Later that morning, after having Deputy Grant go and fetch Doc. Andrews to tend to Mrs. Trevors; and after convincing Mrs. Trevors to go home with her young children, with Deputy Grant as her companion, Heyes had a chance to sit down and think. He reread the kidnapper's note and realized there was one glaring detail missing—There was no ransom demand. "Either the gang is even more inept than I remembered or there must be another note to come," he thought.
If the Devil's Hole gang had Lom, they most likely carried him off to their hide-out. Hannibal Heyes had not been into Devil's Hole for a number of years. As a law-abiding citizen, it most likely was not in his best interests to go sashaying in like he belonged there.
If Kid Curry were still with him, maybe it would be more sensible but the Kid was on his way to Yuma and unreachable until he arrived, at which point Heyes had instructed him to check with the telegraph office in case Heyes tried to reach him for any reason. This seemed like a plenty good reason.
But Curry would not even arrive in Yuma until mid-day tomorrow so until then, he was on his own to try to figure out if he could get into Devil's Hole, talk sense to the ol' gang, and take Trevors out of there.
Heyes sat and pondered; trying to come up with one of his famous plans, preferably one that would not get either him or Lom shot for his efforts. He considered doing nothing except waiting to see if another note appeared. Doing nothing was not an option he preferred.
He thought about going down to the telegraph office now and sending a message to Kid and then waiting for his response and then waiting some more until Curry could make his way back to Devil's Hole to investigate the situation himself. Seemed like a lot more of doing nothing, which still didn't suit him.
Still deep in his own thoughts, Heyes strapped his gunbelt around his slim waist, grabbed his hat, pushed his long-ish, unruly mop of hair back away from his forehead, absently thinking he should have had Kid Curry return the favor of a haircut during his brief visit before planting the hat firmly on his head and walking out onto the street.
He had made one decision and that was that he should definitely send that telegram to Kid. It might not come to a speedy resolution but at least he was sure that Kid would retrieve it shortly after arriving in Yuma and he'd high-tail it back here as quick as he could.
At the telegraph office, he greeted Mr. Olson, the telegraph operator, an elderly gentleman who seemed to be in the middle of an afternoon nap until the bell over the door startled him awake. Heyes tipped his hat and smiled at the old man. "Afternoon, Mr. Olson. I hope your day is going well. I need you to send a telegram for me, urgently."
"Oh, Mr. Heyes. No, no. I was just catching up on some…paperwork before you came in."
"That's nice. But I don't recall asking," Heyes said, his smile a bit wider than before.
"Dear me. You didn't? I coulda swore I heard you ask- Never mind. What can I do for you today?"
Heyes stared at the lovable old coot for a minute. "Well, I need you to send a telegram for me. Urgently."
"Telegram? Oh, yes. That sounds like a good idea." He grabbed his pad of paper and a stub of pencil that he had tucked behind his ear. "Who do you want to send this to, if I can ask?"
"You certainly can ask. Thank you. Send it to Thaddeus Jones, Yuma Arizona." He watched impatiently while Mr. Olson laboriously scrawled the words Heyes had spoken.
"Ok, got it. Go ahead," he peered up at Heyes with watery eyes dimmed by cataracts and Heyes wondered how long he would be able to continue working here.
"Thaddeus. I need you here immediately. A friend has…gone missing. I need your help to get into D.H." He rapped his knuckles on the counter, satisfied with his missive. Short and sweet and cryptic enough that he hoped the telegraph operators on both end wouldn't catch on too much. "How much do I owe ya?" he asked.
"That'll be six bits."
"Much obliged," He smiled again and fished 3 quarters out of his vest pocket and plopped them on the counter, tipped his hat at the old geezer and walked outside, leaving Olson alone to continue his siesta.
He nearly ran right into Deputy Dusty Grant on the boardwalk, who was heading toward the Sheriff's office at a brisk pace, his brow furrowed in worry, lost in his own thoughts. "Dusty, I was just about to come looking for you. Any word on Lom?" he asked hopefully.
The young deputy looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach. He shook his head forlornly. "Mr. Heyes, I got no idea what to do next. No one saw anything last night or this morning that raised any suspicions. We still ain't got any idea who took the sheriff or what they want. Shouldn't we be hearing something about a ransom by now?" The kid looked at Heyes as if expecting him to solve the riddle of where Lom was and who was responsible for taking him, and Heyes knew that he was indeed Lom's best chance of being found.
"It's gonna be ok, Dusty. Ol' Lom is a tough character. He can take care of himself. And I'm going to start my investigation right now."
Deputy Grant looked mildly relieved at Heyes' calming demeanor and words—for a full five seconds—before the worried look took over his features once more.
"Come on. You can show me where the note was found. Maybe there's a clue. Could be the perpetrators left something else behind other than the note." Heyes and Grant hurried down the boardwalk to the sheriff's office. "Now, you say Lom was working alone all last night? When was the last time you talked to him?"
"Well, I set off to home around 8pm. He was going through new wanted posters at the time and told me he'd be heading home hisself shortly. But according to Mrs. Trevors, he never showed up all night."
"And when did you find the note, Dusty?"
"When I got here about 6am to start my shift. I was about to unlock the door and noticed the lock had been broken clear off. So as you can imagine, that got my hackles up pretty quick and I pulled my gun out before going inside. The office was a mess, like maybe someone had a fight in there but I didn't see the note right away. No, the note was tacked to the Wanted Poster board. I woulda missed it, except it was written on some fancy stationery. Like the kind you have to order special from back east."
"Fancy stationery from back east? That's pretty odd, don't ya think?"
"I did. I checked over at the merchantile and they do have a few pieces of that exact same paper in their stock. But they said they haven't sold any of that paper for a long, long time and can't recall who mighta bought any of it."
"Ok, so dead end on the paper for now. This is good though. We are starting to accumulate some clues. Good work, deputy. You have the makin's of a mighty fine detective."
"Yeah, well, that's about all I've been able to figure out. I'm at my wit's end, Mr. Heyes. I hope you got some ideas."
"Oh, sure. I have lotsa ideas, don't you worry about that," Heyes lied. "We'll be bringing Lom back before you know it. Say, how are Eleanor and the kids doing?" Heyes knew she didn't have any other family in town but she had an older brother who lived maybe half a day's ride by coach away.
"She's real worked up, as you can figure. Doc gave her some sleeping powder and the ladies at the church are taking turns watchin' over those young'uns but I don't think she's going to be ok until we get Lom back, safe and sound."
Heyes nodded solemnly, knowing the deputy's words were true. "Well, don't you worry. We are going to do just that. You have my word on that. Now, why don't you canvas the streets and see if you can find anyone who might have seen something? I'm going to take another look around the office here and see if I spot any clues as to who might have taken Lom."
Heyes sat down at the sheriff's desk, studying the pile of wanted posters that was still there, affirming Deputy Grant's statement that Lom had been reviewing them when he left his boss the night before. Glancing into the waste basket next to the desk, Heyes noticed one of the posters had been torn up and discarded in the bin. Curious, he reached down and pieced the fragments of paper back together again, revealing that the poster belonged to one Worth Carter, a bank robber who had hit the Bicklesburg bank about a year ago with a couple other crooks, getting away with just over $2,000, a measly sum considering he now had a price of $3,000 on his head, according to his wanted poster.
"I wonder why Lom tore up this particular poster," he thought. He hadn't heard that the man had been taken into custody anywhere but that wasn't surprising. There were a lot of things Lom knew that Heyes wasn't privy to. "I guess he had his reasons," he said out loud to the four walls, before turning his thoughts back to accessing the situation that brought him here.
His eyes wandered casually around the office, taking in every detail, trying to recreate in his mind what might have taken place late last night. Deputy Grant had said he left to go home around 8pm and that Lom had stated he was going to leave shortly as well, so Heyes assumed that whatever happened took place sometime after 8, but not too long after; which was later than most people would be out wandering around town as most of the businesses would be closed at that time, except for the saloon. So the likelihood of anyone witnessing the abduction was slim.
It didn't look like there'd been a scuffle or fight in the office, meaning that Lom could have known the person or persons who took him; or that he didn't realize the danger he was in until it was too late to fight back without being hurt or even worse, killed.
Would Lom have recognized the members of the Devil's Hole gang if one or more of them came into his office? Did they somehow take him by surprise? Did they enter with guns drawn while he had his back turned to the door, realizing only too late that he was in danger? Heyes couldn't hardly believe that Lom would go quietly and without a fuss even if he was staring down a barrel of a gun; so how did Hank and the gang get away without leaving so much as an overturned chair in their wake.
Heyes sat silently for a few minutes, pondering all these questions and more. Suddenly, he pushed out of the chair. Realizing what he needed to do, he walked out of the office and down the street, back to the telegraph office.
The bell tinkled cheerily as he entered. Mr. Olson was no longer at the counter, his afternoon nap concluded. Heyes waited a minute and then tapped the bell on the counter. Magically, Mr. Olson appeared from the back, moving slowly as old men do. "Why, Mr. Heyes! Weren't you here just a bit ago? Are you expecting a reply already?"
"Yes, I was here. No, I don't expect you'll have anything for me as of yet. In fact, I'd like you to send another telegram for me."
"Well, that's my job," he said, slowly reaching for his pad of paper and that same stub of pencil from behind his ear. "Alright, who do you want to send it to?"
"Same person—Thaddeus Jones, Yuma." Heyes thought for a moment, composing the message in his mind. "Thaddeus, can't wait. Going to D.H. on my own. Meet me there." As an after-thought, he added, "Wish me luck."
Satisfied with his words, he asked again, "How much do I owe you?"
"Same as before—six bits."
Heyes tossed three quarters on the counter, tipped his hat to the old gentleman and left.