It's half past one in the morning, on a cool summer night in the mountains of north central Idaho. Suddenly, the silence and darkness of the night are broken by sounds of approaching trucks and the slice of headlights through the blackness. The trucks stop, their headlights still cutting through the night. However, all is still not silent, for heard are the deep, rich, guttural voicings of horses.

As Rudy Shebala walks through a pasture full of quietly grazing horses on a nickel-gray autumn day, a long-legged colt approaches him and nuzzles his arm, and Mr. Shebala reaches out and scratches the sleek beast's nose.