Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

that comes near. One of the most interesting is cat’s claw acacia (
Acacia greggii
, also called devil’s claw and wait-a-minute bush), which grows on alkaline soils in semiarid grasslands and chaparral from Central Texas westward into California and south into Mexico. It is a perennial shrub or small tree that produces numerous slender, spreading branches studded with stout, quarter-inch, recurved thorns. In spring, creamy-yellow flowers (much loved by bees and butterflies) bloom in two-inch spikes, producing gray-brown beans that may be as much as five inches long.
    Cat’s claw has been used by Native Americans as food, medicine, and fiber. But it is always the thorns that attract attention. They are sharp, strong, and clawlike, holding fast and refusing to let go. Writing about it in Arizona Flora, naturalists Thomas H. Kearney and Robert H. Peebles remark that the cat’s claw acacia is probably the most hated plant in the region, “the sharp, strong prickles tearing the clothes and lacerating the flesh.”
    China Bayles
“Herbs That Hold Fast”
Pecan Springs Enterprise
    Ruby Wilcox climbed onto the stool beside my cash register and propped her elbow on the counter. “I’ve been thinking, China.”
    “About what?” I asked absently, only half-listening.
    I was online, on my laptop, wrapping up a reply email to the guy who manages the Thyme and Seasons website for me. I’d just finished telling him (in answer to his question) that he didn’t need a lawyer to deal with a stalker. If he knew the person’s identity, he could simply go to the Adams County courthouse and file a temporary ex parte restraining order. Four pieces of paperwork and a short hearing and he was done. The next time he spotted the stalker, he could pick up the phone and the cops would be on the case. On the other hand, if he didn’t know who the stalker was and he was seriously worried about the situation, he should go straight to the police. They used to dismiss stalking as a nuisance rather than a serious crime. Now, they take it more seriously. At least, that’s what they say. I haven’t had to test their claim.
    “About our business,” Ruby answered. “I’ve just finished going over our books, China. I don’t want to be smug about it, but the bottom line for October looks really good, especially when you consider that the economy’s not that great right now.” Ruby traced out a dollar sign on the counter with the tip of a purple-painted fingernail decorated with silvery glitter. “We need to keep up the momentum. So I’ve been thinking about some of the things we can do to gear up for the holidays.”
    I hit “send” and the email zipped off into cyberspace. I felt guilty because I was several days late in replying to Larry. My inbox was too full again (I really have to do something about this state of affairs) and I hadn’t noticed his email until just now. The situation worried me and I hoped he would do what I was suggesting. Maybe I was overreacting. But when it comes to stalking, experience has taught me that it pays to be a worrywart.
    I turned my attention to Ruby. “The holidays? Oh, puh-leese, Ruby. Give us a break, can’t you?” I puffed out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m glad that you’re glad about the October bottom line. But let’s take a little timeoff before we start thinking about Christmas, okay? Relax for a few days. Catch our breaths.”
    Our shop Siamese jumped up on the counter, stepped delicately past my laptop, and rubbed his head against Ruby’s arm, rumbling his deep-throated purr. Khat isn’t a demonstrative creature, but he’s especially fond of Ruby, who gave him his name. His first owner had the bad luck to die under unpleasant circumstances, so he came to me. At the time, he was called Pudding, which neither he nor I thought even remotely appropriate. I called him Cat, or The Cat. (As far as he is concerned, he is entirely singular. No other cats are fit to enter his imperial presence.) But Ruby objected that this wasn’t nearly distinctive enough for such a regal being. She is a great fan of Koko, the talented Siamese cat–sleuth of the Cat Who mysteries, and has always wanted a cat who could tell time, talk to ghosts, and had fourteen tales. Which is how Pudding became Cat and Cat became Khat K’o Kung.
    “Catch our breaths?” Ruby stroked Khat’s charcoal ears. He purred even louder. “Well, sure, we could do that—it might be nice. But it’s also good to be