Since we know the end of this story, we can understand. Wild Bill Hickok long worried his notoriety would make him an attractive target for an assassin, so he went out of his way to keep himself safe. He never used a front door. He normally walked in the center of the street so he could watch alleyways. He slept with waded-up newspapers around his bed to deter crawling assassins. He was never out of arm’s reach from his gun. And he normally avoided sitting with his back to the door. Until that fateful day when that was the only chair at the poker table left and well, we know how this ends.