THIRTY TWO

"That scrawny tree over there will be perfect," Sarabeth MacAllister decided. She gathered a handful of pebbles and looked at Charles Winchester. They were on the leeward side of the generator shed at the edge of camp. He was leaning against the wall as he studied her actions.

"I've never had a human audience before," self-consciously, she admitted.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Nope. Just stand clear." She grinned, "I'd rather not have to fill out an accident report."

Taking a deep breath, and selecting one small stone, the young woman announced, "I am mad at Margaret Houlihan!" She threw the rock at the designated target.

It landed with a solid thud.

"I have been known to give extra scut work to a troublesome nurse. But I didn't constantly treat her like a first semester student nurse. And I eased up on her after a while. But not Margaret Houlihan! No, sir!"

Another rock hit the tree.

"She doesn't like the suggestions I make."

"I'm also mad because she won't let me laugh or tell jokes."

"I'm angry because she won't do anything about Parnelli. And, she won't let me do anything about her, either."

"And I'm angry that I have to wait until she gets back from her seven day conference in Tokyo before I find out if I really have to pack up and go."

Each statement was accompanied by a flying stone.

With another deep breath, MacAllister picked another pebble to throw. "The next person I'm mad at is Hawkeye Pierce."

Winchester asked, "Is this a private stoning? Or may anyone join in?"

The Texan grinned, "It's open to the public." She poured some of her collection into the palm of his hand.

"I'm mad at Hawkeye because he acts like he is the only person who cares about the patients," Sarabeth announced.

Two rocks hit the target.

With a pause to collect more rocks, she began again, "I'm very angry at whoever started this war!"

Winchester's throw was harder than her own.

"And I am very angry at whoever won't stop this war!"

Two rocks were thrown simultaneously.

"That requires another one," the surgeon announced.

"You're right."

Their stones were thrown together, again.

"And I'm mad at whoever can give these kids enough bullets to maim and kill each other but can't give us enough blood and bandages to patch them back together!" They each slung their rock with a vengeance and then tossed a second one, as well. Looking at each other, the doctor and the nurse nodded in agreement and a third set of stones pelted their target.

Sarabeth counted the remaining stones in her hand. "I am still mad at Margaret Houlihan!" She flung all the rocks as hard as she could and dusted her hands. She smiled at Major Winchester. "OK. I reckon I'm through chunking rocks at defenseless trees."

"My turn." Winchester picked some rocks off the ground. He presented some to the woman. "Does this have to be war-related?"

She shook her head. "Whatever, or whoever, is upsetting you."

"Very well." Taking a deep breath, the major proclaimed, "I am angry at the man who asked my sister to marry him, and then changed his mind, hurting her so deeply."

His rock struck the tree with a sharp sound.

"And I am mad at myself for acting so boorish and narrow-minded when I criticized her choice. I regret the things I wrote to her."

Another missile was thrown.

"I am also angry at the Board of Directors at Boston General for removing me from consideration for the Chief of Thoracic Surgery."

"Did they give a reason?" Sarabeth asked.

"Because I am stuck over here and they needed someone now!" heatedly, he answered and pitched another stone.

"Idiots!" she replied with a rock of her own.

"I am angry with Pierce for the reason stated previously. And because he constantly tries to humiliate me."

"I'm aggravated with Hunnicutt for his childish behavior."

"I am angry with Margaret for pushing her nurses too hard."

"I am appalled by Father Mulcahy's continual massacre of the piano in the Officer's Club."

The pile of stones was growing smaller.

Winchester resumed his pronouncements, "I'm dismayed at the terrible food that is served to us."

I dislike having a domicile that is made of the same material as my pants!"

"I abhor the lack of privacy."

"And the mail service is deplorable."

"I am the angriest, however, because I can not play my music whenever I want! I need my classical music to preserve what little sanity I have left. But I can't listen to it without those cretins complaining!"

Winchester threw the remaining rocks at the tree.

"You're always welcome at the MacAllister Ranch...you and your music, Charles," Sarabeth informed him.

"Thank you, my dear. Are you ready to return to camp? Or shall we continue?"

"I reckon I'm over my snit." MacAllister replied. "And, I need to get some sleep. I have to go on duty in a few hours, you know."

Outside her tent, Sarabeth smiled at the man who accompanied her. "Thank you, Charles, for putting up with me while I pitched a fit."

"Just remember," he told her, "I'm only a stone's throw away."