Then the doors swung open, and she looked to see who had entered. Scrooge! What the…? He never went into places like this. Why…?

Goldie missed a note, but no one seemed to notice. She skipped the last verse to make the song end earlier, all the while watching Scrooge as he headed for the bar. This wasn’t like him at all. She concluded the song with a long, trilling note and tried to make it look as if she wasn’t hurrying toward him.

"Coffee," she heard him say. The bartender sneered. Coffee? No one ordered coffee. Beer, whiskey, liquor…yes. But coffee? No.

There was a loud clunk as Scrooge emptied his poke on the bar. Suddenly, everyone in the place turned their attention from dance hall girls and drinks, and crowded around to gawk at the mammoth nugget. None of them had ever seen such a chunk of gold! It was the size of a goose egg! Maybe bigger!

Goldie stopped in her tracks and stared, too. So the rumors about the quality of McDuck’s claim were true!

Her veins flooded with heat and her head went spinning with a sudden, wild case of Gold Fever. So far she’d been virtually immune to the rampant epidemic of it, but the sight of the huge nugget overwhelmed her. Without any further thought, she flung herself across the bar and snatched the gigantic nugget from under Scrooge’s bill. Dazzled by the shiny metal, she gasped, "What a jewel!"

He scowled at her. "Don’t be so doggoned grabby!"

Before he could protest further, she jumped down from the bar and yanked his wrist to make him follow. "Bartender!" she called over her shoulder. "I’m having coffee with this fabulous miner!" She flashed Scrooge a charming smile, and that shy, flustered look returned. Maybe he’d forgiven her for shooing him away so rudely before. Even if he had, he probably wouldn’t forgive her for what she was about to do…

Blinded by Gold Fever, Goldie slipped a pinch of herbs into Scrooge’s coffee cup before serving him. That done, she sat primly and rested her chin on her hands. With an innocent smile, she said, "Tell me about your claim, handsome! Where is it?"

He gave her a suspicious look and slurped coffee. "Ma’am, the claim jumpers that have tried to find it are piled so high around there I have trouble finding it myself!" he said gruffly.

She did her best to look as if she believed him. "Dearie me," she said with uncharacteristic meekness. About that time she was regretting that little something extra she had slipped into his drink, but there was no going back now. Besides, Rodney was giving her odd looks. The incident in the kitchen and its supposed implications had not been forgotten. Time to show them all…and herself…that she was still the Ice Queen of Dawson. "More coffee?" she offered, refilling his cup before he had a chance to answer. Scrooge was already looking groggy. The second dose was hardly necessary. Moments later, he slumped forward, unconscious. She grinned in horrified fascination at what she had done. He’d be fine a few hours, but first…

"Yes’m," said Hugo, a hulking dogface with arms the size of tree trunks.

There, Goldie thought. Her reputation was solidified. Now everyone here knew she had no time for romance or anything even closely resembling it, and word would spread. Goldie O’Gilt was her own woman, and bad things awaited those who crossed the line. She wasn’t proud of her tactics, but pleased with the results…until Scrooge returned.

Everyone laughed, including her. Theirs were howls of derision; hers was a giggle of amusement. She thought he was kidding.

He wasn’t.

The events of the next few minutes would go down in the annals of Klondike lore as the grandest bar fight of the gold rush. Pent-up hostility came to a boiling point, and all the customers joined in the brawl, with Scrooge taking them all on at once. Chairs flew, bottles broke, blackjacks were pulled, knives flashed…but somehow, through it all, the one-duck army emerged unscathed.

Goldie managed to escape from the fray by hurrying up the stairs to the balcony. She stood at the railing and watched with both fear and admiration as Scrooge fought like a dervish. What had she started? She had always assumed the stories about the destruction of Soapy’s boat were greatly exaggerated. Now she wasn’t so sure. The power packed into that one scruffy duck was amazing. She noted with faint amusement that he also liked her old "spittoon-over-the-head" trick.

Soon, it was over. Everyone in the place was unconscious except the girls cowering backstage, herself, and Scrooge. Winded but otherwise unharmed, he scaled up the pile of unconscious customers like a barbaric mountain climber and cornered her on the balcony.

She backed away, her eyes wide with fear. It appeared she had judged him all wrong. If there was one thing he was, it wasn’t shy. And it wasn’t awkward.

He held out an expectant hand. "I’ll trouble you for my goose egg nugget, ma’am," he said firmly.

She paused for a moment, frozen by the intensity of his stare. Anger bubbled up within her, more at herself for starting this mess than at him. She whipped the nugget out of her pocket and hurled it at his head. Scrooge staggered, momentarily dazed, but even that didn’t bring him down. After all, if he could lick an entire ballroom, what chance did she have?

She scowled and reached into her other pocket, defeated. Her hand found nothing. She turned the pocket inside out. Nothing. Someone had stolen the rest! The bitter irony of it all didn’t escape her, but all she could do was shrug.

"Oho," he sneered. "Got a taste of your own medicine, did you?"

She let her frown fade into an expression of misery.

"Fine." He led her to a nearby table. "You can write me an I.O.U."

"But—"

He dipped the pen in ink and handed it to her, no pity on his face. She sighed, defeated, and began writing. Below, she could hear the battered customers stirring.

She scribbled the particulars, signed it, and shoved the paper in his face. "There! Now get out!"

"I aim to, ma’am, but you’re going with me!"

She gave him a tentative, questioning look, and he winked. She fought a smile and winked back, understanding.

It was only part play-acting, however. Scrooge was so realistic, she began doubting her instincts. Maybe he really was abducting her! Maybe he was going to do something horrible! Maybe— Maybe— Maybe—

Maybe she would just have to wait and see.

The groggy customers stared as Scrooge pushed through the doors and into the street. They were glad to see him go, but horrified to see Goldie’s predicament. None lifted a finger to rescue her, however. They had had enough of McDuck’s fists for one day.

A small crowd of gawking bystanders had gathered by the time the two ducks reached the end of Front Street. He unceremoniously dumped her off his back, and she pretended to nearly swoon. "Where are you taking me, you wolf?" she wailed.

"To my claim! You’re going to learn how hard a miner works for his gold!"

He grabbed her firmly by the wrist and marched up the hill.

She scowled and wrenched her arm free, rubbing her sore wrist. "That depends. Are you?"

He nodded matter-of-factly.

"Fine. So why am I really here?"

"I told you. You’re going to see that gold isn’t simply picked up like manna. And you can work off some of that thousand-dollar debt. At compound interest, remember."

"I remember."

"Maybe this will teach you a lesson about honesty, ma’am."

"Stop calling me ma’am! We’re the same age!"

In contrast to their previous meeting, there was very little talking during the hike to White Agony Creek. A thousand times they each considered speaking, but every time found it easier to stay silent. They were in over their heads, and they knew it.

Maybe she was imagining his feelings for her. Maybe it was all wishful thinking. She had, after all, drugged him and stole from him. And he had beaten up her entire clientele, then kidnapped her. It wasn’t exactly the best way to start a relationship.

She wasn’t accustomed to long hikes, and high heels were not the footwear she would have chosen. After the first mile, she plopped down on a log and groaned. He turned to her disdainfully. "What?"

"My feet!" She grimaced and slipped out of her shoes. "Ever tried to hike cross-country in heels?"

He gave her a sardonic look.

"Well, it hurts!"

He sighed and let his pack fall to the ground "Here. Try this." He took out some of the wrappings he used to pad his own feet, then wound the dirty strips of fabric around her webs. When he was done, she stood and tested the feel of the new footwear. "Much better."

He still didn’t smile, and they continued on in silence. Evening shadows lengthened, and the shade of the pines made Goldie shiver in her short-sleeved dress. Finally, Scrooge gave in and offered her a shirt from his pack. It was old and well-worn, but kept the chill off.

By the time they reached White Agony, Goldie was too exhausted to care what happened next. He led her up the slope to his newly-completed log cabin. It was small and sparse, with only a bed, a small table and chair, and a sooty cook stove. She sat down on a battered steamer trunk to catch her breath while he started a fire. This had been the strangest day of her life, and all she wanted to do now was sleep.

Scrooge nudged her out of the way and opened the steamer trunk. She peered around him to catch a glimpse of the contents: a jumble of papers, a lasso, a ten-gallon hat, a weird-looking flute, and goodness knows what else. He pulled out an extra blanket and handed it to her, then pushed the bed until it blocked the doorway.

"You can have the bed." He took the blanket back and spread it out in front of the fire. She stood uncertainly for a moment, but he settled down on the floor, using his fur hat as a pillow, and ignored her. Too exhausted to be confused, she gratefully crawled into bed and was soon sleeping.

She awoke early, even before Scrooge. She remained in bed, looking around the cabin. The single window was right above where he was lying, so escape was impossible through that route, and moving the bed away from the door would wake him. Even if she did manage to get out of the cabin, she was miles from Dawson without any supplies. That was, of course, assuming she wanted to escape. And, deep inside, she knew she didn’t. For the moment she was content to study the sleeping form of her "captor." She smiled in spite of herself.

Gads, he’s handsome, she mused. She had been struck by that when she first laid eyes on him, that day outside her old saloon. She had the urge to run her fingers through those cute, scruffy whiskers…

It was loathsome to admit it, even to herself, but she had fallen in love. It wasn’t a state she ever expected to find herself in. She had done her best to avoid it. Love only complicated things. But this…this sneaked up on her. Her! The Ice Queen of Dawson! The Cold Flame of the Yukon!

But there was something about Scrooge’s gruff, no-nonsense demeanor that sent her heart atwitter. It was so unlike her that at first she scarcely recognized it. But there it was: love.

Even now, after he had kidnapped her like some savage…she still loved him. Maybe even more. This was the only way he could think of to show interest in her without sacrificing his pride and reputation.

No one had ever played hard-to-get with her before. She was used to everyone fawning over her beauty, doing their best to make her yield. She’d refused them all. She could cheat, lie and swindle, and do business with those who did worse, but some things were beyond her sphere of comfort.

Until now. Now, when she found someone who sent her heart into somersaults, he pretended she didn’t exist. Yet in some contradictory way it made her want him all the more.

Goldie rolled over to stop herself from staring at him. It would almost have been easier if she thought he really did hate her. But there were certain unspoken signals that led her to believe he was falling in love with her, too. If only he’d surrender his pig-headed pride and show it!

Maybe now, away from all these jeering faces and gossiping tongues, they could be on their own terms, and figure out just what was going on between them…

Scrooge murmured something in his sleep, and Goldie strained to make sense of the sounds, but couldn’t. She thought for a fraction of a second he said her name, but was able to convince herself it was wishful thinking.

The diluted Klondike dawn tinted the sky a pale rose hue. Scrooge awoke like clockwork and was briefly disoriented by his location on the floor. Then he sat up and saw Goldie asleep in his bed, and it all came rushing back. Yesterday…the Blackjack…the Goose Egg Nugget…the fight…Goldie.

She was so calm and serene when she was asleep, with no sign of the fiery spirit of her waking hours. He smiled. She was beautiful, like the glint of gold dust in a clear mountain stream. But she confused him, and he hated being confused. For one thing, he couldn’t figure out if she cared for him, or really felt the contempt she spoke. If she was like him, the latter was a cover for the former. Secondly, she made him desire things other than material wealth, something he hadn’t experienced before. At first he had regarded these feelings as an unwelcome distraction from mining. But lately he had come to suspect that she was a greater treasure than any nugget. The notion smacked of blasphemy, but yet somehow seemed natural. Gold nuggets were beautiful, too, of course, but they couldn’t return affection. Goldie hadn’t exactly done that either…yet. He saw the potential there but had no idea how to go about encouraging it. Kidnapping her and forcing her to mine his claim wasn’t the most effective come-on he could imagine, but it would have to do.

Now to make her understand how he felt without making an idiot of himself.

Goldie stirred as the dawn’s light fell across her face, and he laid back down and closed his eyes, not yet ready to face her. Several minutes passed before he was sure she was awake, and felt alert enough to start the day. He sat up again, gave her a tentative smile, and rekindled last night’s fire. The coffee grounds he was using were weeks old, but coffee was rare and very costly in the Klondike, and people made do with what they had. By the time it was ready to drink, she was out of bed and stretching. She gratefully accepted a steaming mug from him and took a chair. The only chair, she realized shortly. Scrooge sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding her gaze and drinking his coffee in silence.

"Well?" she said finally.

"Well what?"

"Why am I here? Really?"

He took another sip of coffee. "To work off your debt."

"Doing what?" she asked with a sly look, enjoying his flustered expression.

He picked up a shovel from the corner and handed it to her, then put on his fur cap and went outside.

Goldie shook her head. Was he that dense, or that shy?

Only the most rudimentary conversation passed between them that day. She helped steam-thaw the mine shaft while he dug the tunnel deeper on each side. She was determined to learn quickly, perhaps earning a compliment, at least. She worked herself ragged, and was on the verge of collapse when evening fell.

Using her shovel as a walking-stick, she trudged back to the cabin while Scrooge shut down the steam boiler. This was not at all what she had been expecting.

She flung herself onto the bed, allowing her aching spine to relax. The mattress was bumpy and hard, but felt like heaven after a long day of mining.

Scrooge returned in a few minutes and wordlessly began heating beans on the fire. She closed her eyes, not even caring if he spoke now.

Finally, he called her over. "Supper’s ready." She looked up to find beans and thick chunks of stale bread. Not fancy, but she was too tired and hungry to complain. They ate in silence.

The food revived her spirit, and at last she couldn’t take it any more. "Aren’t you going to talk to me, McDuck?" she snapped.

"What do you want me to say?"

She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes. "Nice job, Goldie. You worked hard today, Goldie. You’re a fast learner, Goldie. You’re beautiful, Goldie!" she stopped herself and looked away.

He fidgeted with his fork. "Well, um…you are."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Beautiful, I mean. You’re pretty bedraggled at the moment, but—"

"And why do you suppose that is?" she interrupted angrily.

"You stole from me, remember?"

"I know what I did, and I’m not proud of it, but dagnabbit, Scrooge McDuck, what does a girl have to do to get your attention?"

He looked genuinely startled.

"I’ve been flirting with you for months, and you never even smile at me! All you can see is gold, gold, gold!"

He swallowed his last bite and faltered. "Well, I…that is, I…I care about gold, sure. Everyone up here does! But I guess I also, er…"

She met his gaze with a challenging look.

"I suppose I…I care about you, too. There. I said it. Are you happy now?"

She grinned but kept her eyebrows mockingly low. "Maybe. I care about you, too, you know."

"You have a funny way of showing it!"

"I wouldn’t talk, McDuck."

There was a long, awkward silence. Finally, he stood and put away the foodstuffs. "You can take the bed again tonight. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor."

She smiled a truer smile, one free from contempt and ridicule. She was about to thank him but decided he didn’t deserve it. Not yet, anyway. Before he could change his mind, she slid under the blankets and stretched out to sleep. "G’night, sourdough."

"Good night, Goldie." He curled up on the floor with the extra blanket, blew out the lantern, and was sleeping before she could even properly relax.

The ice had been broken, and with no one else around to jeer at them, their relationship could only deepen. Their first kiss was a simple, matter-of-fact affair over the campfire the next night. Supper took much longer than it should have, as they talked more than they ate. That earlier connection they had felt in the Blackjack’s kitchen was still there, and they found they could talk for hours without a pause. Kissing was about the only thing that would shut them up.

But their newfound friendship didn’t stop Scrooge from working her into the ground. He never tired, and Goldie was usually ready to drop by the end of the day.

He was nearby, shoveling dirt into the sluice with inhuman endurance. He saw she had stopped and frowned. "Keep digging, ma’am, or you don’t get any supper!"

That was it. She whirled to face him, and the tears she had been holding back streamed forth. "But I’m starving now! And my dress is in rags!" Her dress! Her favorite dress! Special-ordered from Skagway! Splattered in mud, torn, and frayed!

Scrooge lifted another shovel full of dirt into the sluice. "You can buy a new dress when you get back to town. Buy it this time with money you earned square, not by drugging miners and stacking cards!"

This, of course, only made her cry harder.

"I didn’t mean for you to— Oh, confound it!" He threw his shovel aside and put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, I forget sometimes that you’re not like me. Why don’t you go take a break, have some coffee and—"

She was weeping too loudly to listen. He awkwardly put his arms around her, and she leaned into an embrace. Stampeding cattle, erupting volcanoes, desert heat, cutthroat bandits…he could handle them. But a crying woman? Yeeks.

He sighed. "Come on, chin up. It’s not as bad as all that."

"Yes it is! I love you, you idiot! I don’t want to, but I do. And what do you do? You make me work like a dadblamed slave! And I go along with it because I love you. Do you hear me, McDuck? I love you! Heaven only knows why." She dissolved into tears again and turned her back to him.

"Whoa, whoa, Goldie, calm down," he stammered. "I never meant for you to-- I mean, I just— You stole from me, and I—" He kicked a rock, and it went skittering into the bushes. "I guess, I— I love you, too. I don’t understand it, and I can’t explain it, but…I love you."

She turned back to face him, sniffling into a handkerchief. "Are you just saying that so I’ll keep working?"

"No! Although there are still several hours of good daylight left…" he said, squinting upward. She slapped him, then softened and managed a smile. He gave a sheepish grin, scratched the back of his neck, and kicked at another rock. Finally, he held out a hand to shake. "Can we start over?"

She ignored his hand and threw her arms around him for a long kiss.

"I’ll take that as a yes."

"And I’ll take you up on that offer for coffee."

She leaned her tear-stained face into his shoulder and clung to his arm as they strolled toward the cabin.

As it happened, they didn’t get any more mining done that day. But somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.

One morning, eight days later, they awoke to hear a sloppy mixture of ice and rain hitting the window. Working in such weather would probably result in pneumonia, and with doctors being so expensive, it was wiser to take the day off.

With this decision made, they were in no hurry to get up. Scrooge slipped out of bed long enough to coax the fire back to life, then returned. Goldie nestled her head under his chin and sighed dreamily. "Cozy, isn’t it?" she mumbled.

"Cozy and unprofitable," he griped.

She swirled a finger through his whiskers. "Oh, come on, Scroogey. You’re enjoying this just as much as I am."

He allowed himself a smile and held her close. "I have to admit, things are warmer since you’re around."

"Is that what I am? A glorified hot water bottle?" she said with a petulant look.

"And a hard worker."

"And?"

"And not a bad cook."

"And?"

He kissed her. "And beautiful, and intelligent, and…" he faltered.

"Good enough." She returned his kiss.

They lay in silence, listening to the patter of ice on the window. Out here in the middle of nowhere there was no reason to put on false fronts for the sake of others. It was as if they were the only two people on earth, and that was a surprisingly comforting thought.

But they both knew it had to end eventually. Goldie had a business to run, and Scrooge had a fortune to amass. Deep down, neither of them was willing to settle down. And least, not yet.

She nuzzled her bill against his neck and sighed. "Oh, Scrooge, what are we going to do?"

"Wait to do our mining until the weather improves," he said sleepily.

"I mean about us."

"What about us?"

"Well, for starters, we can’t stay here forever. Sooner or later we both know I have to go back."

"Why?" he mumbled.

"Because, you big lunkhead, I’ve got a ballroom to run."

"Appoint a manager."

"But I like it. That place is the most fun I’ve ever had in my whole life," she said. "I can’t just quit."

"Fine, fine. Wait until things quiet down. I’ve seen it happen all over the world. People stampede in, strip the ore, and then desert a place. Mark my words, in five years Dawson will be a ghost town."

She frowned. "I know that. But until it happens, I’m going to milk it for every penny I can."

"And stealing?"

She rolled on her back and looked away with a scowl. "I’m not a thief, McDuck, no matter what you think. I can’t say I’ve never cut corners or maybe even cheated a little, or looked the other way when something’s going on under the table. That’s just life up here. But the only time I’ve out-and-out stolen was now, from you. But gosh all fish hooks, Scrooge, I had to get your attention somehow!"

"You could have just said something!"

"I did! Do you realize how many times I invited you in to the Blackjack? Only like every time I saw you!"

"You’re always drumming up business."

"Well, sure, but…but…aah, Scrooge, you drive me absolutely insane sometimes!" She sat up and threw her half of the blanket over his head.

He swept the blanket off and put a hand on her back. "Look, Goldie, darlin’, I know I’m not the most demonstrative man in the world, but—"

"You’re about as demonstrative as a rock!"

"Let me finish! But understand, that doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

She gave him an exasperated look out of the corner of her eye. "Well, you’re darn lucky I feel the same say, or I’d have to bash your thick skull in."

"You’ve already tried that," he said, touching his head where she hit him with the Goose Egg Nugget back in the Blackjack.

"I said I was sorry."

"If you’re really sorry you’ll make breakfast."

"No, I’ll be sorry if I let you cook!" She gave a disgusted sigh and headed for the stove.

Before they knew it, a month had elapsed. Goldie and Scrooge stood outside the cabin, saying their good-byes. "You don’t have to go, you know," he said.

"Yes, I do. If I don’t get back soon, they’ll figure I’m dead and sell the Blackjack at public auction!" She tweaked his bill playfully. "But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me, sourdough!"

"I’m going to miss you like a fish misses water," he said with a sigh, framing her face in his hands.

"Yeah," she said with a grin, "you’ll have to find yourself a new bed warmer." They exchanged a long kiss.

At last, she pulled away, and he reached into his pocket for his poke. "Now, about your debt…"

She rolled her eyes.

His face took on a more serious cast, and he was all business. She’d seen that look before. She hated that look.

She looked from the money to his face, her tongue stumbling over the words. He didn’t think— She hadn’t—

Scrooge stood uncertainly for a moment. She obviously didn’t want him around, but he couldn’t let her go by herself. Finally, he elected to follow at a safe distance, just to keep an eye on her. He couldn’t tell if she sensed his presence or not, but he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her. He frankly had no clue why she was angry, and he still cared for her just as deeply as he had the day before.

When Goldie was safely back in Dawson, he turned back to White Agony, perplexed and dismayed. It would be two and a half lonely months before they saw each other again.