kland and a civilian posse from Tucson on Ciénega Creek, some 35 miles southeast of Tucson. They could see that the Apaches had divided into two parties and headed north of the Overland Mail route. The tracks they were following were the articles of clothing Mercedes had dropped along the trail, as well as occasional sideward steps she had left in the soft sand along the flats. The other party of Apaches had also been tracked, but no sign showed Larcena with them.
Everyone assumed the kidnappers to be from Eskiminzin’s band of Aravaipa Apaches, who lived along Aravaipa Canyon where it opened into the San Pedro River.
Twenty Pinals captured in a December skirmish with Ewell’s dragoons were being held at Fort Buchanan. The captain compelled several of these men to act as trackers for his column as they moved north of Tucson into the Catalinas.
The trail led directly to the Aravaipa homeland. Ewell gave one of the Apache prisoners a dragoon mount and sent him to Eskiminzin’s village to open negotiations. Kirkland sent along two fine Mexican blankets to sweeten the bargain. Ewell informed the Apache messenger that he would wait for eight days at Canyon del Oro for a response, but warned him that any hesitation in returning the girls would result in dire consequences for the male Pinal prisoners still held.
A few days later, the Apache returned to Ewell with a message from Eskiminzin. They had not taken the captives, the messenger explained, but they could ransom the little girl from the Tontos who held her. The woman was dead. In exchange for the girl, Eskiminzin sought the Pinal captives and two wagons full of goods.
A grieving Page carried Ewell’s order south to Kirkland in Tucson, requesting he retrieve the Pinal prisoners from the fort and bring them to the dragoon camp. “There was no hesitating about acceding to the Indian’s terms, one sided as they were,” Kirkland remarked, “and every effort was immediately put forth to carry the agreement into effect.”
In Tucson, the general sentiment was that the Apaches were lying. “If the Pinals can be believed, they are the most peaceable Indians in the world,” a local reporter noted.
Captain Ewell, however, was convinced that their story was true and that the Tontos were the guilty party.
Collecting his prisoners and two wagons of goods, Ewell marched to the main village at the mouth of Aravaipa Canyon. The San Pedro River bank was “literally swarming with Indians,” a nervous Kirkland noted. “I never saw so many in my life.”
Ewell was cautious, lining his soldiers up with weapons at the ready as the Apaches approached. He ordered the Apaches to send Mercedes to him and, at the same moment, commanded his soldiers to release the prisoners from the wagons. Mercedes ran past the captain to Kirkland, who swept her up in his arms. She told him she was hungry.
Ewell got his people away from Aravaipa Canyon as quickly as possible. Two days later, on April 5, the column approached Tucson. The captain loaned Kirkland
his own fine horse to ride with Mercedes into the old walled town. Church bells rang as all the citizens turned out in joyful celebration. Kirkland made his way through the milling crowd to the plaza where he delivered the little girl into the arms of her tearful mother. They were instantly mobbed. “The little girl, now a heroine indeed, passed from one to another to receive their embraces, congratulations and welcome,” an eyewitness wrote.
A grand military ball featured Ewell and Mercedes as the guests of honor. All recognized that the captain’s knowledge of the Apaches and wise restraint had redeemed the little girl from captivity. Ewell was one officer who knew when not to fight.
Mercedes grew up to be a delicate and beautiful young woman. She was 18 when she married Charles Shibell in 1867. Her husband, a former soldier, became Pima County sheriff in 1876. She died at age 26, in December 1875, of complications from the birth of her fourth child.
Larcena woke in a snowbank, lodged against a pine tree. She melted snow in her hands to drink and attempted to wash her wounds.
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