Tucked back in a northerly loop of the Cimarron, Jubilation was the last respectable waterin' hole within 300 miles, and the rules of its 27 saloons were simple: a man was expected to pay for what he bought and do no more damage than he could cover with the cash in his poke. But to the Wednesday Ladies Reading Circle, uptown Jubilation was an abomination. And Kansas had just voted dry. Iron Jack Fuller bossed Jubilation's whoopy-juice mills with hired...