The Unnamed Mapmaker
How to Make a Treasure Map
There was no glory in his work. Despite the fact that the adventurers, the bounty hunters and the law men of the frontier all used his maps, none knew his name. Those men captured the imagination of the general public and their stories were often told, real or not. He learned long ago to let such things go. As a young man, he railed against the injustice of it all, but he was older now and understood it was the way of the world. Tales of excitement and adventure would always be more popular than diligent, accurate work. No one cared about the mapmaker, they only cared about the map as a tool in a grander story.
Currently, he was hitching a ride with a train to the far east side of the frontier. The train was carrying supplies while he was there to update maps with the recent explosion of building. He enjoyed starting his morning with a cup of tea and when finished, he went out to the side deck to watch the landscape go by and get a feel of the new territory he’d enter via its scenery.
“Good morning, sir,” the mapmaker’s apprentice greeted with a yawn. He was at least an hour late and not yet properly dressed. It annoyed the mapmaker to no end, but he knew the young man was a hard worker. He was merely experiencing a terrible condition of youthful folly, where he stayed up too late with many of the laborers who’d unload the supplies at the various stops and were currently helping with shoveling the coal, gambling and drinking. It didn’t affect his work, only his morning demeanor, which meant that any attempt to correct it would only make the mapmaker appear a grumpy old man, a role he wasn’t quite ready to embrace.
“Good morning, Simon,” the mapmaker replied, his eyes still diligently on the horizon. He noticed that despite the reports of massive building projects popping up everywhere, the landscape looked just as barren as it had when he’d last been here 20 years ago.
“No coffee?” Simon asked, tying his robe closed as he rubbed his head.
“I don’t drink coffee,” the mapmaker replied in answer.
“You’re up first and it doesn’t take much effort to make a pot,” he said as he demonstrated how little effort it took.
The mapmaker shot the young man a cross look, “It takes even less to make a kettle, which is all I require.”
When his coffee finished, Simon poured himself a cup and collapsed on one of the plush chairs in the cabin, still rubbing his head. The mapmaker abandoned his task to join the young man. “Remind me to never again drink that tar those men call coalfire. I’m not sure how they manage to get any work done.”
“You shouldn’t be drinking with those men at all.”
“There’s nothing else to do.”
“You could be reading.”
“That sounds fun,” Simon replied with sharp sarcasm. He took a long drink and then leaned back in his chair, his legs spread wide, “So what’s on the agenda today, professor?”
The mapmaker was not a professor, but Simon had taken to calling him that for his fondness of lecturing him about the history of the various places they went. “We should be arriving in Ionia two days from now, so we need to prepare so that we may begin our work immediately.”
Simon nodded. He finished his coffee and got up to get himself a second cup. The mapmaker asked, “Have you been studying the previous maps of the territory?”
“Yes,” Simon sighed.
“Good, draw me one.”
Simon turned, taking a long sip of coffee before responding. “Right now?”
“Yes,” the mapmaker replied.
Simon was rubbing his head again. “I don’t have anything to draw with or on.”
The map maker pulled out a fountain pen and inkwell set as well as laid down some of the cheaper paper he used for making maps. He saved the good quality for the final product but had plenty of the cheap stuff. “I have some here.”
“Of course you do,” Simon mumbled under his breath as he took another sip. He made his way back to the table slowly, inhaling deeply before setting the mug down and picking up the pen.
The mapmaker watched as his apprentice began to draw. Simon wasn’t a talented artist. He had a good head for numbers and was a skilled surveyor, but his drawings weren’t impressive. The mapmaker thought this was a good opportunity for improvement, when the young man was at his lowest to force him to perform. That way he might overcome a need for perfection in his drawings as he had a built in excuse of a hangover.
Though it might just give him an excuse to be lazy, as the mapmaker was beginning to fear from the rough sketches Simon was currently producing.
The activity was interrupted when the train came to a sudden halt. The mapmaker looked to the front of the cabin towards where the engine was in confusion. “Strange,” he said. “We had two more days scheduled until our stop and there shouldn’t be any obstacles out here.” He checked the landscape again to confirm his words, and it was as barren as it had ever been.
The sudden stop had caused the ink to spill, which Simon was doing his best to clean up, mostly from himself as the inkwell had landed in his lap. “These sleeping pants are completely ruined! I’m going to have to sleep in the nude for the rest of the trip.”
The mapmaker’s head swung to his young apprentice. “If you do that, you will be dressed every morning before I see you. I will not tolerate you sitting in just a robe. Do you understand?”
The apprentice didn’t get a chance to respond as a gunshot made both men drop down to the floor. The mapmaker looked up and saw a masked figure enter the car. Behind her was a large man holding a smoking shotgun.
A train robbery, almost a cliche story of the frontier. He was finally getting his shot at adventure, and the mapmaker was terrified. He now just wanted another uneventful train voyage.
The woman’s heeled boots click-clacked against the floor as she looked around the cabin. She stopped in front of the two men, looking down on the mapmaker she asked, “So who are you?”
“No one of importance,” the mapmaker answered honestly.
She squatted down and her amber eyes narrowed on the older man’s face. “You have the only passenger cabin on a cargo train. You must be somebody.”
“We’re just mapmakers,” Simon answered, causing the woman’s attention to be drawn to him. Her eyebrow shot up as she stood again.
She then brought out her revolver and aimed it at Simon. “Bring the old man. He may prove useful.”
The mapmaker felt a large hand grab his jacket and force him up. He barely managed a glance at his apprentice before he was forced out into the blinding sun. He thought of running as soon as he was on the dirt, but the man behind him shoved him again reminding why that was a foolish idea. He instead followed where he was directed to go, his thin frame caused him to trip forward. He noticed that he was being directed to a covered carriage. The mechanical horses in front of the cab looked old but well-maintained. He attempted to look back at the train again, but the man’s wide frame hid it from view and his shotgun kept the mapmaker moving forward.
He was forced into the cab and left there. Eventually he heard the woman return, along with the rest of the posse. She was telling someone that she’d grabbed a mapmaker, “...could prove useful in planning the next heist.”
A man answered, “Maps are evidence. We should just leave him here.”
“A mapmaker out in the frontier could be worth more than a train car full of coal.”
There was a brief silence before the man said, “Fine. But he’s your responsibility, Viv.” He raised his voice, “Let’s get moving before any of those coal-diggers wake up.”
The door opened and the mapmaker’s head turned to see the woman enter the cab. Before she managed to close it they were off, so she half-fell to her seat across from him. As soon as she regained her seating, she pulled out her gun, keeping it on her lap. Her amber eyes bored into him.
The mapmaker wondered what made her want to bring him along. Her leader had misgivings about it, so what made her so sure?
“You ever been out to the frontier before, old man?” she asked.
He bristled at being called old man again. He was 47. Perhaps not young but hardly old. “I have a name, you know,” the mapmaker snapped.
“And I don’t care what it is,” she replied. “What I do care about is what you’re doing out here and how you might help us.”
He wanted to reply that he wouldn’t help a bunch of thieves under any circumstances, but he could feel the carriage moving at a speed that seemed faster than it should be. He was stuck with these criminals for now, so it would be unwise to antagonize them. He wiped off the dust from his jacket and straightened himself out before answering, “I am out here to make a map of the Eastern territory of Ionia, as commissioned by the Institute of…”
She held up a hand, “That’s enough. Ionia’s a big place. How were you planning on mapping it all?”
The mapmaker didn’t like being interrupted. If this woman had been his apprentice he would’ve chastised her for her rudeness. “There are already maps of Ionia, I myself made some 20 years ago. What’s important is to capture the changes and update accordingly.”
“And the mistakes?” Her face was still covered, but the glint in her eyes showed her amusement.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “As well as any errors.”
“Is that kid going to be able to do it without you?”
The mapmaker wasn’t sure. Simon showed promise, but he was still an apprentice. He had a ways to go before he would be ready to go out on his own. “If you let me go, he won’t have to.”
She laughed. “It’s a little late for that, old man. We’re probably leagues away by now.”
He refrained from crossing his arms like a put out child, but the temptation was there. Thinking of Simon caused him to ask, “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
“No,” she said. “Just tied him to a chair.”
The mapmaker sighed. He took off his tinted glasses and wiped them with the handkerchief he kept in his waistcoat pocket. It always managed to stay clean. When he was finished he perched them back on his nose. “Why take me?”
“It’s an adventure, isn’t it,” her eyes crinkled in a smile. “All the good adventures have a mapmaker.”
“No, they have a map.”
She shrugged. “Someone must’ve made it.”
“No one who ever gets mentioned in an adventure story.”
“Well, maybe it’s time for one that does mention the mapmaker.”
The mapmaker sighed and looked to the covered windows. They should’ve brought Simon along on an adventure. He might have enjoyed it a bit. He was past the days of excitement, longing instead for a comfortable chair and plush bed after a long day of working.
The conversation at an end, the rest of the trip passed in relative silence. The mapmaker was surprised when the woman didn’t force a blindfold on him, instead just opening the door and stepping out. He hesitated before following her.
His eyes automatically began to map out their location. There were hills to the right and the hideout appeared to be in a cutout that must’ve led to a larger cavern behind. The rest of the area was just as barren as the rest of the land, with only a few rocks to use as guide posts.
After surveying the landscape, he finally looked at who his new company would be. He saw there were seven bandits in total. Five were working to unhook and begin moving the coal car, including the big guy with the shotgun.
“Vivian,” a man called out, walking over. He was tall but his frame was average. His dark long hair was covered with a hat and his eyes were covered by goggles. He held out a sack, “You can handle carrying this in while keeping your gun on your hostage, right?”
She snatched the bag. “Don’t be an ass, Sam.”
Sam chuckled as he walked away to supervise the rest of the men. Vivian’s gun motioned to the mapmaker where to start walking. Under her breath he could hear her complaint, “Why is it that the jerks are always the charming, handsome men?”
The mapmaker wanted to answer that men with looks and charm didn’t need to develop pleasant personalities, but he guessed that his captor wouldn’t appreciate the candor. He squeezed through the narrow pass in the rocks, which opened to a wide cavern as the mapmaker had guessed earlier. The place was clearly being lived in, as there were several bedding areas as well as a place that could function as a kitchen. Vivian threw her bag in the direction of that area. The mapmaker looked around for a place to sit and found nothing. “Where exactly am I to be? I see nowhere to sit or sleep.”
Vivian looked around until she landed on the one area cordoned off, “That’s where me and Sam sleep.”
“Well, I will not be joining you.”
“That wasn’t an offer,” she sighed, her mask puffing out a bit. Her eyes darted around again before she snapped, “Just…help me with the food.”
He did as he was told, kneading bread and cutting vegetables. Despite being a bachelor, he didn’t normally cook. He had a hired woman. So he was yelled at more than once. The meal was almost ready when the six remaining bandits walked in.
A lanky man removed his helmet and goggles, not caring if the stranger saw his face. “What are we doing robbing trains for coal anyway? We should be going after money.”
“I’ve never robbed for coal before,” answered Sam. His bright blue eyes twinkled.
Another man, one looking a little smarter than the rest of the criminals, answered,“That’s not a reason to be doing something, Sam.”
“Money’s cheap,” Sam shrugged. “It’s the sport of it. Nothing gets the blood pumping like a train robbery.” The leader wrapped an arm around Vivian, who giggled in response.
“Easy for a man with 10,000 in gold coins to say.” Another of the bandits grumbled. He threw himself on the ground next to the large man the mapmaker had still never heard speak.
Sam said nothing, just grinned. The mapmaker looked over at this Sam character. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but if it was, he’d be one of the richest men on the frontier. So why was he still robbing trains?
Sam lowered his voice, “So have you figured out what we’re doing with your mapmaker, Viv?”
The mapmaker didn’t care for the possessive, as though he were a stray dog this woman adopted. Vivian’s eyes sparkled and she whispered back, “I have, but I’ll tell you later.”
Later arrived in the dead of night. Sam kicked the mapmaker awake from his fitful sleep on the rock floor. His jacket had been serving as his pillow. He reached for his hat, setting it atop his head, and dusted himself off as he rose. “Come on,” Sam whispered.
The mapmaker followed the man outside of the cavern, moving around to the other side of the hills. He found out that this was where the bandits kept their equipment.
Vivian was waiting for them. She was unmasked now, and the mapmaker wasn’t surprised that she was a stunning woman. Her amber eyes contrasted well with her dark hair and olive skin. Her full lips appeared to be painted a deep red despite the impracticality of it under a mask.
Sam joined her and the mapmaker noticed they were a striking couple. Not wanting to be caught staring, he looked around the place noting where everything was being kept. The horses were housed in a makeshift stable and the carriage was beside an inflated balloon kept tied down with a rope. Both were easily accessible and stationed to make quick getaways. He also noticed several train cars, most of which were empty, scattered throughout the place.
“You told me that you’d tell me where you’d hidden your gold coins when the time was right.” Vivian’s voice was low but the mapmaker could hear her clearly. He wondered about the acoustics of this place. “Well, we’ve come across a mapmaker by pure chance. I’d say the time is right.”
Both men straightened. Sam’s eyes narrowed, but the mapmaker’s widened. He was afraid, suddenly aware of just how dangerous of a position he was in.
“No,” Sam answered.
Vivian’s eyes flashed. “You promised me.”
Sam’s harsh whisper was accompanied by a wave of his arm, “I’ll have every criminal on the continent after me if I do that. Writing stuff down is never a good idea.”
“You promised. You promised me a cut. How do you expect me to collect if you die?”
The mapmaker wondered if this had been the plan all along, if she’d been faking earlier. He longed for his bed more than ever, wishing he’d never accepted this job. He hadn’t known where it would lead him.
“If I die, the treasure goes with me. Pretty good reason to keep me alive.”
“You think I would let you die? Treasure or no treasure, I love you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Vivian’s hand brushed the thief’s arm as she looked up at him.
Sam’s eyes were still narrowed, but he was clearly considering. The mapmaker hoped he turned her down. He didn’t want to know where any buried treasure was, as he knew such information haunted men. He’d be hunted for the rest of his life. It was a headache he didn’t need.
Assuming he got to live with the information at all.
He looked to the stable. They only had the two mechanical horses. There were no spares. He looked to the balloon next, before returning his attention to the couple. Were they distracted enough for him to make a getaway?
It was not to be. “You, come here.” Sam pointed his finger at the mapmaker and then the spot before him.
The mapmaker obeyed, feeling the terror ratchet up inside of him. Sam’s narrow eyes were studying him now. “What kind of maps do you make?”
“My specialty is in topography, but I’ve made most every kind of map.”
“Even a treasure map?”
“I said most.”
The bandit studied him again, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Could you make a treasure map?”
The answer was yes, but the mapmaker hesitated. What was the right answer to get him out of this situation with the least possible amount of danger? Sam raised his gun and pointed it at the mapmaker’s head, “If you can’t, you’re of no use to me.”
“Yes,” the mapmaker answered. “Yes, I can.”
The gun was lowered. Vivian smiled and then kissed both men on the cheeks. The mapmaker noticed the stain left on the thief’s face and got his handkerchief out to wipe his own. It stained his ever clean cloth red.
“Okay then, let’s do it.”
The mapmaker worked as diligently as always, being careful to be accurate but vague. He consulted every map brought to him, referencing and cross-referencing as Sam refused to simply show him the path by taking him to the hiding spot. The thief was too anxious they might be followed.
Vivian was still considered responsible for him, and the mapmaker found her cheerful company. She helped him as much as she could and the mapmaker couldn’t help but compare her to Simon. She was clever, punctual, and always saw that he had whatever he needed, but unlike Simon she didn’t understand or care to understand the finer points of mapmaking. For example, it took her several tries to get the right paper and sketching tools. He mentioned it would be quicker if he accompanied her to get the correct supplies, but Sam wouldn’t allow it.
The mapmaker bonded with the young woman despite not trusting her fully. She’d been orphaned as a teenager but managed to support herself with cleaning and cooking jobs. Her only vice had been gambling, but she was a good card player and was often underestimated by her opponents. The repeated times of angry men accusing her of being a cheat had led to her carrying a gun and becoming a good shot with it.
She’d met Sam at a gambling table. He was as good as she was, which attracted her to him instantly. When the table was down to just the two of them, she’d bet herself in the final hand. She’d lost and been with Sam ever since.
“I never told Sam this,” she confided to the mapmaker as he tried to figure out how to draw a mountain without making it obvious. “But I actually had the winning hand. I just threw my cards face-down because I wanted to go with him.”
Creating a treasure map was more of a challenge then the mapmaker had been expecting. It stretched his creativity in a way it hadn’t been used in years. He couldn’t just show outcrops of rocks and rivers as he’d been trained to do, he had to illustrate them without showing them. Any words he wrote needed to be riddles, able to be interpreted in more than one way. His map had to get someone lost as much as it guided them.
If he managed to escape with his life, he might be forced to retire after this job, because it would forever be boring after it.
Vivian assured him that Sam wouldn’t harm him and that he was in no danger. “You’re so nervous, but you’ve got nothing to worry about. I may have killed a man or two, but Sam’s never pulled the trigger. He’s a thief, not a killer.”
Still, as the map neared completion, the mapmaker couldn’t help but worry. He thought of ways to slow his progress, but Sam checked his work every night and noted when it seemed to be slowing. “Are you just drawing it out now?”
“No,” the mapmaker huffed. “Of course not.”
The thief’s raised eyebrow showed that he didn’t quite believe the mapmaker.
When he did finish, the thief nodded and commented, “It looks good. You did a good job.”
Vivian, on the other hand, hugged him. “You did a wonderful job.” She kissed him again, leaving another red stain. The mapmaker didn’t bother wiping this one off. The mapmaker’s eyes didn’t leave the man’s. Vivian noticed. “Oh, stop looking so nervous. I told you that you aren’t going to be killed. Sam’s going to blindfold you and drop you off on the rail line.” She looked to her boyfriend, “Right?”
Sam answered, “Yep.”
Vivian said her good-byes and Sam took the mapmaker to the stables. He brought out one of the mechanical horses and blindfolded the mapmaker, who couldn’t get on the horse. They tried doing it after he got on, but then Sam couldn’t reach him. Eventually the thief gave up, “Just forget the damn blindfold.”
A stone settled at the pit of the mapmaker’s stomach.
They rode out a few leagues, traveling fast. The mapmaker asked what modifications had been made to the machine, but Sam said he didn’t know. “That’s all Terry’s business.”
Terry was the guy with the goggles and helmet from the first night. The mapmaker hadn’t really gotten to know anyone else in the gang, as Vivian and Sam had deliberately kept him away from them.
The stop in the middle of nowhere, with no rail line in sight. When Sam got off the horse, the mapmaker knew what was coming. “Please don’t do this,” he breathed out.
“I’m sorry,” Sam replied just as softly. His bright blue eyes looked up. “Get off the horse, old man.”
They’d never even bothered to learn his name, the mapmaker noticed for the first time. He carefully and slowly got off the horse. “You know, until the blindfold, I almost thought I might live. She almost had me convinced you weren’t a killer.”
“She was right. I have never killed anyone before.” Sam looked down at his gun, clearly uneasy. “I don’t want to kill you now.”
The mapmaker was tempted to beg, to tell him that he would never tell a soul, but his pride kept him from doing so.
Sam kept talking. “There were six of us involved in that robbery. Do you know what happened to the rest of them? Joe was stupid enough to try and trade the gold coins in. The law shot him. The twins went to a tavern and spent too much of it, people caught on and they were found the next morning with their heads bashed in and the money missing. Tom got robbed by some girl and when he tried to get the money back, both wound up dead. Eddie,” Sam sighed. “Eddie was betrayed by his brother and the law caught him in town. He managed to shoot a couple of them, but they got him in the end.”
“That damned gold is cursed. That’s why I don’t touch it.”
“Why make a map to it then?”
Sam gave a nasty chuckle. “Because it’ll serve that bitch right if she betrays me for it. I love Viv, but only a fool trusts a girl like her. She’s been looking out for herself since she was 13. You don’t unlearn something like that. I know what it’s like to be an orphan. It hardens you.”
“If the gold’s really cursed,” the mapmaker said, “then I’m not likely to go after it. You can just let me go.” Out in this barrenness it was unlikely he’d get to a township anyway.
“I’m more worried about you telling someone else. It’s the number one rule when you enter into a life of crime, no matter what the stories might tell you: there is no honor among thieves. We all think we’re entitled to everything.” He looked at the mapmaker. “Kneel down.”
The mapmaker looked to the dirt. His knees hurt just looking at it. “I’d rather stay standing.”
“Kneel,” Sam commanded.
The mapmaker looked the other man in the eye, for the first time not afraid to offend him. “I have no intention to make this easy on you. You want me dead? Then you’ll face me like a man.”
This clearly made Sam uncomfortable. Vivian was right. Sam was no killer. The mapmaker wasn’t a criminal so he didn’t see this as a weakness, only conscience, but he knew that the rest of the gang would. The mapmaker watched as the thief’s conscience wrestled with his pragmatism.
Neither man noticed the mechanical horse joining them. They also didn’t notice the woman climbing down from the horse and unholstering her gun. The mapmaker did see her take aim, but it was too late.
Sam hit the ground, but he turned to his attacker, shooting blindly. She swore and clutched at her shoulder. Then she raised her gun again and hit him in the head this time, killing him instantly.
The mapmaker had never seen a dead body before. He could feel the queasiness in his stomach at looking at those glossy blue eyes with no life behind them. He knelt down to close them, as he couldn’t stand seeing them.
Vivian approached from behind, “I knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.” The mapmaker moved slowly to grab the thief’s gun from his cold, dead hands, trying not to draw attention to his actions. Vivian chuckled, “I told myself that if it was done when I got here, I would congratulate him and then we’d go get the gold together. Leave the thieving behind and have a new start somewhere. But I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I knew I’d have to do the dirty work.” The mapmaker had the gun in his hand now and was slowly bringing it back, trying to keep this fact hidden from his killer’s view. “Oh well,” Vivian aimed at his head.
He whirled around and shot her in the first place he could see: her stomach. She shot as well, but the surprise threw off her aim and she ended up hitting the tank of one of the horses, rendering it unusable.
Seeing this, both began to run to the one good horse. The mapmaker was confident as the other party was injured and he was ahead. He thought he’d escape, but he forgot she still had bullets left. He felt the bullet pierce his spine, forcing him down immediately. He saw the heeled boots stagger past and thought he would meet the same fate as the thief, but she didn’t bother shooting him in the head. Instead Vivian got on to the horse, screaming in pain and hunched over as she rode away.
The mapmaker bled out into the dirt, knowing that whatever happens to the bandit, he will once again be unmentioned in the tales. Unknown and unnamed.
Frederick died within minutes of being shot. His great treasure map of the cursed gold went on to be the centerpiece of many adventures for years to come.