Free Ridiculous by D.L. Carter Page A

banks, spilling freezing water over the low lying fields. Mr. Prichart, Shoffer, and Millicent sat their horses on a hill overlooking the flooded area while still more precipitation fell to cling to clothing, skin, and hair.
    “How much land is affected?” inquired Shoffer.
    “All told, sixty acres.”
    “Truly?” asked Millicent, rising up in her stirrups and pointing. “I thought I could see grassy land over there.”
    “Aye, you can see the top of the grass, but there be two or three inches of water underneath. Cannot graze sheep on such lands.”
    Uncertain as to the truth of it, Millicent said nothing.
    “He is right, you know,” said Shoffer in a soft voice. “Sheep are funny things. They eat grass down to the nub in dry weather. They eat wet grass with no ill. But if you put them out on pasturage like this, and do it too soon after the water has retreated, they get a cough from it and become poor goers. Their feet will rot. Some will die of it.”
    “You have seen this before?” asked Mr. Prichart.
    “I have an interest in sheep farming in Scotland,” replied the duke.
    “How much of your land do you expect to be able to farm this year?” Millicent asked Pritchart.
    “Depends how long it takes for the water to retreat. It’s not stopped raining yet so we might have half our usual pasturage for a good part of the year. I do not want to go replacing drowned stock if I got nowhere to put 'em. They will overgraze the land and starve.”
    “Can you do anything to direct the water back to its previous path?”
    One of the farm workers snorted at that, but Mr. Prichart answered Millicent's question in a serious manner.
    “We do not know, lad. See over yonder? The stream bed itself is under all that water. And with the lower lands flooded, the water has nowhere to go.”
    “Oh.” Feeling very foolish Millicent rode alongside the men as they traveled. Shoffer and Mr. Prichart discussed various breeds of sheep, alternative feeds, and other such matters while Millicent stared into the distance and tried to think of some intelligent seeming comment she could put into the conversation. It was not until near luncheon when they had turned and headed toward the manor that Millicent again spoke.
    “It seems to me that I am limited in the aid I can give you, Mr. Prichart, since I must expect other farmers to whom I rent in the neighborhood will be making similar requests. We must take the long view in the matter. If I recall your letter correctly, you request the rent be reduced by a third. I think I can accommodate you. You will contact me if your other interests cannot be encouraged to make up the shortfall. Next year, the first two quarters will be reduced again on the understanding that you will use the money to purchase new stock. From what His Grace is saying, you might consider speaking to his man in Scotland and seeing if you can improve your stock with an infusion of his sheep.”
    Mr. Prichart and the duke regarded her with matching shocked expressions.
    “Well, well. That be generous of you, Mr. North. Thank you,” said Mr. Prichart.
    Millicent flushed, worried that she had yielded too fast or reduced the rent too far. Behind the farmer's back Shoffer dropped a wink to Millicent which confused her further.
    She waited until he guided his mount to ride alongside her.
    “Was it too much? Too little?” she whispered. “I cannot calculate his income from an acre of land. I could but guess.”
    “I must say, from the state of the roads and fields hereabouts, your offer is a good one. It is a difficult balance to maintain — your needs for your rents versus the needs of your tenants.”
    Mr. Prichart paused to speak to one of his workers who stood watching the waters with a sour look on his face. Shoffer nudged his horse a little closer.
    “If you had but waited until we could have spoken privately, I would have advised you thusly…” he paused, then smiled, “to do exactly as you have