Little House on Rocky Ridge - Rose Years 1 by Roger Lea MacBride & David Gilleece

Author:Roger Lea MacBride & David Gilleece
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780064404785
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1993-07-30T05:00:00+00:00

Rose woke from a bad dream; A growling animal had been chasing her through the woods. She lay in bed, trying to remember it.

Outside the wagon, the forest was cloaked in darkness and perfectly still, listening to itself. No wind stirred the trees. Even the insects had gone to sleep. In the distance a train wailed mournfully.

Suddenly Rose heard a real growl! It came from right under the wagon. She sat straight up.

"All right now. Easy there," a man's voice said. "Wilder!" the voice called out, "Wake up!"

Rose peeked through the corner of the curtain. It was Mr. Cooley, carrying a lantern. He had come to get Papa for morning chores.

Rose heard another growl.

Papa stuck his head out the other end of the wagon. "What is it, Cooley?"

"Don't you know?" Mr. Cooley said. "There's a runt of a dog under the wagon. Acts like he wants a taste of my leg."

"A dog!" Rose shouted.

Papa climbed out of the wagon to look.

"What in tarnation?" Papa said.

Rose climbed down the wagon wheel and looked. In the wavering light of the lantern sat the hungry white dog with the black and tan spots.

"It's him, the one I told you about, Papa!" Rose shouted. "He came back."

The dog walked over to Rose and sat down. Rose scratched his head, and his dark eyes gleamed up at her in the light. She stroked his short fur, feeling the hard muscles underneath, and the bones. Rose just had to hug him. He gave her face a little lick.

"Seems the little feist has adopted us," Papa said, scratching his head. "Every farm needs a good watchdog. Shall we keep him?"

"Yes!" Rose shouted. She hugged the dog again, and he wriggled in her arms. His tail slapped the leaves.

They all got dressed and Mama made breakfast. But first, she gave the little dog some more corn bread and milk, and some cold beans. "It's the least we can do," Mama said. "He certainly has proven his loyalty."

The children all watched the little dog eat.

"Even if he were all filled out, I bet one of your best hens would outweigh him, Bess," Papa said.

"He's no prize," Mrs. Cooley agreed. "But he sure is lovable."

"Maybe he belongs somewhere," said Paul.

"He looks like he's been on his own for some time," Mr. Cooley said. "Probably trying to keep up with an emigrant wagon."

Rose could see the little dog wasn't beautiful like the Russians' wolf-dog. He was small and fragile-looking. His spindly legs trembled and his eyes were sad. But Rose didn't care. There was something about that dog.

"I'm going to take the very best care of you," she told him. He pricked up his ears and looked at her. "I'll never let you go hungry again."

Mama, Papa, and Rose shared little bits of their breakfast with him. He ate everything right up, licked their hands in thanks, then lay down next to the wagon wheel.

Rose watched him the whole time she helped with the dishes. He was lying down, but his ears were awake, turning this way and that to the sounds of the camp.

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