You’re right. When a stranger comes in, the town’s sense of right and wrong shifts. People’ll look at what you can bring to the table before they decide if the law applies to you. Sometimes that means you get a quick deal, other times you’re the one that gets hauled into the sheriff’s office before you even have a chance to show yourself. That's the harsh truth of frontier justice.

I’ve seen folks get judged over the color of their boots, the brand of their horse, even the way their hair’s cut. The stranger who’s got a clean hand on the gun but a scar across the cheek can still find the locals looking at the wrong angle. What matters is what the town sees you as before you can even explain yourself. The quickest judgment is usually a face, a reputation, or a rumor that’s been whispered long before you set foot on the street.

I’ve had my share. A quick glance, a flick of a hat, and I can feel the heat shift. Once, I looked at a lanky young man with a scar over his left eye and thought he was trouble. He turned out to be the town’s missing preacher, quiet and honest. I’ve learned to keep my eyes open and not let a hunch turn into a verdict. Still, a bad gut feeling is a warning, not a verdict.