January of 1898 was like every other January in the Yukon: dark and cold. With the light of a full moon and a dazzling aurora to guide him, Scrooge McDuck trudged silently into Dawson. He hadn’t been into town since the fateful fight at the Blackjack, and he frankly didn’t look forward to returning, but the need for a replacement part for his steam-point rig made the long, frigid hike necessary. Hopefully he could get the part he needed and be out of town again before anyone noticed him.

As Scrooge entered town, he scowled to himself, glancing disdainfully at all the tents, rubbish and dilapidated wooden buildings. Dawson City—how I hate it! he thought. Nothing but a cesspool of gamblers and dancehall dollies gathered to fleece fools of their gold dust! And now with the honest miners wintering at their mountain claims, this town is filled with loafers and crooks waiting for the spring thaw to get back to claim jumpin’! I wish I could avoid this armpit of humanity, but if I want to keep diggin’ gold I need parts for my steam-point rig.

He did his best to ignore the clot of rough-hewn types taunting him from a safe distance, tossing tin cans and empty beer bottles. He was legendary in the Yukon, but not necessarily well-liked.

It was a quiet day at the Blackjack Ballroom. A few of the usuals were engaged in a poker game, and a smattering of men were half-conscious in front of their drinks. Overall, it was hardly worth putting on a performance.

Goldie, Lulu and a few of the other girls were milling around by the window, on the lookout for anything entertaining. The sound of shouting and booing made them look out to see a group of ruffians taunting a scowling duck.

Lulu pointed. "Oh, Goldie! It’s Scrooge!"

Goldie glared in his direction with a look that could have shattered the windowpane. "I see him, the skinflint!" she snarled.

"Yeah!" jeered one of the poker players. "What a miserable little runt!"

Everyone flinched as a full spittoon crashed down over his head, courtesy of Glittering Goldie. "Shut yer yap!" she yelled. "Scrooge McDuck is ten times the man you are!"

"Yes’m! Yes’m!" came a muffled voice from within the spittoon.

The other girls giggled at her telltale mood swing. Lulu grinned knowingly. "Goldie, I think you’re sweet on that Scottish sourdough and his cute lil’ whiskers!"

Blushing fiercely, she turned and headed up the stairs. "Bah! What drivel! Not in your…your wildest dreams…" she stammered unconvincingly. Behind her, she heard Glass-Eye whispering to Snake Hips. No doubt another rumor about her love life. Things had been difficult for the Ice Queen of Dawson since her return from White Agony Creek. She steadfastly insisted that all she had done at McDuck’s claim was mine gold…but not everyone believed her.

Across the street, Scrooge reached the General Store. The sign outside listing prices was partially covered by a paper reading "Food Sold Out—Don’t Ask!" He paused to frown at it. Cripes! Looks like there’s a food shortage! Tough luck—everyone in this town can starve for all I care! he thought. He glanced over his shoulder with a softer look at a banner outside the Blackjack advertising "The Star of the North: Glittering Goldie". He sighed in spite of himself. Well…almost everybody.

He spun around, scowling again, and burst out, "Hmph! A steam-point fitting! That’s all I need to make my life complete! That’s all!"

The men loitering at the table just inside the door gave him strange looks but chalked it up to his usual eccentricity.

After recomposing herself, Goldie emerged from her room, made a fresh pot of coffee and plopped down at a table on the balcony overlooking the ballroom. The buzz in town was that someone named "Steele" was coming, and the gossip kept most people from bothering her. A few of the men were at the front window with Lulu, watching for the new arrival. "See Steele yet, Jake?" asked one. "Nah, but it’s that dang McDuck again! I hate his guts! He can’t be cheated or tempted. He saves every ounce of gold. He’s an insult to Dawson!"

The bartender made a fist. "I wish we could git rid of him fer good!"

Further down the balcony, a dark-skinned dancer called Snake-Hips turned to smirk at her boss. "Goldie doesn’t wanna git rid of him, do you dearie?"

Goldie was slouched against the railing, drinking coffee, but at this remark she stood and strutted to the window. "Don’t fool yourself, Snake-Hips! I couldn’t care less! Scrooge is no dif’rent from any other man in the Yukon. Sooner or later he’s come crawlin’ back to Glitterin’ Goldie!"

Snake Hips and the others laughed, content to let the matter drop. Goldie drew back the curtain a bit more and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was Scrooge, marching down the street like he owned the place, leaving clear prints in the muddy street. But if I know Scrooge, she thought, I need to figger a way to make him come back! An’ that’s the way it’ll be. She stood there for a moment, trying to be angry at him. She wanted to, but her fury had cooled with the winter blizzards, and she found herself missing him more and more. Perhaps she had jumped to conclusions. Conditions in Dawson had made her jumpy and defensive around men who showed interest in her. Old habits died hard, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still care about him.

Snake-Hips joined her at the window, gasped and pointed in the opposite direction from where the duck was looking. "Goldie! Lulu! Glass-Eye! It’s him! It’s Steele! He’s here!"

The other girls crowded around to gawk, ignoring Goldie, who remained staring distantly toward the hardware store where Scrooge was.

The object of the others’ attention was a solid-looking man in a bright red coat with a helmet pulled low over his eyes. "Attention, citizenry of Dawson City! I am Colonel Samuel Benfield Steele, Superintendent of the Northwest Mounted Police of the Yukon!" he announced.

Goldie dimly listened as he pledged to restore law and order to the city on behalf of the Queen, blah blah blah. But her eyes remained fixed on the door of the hardware store, still waiting for Scrooge to emerge.

Before long, however, the other girls rushed downstairs to get a closer look, and she felt obligated to follow.

In the aforementioned hardware store, Scrooge McDuck was still digging through a box of spare parts, searching for the one little piece he needed. The closest thing he had to a friend in the Klondike, a young American named Casey Coot, dashed up behind. "Scrooge! Get out of town! Fast!"

"Hah?" Scrooge said, turning around.

"Soapy’s old gang is tellin’ the Mountie how you wrecked his gambling barge, pulled down the smokestacks, threw the piany out the window, tossed the stove out the—"

"Whoaa! Hold on!" Scrooge interrupted with a laugh. "All that happened was a boiler exploded while they had me chained up, and I took it from there. Those cowards embellish that tall tale more each time it’s told!"

Casey didn’t look surprised. "I shoulda’ known. You couldn’t lick ten men single-handedly!"

Scrooge’s temper exploded. "Ten? They said ten? By thunder, I licked a baker’s dozen! And the baker!" he roared.

Shaken by his outburst, Casey stood back. "Well, whatever, they’re demanding the Mounties lock you up!"

Scrooge grimaced. "Yeah, those yella bellies would love that! Then they’d be free to jump my claim six ways to Sunday!" He considered his options for a moment. "I don’t cotton to runnin’—but I can’t be pulled off my claim or I’ll lose everything I’ve worked toward for twenty years! I’d best skeedaddle back into the hills!" He jumped out a window into the alley. "Thanks!"

Casey waved and watched him go.

Outside, Colonel Steele was fully convinced that by arresting "this McDuck scoundrel" he could virtually wipe out crime in Dawson. The absurd idea was a convenient form of revenge for the gang Soapy Slick left behind when he was deported to Alaska. The only problem was, somebody had to formally press charges against Scrooge, and none of the cowardly men were willing to take responsibility.

Goldie stood with the other girls, leaning against a support column on the porch of the Blackjack. She was still bored with the whole situation and quite unimpressed by the puffed-up Mountie. However, this latest technicality shook her out of her complacence.

"Who will sign this complaint so I can bring McDuck in to personally answer for his crimes?" Colonel Steele asked loudly. A light went on in Goldie’s head. Of course! It was perfect!

She rushed forward. "Last year McDuck dragged me off and forced me to work his claim for a month! I’ll sign!"

"The cad!" exclaimed Steele. "My gorge rises!"

She eagerly signed the paper.

"Remember, Miss, if you press charges, this McDuck may press charges against you in return!"

Goldie grinned devilishly. "You just bring him to me, Colonel! I can stand some mutual pressing!"

After the reminder of the complications of society, Scrooge was all too happy to return to the solitude of White Agony Valley. No one but him and the wildlife for miles… Perfect. He didn’t need anyone.

Now that he had the replacement part, he was easily able to fix his equipment, and soon was busy thawing his digs. After releasing a long blast of steam up the shaft, he thought he heard activity above. "What the-- Somebody up there? Watch out! I’m steam-thawin’ the permafrost down here!"

Annoyed at the interruption, he climbed back to the surface to find a Mountie regarding him sternly. "I’m looking for a Scrooge McDuck."

"If you’re looking for a Scrooge McDuck who needs to stoke his boiler, you’ve found one! Outta my way!" He brushed past the stuffed-shirt and headed back to the cabin.

Undaunted, the Mountie followed. "I am Inspector William Scarth of the Northwest Mounted Police. I have come to take you to Dawson City to face charges of lawless misconduct!"

"You and what glee club?" Scrooge growled.

"Colonel Steele wishes to have a word with you."

Scrooge gathered up an armful of firewood from beside the cookstove. "Ain’t nuthin’ that anybody back in Dawson has to say that’s of any interest to me!"

Scarth pulled out a sheet of paper. "The fact is that, as official recorder of mining claims, Colonel Steele has rescinded your claimed, impounded your gold, and—"

A loud crash was heard as Scrooge bolted up, hitting his head on the ceiling, and landed, dazed, on the ground.

"Your interest is piqued, I see…" Scarth said sarcastically.

Stars danced in front of Scrooge’s eyes. "Homina homina homina…" he stammered. He shook off the dizziness and jumped up, shouting, "Rescind my claim! He can’t do that to me! Not after all I’ve been through!"

"Hard cheese, old boy! He can and did!"

Scrooge grabbed his fur hat and stormed out the door. "Who pressed charges? I’ll settle their hash! I’m not afraid of anybody in that mangy burg!"

Behind him, he heard the Mountie say, "The name I have here is one Goldie—"

Before he could read the last name, Scrooge froze in mid-stride, looking like a deer in automobile headlights. "G-guh-go-go—" he babbled, then whirled back to face the Mountie. "Er…listen! I gotta go straighten this out! You can’t lock me up to wait for some long trial! I must protect my claim!"

"I see your pickle, old boy! With the claim rescinded, anyone can stake a claim here! But there’s not a thing I can do!" The Mountie began to leave, then stopped. "By George, I do believe there’s one thing I can do…" He trotted up onto a small hill with a wooden stake and flung off his hat. "I cast aside the official hat of the N.W.M.P.! I hereby go on extended leave! The first and best mines on Bonanza Creek were claims by Mounties on leave from Fort Constantine! What shan’t I lay claim to this legally abandoned valley, purported to be the richest land in the Klondike basin? And there’s nothing you can do about it without assaulting an officer of Her Majesty’s forces! Bwa-hah-hah!"

Scrooge wasn’t paying much attention his ramblings. He was watching the Mountie’s broad hat whirl through the air, still aloft after being tossed aside. It made a slow, lazy circle like a boomerang, and, just as its owner began to laugh, crashed straight into his eye. The stunned Mountie fell back in the snow, blinking heavily. "How boorish! It’s not cricket to strike a man in the monocle! It simply isn’t done!"

Innocent but very irritated, Scrooge dashed off toward Mooseneck Glacier. "I don’t have time for this idiocy! I’ve got to get to Glittering Goldie before anybody claims my land right out from under me!"

"That will be a bit difficult, Mr. McDuck!" gloated Scarth. He hopped on his horse and cantered past Scrooge. "You are over twenty miles from Dawson and afoot! I, on the other hand…well, after all, they do call us ‘Mounties’, you know! Ta ta!" He spurred his horse into a full gallop and was soon out of sight.

Scrooge kept running. I won’t give up! It’s hopeless…but I’ll never give up! I must reach Dawson!

The brief daylight of the "Land North of 53°" came to an end, and the long night brought a blizzard and the dreadful Yukon cold. But Scrooge couldn’t stop to build a fire. He had to march on. He couldn’t let twenty years of bitter struggle slip through his frostbitten fingers!

Yet was there another reason for his determination that even he couldn’t admit? Perhaps he had several motivations, but when his numb feet finally stumbled, there was only one thought in his fading consciousness…

On his belly in the snow, cold almost beyond shivering, Scrooge squinted up through the howling storm, still unable to see the lights of Dawson. Weakly, he managed a single word: "Goldie…"

Through a fog, a gentle voice slowly became audible. "Scrooge! Don’t go to sleep! Get up! If you fall asleep, you’ll never wake up!"

Scrooge wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or not. In the driving snow, it hardly mattered. But a faint golden glow slowly took form in the air in front of him. "Who…who’s that?" he asked hoarsely.

The glow took shape, and he was amazed to see Goldie, larger than life, floating before him. A number of smaller mirror images surrounded her. She smiled serenely down at him, calling, "Get up! Come to me! I’m waiting for you!"

Scrooge was confused but glad to see her. "Goldie!"

Her expression abruptly changed to one of evil mocking. "I’m waiting to slap you in jail! To ruin you! Humiliate you! Bwah-ha!" She and the miniature copies of herself laughed disdainfully at him.

"No! No! Goldie, I need to tell you that I…I…" Scrooge stammered, even now hesitant to say the "L" word. As he got his tongue in order, his vision shifted slightly, and her jewelry transformed into shiny sleighbells. "…that I…" he tried again, then stopped. "Say, what’s with the sleighbells?"

Goldie frowned at her new adornments. "Don’t ask me! This is your dream!" She morphed further, becoming a reindeer from the waist down and gaining antlers. "Now look what you’ve done to me! I don’t have to take this! I’ve been offered starring roles in better dreams than yours, dollboy!"

"No, wait!" Scrooge said in desperation. "I can’t help it!"

The transformation continued, and soon the only thing recognizable as Goldie was her head. The rest was reindeer. She raised her bill indignantly and began to leave. "When you’ve outgrown visions of sugarplums and you’re ready for an adult dream, look me up!"

"Come back! Don’t leave me!" he pleaded, finding the strength to get to his knees.

But she was gone. A jolly Santa Claus head materialized to his right. "You need anything, my friend?" it asked.

"You’re a month late to be handing out presents, bub!" Scrooge yelled angrily. "Why don’t you head north where you belong and mind your own beeswax!"

Slowly, the bearded figure lost its glow and became clearer. "I’d like to do just that, but I seem to have lost my way!"

Scrooge realized that his eyes were indeed shut, and opened them. A man in a dark red coat was leading a team of six reindeer and a sleigh. "You wouldn’t have a map on you, would you?" he asked with a strange accent.

Scrooge waved him off. "I was having a very interesting dream while I froze solid! Go stick yourself down a chimney in somebody else’s hallucination!"

"Chimney? What—? Oh! You are thinking I look like Father Christmas! By Thor, I guess I do at that! No, I’m Olaf Erickson from Iceland! The Canadian Government hired a bunch of us and our reindeer to haul emergency rations to Dawson City! I was separated from the others by an avalanche and I’ve been trying to find my way around this side of the goldfields—but I got lost!"

Now completely coherent, Scrooge sprang up with renewed energy and grabbed the reins. "Well, you stumbled onto the near-frozen carcass of the right sourdough! You need a guide, and I need some speedy transportation!" He snapped the reins with practiced ease. "Hoo-hah! On Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer and Vixen! Dawson City or bust!"

Olaf attempted to correct him, "Actually, that’s Lars and Tor and Johaaooooo--!" He was cut off when the sudden acceleration sent him falling backward into the sleigh full of supplies.

The reindeer made excellent time, seeming to ignore the frigid temperatures and blinding snow. Before long, they pulled into Dawson. Scrooge let Olaf take the reins back and hopped off, leading the team into a public stable. Soapy’s old gang was hanging out, complaining about the food shortage. Scrooge inwardly groaned. He didn’t have time to deal with them. "Stand aside, vermin!" he said gruffly as he led the reindeer inside. "I don’t have a beef with any a’you! I only need to see…uh…somebody else!"

"You’ll have to git through us to do it, McDuck!" said one of the men.

Scrooge sighed. "Suits me! What’ll it be? All at once or simultaneously?" He adopted a fighting stance and readied his fists.

Olaf edged the reindeer forward until the whole sleigh was indoors. "Make way, you men! I must get this food to the government larder!"

"Just git your scruffy deer outta the way, pal, or we’ll take your ‘food’ and—" The man stopped in mid-syllable, realizing the significance of Olaf’s words. Food? Food!

The entire gang sprang toward the sleigh, and more men came out of the woodwork for the chance at grabbing a bite to eat. One rejoiced, "Real food!" He kicked his boot out of the fire. "Who wants to eat that thing?"

Another knelt, cradling a white orb in his hands. "Look!" he sobbed. "It’s an egg! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!"

Scrooge shook his head, feeling like the wise grasshopper amongst lazy, short-sighted ants. Same ol’ Dawson, he thought in disgust. Lesse…The Blackjack Ballroom is at the other end of Front Street… Behind him, he dimly heard the sounds of people screaming about a cookfire out of control, but his mind was utterly focused on his destination. I gotta hurry! If I don’t get to Goldie before that Mountie files his claim… All is lost! he thought.

Activity at the Blackjack Ballroom usually went on far into the night. As long as there were customers sober enough to listen, the girls performed their song and dance routines to the sounds of catcalls and flying gold coins.

Snake-Hips was brushing her hair when a young male employee stuck his head in the dressing room door, hand discreetly covering his eyes. "Miss Goldie! You go on in five minutes!" he reminded.

Goldie sat at her makeup table, facing away from the mirror with a distant look. "Huh? Do what?" she mumbled.

"I know what’s on your mind! You’re waitin’ for someone!" Snake-Hips teased.

"I am not!" she protested. "I’m Glittering Goldie! The Ice Queen of Dawson! The Cold Flame of the Yukon! The—" She stopped, straining her ear, and grinned. "What’s that commotion outside?"

Snake-Hips cracked her hair brush over the head of the young man at the door, who had been peeking at the half-dressed women through his fingers. She shook her head. "Goldie, there’s only one heart in the Yukon colder than yours. Don’t expect him to set the world on fire rushing back to you!"

Goldie dashed to the window, took one look outside, and gasped. She opened the window and leaned out to get a better view. The sky glowed orange from a huge fire burning at the other end of town. That in and of itself wasn’t all that unusual. Fires and floods were both common in Dawson. What caught Goldie’s eye was an unmistakable duck in a fur hat running down the street in her direction. "Oh my, oh my…" she said giddily.

The blond duck turned and gave an impish grin. "You were wrong." Leaving Snake-Hips and the other girls to figure out what she meant, she took one last glance at herself in the mirror and ran downstairs as fast as her high heels could carry her. Forget the performance. She had more important things to do!

The customers were at the windows, nervously pointing. Goldie heard the word "fire" amid their conversation.

"Look at it spread!" someone yelled.

"I hope the fire brigade gets here in time. I just ordered a fresh mug’a’ beer!"

One dogface turned to see the proprietor standing there. "Oh, hi, Miss Goldie. Seen the fire?"

"Yes, I’ve seen the fire!" she snapped. "Now everybody either help keep this place from burnin’ down, or git out!"

Some of the customers chugged the rest of their drinks and hastened out. The rest stayed put, ignoring the situation entirely.

*BOOM!*

Everyone froze, then all began talking at once.

"Somethin’ exploded!"

"Look at the smoke!" called someone by the window.

"The fire’s everywhere now!"

"Let’s git!"

Goldie stood helplessly as her clientele and employees fled, leaving her alone. The smell of smoke was much stronger now, but the fire was a secondary concern. Where was Scrooge? Dagnabbit! she thought. Just like a man to keep a girl waiting.

She climbed up onto the stage and posed, expecting him to arrive any second. Fire was inside the ballroom now, licking up and down the balcony, consuming the curtain and searing across chairs and tables. From the looks of things, the whole back room was in flames. A minute or two ticked by, and she began to get annoyed again. Where was he? It was getting unbearably hot and smoky. She paced a bit, then planted herself smack dab in the middle of the stage with her hands on her hips. Curse him!

She put her bill in the air and stuck out her hip, glaring at him. Oh, she intended to take him back, all right. But he had to suffer first. Make him apologize to her. Then she’d forgive him.

He just stood there, fists clenched, glowering at her.

"Do something, Scrooge, you big dope!" were the exact words that passed through both their minds at that moment.

He was trembling, scowling and utterly paralyzed. She raised an eyebrow. Time for Plan B. She took a deep breath, put the back of her hand over her eyes and tilted backward, falling to the stage in a faint. One of my best performances, she thought. She heard Scrooge gasp and run toward her. "Goldie! I—"

*CLUNK!*

*THUMP!*

Goldie waited breathlessly for him to scoop her up in his arms and carry her away, like a knight in shining armor with a damsel in distress. But nothing happened. She sat up, confused, and looked for him. He was nowhere to be seen. What the…? She stood and then saw him, sprawled on the floor at the foot of the stage, knocked unconscious by the ice plug from a fire hose. A stream of water was shooting through the door, extinguishing the corner table. Goldie tapped her foot and shook her head in disgust. Finally, she grabbed one of his legs, slung him over her back and dragged him outside. She leaned him against a crate with his arms stretched out before him, and flung herself across his arms, making it appear as if he had carried her to safety. "Oh! Oh!" she wailed, kicking and screaming. "Who was it who was so overcome with emotion that he forgot his foolish pride and dashed recklessly to me side? Who?" Beneath her, she felt Scrooge stirring. This would be perfect!

Suddenly, two pairs of hands picked her up and began carrying her away. Medics? "Hey! Leggo of me, you @#*$*!" she screeched.

"Such language!" gasped one of the nurses.

"Obviously hysterical! Hold her tight!" instructed the doctor.

"No! You don’t understand! I—"

"Calm down, miss. You’re safe, now."

"@#$%&*!!!"

One minute Scrooge McDuck was dashing to save Goldie, and the next thing he knew, he was half-conscious on the street, being picked up by Colonel Steele. The Mountie officer had been chasing after Scrooge all through the fire, trying to arrest him for his alleged misdeeds. Now, however…

"Mr. McDuck, I can see by your daring rescue of that innocent woman that what Mr. Coot here tells me is true!"

"’Innocent woman?’ In Dawson?" Casey Coot and Steele’s assistant said in simultaneous disbelief.

Steele didn’t hear. "Your alleged crimes were obviously lies concocted by rascals and rogues. You are actually one of the most honorable and bravest men in Dawson!" he said, slapping Scrooge’s fur hat back onto his head.

"That ain’t sayin’ much," Scrooge said under his breath.

"Mr. McDuck, I drop all charges and I hereby rescind the rescinction I rescinded when—oh, dash it all, your claim is secure!"

"Now you’re cookin’ with gas! Thanks! They exchanged a hearty handshake.

As Steele wandered off with his assistant, a young writer named Jack Dawson, Scrooge looked around for Goldie. She was nowhere to be seen.

Her legal attack wasn’t the only thing he had wanted to talk to her about. He stood for a minute, looking up at the smoky, wet hull of the Blackjack.

"@#$%&*!!!"

Cleanup began immediately. The Dawson citizenry was, unfortunately, quite used to repairing fire damage. As her employees hurried to get the Blackjack back up and running, Goldie locked herself in her room with ink and paper to write one of the most difficult letters of her life. After several drafts, she was content with the wording. She sat back to let the ink dry before putting it in an envelope, and read it over one last time.

"Dear Scrooge,

"Please come back. Let’s try this again. I think there have been a lot of misunderstandings lately, and the only thing I’m really sure of anymore is that I love you.

"You know I can’t come to White Agony to talk to you, and I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to stop by the Blackjack, but you haven’t. That’s why I pressed charges; so you’d have to come see me again. Also, if I hadn’t done so, someone else would have, and it would have been worse for you. Please believe me when I say I never meant for you to lose your claim like that.

"I’m sorry about the way things ended before. I just thought what we had transcended money and debts and compound interest. But I realize now you were just being fair, paying me for my mining…and only my mining. Everything else I did, I did because I loved you. I still do. I think you probably feel the same way, but, like me, you’re too darn stubborn to do anything about it. Well, I’m taking things into my own hands now. I’m sick of playing hard-to-get. I’m sick of playing, period. I just want us to be together again. Since we’ve been apart all I’ve done is think about you. I thought I’d get over this, but I haven’t. We’re both beating around the bush because we’re so hung up on appearances, and what everybody else thinks. I’m ready to forget about what everybody else thinks, and concentrate on what you and I think. I think I could be happy with you for the rest of my life.

"Come back to me. Talk to me. Hold me. And we’ll figure out the rest.

"All my love…Goldie."

There was so much she wanted to say, and so little she dared put on paper. Finally, she straightened her posture with determination and carefully folded the letter. She sealed it with a wax stamp and carefully addressed it. There. Done. Now if she just had the courage to send it!

Samuel Benfield Steele strolled down Front Street, nodding approvingly at the rebuilding efforts. It would take more than a mere fire to keep down these fine people, he thought.

"Mountie boss!"

He turned to see the blonde duckess again, running toward him from the Blackjack Ballroom. He put a gloved hand to the rim of his helmet in respect.

"They said you didn’t hold Scrooge!" she said.

"No, Miss! I knew you’d drop charges in light of events. He left town an hour ago."

The dance hall girl looked stricken. "I had a…a message for him!" She held up an envelope.

Steele tipped his helmet to her. "I’ll take care of it, Miss. The Northwest Mounted Police is also handling all postal duties in the territory!"

She hesitated. "You will? It’s a very important message!"

But Steele would have no protests. He snatched the envelope from her hand and instructed Inspector Scarth to deliver the "urgent dispatch" to McDuck.

Goldie stood back and took a deep breath. Well, that was that. It was sent. Now all she could do was wait.

She sat at a window, gazing out over the street with a blank expression. Behind her, Lulu was busy sweeping up ashes. "Don’t worry, Goldie," she comforted. "This joint gets half burnt down every other Saturday! You’ll spring back!"

"Hmm? Oh, sure, sure," she said distantly. A fire, she could recover from. Heartbreak? She didn’t know.

Lulu continued sweeping, but soon turned back to her. "I know what’s botherin’ you, dearie! What was in that letter you sent him?"

Goldie whirled away from the window and gave her a venomous look. "If it’s any of your business, I told him that if he ever got near me again, I’d kick his teeth in!"

Lulu shook her head and resumed sweeping. "Y’shunta’ bothered. He knows your heart’s as icy as his!"

Goldie turned back to the window, watching the full moon rise over Moosehide Mountain. He’ll know different when he reads my note. He’ll know…then he’ll come back! She leaned on the windowsill and gazed out into the night. He was somewhere, out there in the cold…

Scrooge McDuck was tired, but that never stopped him. He headed back toward White Agony Valley, through the gloomy forest trail over Moosehide Mountain. Hoofbeats broke the icy silence, and he turned to see that pesky Mountie riding toward him. "You again? Now what?"

"Sorry, Mr. McDuck! This time it’s only a letter for you!"

Scarth handed over the letter and departed. Scrooge looked curiously at the envelope. He rarely got mail, and the handwriting wasn’t that of a family member back in Scotland. In fact, there was no stamp or postmark. What the…?

Then he saw the return address: "Goldie O’Gilt, Blackjack Ballroom, Front Street, Dawson City, Yukon Territory." His heart caught in his throat. It’s…it’s from Goldie! What could she want? he asked himself silently. He snorted derisively. This is probably another complaint she’s filed…or a lawsuit for fire damage…or some other deviltry to harass me! He put a finger to the flap, about to pry it open, but stopped. He held the letter out in front of him, staring at it with trepidation. Should I open this…or is it better not to see the poison inside? He glanced back over his shoulder toward Dawson. Maybe it’s nicer to pretend that there’s one person in this sorry world that I might… That I can… His hands began to tremble, and not from the cold. He turned around, and from his vantage point he could see a light on upstairs at the Blackjack Ballroom. He thought…and thought…and thought. Finally, he let the envelope fall from his hands.

His heart heavy, he resumed his journey, leaving the letter behind in the snow.