The gingerbread cowboy jumped off the plate, shouted, "Yippee yi yay," ran across the floor, out the swinging doors, across the porch, and down the gravel driveway like a bandit running from the law.

Will anyone be able to catch the jalapeno man on his journey through the fields where wooden windmills spin faster than wagon wheels, faster than west Texas tumbleweeds, faster than thunderstorms rolling across the plains?