired assassin because “certain forces” hadn’t wanted him testifying before the grand jury investigating police corruption.
他的遇刺事件在几周内占据了新闻的主导地位。警察围捕外国流浪汉进行审问，他们逮捕了两名工人，但他们放了他们。他们发现了一封来自黑手的威胁信，所以他们逮捕了意大利人，然后他们想起了酋长镇压佟氏，所以他们逮捕了中国人。然后西雅图的一名杀人犯供认不讳，但同一个人承认枪杀了麦金莱总统，并且是开膛手杰克。媒体匿名援引一名律师 的话说，沙利文是被雇佣的刺客杀害的，因为“某些势力”不希望他在调查警察腐败的大陪审团面前作证。
Through it all, I couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t Early Reston.
经历了这一切，我不禁想知道这是否不是 Early Reston。
One day in 1911, I was working at the machine shop when Willard came in. He wasn’t dressed in his usual suit but in a sweater and light jacket. He said he couldn’t believe how much older I looked. “Like your brother,” he said.
1911 年的一天，我正在机械车间工作，这时 Willard 进来了。他没有穿着平常的西装，而是穿着毛衣和薄夹克。他说他不敢相信我看起来老了多少。“就像你哥哥一样，”他说。
I stepped outside to talk to him. He said he was no longer working for Mr. Brand.
我走出去和他说话。他说他不再为布兰德工作了。
“Why not?” I asked.
“为什么不呢？”我问。
“He is—” Willard cleared his throat. “Unwell. He’s been under some pressure from the city and divested his holdings here, sold out to various partners. He’s going to move east, spend his retirement with his family.”
“他是——”威拉德清了清嗓子。“不舒服。他受到了来自这座城市的一些压力，并剥离了他在这里的股份，卖给了各种合作伙伴。他要搬到东部，和家人一起度过退休生活。
“What will you do?”
“你会怎么做？”
“I’m going to British Columbia,” he said. “I have a sister up there.” He looked around and then leaned in. “Ryan, I was wondering. The money. From that day. I hate to ask, but, well, I’m in kind of a spot and—”
“我要去不列颠哥伦比亚省，”他说。“我有个姐姐在那儿。”他环顾四周，然后靠了过去。“Ryan，我在想。钱。从那天起。我讨厌问，但是，嗯，我现在处在某种程度上，而且——”
The money. Right. For a year, five thousand dollars had sat in an envelope under my mattress. I hadn’t spent a dime of it. Most days I forgot it was there.
钱。右。一年来，我床垫下的信封里放着五千美元。我一分钱都没花。大多数时候我都忘记了它的存在。
“Of course,” I said. “You can have it all.”
“当然，”我说。“你可以拥有一切。”
“No!” he said, and his face flushed. “One or two hundred would be fine. Just enough to get me staked up there.”
“不！” 他说，脸涨得通红。“一两百就好了。刚好够我坐在那里。
“I don’t want it, Willard,” I said. “Where that money came from, what happened—I don’t want it.”
“我不要它，威拉德，”我说。“那笔钱从哪里来，发生了什么——我不要它。”
“Listen to me,” he said, “it’s just money. It’s as good or as bad as what you do with it. And whatever you do, Rye, it’ll be better than Brand having it.”
“听我说，”他说，“这只是钱。它的好坏取决于你如何使用它。无论你做什么，Rye，它都会比 Brand 拥有它好。
That night he met me at Mrs. Ricci’s house, and after much convincing, he agreed to take five hundred-dollar bills. I took them out of the envelope and handed them over. He folded them, his hands shaking, and put them in his pocket. “You have to promise me you’ll do something with the rest of it,” he said.
那天晚上，他在利玛窦太太家里见了我，经过一番劝说，他同意收五百元的钞票。我从信封里拿出它们并交给他们。他把它们折叠起来，双手颤抖着，放进了口袋里。“你得答应我，你会用剩下的东西做点什么，”他说。
I promised.
我答应了。
He shifted his weight on the porch. “I said that Brand was unwell. He’s actually in a sanitarium, babbling like a lunatic. He’s convinced Early Reston is still out there and coming for him.”
他在门廊上移动了重心。“我说布兰德身体不舒服。他实际上在疗养院里，像个疯子一样咿呀学语。他相信 Early Reston 仍然在那里并来找他。
My mouth went dry, and I told him that when Sullivan was killed, I’d had the same thought.
我口干舌燥，我告诉他，当沙利文被杀时，我也有同样的想法。
“No,” Willard said, “come on. You saw that wreck. Nobody could’ve survived that.” But Willard wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I could see even he wasn’t entirely convinced.
“不，”威拉德说，“来吧。你看到了那辆残骸。没有人能活下来。但威拉德不愿与我的眼睛对视，我看得出来，即使他也不完全相信。
It was thirteen years later, in 1924, that the police announced they’d finally solved John Sullivan’s murder. I was married by then, with three little kids at home. It had been years since I’d even thought of the big police chief.
13 年后的 1924 年，警方宣布他们终于解决了约翰·沙利文 （John Sullivan） 的谋杀案。那时我已经结婚了，家里有三个小孩。我已经很多年没有想过那个大个子警察局长了。
I gasped when I saw the story in the paper. A woman in Alabama had killed her husband in self-defense, and when the police arrested her, she said that he had been a drifter and outlaw who’d worked out west in the mines and had fallen in with anarchists. He’d told her that he’d killed dozens of people out there, including a police officer somewhere in the west, Spokane or Seattle, she thought.
当我在报纸上看到这个故事时，我倒抽了一口气。阿拉巴马州的一名妇女为了自卫杀死了她的丈夫，当警察逮捕她时，她说他是一个流浪者和亡命之徒，在西部的矿井中工作，并与无政府主义者陷入了困境。他告诉她，他在外面杀了几十个人，包括西部某个地方的一名警察，斯波坎或西雅图，她想。
The man’s name was Victor Claude Miller. I stared at his picture. It didn’t look like Early Reston. But how could I be sure? By that time, Early wasn’t so much a man anyway, but a shadow in my worst dreams.
这个人名叫维克多·克劳德·米勒（Victor Claude Miller）。我盯着他的照片。它看起来不像早期的雷斯顿。但我怎么能确定呢？到那时，Early 已经不是一个男人了，而是我最糟糕的梦中的一个影子。
Not long after Willard left, I sent Mrs. Ricci’s son Marco a letter, offering him five hundred dollars for his father’s old orchard.
威拉德走后不久，我给利玛窦太太的儿子马可写了一封信，给他五百美元买他爸爸的旧果园。
He drove up two days later and we sat at the kitchen table. “You don’t have that kind of money,” he said.
两天后他开车来了，我们坐在厨房的桌子旁。“你没有那么多钱，”他说。
“I inherited it,” I said.
“我继承了它，”我说。
“From who?”
“从谁那里？”
“My uncle Willard.” I reached in my pocket and set the five hundred dollars on the table.
“我的叔叔威拉德。”我把手伸进口袋，把五百美元放在桌子上。
He stared at the money. “We’ll need a lawyer to draw up papers.”
他盯着那笔钱。“我们需要一个律师来起草文件。”
“Oh!” It dawned on me. “I have a lawyer.”
“哦！”我恍然大悟。“我有律师。”
Marco looked as shocked by this as he had been by the five hundred dollars.
马可看起来对这事的震惊，就像他对那五百美元感到震惊一样。
Two days later, Joe gave me the afternoon off, and I took the streetcar downtown to Mr. Moore’s office. He was happy to see me and said he couldn’t believe how much older I had gotten in just the year since Gurley’s trial.
两天后，乔让我放了下午假，我坐有轨电车去了市中心的摩尔先生的办公室。他很高兴见到我，并说他不敢相信我在 Gurley 受审后的短短一年里长大了多少。
“How is Elizabeth?” I asked.
“伊丽莎白怎么样了？”我问。
“She’s fine,” he said. “Living in New York with her parents and her sisters, organizing garment workers there, of course.”
“她没事，”他说。“当然，她和父母姐妹住在纽约，在那里组织服装工人。”
“And her husband?”
“那她的丈夫呢？”
“She told him she wasn’t cut out to be a miner’s wife.” He smiled. “He tried to talk her out of it, but she went back to New York after the trial, filed for divorce, and is raising the baby herself.
“她告诉他，她不适合做矿工的妻子。”他笑了。“他试图劝她不要这样做，但她在审判后回到了纽约，申请了离婚，并自己抚养孩子。
“It was a rather bittersweet victory,” he said. “She missed seeing the results of it—the anti-speaking ordinance overturned, the police chief fired, the IWW prisoners released, nineteen of the worst employment agencies shut down.” He shook his head. “She did all of that. And she wasn’t here to see it.” But the success in Spokane had inspired other free speech actions, he said, in Fresno and in Los Angeles. He was leaving in two days to consult with the IWW in California.
“这是一场相当苦乐参半的胜利，”他说。“她错过了看到它的结果——反言论条例被推翻，警察局长被解雇，IWW 囚犯被释放，19 家最糟糕的职业介绍所关闭。”他摇摇头。“她做了这一切。她不是来这里看的。但他说，斯波坎的成功激发了弗雷斯诺和洛杉矶的其他言论自由行动。他将在两天后离开，与加利福尼亚的 IWW 协商。
“And the baby?”
“那孩子呢？”
For a moment, Mr. Moore seemed confused. “Oh, yes. A boy. Fred,” he added shyly. “She named him Fred.” He laughed, and then he wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to me. It was Gurley Flynn’s address.
有那么一刻，摩尔似乎很困惑。“哦，是的。一个男孩。弗雷德，“他害羞地补充道。“她给他起名叫弗雷德。”他笑了起来，然后在一张纸条上写了些什么递给我。那是格利·弗林的地址。
“I don’t have the first idea what I’d write,” I said.
“我一开始就不知道我要写什么，”我说。
“She told me you were the one who got her story out,” Mr. Moore said, “that you took it to the Agitator in Seattle. I know she was quite moved by that, Ryan. She always believed, as I did, that you were a pawn in the other side’s treachery.”
“她告诉我，是你把她的故事公之于众，”摩尔说，“你把它带到了西雅图的煽动者那里。我知道她对此非常感动，Ryan。她和我一样，一直相信你是对方背叛的棋子。
I could think of nothing to do but nod.
我想不出什么可做的，只能点点头。
“How’s your brother?” he asked.
“你哥哥怎么样？”
My breath left, as it always did when someone asked about Gig. “He’s great,” I said. “Riding the rails, seeing the world.”
我屏住了呼吸，就像当有人问起 Gig 时一样。“他很棒，”我说。“乘坐铁轨，看世界。”
Mr. Moore was staring at me. “That’s who you look like,” he said. “I just realized it. You look like him.”
摩尔先生盯着我看。“这就是你的样子，”他说。“我刚刚意识到这一点。你长得像他。
I smiled and cleared my throat. “I don’t know if you’re still my lawyer,” I said, “but I need a couple of things. And I can pay.”
我微笑着清了清嗓子。“我不知道你还是不是我的律师，”我说，“但我需要几样东西。而且我可以付钱。
I explained about drawing up the paperwork for buying Mrs. Ricci’s orchard. Then I put $505 on his desk. “Take your fees out of the five hundred and donate the rest to the IWW’s legal fund,” I said. “The other five dollars is for my dues. I never paid them.”
我解释了如何起草购买 Ricci 夫人果园的文书工作。然后我把 505 美元放在他的桌子上。“从这五百张钱中拿出你的费用，把剩下的捐给 IWW 的法律基金，”我说。“另外五美元是我的会费。我从来没有付过钱给他们。
Mr. Moore just stared at the money. “Where—”
摩尔只是盯着钱。“哪里——”
“Inherited it,” I said.
“继承了它，”我说。
My next stop was the Phoenix Hotel. I hadn’t seen Ursula since the night I tried to find Gig, and I thought she should at least know what happened to him. A young man at the desk called the hotel manager, Edith, who excused herself to call Ursula. I sat in the lobby waiting.
我的下一站是凤凰酒店。自从我试图找到 Gig 的那天晚上以来，我就没有见过 Ursula，我想她至少应该知道他发生了什么。服务台的一个年轻人打电话给酒店经理伊迪丝，伊迪丝借口给乌苏拉打电话。我坐在大厅里等待。
After a moment, Edith came back. “One thing,” she said. “She doesn’t go by Ursula anymore. She performs under her real name, Margaret Burns.”
过了一会儿，伊迪丝回来了。“一件事，”她说。“她不再叫乌苏拉了。她用自己的真名玛格丽特·伯恩斯 （Margaret Burns） 表演。
“Oh,” I said. “She’s not doing the cougar show anymore?”
“哦，”我说。“她不再做美洲狮表演了？”
And that’s when she came in, as big and lovely as ever, in a blue bustled dress with a feathered hat. “They shut down the variety shows,” Ursula said. “Thank God.”
就在这时，她进来了，一如既往的高大可爱，穿着一件蓝色的蓬松连衣裙，戴着一顶带羽毛的帽子。“他们关闭了综艺节目，”乌苏拉说。“感谢上帝。”
“Margaret’s doing real theater now,” said Edith, “a touring production of George Cohan’s Forty-five Minutes from Broadway.”
“玛格丽特现在正在做真正的戏剧，”伊迪丝说，“乔治·科恩的 《 百老汇四十五分钟》 的巡回演出。“
“It’s a small part,” Ursula said.
“这只是一小部分，”乌苏拉说。
“It’s a star turn!” Edith said.
“这是明星转身！”伊迪丝说。
“Don’t listen to her. The producers are merely filling some of the lesser parts with local actors, and I got one of the singing roles.”
“别听她的话。制片人只是用当地演员来填补一些较小的部分，而我得到了一个歌唱角色。
“Don’t listen to her,” said Edith. “She steals the show.”
“别听她的话 ，”伊迪丝说。“她抢尽风头。”
Ursula put a hand on the other woman’s arm. “Edith, can Ryan and I have a moment alone?”
乌苏拉把手放在另一个女人的手臂上。“伊迪丝，我和瑞安可以单独呆一会儿吗？”
I followed Ursula to Edith’s office, and once the door was closed, she gave me the warmest hug, and the smell of her, the press of her bosom, it all made me think of my brother, how much Gig had liked her, and my own boyish fantasies that she and Gig would raise me someday. I fought against crying.
我跟着乌苏拉来到伊迪丝的办公室，门一关上，她给了我最温暖的拥抱，她的气味，她胸前的按压，这一切都让我想起了我的哥哥，想起了吉格有多喜欢她，以及我自己对她和吉格总有一天会抚养长大的孩子气的幻想。我努力克制住哭泣。
“I’m sorry about what happened to Gig,” she said, and before I could ask how she knew, she added, “Willard told me. I was very fond of your brother. I hope you know that. When I heard, I felt responsible. For getting you tangled up with Lem that way. My intentions—” She didn’t finish the thought but leaned in, confiding. “I sent an anonymous letter to the police. Nothing came of it, but I had to do something.”
“我对 Gig 的遭遇感到抱歉，”她说，在我问她是怎么知道的之前，她又补充道，“Willard 告诉我的。我很喜欢你哥哥。我希望你知道这一点。当我听到这个消息时，我感到有责任。让你以这种方式与 Lem 纠缠不清。我的意图——“她没有说完这个想法，而是俯身倾诉。“我向警方发送了一封匿名信。什么都没有，但我必须做点什么。
I reached in my pocket. I put five hundred dollars on the office desk.
我把手伸进口袋里。我在办公桌上放了 500 美元。
“What’s this?” she asked.
“这是什么？”
“Inheritance,” I said.
“遗产，”我说。
She looked as if I couldn’t be serious.
她看起来好像我是认真的。
“Gig would want you to have it,” I said.
“吉格希望你得到它，”我说。
“Oh, God, no,” she said.
“哦，上帝，不，”她说。
“Please,” I said.
“拜托，”我说。
“Absolutely not.” She said that she owned the hotel free and clear now and was doing quite well for herself. I tried several times, but in the end, she was the only one who wouldn’t take the money.
“绝对不是。”她说她现在拥有这家免费和清晰的酒店，而且她自己过得还不错。我试了好几次，但最后，她是唯一一个不肯拿钱的人。
She walked me out of the hotel and, on the street, ran a hand across my face, as if memorizing it. She looked at me from both sides. “You look older,” she said.
她带我走出旅馆，在街上，一只手抚摸着我的脸，仿佛在记住它。她从两边看着我。“你看起来更老了，”她说。
“Like him?”
“像他一样？”
“Oh, God, no.”
“哦，上帝，不。”
I only saw her once more, eight years later, in December 1919. Spokane had become a quiet and conservative place by then. The rushes had ended, timber and mining were in decline. The population had flattened, and temperance and religious forces had succeeded in shutting down the vice in Spokane.
我只在八年后的 1919 年 12 月才再次见到她。那时，斯波坎已经成为一个安静而保守的地方。淘金热已经结束，木材和采矿业正在衰落。人口趋于平缓，节制和宗教力量成功地关闭了斯波坎的恶习。
Elena and I had come downtown to see the Christmas windows at the Crescent. Gregory was almost three, Daniel just a baby. Bets and Calvin hadn’t been born yet. This was just weeks before Prohibition went into effect, but Spokane had already banned alcohol. I parked in front of Jimmy Durkin’s old place, got out, and was reaching in the backseat for little Gregory when I felt a hand touch my shoulder.
埃琳娜和我来到市中心，是为了看新月的圣诞橱窗。格雷戈里快三岁了，丹尼尔还只是个婴儿。Bets 和 Calvin 还没有出生。就在禁酒令生效前几周，但斯波坎已经禁止饮酒。我把车停在吉米·杜尔金（Jimmy Durkin）的老家门口，下车，正伸手去后座上找小格雷戈里（Gregory），这时我感觉到一只手碰到了我的肩膀。
It was her, walking with a poodle and a well-dressed older gentleman. “Well, hello there,” she said. “It’s Margaret Burns.”
是她，带着一只贵宾犬和一位穿着考究的老绅士走着。“嗯，你好，”她说。“是玛格丽特·伯恩斯。”
Before I could say anything, she gestured up at the old Durkin’s. It was a dry pool hall and cardhouse now. A sign advertised free coffee and ginger ale.
我还没来得及说什么，她就朝老杜尔金家打了个手势。它现在是一个干台球厅和卡片屋。一个标牌上写着免费的咖啡和姜汁汽水。
“Well,” she said, “at least Gig didn’t live to see that.” Then she took the dog and the gentleman and strolled off.
“嗯，”她说，“至少吉格没能活着看到这一点 。然后她带着狗和那位先生走了。
“Who was that?” asked Elena.
“那是谁？”
“That”—I watched her walk down the sidewalk on the gentleman’s arm, a fur stole flapping over her shoulder—“was Ursula the Great.”
“那个”——我看着她挽着那位绅士的胳膊走在人行道上，一条毛皮披肩在她的肩膀上飘扬——“是乌苏拉大帝。
I must’ve started ten letters to Gurley. But in the end, I never wrote to her. I had only known her a few months, after all, and the more time passed, the less I felt it would make sense, getting a letter from me. Meeting her was like being swept up in a typhoon, then dumped back on the ground. But the storm had long ago passed. My old friend Tolstoy said the closer a man gets to history, the less he seems to have his own free will, the more his life is commanded by the gravity of big events.
我肯定已经开始给格利写十封信了。但到头来，我再也没有给她写信。毕竟，我只认识她几个月，时间越长，我就越觉得收到我的信没有意义。遇见她就像被台风卷起，然后又被扔回地上。但暴风雨早已过去。我的老朋友托尔斯泰说，一个人越接近历史，他似乎就越没有自己的自由意志，他的生活就越受大事件的严重性支配。
I imagine Calvin would’ve agreed with that as seawater swirled around him. And Gurley, too.
我想象 Calvin 会同意这一点，因为海水在他周围漩涡。还有 Gurley。
Gurley. How many times as a young man did I roll that name across my tongue. I had never told Elena this, but at one time I believed that I loved her, although that’s a strange word for someone like Gurley—love. She seemed too tough for it. Back then, I knew cops and killers, detectives and anarchists, and not one of them had her strength, could have done what she did.
格利 。作为一个年轻人，我多少次在我的舌头上滚动这个名字。我从来没有告诉过 Elena，但有一段时间我相信我爱她，尽管对于像 Gurley 这样的人来说，这是一个奇怪的词——爱。她似乎太强硬了。那时，我知道警察和杀手、侦探和无政府主义者，他们中没有一个人能像她那样，能做出她所做的事情。
I watch the TV news now and I see the Freedom Riders and Martin Luther King Jr., people protesting at lunch counters and on buses. She would be right alongside them, alone and pregnant, nineteen, and not a doubt in her mind that goodness would eventually prevail.
我现在看电视新闻，我看到自由骑士和马丁·路德·金，人们在午餐柜台和公共汽车上抗议。她会就在他们身边，孤身一人，怀孕，十九岁，毫无疑问，善良最终会占上风。
I wish I could be so sure.
我希望我能这么确定。
There was always a part of me that felt she was too bold, asking too much, going too far. I was a strong union man my whole life, but I could never go that fast, like she did, like Gig did. I sometimes felt guilty, living my quiet life, paying my union dues and getting small rewards, while true believers like Gurley fought with their lives.
我总有一部分觉得她太大胆了，要求太多了，走得太远了。我一生都是一个坚强的工会人，但我永远无法像她那样走得那么快，就像 Gig 那样。我有时感到内疚，过着平静的生活，支付我的工会会费并获得小额奖励，而像 Gurley 这样的真正信徒却在与他们的生命作斗争。
The labor wars continued throughout the teens. In 1916 three hundred Wobblies boarded steamers in Seattle to go support a strike in Everett, but when they got there, two hundred armed men were waiting, and for ten minutes they unloaded on the steamers, 175 bullets tearing into the pilothouse alone. Most of the men on board were unarmed, but a few returned fire, including a private detective who had been planted as a spy inside the union. One steamer nearly capsized from the men running from gunfire, and when it was over, five Wobblies were dead on the ship, and more in the water, their bodies never recovered. Almost thirty were wounded. Two deputized citizens were killed, although it was determined later that they’d been shot in the back by vigilantes on their own side. Twenty citizens were wounded, including the sheriff.
劳资战争在整个青少年时期仍在继续。1916 年，300 名 Wobblies 在西雅图登上轮船，前往支持埃弗雷特的罢工，但当他们到达那里时，200 名武装人员正在等待，他们在轮船上卸货 10 分钟，仅 175 发子弹就射进了驾驶室。机上的大多数人手无寸铁，但也有少数人还击，包括一名在工会内部被安插为间谍的私家侦探。一艘轮船差点因逃避枪击而倾覆，当战斗结束时，船上有五名 Wobblies 死亡，还有更多人在水中，他们的尸体再也没有找到。近 30 人受伤。两名代表公民被杀，尽管后来确定他们是被自己一方的治安队员从背后开枪打死的。包括警长在内的 20 名公民受伤。
The next year, Gig’s old friend Frank Little was organizing for the IWW near Butte when six men broke into his boardinghouse, beat him, tied him to a car, and pulled him down the street, over granite blocks that tore off his kneecaps. They bashed in his head and hung him from a railroad bridge at the end of town. Pinned to his torn pants was a note that read, “First and last warning,” with the initials of other union leaders.
第二年，吉格的老朋友弗兰克·利特尔 （Frank Little） 正在比尤特附近组织 IWW，当时有六名男子闯入他的寄宿公寓，殴打他，将他绑在一辆车上，然后把他拉到街上，越过花岗岩块，撕下了他的膝盖骨。他们猛击他的头部，并将他吊在镇尽头的一座铁路桥上。他破烂的裤子上别着一张纸条，上面写着“第一次和最后一次警告”，上面写着其他工会领导人的姓名首字母。
What do you make of such times? I feel a similar sense of despair now, watching those southern sheriffs turn firehoses and dogs loose on civil rights protestors. I find myself looking up from the newspaper and saying to Elena, “The world is tearing itself apart.”
你如何看待这样的时代？我现在也有类似的绝望感，看着那些南方警长对着民权抗议者开火，放开狗。我发现自己从报纸上抬起头来，对 Elena 说：“世界正在撕裂自己。
My wife has her mother’s quiet wisdom, her grandfather’s great laugh. “Always,” she says to me.
我的妻子有她母亲安静的智慧，她祖父的伟大笑声。“总是，”她对我说。
By 1917, the IWW had been run completely out of Spokane, and when the union objected to the U.S. entering World War I, the government cracked down, raiding union offices, charging leaders with sedition, and deporting thousands. In those years, I could no more admit being an old Wobbly than I could admit being a German spy.
到 1917 年，IWW 已经完全离开了斯波坎，当工会反对美国参加第一次世界大战时，政府进行了镇压，突袭了工会办公室，指控领导人犯有煽动叛乱罪，并驱逐了数千人。在那些年里，我不能承认自己是一个老摇摆不定的人，就像我不能承认自己是一个德国间谍一样。
So I never talked to my kids about the IWW, about the riots, about jail, about any of it. I didn’t think it would make sense to them. It would have been like talking about the gold rush or the Civil War.
所以我从来没有和我的孩子们谈论过 IWW、骚乱、监狱，以及任何它。我认为这对他们来说没有意义。这就像谈论淘金热或南北战争一样。
My oldest son, Greg, is a partner in his father-in-law’s car dealership. He tells me he’s going to vote for Barry Goldwater for president. He gave me Goldwater’s book, The Conscience of a Conservative, for Christmas. Last year, he gave me Atlas Shrugged. He likes to lecture me about the dangers of unions and the spread of communism.
我的大儿子 Greg 是他岳父的汽车经销商的合伙人。他告诉我，他会投票支持巴里·戈德沃特（Barry Goldwater）当总统。他在圣诞节送给我戈德华特的书《 保守派的良心》（The Conscience of a Conservative）。去年，他给了我 Atlas 耸耸肩 。他喜欢给我讲工会的危险和共产主义的传播。
Elena reminds him that without his dad’s union job, he wouldn’t have had a roof over his head, but he’s one of those men of fragile confidence who needs to always believe that he’s made his own way in the world.
埃琳娜提醒他，如果没有他爸爸的工会工作，他就不会有屋顶，但他是那种自信脆弱的人之一，需要永远相信自己已经在这个世界上走出了自己的路。
Now, as I sit with Elizabeth Gurley Flynn’s obituary in my lap, I think I’ll tell him all about my past, about his anarchist uncle, about how his father once fancied a girl who grew up to be president of the Communist Party. I don’t have any hope of changing Greg’s opinion. I just want to see the look on his face. It’s another mystery of parenting: how you can love your kids without always liking them.
现在，当我坐在伊丽莎白·格利·弗林（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn）的讣告膝盖上时，我想我会告诉他我的过去，他的无政府主义叔叔，他的父亲曾经如何喜欢一个长大后成为共产党主席的女孩。我没有任何希望改变 Greg 的观点。我只是想看看他脸上的表情。这是育儿的另一个谜团：你如何爱你的孩子，而不是总是喜欢他们。
Maybe it’s being close to the end, but I have this desire to pull Greg aside—to pull all my children aside, and my grandchildren—and to whisper something profound, to pass on the great wisdom I’ve acquired. Something that would open their hearts and create in them an unassailable courage, a generosity of spirit, faith in humanity.
也许已经接近尾声了，但我有个愿望想把 Greg 拉到一边——把我所有的孩子和我的孙子孙女都拉到一边——低声说些深奥的话，把我所获得的伟大智慧传下去。这种东西会打开他们的心扉，在他们身上创造无懈可击的勇气、慷慨的精神、对人性的信仰。
But the only thing I can think of is Time and patience
但我唯一能想到的是时间和耐心.
And Bet on the last horse to piss
并押注最后一匹马来撒尿.
I remember something Gurley told me, the night we sat up in the Missoula train station. We had been robbed and nearly killed in Taft. We were as beaten as people could be. And here she was, gearing up to start the fight all over once we got back to Spokane.
我记得 Gurley 对我说的那句话，那天晚上我们在米苏拉火车站坐着。我们在塔夫脱被抢劫，差点被杀。我们被打败了。她就在这里，准备在我们回到斯波坎后重新开始战斗。
“How do you do it?” I asked her. “How do you keep getting up every day and fighting when winning seems impossible?”
“你怎么做？”我问她。“你怎么每天起床，在似乎不可能获胜的时候继续战斗？”
She thought about it, and then she said, “Men sometimes say to me: You might win the battle, Gurley, but you’ll never win the war. But no one wins the war, Ryan. Not really. I mean, we’re all going to die, right?
她想了想，然后说：“男人们有时会对我说： 你可能会赢得这场战斗，格利，但你永远不会赢得这场战争 。但没有人能赢得这场战争，瑞安。没有。我的意思是，我们都会死，对吧？
“But to win a battle now and then? What more could you want?”
“但为了时不时地赢得一场战斗？你还能想要什么呢？
That day in 1911, after I went to see Fred Moore and Ursula, I decided to keep another five hundred dollars for myself, to use on the house I was going to build. That still left almost three thousand dollars of Lem Brand’s money.
1911 年的那一天，我去看了弗雷德·摩尔 （Fred Moore） 和乌苏拉 （Ursula） 之后，决定再留五百美元给自己，用于我即将建造的房子。这仍然留下了近三千美元的 Lem Brand 的钱。
I thought about walking into Bradley & Graham’s, slapping it on the counter, and saying, “Dress me, Chester!” The thought of it made me laugh.
我想走进 Bradley & Graham's，把它拍在柜台上，然后说，“给我穿衣服，Chester！一想到这，我就笑了。
Instead, I went to a shop that made headstones and memorials. I asked whether a person could get one if there was no body, no grave.
相反，我去了一家制作墓碑和纪念碑的商店。我问如果没有尸体，没有坟墓，一个人能不能得到一个。
“Of course,” the man said. So I picked the simplest one, granite, flush with the earth. It cost forty dollars engraved. Later, I put it in a corner of the orchard in Little Italy. It read: “Gregory T. Dolan, 1886–1910, loving brother and member in good standing of the IWW.”
“当然，”男人说。所以我选择了最简单的一种，花岗岩，与大地齐平。它花了 40 美元雕刻。后来，我把它放在小意大利果园的一个角落里。上面写着：“Gregory T. Dolan，1886-1910 年，慈爱的兄弟和 IWW 信誉良好的成员。
After I picked out the headstone, I walked through the east end of downtown. There were a few floaters out, a man begging, a handful of people outside the Salvation Army, where the regular brass band was playing in the street, including an old toothless man blowing a French horn that looked like it had been in a hailstorm. The army used volunteers for its band, but every once in a while, they’d employ a tramp with musical ability, and that’s what the toothless French horn player looked like.
挑选出墓碑后，我走过市中心的东端。救世军外面有几个漂浮物，一个乞讨的男人，还有几个人在救世军外面，那里有正规的铜管乐队在街上演奏，包括一个没有牙齿的老头子吹着一个法国号角，看起来就像是遭遇了冰雹。军队的乐队使用志愿者，但每隔一段时间，他们就会雇用一个有音乐能力的流浪汉，这就是没有牙齿的法国号手的样子。
We always made fun of it, called it the Starvation Army. But I thought of how many meals, how many pairs of shoes and shirts, I had gotten there, and it felt right, walking up and sliding almost three thousand dollars into the bucket next to the French horn player’s dirty shoe.
我们总是取笑它，称它为饥饿军。但我想到我吃了多少顿饭，买了多少双鞋和衬衫，感觉很对，走上前去，把将近三千美元滑进了那个圆号手脏鞋旁边的桶里。
He took his lips from the mouthpiece. “God bless.”
他把嘴唇从吹嘴上拿开。“上帝保佑。”
“You, too,” I said.
“你也是，”我说。
As Albert Camus once said, “Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.” And as Jessamyn West said, “Fiction reveals the truth that reality obscures.” And as my kids said, “Dad, that sounds made up.”
正如阿尔贝·加缪 （Albert Camus） 曾经说过的那样，“虚构是我们讲述真相的谎言。正如 Jessamyn West 所说，“小说揭示了现实所掩盖的真相。正如我的孩子们所说，“爸爸，这听起来是编造的。
Kids, this is made up. The Cold Millions is fiction.
孩子们，这是编的。 The Cold Millions 是虚构的。
But that doesn’t mean there aren’t some obscured truths in here, a few relevant philosophical questions rattling around these pages, as well as some “real” historical figures—among them the great labor organizer Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, Spokane police officer Alfred Waterbury, the police chief John Sullivan, IWW organizers John Walsh and Frank Little, the labor lawyer Fred Moore, and others.
但这并不意味着这里没有一些模糊的真相，一些相关的哲学问题围绕着这些页面嘎嘎作响，还有一些“真实”的历史人物——其中包括伟大的劳工组织者伊丽莎白·格利·弗林、斯波坎警官阿尔弗雷德·沃特伯里、警察局长约翰·沙利文、IWW 组织者约翰·沃尔什和弗兰克·利特尔、劳工律师弗雷德·摩尔、 和其他。
In setting a fictionalized story among real historical figures and events, I have endeavored to trace a basic chronology and outline of what happened. Much of what the real people do and say in the book came directly from books or newspaper accounts of the time. What happens to the historical figures in the novel is generally what happened to them in life.
在真实的历史人物和事件中设置一个虚构的故事时，我努力追溯所发生的事情的基本年表和大纲。书中真实人物的所作所为和所说的大部分内容都直接来自当时的书籍或报纸报道。小说中历史人物的遭遇， 通常就是他们生活中的遭遇。
The free speech riots of 1909 and 1910 really did occur in Spokane, and five hundred transient workers, socialists, and unionists were jailed, often under brutal conditions. At least three prisoners died upon their release. Police officers were killed before and after—and their killings went unsolved for years. The history involving the tribes, the horse slaughter camp and the hangings at Latah Creek are true, horrific events. Elizabeth Gurley Flynn’s campaign to raise money, her arrest, her exposing jail corruption, her trial (in fact, she had two trials, which I have condensed into one)—these all occurred.
1909 年和 1910 年的言论自由骚乱确实发生在斯波坎，500 名临时工人、社会主义者和工会成员被关进监狱，而且往往是在残酷的条件下。至少有三名囚犯在获释后死亡。警察前后被杀害——他们的杀人案多年来一直没有得到解决。涉及部落、马匹屠宰营和 Latah Creek 绞刑的历史是真实而可怕的事件。伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 的筹款活动、她的被捕、她揭露监狱腐败、她的审判（事实上，她有两次审判，我将其浓缩为一次）——所有这些都发生了。
But this is a work of fiction. Dates and events have been altered, names have been changed, motives and actions invented. I urge readers to treat even the historical figures as fictional characters. A fictional Gurley Flynn and a fictional John Sullivan set in a fictional Spokane, all seen through a fictional lens.
但这是一部虚构的作品。日期和事件被改变，名字被改变，动机和行动被发明出来。我敦促读者将历史人物视为虚构人物。虚构的 Gurley Flynn 和虚构的 John Sullivan 以虚构的斯波坎为背景，所有这些都通过虚构的镜头看到。
For those who want to learn more, there are some great books about these people and their time that were useful in my research:
对于那些想了解更多的人，有一些关于这些人和他们时代的好书，对我的研究很有用：
The Rebel Girl: An Autobiography (My First Life 1906–1926) by Elizabeth Gurley Flynn (International Publishers, 1955) and Elizabeth Gurley Flynn: Modern American Revolutionary by Lara Vapnak in the Lives of American Women series, edited by Carol Berkin (Westview Press, 2015).
伊丽莎白·格利·弗林 （Elizabeth Gurley Flynn） 的 《 叛逆女孩：自传（我的第一次生活 1906-1926）》（国际出版社，1955 年）和劳拉·瓦普纳克 （Lara Vapnak） 的《美国妇女的生活》系列中的《伊丽莎白·格利·弗林：现代美国革命者》（Elizabeth Gurley Flynn： Modern American Revolution）， 卡罗尔·伯金 （Carol Berkin） 编辑（Westview 出版社，2015 年）。
Rebel Voices: An IWW Anthology edited by Joyce L. Kornbluh (CH Kerr Publishing, 1955); Solidarity Forever: An Oral History of the IWW by Stewart Bird, Deborah Shaffer, and Dan Georgakas (Lakeview, 1985); The Wobblies: The Story of the IWW and Syndicalism in the United States by Patrick Renshaw (Ivan R. Dee Publishing, 1967).
Joyce L. Kornbluh 编辑的 Rebel Voices： An IWW Anthology（CH Kerr Publishing，1955 年）; 永远的团结：IWW 的口述历史 ，作者：Stewart Bird、Deborah Shaffer 和 Dan Georgakas（湖景，1985 年）; The Wobblies： The Story of the IWW and Syndicalism in the United States （伊万·迪出版社，1967 年）。
The Big Burn: Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America by Timothy Egan (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009); Big Trouble by J. Anthony Lukas (Touchstone Books, 1997); Joe Hill by Wallace Stegner (Doubleday Books, 1950); Bad Land: An American Romance by Jonathan Raban (Vintage Books, 1996); Pinkerton’s Great Detective: The Amazing Life and Times of James McParland by Beau Riffenburgh (Viking, 2013); The Lost Detective: Becoming Dashiell Hammett by Nathan Ward (Bloomsbury, 2015).
蒂莫西·伊根 （Timothy Egan） 的 《大火：泰迪·罗斯福和拯救美国的大火 》（Houghton Mifflin Harcourt，2009 年）; J. Anthony Lukas 的 Big Trouble（Touchstone Books，1997 年）; 华莱士·斯特格纳 （Wallace Stegner） 的《乔·希尔》（Joe Hill）（Doubleday Books，1950 年）; 乔纳森·拉班 （Jonathan Raban） 的 《坏土地：美国浪漫史》（Bad Land： An American Romance）（Vintage Books，1996 年）; Beau Riffenburgh 的 《平克顿的大侦探：詹姆斯·麦克帕兰的惊人生活和时代 》（Viking，2013 年）; 迷失的侦探：成为达希尔·哈米特 内森·沃德 （Nathan Ward） 著（布鲁姆斯伯里，2015 年）。
Showtown: Theater and Culture in the Pacific Northwest, 1890–1920 by Holly George (University of Oklahoma Press, 2017); Selling Sex in the Silver Valley by Dr. Heather Branstetter (History Press, 2017); Alice: Memoirs of a Barbary Coast Prostitute, author unknown, edited by Ivy Anderson and Devon Angus (Heyday Publishing, California Historical Society, 2015).
霍莉·乔治 （Holly George） 的《 表演城：太平洋西北地区的戏剧和文化，1890-1920 年》（俄克拉荷马大学出版社，2017 年）; 希瑟·布兰斯特特 （Heather Branstetter） 博士的《在银谷出售性爱》（历史出版社，2017 年）; 《爱丽丝：巴巴里海岸回忆录》（Alice： Memoirs of a Barbary Coast Prostitute），作者不详，艾薇·安德森（Ivy Anderson）和德文·安格斯（Devon Angus）编辑（Heyday Publishing，加州历史学会，2015 年）。
The terrific Inland Northwest and natural histories of Jack Nisbet, most recently Ancient Places: People and Landscape in the Emerging Northwest (Sasquatch Books, 2015); the pictorial history books of Tony and Suzanne Bamonte, most notably Spokane: Our Early History (Tornado Creek Publications, 2012) and Life Behind the Badge Vol II (Walsworth Publishing, 2010); African Americans in Spokane by Jerrelene Williamson (Arcadia Publishing, 2010); Vanishing Seattle by Clark Humphrey (Arcadia Publishing, 2006); People of the Falls by David H. Chance (Kettle Falls Historical Center, 1986); and The Spokane Dictionary, compiled by Barry F. Carlson and Pauline Flett (Alex Sherwood/Mary Owhi Moses Memorial Trust, 1989).
杰克·尼斯贝特 （Jack Nisbet） 的精彩西北内陆和自然历史，最近的 《 古代地方：新兴西北地区的人民和景观 》（Sasquatch Books，2015 年）;托尼和苏珊娜·巴蒙特 （Tony and Suzanne Bamonte） 的图画历史书籍，最著名的是 《斯波坎：我们的早期历史》（Spokane： Our Early History）（Tornado Creek Publications，2012 年）和 《徽章背后的生活第二卷》（Life Behind the Badge Vol II）（沃尔斯沃思出版社，2010 年）; 杰雷琳·威廉姆森 （Jerrelene Williamson） 的 《斯波坎的非裔美国人 》（Arcadia Publishing，2010 年）; 克拉克·汉弗莱 （Clark Humphrey） 的《消失的西雅图》（Arcadia Publishing，2006 年）; 大卫·钱斯 （David H. Chance） 的《瀑布之人》（凯特尔福尔斯历史中心，1986 年）;以及巴里·卡尔森 （Barry F. Carlson） 和宝琳·弗莱特 （Pauline Flett） 编纂的《斯波坎词典》（Alex Sherwood/Mary Owhi Moses Memorial Trust，1989 年）。
I’d like to give special thanks to the Salish School of Spokane, the dynamic immersion school committed to preserving and revitalizing the language of the Spokanes and other Inland Northwest tribes by teaching children and adults of all ages. Thanks to Christopher Parkin for help with an especially delicate translation (and a great suggestion for a character’s line). Please visit www.salishschoolofspokane.org for information about supporting their work.
我要特别感谢斯波坎萨利希学校，这是一所充满活力的浸入式学校，致力于通过教授所有年龄段的儿童和成人来保存和振兴斯波坎人和其他内陆西北部落的语言。感谢 Christopher Parkin 的帮助，翻译特别精致（以及对角色台词的极好建议）。请访问 www.salishschoolofspokane.org 了解有关支持其工作的信息。
Thanks also to Spokane writer and historian Jim Kershner, and to Eastern Washington University professor of history and author Bill Youngs, both of whom should be absolved of blame for any Apple watches or cell phones that appear in this novel. The great Spokane newsman Bill Morlin, either anticipating the research I would need, or just to remind me that he’s always two steps ahead, independently wrote pieces about the history of Taft, Montana, for the New York Times and the Spokesman-Review that I highly recommend.
还要感谢斯波坎作家和历史学家吉姆·克什纳 （Jim Kershner），以及东华盛顿大学 （Eastern Washington University） 历史学教授和作家比尔·扬斯 （Bill Youngs），他们都应该为这部小说中出现的任何 Apple 手表或手机而受到指责。伟大的斯波坎新闻记者比尔·莫林 （Bill Morlin） 要么预料到我需要的研究，要么只是提醒我他总是领先两步，他独立为 《 纽约时报 》 和我强烈推荐的 《 发言人评论 》撰写了关于蒙大拿州塔夫脱历史的文章。
Much of my research involved hours in the stacks and in front of microfilm at the Spokane Public Library, reading newspapers from that time, including the Spokesman-Review, the Spokane Chronicle, the Spokane Press, and the Industrial Worker (and longing for a time when newspapers flourished that way). As stacks are being consolidated and digitized, I want to especially thank the staff in the Ned M. Barnes Northwest Room at the Spokane Public Library for letting me wander. There’s nothing like the shelves of an actual physical library when you’re unsure of what it is you’re seeking. It was in the Northwest Room that I was steered toward a terrific resource, Jonathan David Knight’s 1991 Masters in History Thesis from Washington State University, The Spokane and Fresno Free-Speech Fights of the Industrial Workers of the World (1909–1911). A big thank-you to Mr. Knight.
我的大部分研究都涉及在斯波坎公共图书馆的书架上和缩微胶卷前花费数小时，阅读当时的报纸，包括 Spokesman-Review、Spokane Chronicle、Spokane Press 和 Industrial Worker（并渴望报纸以这种方式繁荣的时代）。随着书架的整合和数字化，我要特别感谢斯波坎公共图书馆 Ned M. Barnes 西北室的工作人员，是他们让我四处闲逛。当您不确定自己在寻找什么时，没有什么比实际实体图书馆的书架更棒的了。正是在西北厅，我被引导到一个了不起的资源，乔纳森·大卫·奈特 （Jonathan David Knight） 1991 年在华盛顿州立大学获得的历史硕士学位论文， 世界产业工人的斯波坎和弗雷斯诺言论自由斗争 （1909-1911）。 非常感谢 Knight 先生。
Thanks to a few writer friends who read pages along the way and made suggestions, among them: Anthony Doerr, Shawn Vestal, Sherman Alexie, Anne Walter, Jim Lynch, Sam Ligon, and Katy Sewall. A special thanks to Katy for her continued help with research, organization, and encouragement.
感谢一些作家朋友，他们一路上阅读了几页并提出了建议，其中包括：Anthony Doerr、Shawn Vestal、Sherman Alexie、Anne Walter、Jim Lynch、Sam Ligon 和 Katy Sewall。特别感谢 Katy 在研究、组织和鼓励方面的持续帮助。
A great thanks to my editor, Jennifer Barth, for her calm, smart, steady hand, and for pushing me to make the book better, and to my agent Warren Frazier, for his friendship and counsel, and to everyone at Harper and John Hawkins and Associates.
非常感谢我的编辑詹妮弗·巴特 （Jennifer Barth），她冷静、聪明、稳重，推动我把这本书做得更好，感谢我的经纪人沃伦·弗雷泽 （Warren Frazier），感谢他的友谊和建议，感谢哈珀和约翰·霍金斯联合公司 （Harper and John Hawkins and Associates） 的每个人。
The roots of this novel go back to my grandfather Jess Walter, and his stories of hopping trains as a young man to find itinerant work around the west. And to my father, Bruce, a lifelong union man who passed on his steadfast belief in fairness to my sister, Kristie, my brother, Ralph, and me. And finally, I want to give the biggest thank-you to my kids, Alec, Ava, and Brooklyn, and to my wife, Anne, for the profound love, support, and inspiration.
这本小说的根源可以追溯到我的祖父杰西·沃尔特 （Jess Walter），以及他年轻时跳火车在西部寻找流动工作的故事。还有我的父亲布鲁斯，他是一位终生的工会成员，他将他对公平的坚定信念传递给了我的姐姐克里斯蒂、我的兄弟拉尔夫和我。最后，我想 对我的孩子 Alec、Ava 和 Brooklyn 以及我的妻子 Anne 表示最大的感谢，感谢他们深深的爱、支持和启发。
JESS WALTER is the author of the number one New York Times bestseller Beautiful Ruins, the national bestseller The Financial Lives of the Poets, the National Book Award finalist The Zero, the Edgar Award–winning Citizen Vince, Land of the Blind, the New York Times Notable Book Over Tumbled Graves, and the story collection We Live in Water. He lives in Spokane, Washington, with his family.
杰斯·沃尔特 （JESS WALTER） 是纽约时报排名第一的畅销书 《 美丽的废墟》、 全国畅销书 《诗人的财务生活 》、国家图书奖决赛入围者 《零 》、埃德加奖得主 《 公民文斯盲人之地》、 纽约时报著名书籍 《翻滚的坟墓》 和故事集的作者我们生活在水中 。他和家人住在华盛顿州的斯波坎。
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com
在 hc.com 上发现伟大的作者、独家优惠等 .
Also by Jess Walter
同样由 Jess Walter 提供
FICTION
小说
We Live in Water
我们生活在水中
Beautiful Ruins
美丽的废墟
The Financial Lives of the Poets
诗人的财务生活
The Zero
零
Citizen Vince
公民文斯
Land of the Blind
盲人之地
Over Tumbled Graves
翻倒的坟墓
NONFICTION
纪实
Ruby Ridge (previously released as Every Knee Shall Bow)
Ruby Ridge （之前以 Every Knee Shall Bow 发布 ）
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
这是一部虚构的作品。姓名、人物、地点和事件是作者想象的产物，或者是虚构的，不应被解释为真实。与实际事件、地点、组织或人物（无论是在世的还是已故的）的任何相似之处，都纯属巧合。
THE COLD MILLIONS. Copyright © 2020 by Jess Walter. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
寒冷的数百万人。版权所有 © 2020 Jess Walter。根据国际和泛美版权公约保留所有权利。通过支付所需费用，您已被授予非排他性、不可转让的权利，可以在屏幕上访问和阅读本电子书的文本。未经哈珀柯林斯电子书公司明确书面许可，不得以任何形式或任何方式（无论是现在已知的还是现在已知的或以后发明的电子或机械）复制、传播、下载、反编译、逆向工程、存储或引入任何信息存储和检索系统。
Cover design by Milan Bozic
封面设计：Milan Bozic
Cover image © Boris Smirnov-Rusetsky, Boundless, 1979/Bridgeman Images (sky)
封面图片 © Boris Smirnov-Rusetsky， Boundless， 1979/Bridgeman Images （sky）
FIRST EDITION
初版
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
美国国会图书馆出版物编目数据
Names: Walter, Jess, 1965- author.
姓名： Walter， Jess， 1965- 作者。
Title: The cold millions : a novel / Jess Walter.
标题：寒冷的百万：小说 / 杰西·沃尔特。
Description: First Edition. | New York, NY : Harper, [2020]
描述： 第一版。|纽约州纽约市：哈珀，[2020]
Identifiers: LCCN 2020000620 (print) | LCCN 2020000621 (ebook) | ISBN 9780062868084 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780063029699 | ISBN 9780062868107 (ebook)
标识符：LCCN 2020000620 （print） |LCCN 2020000621（电子书） |ISBN 9780062868084 （精装） |国际标准书号 9780063029699 |ISBN 9780062868107（电子书）
Classification: LCC PS3573.A4722834 C65 2020 (print) | LCC PS3573.A4722834 (ebook) | DDC 813/.54—dc23
分类：LCC PS3573。A4722834 C65 2020 （印刷） |LCC PS3573.A4722834 （电子书） |DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020000620
LC 记录可在 https://lccn.loc.gov/2020000620 获取
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020000621
LC 电子书记录可在 https://lccn.loc.gov/2020000621 获取
Digital Edition OCTOBER 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-286810-7
数字版 2020 年 10 月 ISBN：978-0-06-286810-7
Version 08122020
版本 08122020
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-286808-4
印刷 ISBN： 978-0-06-286808-4
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Contents
内容
Cover
盖
Title Page
扉页
Del Dalveaux, 1909
Del Dalveaux，1909 年
Also by Jess Walter
同样由 Jess Walter 提供
Table of Contents
目录
Del Dalveaux, 1909
Del Dalveaux，1909 年
Also by Jess Walter
同样由 Jess Walter 提供