Excerpt from The Sound of Gravel by Ruth Wariner, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"You know, Ruthie, your dad was the most humble man I'd ever met. He always practiced what he preached, and he never turned away anyone when they came to him for help." Mom thought for a moment. "When he asked me to marry him, it was the happiest day of my life. We were sittin' alone in a car at night. He kissed me and it felt right. Even though he was twenty-five years older than me and already had four wives, I knew I was makin' the right choice. I had never wanted to marry any other man till then."

Mom swept the last pile of pintos toward her with swollen, stubby fingers; she chewed her nails down to the quick, her cuticles red and raw. "Your dad and I hadn't been married for very long when it was my turn to have him spend the night. You know, I only got to see him once a week, and then only if I was lucky. With five wives, his mission trips, and his work, there just wasn't time. Anyway, when it was my turn to have him over, all we had to eat were pinto beans. So I put some water in a pot and then I filled it all the way up to the top with beans. To the top. I didn't know that beans swell up!" She paused and laughed at the memory. "The beans started boilin' and swellin' up and overflowin' out of the pot. I had to pour half of them into other pots. By the time I was done, we had three full pots of beans, and I had to throw half of them out because they soured before we could eat 'em!" She laughed again and flashed her hazel eyes at me, which dazzled with speckles of green when she was happy and turned the color of mud when she wasn't. "Bein' a housewife was all new to me. 'Cause nobody ever taught me how, Ruthie. That's why it's important that you start learnin' now."

Mom pulled herself out of her chair to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the counter. I couldn't imagine a time when she didn't know how to cook. I couldn't imagine a time when she didn't have kids. "But, Mom, if Grandpa gave my dad permission to court you, why aren't he and Grandma still a part of our church?"

"Well, Sis, everything changed after your dad died." Mom took in a deep breath and shook her head. "It was just such a mess. After your dad died, so many people turned their backs on him and left the church. Grandpa and Grandma lost faith and so did Aunt Carolyn and Aunt Judy. They all sold their property in LeBaron, moved to the States, and didn't come back."

"Is that when we went to live in San Diego?"

"That's right. I took you and Audrey and Matt and Luke to go live with Grandma and Grandpa for a while. But I knew I wanted to come back to LeBaron. This is where you kids belong."

I focused on my little pile of beans, continuing to separate them from the dirt and rocks that were in the bag. I didn't remember living with Grandma and Grandpa, but there was a part of me that wished we were still there. I knew we were doing the right thing living God's purpose in the colony, but I envied my cousins in California. They lived in nice houses with bathrooms and they always had new clothes and toys. Sometimes I'd lie awake at night thinking about what it would be like if Mom had never married my stepfather and had never brought us back to LeBaron.

Mom met Lane when I was three and she became his second wife a few months later. My grandparents and aunts were invited to the wedding, but they didn't believe in polygamy anymore so they didn't go.

Mom said Lane was handsome. He had sandy-blond hair, olive skin, and light blue eyes. He wore his hair slicked back behind his ears with long, perfectly trimmed sideburns. He had been an apostle in my dad's church, which is what my mom said she loved most about him. The people of the colony called him Brother Lane.

After they married, Mom moved us onto Lane's eleven-acre farm. Our little house had two bedrooms and one unfinished bathroom that Lane was always promising he'd fix. Until he did, we used a wooden outhouse in the backyard. Lane's first wife lived in another adobe house a quarter of a mile from ours, at the opposite edge of the farm. Mom's house was separated from her sister wife's by a barbed-wire fence, several acres of alfalfa, and a small peach orchard. We didn't have electricity—we were too far out of town, and power hadn't yet reached that far into the countryside—but Lane said it was coming.

Excerpted from The Sound of Gravel by Ruth Wariner. Copyright © 2016 by Ruth Wariner. Excerpted by permission of Flatiron Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.