Nobody should be able to take it from us, and we shouldn’t have to fight for it.” “Or die for it,” Zeb muttered. Marcus frowned. “Don’t you mean kill for it?” “I said what I meant” was Zeb’s quick answer. “If a man drinks enough rum, or someone stirs up enough fear and hate in his heart, he’ll kill quick enough. But that same man will run from the battlefield the first chance he gets if he doesn’t believe what he’s fighting for, body and soul.”
