Summary: Missing scene from The Running Man after Little Joe got shot.

Rating: PG      Word count: 1900

Candy’s Knife

Summary: Little Joe and Candy travel to Butlerville to help Candy’s former girlfriend, Barbara Parker, and her husband, Jess. Jess is an important witness against the ruthless landowner Calvin Butler, who is trying to drive the settlers off their land through intimidation, arson, and even murder. Little Joe gets shot while he and Candy barricade themselves in the sheriff’s office and jail in Butlerville, along with Jess and Barbara. Written from Joe’s POV.

The sharp crack echoed through the jail cell. Before I could figure out where the shot had come from, I felt a heavy blow, as if a horse had kicked me square in the shoulder. The force of the impact whipped me around and slammed me into the cell wall. My arm went numb, and my knees gave way beneath me.

A moment later, I found myself sprawled across the jail floor, my cheek pressed against the cold stone, struggling to make sense of what had happened. A door flew open, and I heard hurried footsteps pounding toward me.

“Joe, dang it, what happened?” Candy asked, alarm evident in his voice.

I couldn’t get a word out.

Then Candy slipped a hand beneath my neck, and the pain hit. Pure agony exploded through my upper left arm, as though someone had driven a white-hot branding iron straight into the flesh.

A groan escaped me as Candy gripped my shoulders and gently rolled me onto my back. My injured arm dangled uselessly at my side, feeling like a dead piece of meat. The roar of my pulse filled my ears, and my eyelids were heavy as lead. Through the haze of pain, I became vaguely aware of someone tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. A moment later, the sound of ripping fabric reached me. Cool air brushed against my arm, but it did little to ease the relentless throbbing.

“Let’s get him onto the cot,” Candy said.

Barbara and Candy slipped their hands under my arms and half-carried, half-dragged me across the cell to the nearest bunk.

Yeah, I’ve had my share of gunshot wounds, but it never stops being a shock. One moment your body is working just fine—and the next it gives out on you. Your heart starts hammering in panic. You want to run, get to safety, but your body refuses to cooperate.

I let out a relieved breath when I heard the straw in the worn mattress rustle beneath me. At least now I managed to open my eyes. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog of dizziness from my head.

Barbara stood beside me, eyes wide, her trembling hands pressed over her mouth. Then Candy came into view as he leaned over me, his dark eyes flashing with relief. “You back with us again?” he asked.

“What…” I croaked, clearing my throat. “What happened?”

“One of Butler’s men shot you through the window. Reckon he was aiming for Jess, hoping to kill the witness. Too bad the bullet caught you instead.”

I let out a low groan and turned my head, trying to get a look at the wound. Candy had torn the sleeve away from my shoulder, but all I could see was blood-soaked skin. The bullet had struck the back of my upper arm. If I were lucky, it hadn’t hit the bone.

“How bad is it?” I asked, studying my friend’s face, trying to read the answer before he spoke it.

“Not too bad… but there’s no exit wound. Bullet’s still in there.” Candy pulled out his handkerchief and wadded it up to press it firmly against the wound. Then he took my right hand and placed it over the cloth before straightening up. “Hold that. It’s bleeding pretty badly. I’ve gotta get the doctor.”

I shook my head. “No… doc… too dangerous!”

Candy rubbed the back of his neck, thinking it over. Then he sighed. “Alright. Have it your way, Joe—but that bullet has to come out.”

Resting my head back on the pillow, I nodded in agreement. Candy was someone I trusted blindly. He always knew what to do, and he had skilled hands and a sharp mind.

Barbara had recovered from her shock. At Candy’s instruction, she busied herself searching the sheriff’s office for bandages. I felt her concerned gaze flicker over me as she set cloths and a bowl of water down beside me.

“I’ll be alright. Don’t worry,” I said, managing a reassuring smile.

Candy gave me a grin. It wasn’t that he didn’t take a gunshot wound seriously, but the circumstances didn’t dampen his good mood. He had compassion, but he didn’t show it through sentimental words—he had his own way of doing things, using dry, sarcastic humor to take the edge off the situation. My friend had a positive outlook, was loyal, and always ready with a joke or two. In many ways, he was closer to me than Adam had ever been.

I watched as Candy pulled his jackknife with the horn handle from his pocket and snapped it open. My eyes lingered on the blade. I clenched my jaw, knowing all too well what it felt like to have flesh cut without anesthetic.

But Candy was right. The bullet had to come out.

We couldn’t leave. We had to hold out until the circuit judge and the marshal arrived in Butlerville the next day, and it sure wasn’t wise to leave the wound untreated that long.

Candy studied the knife with a doubtful look and shrugged. I heard water splashing as he dipped it into the bowl for a makeshift cleaning.

The day before, he had used that same knife to pry a rock from under his horse’s shoe, and later that night, he had gutted and skinned the rabbit we’d shot for supper on the way to Butlerville.

Candy glanced at the blade again, then walked over to the stove. “I’d better hold it over the flames,” he said. “We don’t want to risk infection.”

Ever since I had known Candy, he’d carried that jackknife. I remembered our first encounter when Pa, Hoss, and I escorted the Paiute Wabuska to the fort together with a troop of soldiers. Indians had surrounded us, and Candy came stumbling into the camp, still grinning despite the hopeless situation. He had lost his horse and was starving. He ate the can of peaches we offered him straight out of the tin, spearing them with his knife.

Weeks later, when a group of Paiutes held Mary Burns captive, he used that same knife to kill the Indian guard sitting in front of the tent.

A faint smile crossed my face at the memory of that exciting rescue ride. While Candy freed the woman, my job was to swim across the lake and drive the Indians’ horses away.

Candy’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Joe, are you alright? Don’t drift off!”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, as another memory pushed its way to the surface—how Candy and that knife had saved my life.

Pa had agreed to shelter Charles Ball, a witness in a government case on the Ponderosa, because the men he was supposed to testify against wanted him dead. I had fallen into the hands of those five crooks, and they’d wanted to trade me for Ball. Pa, Hoss, and Candy had pulled off a risky rescue and cut me loose from the tree I’d been tied to.

“Do you want to stay?” Candy asked Barbara, who stood near my cot, looking rather pale.

She gestured toward the door. “No, I think I’ll wait outside if you don’t need my help.”

“Yeah, I guess what I’m about to do isn’t exactly a sight for a lady! We can manage by ourselves, can’t we, Joe?” Candy laughed as he tore the linen Barbara had brought into strips.

“Bite on this!” He shoved a piece of cloth between my teeth and looked me straight in the eye. “Ready?”

I bit down and nodded.

Candy gave me a quick wink and sat down on the cot. “Then I’m going to play doctor. I’ve done it before. Remember that deserted sergeant? He also had a bullet in his arm, and I got it out with this knife.”

Candy took my wrist and lifted it above my head. “The angle will be better if you bend your arm like this. I’ll try not to do too much damage.”

“Gee, thanks, Candy. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” I muttered around the cloth.

As my friend began probing the wound, I turned my head toward the wall, focusing on the dirty mortar joints between the bricks. My teeth sank deep into the cloth when the cold steel entered my flesh. I panted, clenching my fists, trying to stay still, but my muscles kept trembling. Hot, sharp pain surged through me, and it took every ounce of willpower not to shove Candy’s hand away. Oh God, what was he doing—using a spoon?

Groaning, I bit down harder on the cloth, which seemed to drain every bit of moisture from my mouth. My legs twitched in agony. “Hurry up, Candy,” I mumbled, squinting as sweat gathered on my brow.

“Damn, everything’s slippery!” I heard my friend curse, his fingers digging for the bullet. My breathing quickened, and black spots danced behind my closed eyes like ash in a forest fire. I could smell coppery blood and Candy’s sweat as he steadied my forearm.

“Easy, Joe. Breathe slowly. I’ll get it!”

Just as I was about to spit out the cloth and scream, I heard the words I’d been waiting for: “Done!”

My body went limp with relief.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then you’ll get a nice bandage with a pretty bow,” our foreman teased as he helped me sit up.

I drew in a couple of deep breaths. We were still stuck in the sheriff’s office, and Candy needed my support. I couldn’t afford to rest. Even though the pain still raged in my arm, I managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Candy. You were almost as good as a doctor.”

“I know!” my friend grinned, wrapping a strip of white linen around the wound and tying it off with a neat little bow, just like he’d promised.

“I think your knife is dull,” I muttered, eyebrows drawn together as I eyed the ragged, bloodstained blade lying on the mattress beside me.

Candy flashed me a broad grin. “I was trying to spare you the details. I knew it was dull, but it served me well enough until now.”

“How’s Joe doing?” Barbara’s voice called from the front room, cutting through our banter.

“He’s hurting right now, but he’s gonna be okay,” Candy answered.

“Do you mind if I come in? I made coffee, and I think we could all use some.”

“Coffee sounds great,” I said, taking the brew Barbara offered, the bitter, strong scent hitting my nostrils.

After I drained the cup, my head felt clearer. Wiping the sweat from my brow with a determined motion, I pushed myself to my feet and returned to my post by the window.

I could rest and tend to my wound tomorrow. For now, I had to stay sharp if we were all going to make it through the night.

The End

Written in 2024, edited in May 2026.

Tags: SJS

Episodes referred:

Running Man (written by Ward Hawkins)

The Deserter (written by Norman Lessing)

Sense of Duty (written by John Hawkins, Gil Laskey)

Desperate Passage (written by John Hawkins)

A World Full of Cannibals (written by Preston Wood)

False Witness (written by Eric Norden)