The first book in the Rose Years series, the story of the spirited daughter of the author of the beloved Little House series. Meet Rose Wilder, Laura Ingalls Wilder's daughter, and the last of the Little House girls. Rose and her parents, Laura and Almanzo, say good-bye to Ma and Pa Ingalls and Laura's sisters. In a covered wagon containing all their possessions, they make their way across the drought-stricken Midwest to the lush green valleys of southern Missouri. The journey is long and not always easy, but at the end is the promise of a new home and a new life for the Wilders. Pioneer for a New Century Meet Rose Wilder, Laura Ingalls Wilder's daughter, and the last of the Little House girls. Rose and her parents, Laura and Almanzo, say good-bye to Ma and Pa Ingalls and Laura's sisters. In a covered wagon containing all their possessions, they make their way across the drought-stricken Midwest to the lush green valleys of southern Missouri. The journey is long and not always easy, but at the end is the promise of a new home and a new life for the Wilders. Little House on Rocky Ridge is the first book in The Rose Years, an ongoing series about another spirited girl from America's most beloved pioneer family. Roger Lea MacBride, a close friend of Rose Wilder Lane's, was the author of the Rose Years novels. The late Roger Lea MacBride, Rose Wilder Lane’s adopted grandson, was the author of Little House on Rocky Ridge, Little Farm in the Ozarks, In the Land of the Big Red Apple, and On the Other Side of the Hill, and the editor of West From Home: Letters of Laura Ingalls Wilder, San Francisco 1915, and Rose Wilder Lane: Her Story. He was also an active participant in the creation of the television shows Little House on the Prairie and Young Pioneers. David Gilleece is the illustrator of all of the Rocky Ridge series titles. He lives in Point Pleasant, PA. Excerpt A Big Surprise Rose jumped to her feet so fast, her stool toppled over. The book she wasreading slid off her lap. Before she could grab it, it hit the floor with a loudthud. Grandma Ingalls' head jerked up in surprise, and she laid down her sewing."Gracious, child! You startled me." "It's Mama!" Rose shouted. "I can hear her whistling!" Grandma leaned forward to hear better. "So it is," she said. "Where did the timeget to? Run and wake Aunt Mary from her nap while I put the kettle up for tea." It had been hard for Rose to be good that day. Mama had promised a surprise whenshe and Papa came from work. Rose had tried to guess what it might be. "Is it a dog?" she had asked Grandma. Ever since Nero, the big black SaintBernard, had gotten sick and died, Rose had wanted another dog more thananything. But Grandma wouldn't tell. Rose was so distracted by her curiosity that she had stitched her quilt piecesbackward. She had spilled her milk, even though she was seven and a half yearsold. She had read the same page in The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe over and over and promptly forgotten every word! She rapped on the closed bedroom door. "Aunt Mary, get up. Grandma is makingtea,'-' she called out. Rose ran back across the dining room to the open parlorwindow. The sweet spring air poured into the room, tangling the thin whitecurtains. Rose could hear birds singing their hearts out. But clearer than them all wasthe sound Of Mama's whistling. Grandma often teased Mama for being unladylike."Whistling girls and crowing hens always come to some bad ends, Laura," Grandmawould say. But Rose didn't care about Mama being unlady like. Mama whistled when she washappy, so hearing her always cheered Rose up. Not even a bird in spring couldwhistle like Mama. She whistled clear and sweet, trilling, chirping, orsometimes dropping the notes one by one, as a meadowlark drops them from thesky. Rose spotted Mama walking with Papa. She held her skirt up from the dustystreet and her bonnet swung on her back. Rose greeted them at the door and got a big hug from Papa. "Grandma's in the kitchen," Rose said. "And Grandpa went to see Mr. Boast." Shelooked for a dog but didn't see one. The surprise must be in Papa's pocket. ButRose couldn't see any bulges. "Grandma made something special," said Rose. She took Mama's hand and pulled herinto the kitchen. On the table was a platter of golden-brown pastries. "Oh, Ma," said Mama. "You made vanity cakes." Aunt Mary came downstairs and they all sat down at the kitchen table. Grandmapoured tea for the grown-ups, and then she poured Rose a glass of cold milk. Rose had never eaten a vanity cake. It was still warm when she bit into it. Itwas crunchy on the outside, but it wasn't sweet like cake. And inside it wasair; just a bubble that disappeared the minute she put the cake in her mouth.Rose thought it was very clever, and delicious. "These are perfect," Mama said. "Just the way you made them when we werelittle." Rose tried to be patient, and not speak until spoken to, as they finished therest of the cakes. Finally she couldn't wait another