Jim had waited for Artemus to return downstairs and join him for dinner, but he never did. As West sipped an after dinner coffee, he systematically ran through all the facts he knew in his mind. Grant was unusually snappish and almost unkind to Artie; but then, twice he had spoken in confidence to Artemus, deliberately leaving West out of the loop. First the President had appeared pale and overly tired, then Artie, and neither of them seemed to have slept well since their arrival at Stokes Inn. Artie's mood had deteriorated decidedly since they had been there, and he had chosen not to share information that was tantamount to the President's safety, both of which were unlike his partner.
Then there was the night Jim had felt a chilled air in the hallway, but no windows were open. And he had felt a presence that wasn't there. Artemus was wearing long-johns under his clothing indoors, and West had noticed the President shivering more than once during the negotiations, yet standing right behind him, Jim had not felt a draft. O'Connell, the clerk, admitted that the chamber maids tell stories about ghosts haunting the Inn, and the reality that the man was ready to bolt at a loud noise made Jim wonder about the validity of the tale. And finally, there was the altercation between Sanborn and the Sioux in the afternoon session of negotiations. In and of itself, not surprising given the hot tempers he had seen, except that Sanborn's reputation as a talented arbitrator, contradicted the behavior Jim had witnessed.
The more he rolled the details through his mind, the more he became convinced that something was amiss; however, he needed additional information. Whatever was going on between Grant and Artemus, Jim was going to have to force the issue, for both their sakes, and possibly for the sake of peace. A voice speaking to him brought West out of his ruminations.
May I join you, Mr. West?
West looked up to see Iron Fist staring at him.
Of course. I would be honored.
Iron Fist sat down in a chair, and waved off Stands to the Sun, who begrudgingly moved away.
May I get you anything? A drink? Some food?
No, I am fine, thank you.
Your English is excellent.
When I was young, my father made me study the ways of my enemy, so that I would better understand how to defeat him.
Are we still your enemy, Iron Fist?
Some are. But I think you are not. And I know that Grant is a friend.
Yes, the President wants to see peace between our peoples.
Iron Fist stared hard at Jim, almost as if he were looking right through him.
Is something wrong? You're staring at me.
Forgive me. I do not mean an offense. It is out of habit that I size up another.
And what do you think?
I think that you can be trusted.
Is there something you want to tell me, Iron Fist?
Yes. But we must not discuss it here. Come with me.
Aware that he might be walking into a trap, West could see no other way around the invitation. If he didn't go with Iron Fist, the chief would consider it an insult; besides, Jim's curiosity was peaked. He left money on the table, and followed Iron Fist and Stands to the Sun out of the dining room, and through the back door of the Inn. He fleetingly wondered where Artie was, but all thoughts of his partner went out of his head as soon as the black hood was slammed down over it, and he was overpowered by several men.
