Summary: What they should have shown us: Missing scene of Gideon the Good, for those who wished for another SJS scene.

Rating: PG    Word count: 14400

Dr. Miles

Joe

I jolt out of my feverish half-sleep when the small cabin’s door creaks open. Trying to clear the fog in my brain, I rub my face and blink my eyes. The shack is safer than the livery stable where I’ve been hiding, but one of the men trying to kill me could still show up anytime, since the fever and pain lessen my vigilance. Groaning, I pull myself up on my elbows, trying to peer past the shabby curtain that separates the only bed in the room from the rest of the shack. Two people approach the bed where I’m resting, still fully clothed.

I raise my arm with the gun, pointing it toward the stranger. My hand is shaking. Luis, the Mexican boy who helped me down the hayloft, didn’t tell me he was going to bring someone along. The man accompanying him is a doctor, which I can tell from the black medical bag he’s carrying.

Unimpressed by the weapon, he introduces himself as Dr. Miles. My eyes narrow suspiciously as I watch him toss his hat onto the table and take off his jacket. Pulling up a chair, he sits beside my bed and starts rolling his sleeves.

“I guess you`re Mr. Cartwright everyone in town is looking for,” Doc says. “Let`s take a look at this leg.”

When he opens his bag, a metallic rattle reaches my ears. I already know what to expect; I’ve been patched up by Doc Martin often enough.

Determined to accept the help being offered, I set the pistol aside. I don’t need a doctor with shaking hands because a gun is pointed at him, and Miles strikes me as a man I can trust.

I lower my head on the pillow, running my forearm over my face, slick with sweat. The throbbing pain from the bullet wound in the back of my left thigh has worn me down by now.

While the doctor rummages through his bag and pulls out his instruments, my thoughts wander to the endless time I spent hidden in the livery stable.

All muscles tense, I spent hours lying half-buried in the fragrant hay in the attic. With each passing minute, the stuffy air increased my thirst. Without water or a horse, and with no way to get away, I was trapped.

Dust danced in the rays of light seeping through the boarded wall, tickling my nose. I barely dared breathe and had to fight the urge to sneeze as the men searched the barn. Finding a comfortable position for my injured leg was impossible, and it had taken all my willpower to stay quiet and not groan. One tiny movement would have meant my death.

Luckily, it wasn’t my pursuers who found me, but Luis, with his soft heart.

Now he’s standing next to the bed, his worried eyes fixed on me, watching as I struggle to take off my gloves with my teeth. Next, I fumble with the buckle of my holster, trying to open it. Like a cut telegraph cable, the signals my head sends to my hands don`t arrive. My body burns up with a fever, draining my last bit of energy. For the past few hours, I’ve had to stay strong and alert, but now I can finally lean back and let someone else take care of me.

The doctor is aware of my condition and comes to my help. I feel him undo my belt and the buttons of my trousers. I mumble a thank you, but my voice is so low he probably can’t hear it. My hands fall to the mattress beside me, and I close my eyes. An angry pounding replaces the dull throbbing in my inflamed flesh as Miles takes off my boots. I feel cold steel against my skin as he slices the pants’ fabric with a scalpel.

Knowing that this scalpel will soon cut deep into my flesh makes my insides cramp up. I still remember Dr. Dawson’s wife cutting the arrowhead out of my shoulder without anesthesia. It’s an experience I could have done without.

My left leg feels hot and swollen like a plump tomato about to burst, and it`s a relief to get rid of my tight trousers.

“Turn sideways, Cartwright,” Miles orders, drawing at my pants until they dangle around my knees. It`s embarrassing lying bare-bottomed in someone else’s bed, knowing the boy’s mother could walk in at any moment.

“That doesn’t look good.” Doc`s voice sounds concerned. “The bullet’s still in there, and the wound has been unattended for too long. It’s infected.” He presses his fingertips on the area, making me groan. “I’m afraid I don’t have the facilities to give you an anesthetic. Bringing you to my office is probably out of the question?”

“Just go ahead,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm. “I wanna get this over with.”

“Well, if you’re sure about that,” the physician says, and tucks a towel under my leg. “Luis, can you get some water and clean cloths?”

Miles grabs my hip and rolls me onto my stomach. After Luis places a bowl of water beside the bed, Doc lights a lamp and presses it into the boy’s hand. “Hold the lamp higher so I can actually see something.”

I risk a glance over my shoulder. I’d better not have. There’s a ragged hole in the back of my thigh, surrounded by swelling and bruising. The skin is stained with blood, and the angry redness does not bode well.

Doc places a firm hand on my thigh. “Mr. Cartwright, I’m going to search for the bullet. This will hurt. Try to lie as still as possible!”

Those were the exact words Mulvaney used. Despite the heat in my body, I get goosebumps. Drawing in a deep breath and holding it, I prepare for the pain.

As the cold metal of a probe is inserted into my wound, my hands clutch the pillow. Trying to stifle my screams, I press my face into the musty fabric.

The doctor prods and squeezes until I want to yell at him to stop. “The bullet’s down to the bone. I have to cut. Do you want a shot of whiskey?”

I can’t trust my voice right now, so I shake my head.

“All right, let’s get started. Luis, put that lamp down and hold on to his leg!”

I hear the clatter of the lamp and feel two clammy hands gripping my lower leg. A moment later, the sharp steel sinks into my inflamed flesh like a knife cutting through butter, sending excruciating flashes of agony through my thigh and buttocks. I can’t suppress a loud groan, and my body tries to move away. Blood floods my leg, and a coppery smell fills the room. Cold sweat breaks out, making my shirt stick to my chest. I can’t control the violent tremors seizing my body, making my teeth chatter.

The doctor sounds worried: “Are you all right, Cartwright?”

“Mhm.” I want it to be over. Oh God, what is he doing? Like a bolt of lightning, an unimaginable pain rips through my leg and down to the tips of my toes. This time, I can’t keep from screaming. Luis is clutching my calves with all his strength.

“Got it!” Miles announces. “You’re lucky. The bone isn`t damaged, but it was very close to the nerve that runs here.”

With a clatter, he thrusts the lump of lead into a metal bowl. Just as I’m about to relax, I hear a cork pop, and the pungent liquid sets my raw flesh on fire. My self-control is nearly gone. The thin pillow tears under my tense fingers. “Almost there, Cartwright,” I hear the doctor say and feel the sharp pain of a needle digging into the wound’s edges.

“Let’s clean him some; there’s blood all over,” Doc’s voice carries through the fog in my brain.

When I turn my head, I see two blurred faces hovering above me. I’m too exhausted to protest as they roll me back and forth and wash me like a baby.

“That’s it, Cartwright. Now get some rest!”

As I begin to drift away, nothing matters anymore. The last thing I feel is a firm bandage around my thigh, and then I let go and sink into the blackness.

The End

Episodes referenced: Gideon the Good (Ken Pettus)

Second Chance (Paul Schneider, John Hawkins)

Written in 2024, edited in May 2026

Tags: SJS