Bulleit sat behind his desk, and reflected on his unusually quiet day. It wasn’t often he was able to just sit and go over the paperwork that went along with his job, but despite his constant reluctance to actually do it, he was glad of the peace and quiet. He brought his tin cup to his lips, and took a sip of what he hoped would be Harper, his deputy, first batch of passable coffee. He took a sip, and let it sit for a moment. No such luck. He couldn’t hold it against the boy, though, His deputy was English, and Bulleit figured anything outside of tea was a mystery to him. Still, he appreciated the effort, and was even starting to build a tolerance to this swill. No need to discourage the boy, not when he’s trying his damnedest.
Just then, His deputy burst through the front door, panting and looking quite flustered. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear” thought the sheriff. After giving the boy a chance to recover, he calmly asked “What’s got your dander up, ‘Harp?”
After another few seconds of catching his breath, Harper exclaimed “There’s some new fella in town, and he’s totin’ a shooting iron! I guess he didn’t read the sign.”
Bulleit ran his palm over his face. “I guess one day of peace and quiet is too much to ask, h-uh?” he groaned. He took another sip, set the cup down, and told Harper “I’ll go set things to right. Stay here and hold the fort.” He stood up, and headed toward the door, grabbing his holster from the rack by the door.
“Sheriff, wait!” pleaded Harper. “There’s something about this gentleman you should know”. Bulleit brushed off his deputy and said “I’ve been doing this job a while; I can sort this out”. And with that, he walked out the door.
The Sheriff assumed the best place to find any newcomer was the Prancing Vixen saloon, and he made his wat there promptly. Along his way, he was stopped by several townsfolk who pointed him toward the saloon, and warned him of trouble there. Yep, he had the right place. As he pushed through the double doors he was greeted with the familiar inviting grime of the saloon, as well as the sight of most of the patrons avoiding a central point. That central point was the sheriff’s man.
“All right, partner, you may not know this, but there’s a law about carrying an iron in this tow- “
His words caught in his throat. The blue fox was wearing a gun belt, sure, but he was conspicuously lacking any other form of clothing, save for an ostentatious hat. It took several heartbeats for Bulleit to regain his composure. “Alright, pard” he began, “I’ll give you a pass on the gun ordinance, but why in the Good Lord’s name ain’t you wearing any clothes!?”

The Fox chimed in. “This is just how we go around where I come from. Isn’t this a free country?”

“Well yeah, it’s a free country, but we have laws, damnit! And one of those laws pertains to public decency! Go get yourself some duds, or I’m hauling you off to jail, where we’re gonna clothe you at your own expense anyway! And what the hell part of the county do people go without clothes anyway? This some new eastern fad? Good God, man!”

The fox was clearly taken aback and confused by the sheriff’s verbal assault, and asked innocently “Why would I put clothes on over fur, don’t you folks get hot?”
Bulleit wasn’t having any of it, and roared “We’re a little warm, sure, but we ain’t got our bodies out in front of God and everyone! I’m taking you to Manns Mercantile, and we are gonna make you decent. Since you are very clearly new hear, I’m gonna give you the option of making this easy, now are you coming or not.”
The Fox, clearly intimidated by the increasingly angry coyote, threw up his hands in surrender, and allowed himself to be led, or more acutely dragged by the belligerent sheriff over to Manns.
“Alright” Bulleit said. “Go on in there and pick out whatever duds you see fit, just so long as they cover the important bits.”
The Fox obliged, and strolled on in. Bulleit waited outside for about half an hour, with most passerby avoiding eye contact on account of the snarl the sheriff was wearing. Eventually, the troublesome fox came out wearing what might have been the gaudiest getup Bulleit had ever seen. Just about every garment had tassles of some kind or another, and the boots looked like a case study in form over function.
“I…I see you got yourself in order, friend” Bulleit stammered.
“Yep” I feel like I’m gonna blend right in!
“Yeah, that’s…you sure will” The coyote stammered again. Then he led into the original crux of the situation. “Now, we’re gonna have to talk about that gun”
The fox took a step back. “Now wait just a second. This piece was a gift from my father. No-one’s taking it away from me.” It was at that moment the fox reached for his pistol, either to draw it or just protect it. Either way, it was a mistake, as the action was met with the butt of Bulleit’s gun being brought down on the fox’s head.
“That was stupid, damned stupid” Bulleit said to no one. He called Harper over and they carried the previously armed nudist over to a cell in the county jail.
Later, while getting back to his paperwork, and while waiting for his resident idiot to wake up, Bulleit glanced over at Harper and asked “Harp, you’re more worldly than this old coyote, is this nudity thing really something they do back east?”

“Oh yeah, it’s popular in all the major cities. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it”
“H-uh. Thanks Harp. I’m still gonna bring this idiot before the judge, though.
“Fair enough, Sheriff. Oh, I made more coffee, if you’d like some.
Bulleit sat and reflected on how glad he was to live in a town where the criminals were still sane, and had the decency to wear some damned clothes. He took a sip of the new pot of coffee and sighed.
Still terrible.