The story so far: Joe was exonerated for shooting Zach Crenshaw in self-defense after witnesses stated that Zach had drawn first. Zach's father, Amos told Joe he blamed him and wished he was dead, but then a stranger showed up in town putting up posters everywhere, offering $1000 to anybody who killed Joe Cartwright in a fair fight. The person responsible was Linda Roberts whose brother had been gunned down in Carson City. Joe was initially questioned, but then allowed to go after an eyewitness said it wasn't him. Linda came to Virginia City seeking her own brand of justice, while Joe was busy trying to settle things with Amos Crenshaw.

Two grieving people, hellbent on revenge, both setting their sights on Joe!

The Cup of Bitterness

Amos Crenshaw paused and leaned on the shovel. His back ached from the untold hours of digging and he slowly flexed his shoulders as if he could make the ache shift. It was nothing in comparison to the ache that had settled in his chest and refused to move. It was an empty hole where his heart had been ripped from his chest the day Roy Coffee had told him that Joe Cartwright had gunned down his boy. It would never be whole again. The fact they'd both been robbed of justice burned like a fierce forest fire and he struggled to keep it in check.

"Zach … I promise you, boy … he'll pay for it. I promise you!" Amos muttered the oath he had spoken so many times he'd lost count. Once again he hefted the shovel into his hands and resumed digging. The well was almost deep enough to drop that murdering whelp into. Six feet wasn't anywhere near enough for Joe Cartwright.

Once he was done, he'd claim the other five hundred dollars he was promised and he'd think about what to do next. The land he'd worked for so many years held nothing for him anymore. A thousand dollars was no kind of compensation for Zach's life, but it would be something to start over with. It would take him far from the bitterness of Virginia City and its corrupt coroner's jury and sheriff. The same coroner who said the evidence showed Little Joe had killed his boy in self-defense. As his rage began to well up again, Amos felt his arms mechanically hefting more dirt into the bucket. Evidence, be damned! Joe Cartwright had wriggled out of a murder charge again because his pa had the clout to make folks look the other way. Just like had happened over in Carson City where he'd gunned down Linda Roberts' brother and gotten away with that one too.

Amos' fingers clenched around the handle of the shovel as he forced down the bile once more. Justice might have failed at the hands of those who claimed to uphold the law, but it wouldn't fail a third time.

Yes, Joe Cartwright would be buried so deep that nobody would ever find him. Maybe then, Ben Cartwright would have some idea of how it felt for him. Of course, he had a gravesite to visit. Ben Cartwright would be left waiting and wondering for the rest of his life just where his boy had gotten to. It seemed like a fit punishment for the man who had sheltered his son from justice. The man who had paid money to protect the guilty, just because he was wealthy enough to do so. Well money wasn't going to do him any good in the end. His son would be just as dead as Zach. Only where Zach's grave was dug just six feet down, Joe Cartwright's final resting place would be at the bottom of a deep, dark well shaft. It seemed a fitting ending for someone so high and mighty to fall so far.

An eye for an eye. That was justice.

The never-ending rage fueled his arms as he continued digging. It was a bitter kind of triumph, but he would come out on top or die trying.

Joe stared at the words on the paper, his mind turning in three directions at once. He felt his father's calming presence beside him and didn't need to look up to know his pa's eyes were on him. Exoneration had been slow in coming, but at least now Clem could do something direct to publicly clear his name, once and for all. The evidence presented at the inquest had been enough for the coroner, but clearly not for some of the townsfolk, but this left no doubt as to his innocence.

He glanced up to see Miss Roberts staring at him. Her face was an open mixture of regret and something else. As he watched her for a moment, it became clearer what it was.

Fear.

He couldn't tell if it was fear for him or fear of the cost to herself over her own actions. Joe smiled automatically at her in a vain attempt to wipe that look away. Truth be told, he carried the same fear in his gut. Not that he would admit it, but a thousand dollars was a lot of money to any man and Miss Roberts had been very open and vocal about her willingness to pay it. Despite his angry responses to his family about keeping him out of sight and away from stupid young men willing to collect on his death, he'd carried that nagging fear with him for days.

Joe startled as he realised that Clem was speaking again and he'd missed it.

"We've been to the newspaper and told them to print an update, but it won't be out until tomorrow and it'll take a few days for the news to filter out. So stay put, Joe, for a few more days." Clem watched him closely, knowing just how much Joe had rankled at being confined.

"Joe?" His father nudged his arm and he looked up again to see a round of expectant faces.

"Huh? Yeah, sure … a coupla days."

Ben looked closer at his youngest boy and frowned. Joe was clearly not with them in the room.

Miss Roberts was trying to apologise once again and Ben watched as his son moved towards her and spoke words of grace and forgiveness. His son's easy smile didn't fool him one bit even as their guest finally relaxed a little.

It wasn't until Clem said he'd ride out and let Amos know about the wire that Ben understood where his son's thoughts really were. His gut clenched as Joe said he'd ride out with the news himself. He couldn't explain why, but he'd been uneasy about Joe going out each day to help Amos with his well. The first day he'd almost rushed into the yard when he heard Joe's horse returning. The fact it had gone so smoothly finally allowed him to put aside his misgivings and agree that Joe's approach had been the right one. If Amos Crenshaw was ever going to heal and forgive his son, they needed time to work it through.

Long after Clem had left with Miss Roberts in tow and Joe had ridden off to the Crenshaw ranch, Ben sat staring into the fire. What would he do if one of his sons had been gunned down by a friend's son? Could he forgive the boy? Or would he allow bitterness to take over?

Ben leaned back in the chair and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. What would he do if one his sons murdered another person? It was such a preposterous idea and yet he could not shake it. Another day, not so many years ago, arose in his mind. He'd sat out the night watch with a virtual stranger as he waited for his three boys to return. First Adam and then Hoss had walked through the door, with a tale to tell of how they had tracked a man they believed had murdered their father. Neither of his sons had broken the law in their pursuit, but his youngest had not returned straight away. Ben closed his eyes and squeezed the arm of the chair as he recalled his first sight of his youngest boy arriving with the dawn. Joe carried his father's rifle and ugly doubt had burned in his heart. Had Joe taken an innocent life, albeit under mistaken beliefs?

That moment still tormented him in his dreams from time to time with the nagging fear of Joe being sent to the gallows for murder. It was an image he still struggled to cleanse from his thoughts and it churned his stomach every time he awoke breathing wildly, hands clenching the sheets into knots. What bothered him most of all was his apparent lack of faith in his youngest boy. He had never discussed it with anyone, but he knew that both Adam and Hoss had seen it. Or sensed it, maybe. He'd been rattled to find himself asking just how much he knew about his youngest son. When Joe had been accused of murdering Zach Crenshaw and vehemently denied it, he had leapt to his son's defense. He had believed Joe's explanation without question. So why had he harbored doubts when Joe had been slow to return that long, dark night?

Ben pushed forward in the chair and slowly headed towards the cabinet. He poured himself a glass of brandy and slowly pushed the stopper back into the decanter. It had been an anniversary gift from Marie. She had ordered it months in advance to be shipped out from the East to the wilds of Nevada where men slugged whiskey and warm beers. Brandy was a genteel drink. Something to remind him there was more to life than the harshness of a frontier life in a wild part of the land. He smiled as he recalled Marie presenting him with the gift and her radiant smile as he opened it. Each time he poured a drink from the beautiful crystal he could not help but be reminded of the woman who had given it to him. The fact her son had been the cause of many of his drinks was not lost on him.

"Joseph!" Ben whispered to himself as he lowered himself back into the chair and raised the glass to his lips. He was oblivious to the sound of the door opening and heavy booted feet moving across the room towards him.

"Pa? You okay there?"

Hoss settled himself on the table, across from his father and waited to see if he would respond.

Ben looked up, almost surprised to see his son sitting so close.

"Sorry, Hoss. I was just thinking."

"Worryin' more like it." Hoss chewed at his lower lip as he watched his father's face. The glass of brandy was almost empty and he wondered if he should offer to refill it.

"No … not worrying." It was almost the truth and Ben glanced down at the floor, unable to meet his son's gaze. "Just wondering."

"About?"

Ben looked up again, seeing the face of his middle son with the firelight playing over it. Hoss was the most honest and straight up man he knew. It never occurred to the boy to deceive others. It was a side of his son's character that had left him gullible at times to others' deceptions, including Little Joe's when the boys were younger and Joe had taken great delight in playing tricks on Hoss. Adam had often just rolled his eyes as Hoss was left covered in flour, or holding the heavy object that Joe was supposed to be helping him with. Or worse still, left trying to cover for his younger brother to keep Joe out of trouble. Those were the ones that grated most as his honest nature went to war with his protective instincts.

"About what kind of man Joseph has grown into."

"What's to wonder about, Pa? He's still just as annoyin' as he's been since he was knee high to a grasshopper!"

It was meant to elicit a smile and Ben's mouth twitched at the corners.

"Pa?" Hoss' smile had disappeared as he stared at his father's tense features again. "Joe's gonna be okay. That newspaper article'll clear things right up and pretty soon the Virginia City gossips'll have somethin' else to waggle their tongues over."

"You're right, Son." Ben smiled at Hoss once again and nodded in agreement. How could he share his fear with his son when he couldn't even really define it for himself?

Hop Sing chose that moment to call from the corner of the dining room that dinner was almost ready and the opportunity slipped away. As the two of them sat down to eat, the empty chair on his right was like a bugle call in the wind; alerting him to danger, but telling him nothing of substance. As Hoss talked about something to do with stocking line shacks, Ben nodded and commented as needed while his thoughts rode along a dusty track to a ranch where a brokenhearted father would be hearing the news his youngest son had to deliver. He just prayed that Amos Crenshaw had the ears to hear it.

Joe tugged on the reins, even though there was no real need, as Cochise knew the way around into the yard even without his lead. It was more of a way to keep his thoughts from running away and keep them focused on something mundane more than anything else. It was almost mechanical as he slid down from the saddle and wrapped the reins around his hand. The next twenty minutes disappeared as he unsaddled his horse and began to brush him down. By the time Ben stepped into the barn looking for him, Joe was still lost in thought. He had expected his son back hours ago and had almost been ready to go looking for him.

"Joseph. Are you alright?"

Joe's elbows rested against the stall railing as he absently rubbed at Cochise's nose.

"Joe?"

Ben watched as his son startled at the sound of his voice.

"Sorry, Pa. Just gettin' Cooch bedded down for the night." He reached for his hat that was planted on top of a corner post and grinned at his father as he walked towards the door.

"Joe … how did it go?"

"Oh … fine, Pa! Just fine."

Ben caught himself from commenting about how "fine" was Joe's answer to everything, especially when he didn't want to talk about something. It was clear that everything was not fine, but his son was a grown man who would speak when he was ready and not before.

"Well, Hop Sing has kept some supper warm for you."

"Sounds good, Pa. I'm starved!"

Ben chuckled as the comment was more like Hoss than Joe. By the time Joe had settled himself at the table with a plate before him, Ben was barely holding himself from pacing. He wanted, no needed, to know what had happened. He needed to know that Amos had taken Joe's word as truth and there was no more need to worry for his son's safety. When it was obvious that Joe wasn't going to volunteer anything, it was Hoss who came to his rescue.

"So … how'd Amos take the news?"

Ben held his breath at the directness of the question, knowing Joe could go either way. He slowly let it out when it appeared his son was actually going to talk and not clam up.

"Hard to tell." Joe paused with a forkful of potato half way to his mouth. A faint frown crept across his face as he recalled Amos' strange demeanor. He shoveled the food into his mouth and chewed slowly, as if giving himself time to think.

"But he believed you, right?"

"Yeah, Pa. He believed me."

The tone behind the comment wasn't lost on either of the two men and Hoss glanced across at his father.

"But? What ain't you tellin' us Joe?"

Joe shoved the plate away from his as he simultaneously pushed himself up from the chair.

"It doesn't make his son any less dead!"

Ben rose and followed his son across the room, before placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Joe, we all know that what you did was self-defense. If you hadn't fired, Zach would have killed you!"

And I'd be in Amos Crenshaw's boots instead!

"I know that, Pa. I guess I'm just tired. I'm gonna call it a night."

Long after Joe had made his way upstairs, Ben sat and stared into the fire. Something more had happened and whatever it was, it had rattled his youngest son.