Footnotes in History

Footnotes in History 

We traveled through the Bear River Valley in the forenoon . . . (it) is tolerably fertile and looks as if it might be well adapted to raising wheat. During the afternoon our road over the mountains was quite slippery in consequence of light showers which fell at intervals during the day. The mosquitoes are troublesome in the extreme; passed four graves.

—Abigail Jane Scott, 1852

Can’t you just picture Abigail? One of ten siblings traveling the Oregon-California Trail with her rag-tag family in 1852, swatting at mosquitoes as she’s wedged up against a wagon wheel at sunset scribbling in a tattered trail journal? According to Kenneth Holmes (sourced from his 1852 edition of Covered Wagon Women: Diaries and Letters from the Western Trails), Abigail was tasked with writing daily diary entries at the behest of her stern father. Even on nights when she wasn’t up to the chore, her father would insist that she get the details down. 

If it weren’t for these few words, the life of Abigail Jane Scott would be forever lost in history. And so it is with tens of thousands of women whose words are often footnotes in long arc of time.

In the American West, we read of Jim Bridger and Jesse James; Buffalo Bill and Wyatt Earp. Their stories are legendary. There are, of course, more than a handful of women who have made their mark in western history, including Annie Oakley and Calamity Jane. Their stories border on legendary, too. 

But for every Annie or Jane, there were thousands of lesser known Annies and Janes who were likely doing the cooking and the laundry. Tending to children. Mending trousers and darning socks. Seeing to men’s “needs.”

Writing stories of these forgotten women is as intriguing as it is mystifying. As I create fictional protagonists, I’m like a mosaic artist, taking bits and pieces from many ordinary lives to conjure a character unique and extraordinary. 

My research for Answer Creek took me across more than 2,000 miles on the Oregon-California Trail in the summer of 2018. For a month, my husband and I headed west from Lincoln, Nebraska to Truckee, California armed with maps, books, newspapers, and trail journals. We stopped at countless historical markers and even more unmarked spots along the trail; researched at large and small museums; and talked to experts and storytellers and strangers in an attempt to bring the Oregon-California Trail experience to life. 

There is just so much one can glean from reading when researching historical fiction. There is no substitute for placing oneself at the very spot (or, in this case, 2,000 miles of “very spots”). Standing in remnants of wagon ruts, tasting dust, stumbling on sagebrush, experiencing relentless wind and constant thirst, this is part of research, too. 

All the while, my protagonist Ada Weeks grew and evolved and spoke to me as her story became many-layered. As I stood at the crest of the continent at South Pass, Wyoming, I slowly spun three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, just as Ada does at the opening of Chapter 8.

Ada spins slowly, the Antelope Hills to her south, the Wind River Chain to her north, and a wide, flat endless plain of sagebrush ahead and behind her, nothing but earth and sky. Wind prowls over the divide, and wisps of dark hair fan out behind her as she turns in thin, dry, mountain air. She closes her eyes and catches her breath. Her heart beats fast, as if in anticipation. For all their traveling—all the mornings chaining up and tolerating dust, all the windstorms, hail, torrents of rain, deaths, arguments, and beans—the overlanders have crossed the backbone of the continent. They are halfway to California, standing here on this remote treeless steppe, more than seven thousand feet high under a cloudless, sapphire sky. 

—From Answer Creek

As I stood there, I tried to enter Ada’s mind. What was she thinking and feeling and hoping for on this day? And tomorrow? And the day after that? These are weighty questions, and deserve time for answers to take shape. Now, almost two years later, I hope I got the answers to those questions right. 

I try to imbue all my protagonists with thoughts that align with mine, but thoughts that radically oppose mine creep in. At that intersection of bias and upbringing and worldview, it’s interesting to see where the story goes from there. Sometimes, characters refuse to adapt (now I empathize), and, at other times, they accept their plight (here I rebel). Others stand up to injustice (I cheer!), while others are beaten into submission (oh how I cringe). In all their stories, it’s ultimately about what characters do with what life hands them, and, more importantly, what they do after that. 

Ada faces unspeakable trials, and emerges on the other side. That’s the story I want to tell. Even though I’ll be telling stories for as long as I draw breath, there will still be thousands upon thousands more to tell, and I’ll have to leave them for women who follow: women who can’t accept history as written, women who question society’s iron grasp on women’s lives, women who dare to breathe life into characters who never had the chance to tell their own stories. 

—Ashley E. Sweeney

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, On Writing