Lucky's POVHe was surprisingly fast at mounting his horse and reached his hand out to me.“Thanks,” I said and let him help me up behind him. “So, what do I call you?”“The name’s McCollum,” he said, almost overly dramatic, but with a sense of pride and majesty that seemed to justify it. “Marcus McCollum.”“You say it as if it’s supposed to mean something,” I said, hoping not to disappoint him too much that I didn’t recognize his face or his name. He turned and looked down at me, and as I had already guessed, he was surprised.“It does, to a lot of people,” he answered.“History will remember you,” I nodded, struggling to hide my bitterness. I had known a lot of good men. My grandfather, my father. History wouldn’t remember them. They were good men, peacekeepers. History didn’t remember people like that. It remembered the ones who started wars or exterminated entire ethnic groups for their own selfish purposes. “Good for you.”I finished the sentence, but as I looked up and met his d
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